Why Don't You Retire?

The first thing to understand: you cannot study Zen. It is impossible. You can be in it, but you cannot study it - because Zen, or dhyan, is not an object of study, it is a way of life. It depends how you live.

You cannot get it through scriptures, you cannot get it from anybody. Nobody can teach you, it is not to be taught. It is not knowledge which can be transferred from one hand to another. It is a way of life. You can allow yourself to move into it, you can flow into it, you can be vulnerable to it, open to it - and that's what one has to do with a master.

You cannot study, you can just allow yourself to be infected. It is like an infection; if you are vulnerable, you will catch it. Just living with the master is enough: open, not fighting, just being with the master, there are moments while you are silent... you can learn it.

This story says, TOKUSAN WAS STUDYING ZEN.... There he was wrong. No university can offer you a course in religion. They offer, but whatsoever they teach is not religion at all. It may be a history of religion - it is not religion. It may be philosophies of religion - it is not religion. They may help you to learn the Koran, the Bible, the Gita, but it is not religion. They may talk about Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and you will learn many things, but you will miss the very base, the very core.

So the first thing to be understood is, nobody can explain to you what Zen is, what dhyan is. You can learn it, but nobody can teach you. I have been continuously saying that there are disciples and no masters, because a master cannot do anything positively, directly. He cannot give it to you, he cannot teach it to you. What can he do? If he could teach, he could have given it; then one buddha would be enough to enlighten the whole world. But many buddhas have existed and the world remains as it is. Directly, nothing can be done. The thing is so subtle, so delicate, that if you transfer it, in the very transfer it dies.

I have heard: One Christian priest was sending a Bible as a present to some friend - he had made a beautiful parcel. He came to the post office and the clerk at the window asked, "Is there something breakable in it?"

The priest laughed and said, "Yes, Ten Commandments."

Religion is so delicate, so breakable, no parcel can protect it. The moment you transfer it, it is already dead. It lives with an inner life. It lives in a buddha, in a master. He cannot give it to you, but you can open yourself to it.

It is just like the sun rising in the morning: the sun cannot give life to a flower - no! But the flower opens itself towards it, is enriched through its own opening. If the flower remains closed, the sun cannot do anything. The sun cannot knock at the door, cannot deliver the light, cannot deliver vitality and life - no! The sun will pass unnoticed. A buddha comes - I am here with you, you can open yourself. But if you remain closed nothing can be done. So it is up to you, it is totally dependent on you whether you learn or not - and it is not study.

Study is a dead thing, intellectual. Learning is alive: it is not from the head, it is from the heart. You learn from the heart, you study from the head. When you study you become a great scholar. Go and look at great scholars, all the universities are filled with them, and you will not find people more dead than them. They are almost in their graves - they have already entered! They have never lived; they are so much obsessed with words that they have bypassed life.

They may be talking about love but they have never loved. They cannot afford it - it is so risky; and they are so learned that they cannot take that dangerous step. They have talked about meditation, read about it, but they have never done it. It is dangerous. Nothing can be more dangerous than that. And a scholar is always in search of security; security in words, security in doctrines, security everywhere. He is not a gambler, he cannot stake his life. And unless you stake your life you cannot learn.

This learning is of the heart, it is just like love. That's why Jesus goes on repeating that God is love. It doesn't mean, as Christians have understood or misunderstood it, that God is loving. No! It doesn't mean that God is loving. It simply means if you want to reach God, the method is the same as when you want to enter into love. "God is love" means: the path that leads to the temple of love is the same path that leads to the temple of God. It just indicates the path - it goes through the heart, not through the head.

TOKUSAN WAS STUDYING ZEN UNDER RYUTAN - that's where he was missing. The very first step went wrong, and when the first step goes wrong, then everything else that follows will go wrong.

Always remember to take the first step rightly. If the first step is taken rightly, then half the journey is already over, it is almost finished. Because if the first step is right, all that will follow will follow automatically; you will reach the goal. So don't go to a master to study, go to learn. If you go to study, the master will teach you, but the most significant thing cannot be taught. Go to learn.

And what is the difference between the attitudes? Many differences: when you go to study you want more knowledge; when you go to learn you want more being - it is not knowledge. When you learn, your being grows. When you study, your memory grows. When you study you know more and more and more; when you learn you become more and more and more - and these are totally different things.

A man may have a great memory, know many things, and deep down in the being he is absolutely a beggar, poor, having nothing there. He may be deceiving himself that he knows so many things, but knowing will not help - unless you are, knowing is futile. Only being helps.

If you are dying, what will go with you, your knowledge or your being? Who will be of help? What will be the bridge? What can you carry with you beyond death? Knowledge? The brain is left behind, because the brain is part of the body. Only the being is carried over. And you have never looked at it, it has remained poor, starving - you have never fed it.

Learning is of the being, knowledge is only of the memory, of the mind. Universities can give you knowledge, teachers can give you knowledge, but only an enlightened man can allow you, can help you - and that help is indirect - to gain more being. You can take that help, but that final thing depends on you.

If you go to study, you have missed the first step. And the first step is very significant, because the first eventually becomes the last. The seed is very significant; the seed is the first step and it will become the tree. It may take many years to flower, but if you have planted the wrong seed, then even a million lives will not be of any help. Tokusan was wrong from the very beginning - studying.

Studying, he was more concerned with scripture, not with the master. And what foolishness! When a master is alive you are obsessed with the scripture. When the diamonds are all over, you are clinging to red stones, colored stones! When the master is alive, you are concerned with dead words.

ONE NIGHT TOKUSAN CAME TO RYUTAN AND ASKED MANY QUESTIONS.

A man who is with a master to study is always filled with questions, because this is how one studies.

You have to raise questions so you can get answers, and then you can go on collecting the answers and you become more knowledgeable.

A man who is not after study but after learning has only one question, not many. And remember:

many cannot be answered, only one can be answered. Many cannot be answered, because if you are that type of man who asks many questions, any answer that is given to you will only create many more questions - nothing else. Every solution will give you many more problems.

You come to me and you ask, "Who created this world?" And if I say "God," then you start asking about God: "Who is this God? And why did he create the world?" And if I say, "Because of this," then you ask.... Every answer will create more and more questions.

But if you have only one question... that is very difficult. Only a very wise man asks the one question.

Coming to the one question, you have already become mature - because many questions show your curiosity, one question shows that your being has come to a conclusion. Now this is at stake: if this question is solved, everything is solved. It is a question of life and death.

To ask one question means you have become one-pointed. To ask one question means now you are already a unity. And when you are a unity, the answer can be given to you; otherwise, you are not ready. And no master is going to waste his time and energy on you if you are asking many questions. Ask one question!

First find out what is the one question that is significant. Don't move on the periphery, come to the center! On the periphery there can be many points to be asked, but at the center there is only one point. And when you move on the periphery you go on moving in a circle; one question will lead to another, another will lead to another, and you go on and on ad infinitum.

But at the center there is only one question. And that question can be answered even without answering; if you have come to one question, the master can look at you and the question has been answered. The master can touch you and the question has been answered. Because when you are so one-pointed, when you are so intensely alive, your flame is burning so bright, your mind is so clear - not filled with clouds, only one sun, not millions of clouds - you are so unclouded, everything is keen, clear, aflame, just a look may do; just a touch may do. But if you are filled with many questions, even if the master goes on hammering answers on you, nothing is going to happen.

ONE NIGHT TOKUSAN CAME TO RYUTAN AND ASKED MANY QUESTIONS.

These Zen stories are so beautiful, their every word is meaningful. ONE NIGHT - not in the morning but in the dark. In the morning you come to ask one question, in the night you come to ask many questions. In the morning you are clear, fresh, young. In the night you are old, rotten. In the night means you are in the dark, groping. Even if you come to the door you will not be able to see. Even if the answer is given it will not be understood.

Mind is the darkness of the soul, it is the night of the soul. But you believe in this mind so much - and it has not given you anything except promises. It gives you promises, it is wonderful in that - it goes on promising.

I have heard: Once Mulla Nasruddin came back to his home very, very late at night. He knocked, the wife asked, "Nasruddin, what is the time?"

Nasruddin said matter-of-factly, "It is very early, only elevenfifteen."

The wife said, "Don't you lie to me. I just looked at the alarm clock. It is not eleven-fifteen, it is three-fifteen. The whole night is past."

Nasruddin said, "One minute. You believe in a rotten twenty-rupee alarm clock, rather than believing in your beloved husband? What type of marriage is this? What type of woman are you?"

You always believe in rotten twenty-rupee minds, that you have purchased from an old used-mind shop - it is not even yours! It has been in many hands, thousands of times. What is new in your mind? Everything is old, used. What is fresh in your mind? What is original in it? Everything is borrowed. And when a man purchases an old, old, used car, he thinks millions of times whether to purchase it or not.

You never think about the mind, that it has been used by many. Your every thought is borrowed, old, rubbish; many have thrown it. But you go on believing in it, because this mind has learned a trick, and that trick is how to promise. It goes on promising: "I will give you everything. You need God?

I will give you God, just wait. Do this and that. Make effort, and hope and pray, and you will get it." It always postpones. It says, "Tomorrow it will happen" - and tomorrow never comes. Tomorrow cannot come - all that comes is always today, and all that mind does is to transfer everything for tomorrow. It promises you - in the future. Whether it is heaven, whether it is God, or moksha, or nirvana - it always promises you, "In the future."

Meditation, Zen, never promises you anything. It simply gives you here and now. Mind is a postponement, it says, "It will happen. It will happen gradually. Go by and by. Don't be in a hurry, nothing can be done right now." Mind says, "Time is needed. Long is the path. Much has to be done and unless you do it, how can you attain?" Mind always divides ends and means.

In reality, there is no division. Every step is the goal, and every moment is nirvana. The present is all that exists. Future is the most illusory thing, it is a creation of the mind. But you believe in the mind, and it is really wonderful, you don't even get dis-couraged!

I have heard: One man purchased a used, old car. Then after two weeks he came back to the same shop and asked the salesman, "Are you the same guy who sold me this car?"

The man said, "Yes," a little afraid and apprehensive, because he knew what type of car he had sold.

This man said, "Then tell me again the same things you told me before you sold me this car - I get so discouraged. Give me a little courage; and I will be coming on and off, just to get encouraged."

You don't even get discouraged about the mind. You go on listening to it. And mind is the dark, the dark part of your being where no light enters. It is the night.

So it is right: ONE NIGHT TOKUSAN CAME TO RYUTAN AND ASKED MANY QUESTIONS. THE TEACHER SAID...

He didn't answer. He didn't answer a single question. He simply listened to the questions.

THE TEACHER SAID, "THE NIGHT IS GETTING OLD - WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE?"

Look! So many questions were asked and the teacher simply said, "The night is getting old, the darkness is increasing. You are moving into a darker and darker part of the mind. THE NIGHT IS GETTING OLD - WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE?"

This is the only answer for so many questions: "WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE?"

You are the question and the question creator. You - the ego, the mind - you are the disease. Why don't you retire? Many questions were asked - only one answer given, and that too could not be understood, because a person who asks many questions cannot understand one answer. His mind cannot understand anything that belongs to the one. He can only understand the many. 'Many' is always out, 'one' is always in - because the center is within you, and the periphery is without.

The master said one of the most beautiful things: "THE NIGHT IS GETTING OLD - WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE? It is time you should retire." It seems irrelevant. He should have answered the questions.... He has answered, because he says, "You please retire."

If you are there, then questions will go on coming. Questions come to the mind just like leaves come to the trees. And you go on watering the tree, and then the leaves go on coming. Of course, old leaves will fall and new will come. So the master can answer a question: the old will go, but the new will come and it will be replaced again. And a new question is worse, because an old question - you are already fed up with it. You may throw it. You have lived enough with it.

A new question is again like a new wife - again you are in love, again the romance starts, again the poetry and again the whole nonsense. A new thought is more dangerous than the old, because with the old you are fed up, you are already getting bored with it, you want to throw it. That's why Buddha, or Ryutan, or persons like that, never answer your questions. They would not like to give you new shelters for the mind. They would not like to give you new substitutes for the old.

Buddha used to say, "Don't ask if you want to be answered. When you don't ask, I will answer. If you ask, the door is closed."

Buddha used to insist with newcomers, "For one year remain with me without asking anything. If you ask, you cannot be allowed to live with me, you will have to move on. For one year simply be silent."

And it is not a question of asking visibly - Buddha knows... if you go on asking within, he knows.

One day it happened, Mahakashyapa was sitting there. He had not asked anything. A great disciple of Buddha, but he had come just a few months before and Buddha had told him to remain silent for one year, not asking anything. A few other disciples were sitting there. Suddenly, Buddha asked, "Mahakashyapa, you asked?"

So Mahakashyapa said, "I have not spoken at all."

And others also said, "He has not spoken at all."

Buddha said, "Look within. You have asked. You have broken the promise."

And Mahakashyapa looked, and he bowed down and he said, "Sorry!" He had asked. He had not asked so that you could hear, but deep inside the question had been there. Even if you don't ask

and the mind is asking, you have asked, because thought is a subtle action. It will become visible sooner or later. The bubble is there, it will come to the surface. You can suppress it, but you cannot deceive a Buddha.

When can you be allowed to ask? When there is no question. This seems paradoxical; if there is no question, then what are you going to ask? Only then you ask the one question, and there is no need to verbalize it. Your whole being becomes one question, one search, one inquiry; then your whole being is an inquiry. And when you stand before a buddha, your whole being transformed into an inquiry, a thirst, a deep hunger, so deep that you are not there, only the hunger is there - then the buddha can feed you, then the answer can be given. Otherwise Buddha, whatsoever he says, will seem irrelevant - and these Zen stories are very irrelevant.

There are millions of Zen stories which are absolutely irrelevant. You ask about A and the master talks about Z - no relationship! We don't know what questions this Tokusan asked. Only one thing we know; the teacher, the master, never replied to them. He simply said, "Tokusan, THE NIGHT IS GETTING OLD - WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE?" And this is all that Zen is. This is all Zen is about - RETIRE!

Are you not tired enough with the mind? Then retire! Has not the mind done enough? Has the mind not created enough chaos in you? Why are you clinging to it? What hope, what promise, makes you cling to it? It has been deceiving you continuously. It said, "There - that goal, in that possession, in that house, in that car, in that woman, in those riches - is everything." And you moved, and when you reached it, nothing came into your hands except frustration. Every expectation led you to frustration.

Every desire became in the end a sorry affair, a sadness resulted.

And this mind has been promising you and promising you - no promise has been fulfilled, but you never say to the mind, "You deceiver, stop!" You are afraid of saying that.

Once it happened: Mulla Nasruddin came out of the village tavern and the new priest saw him - he was passing by on the road. The new priest said, "Nasruddin, you are a religious man. What do I see? You are coming out of such a place? My son, drink is of the Devil. And when the Devil invites you again, refuse. Why don't you refuse?"

Nasruddin said, "Reverend, I would like to refuse, but the Devil may get sore and may not invite me again."

That's the problem. You would like to refuse this mind; this mind has never fulfilled anything, but you are afraid - the mind may get sore, will not promise you again. Then...? You cannot live without promises, you cannot live without hope - this is the mechanism.

Unless you are ready to live without hope you cannot become religious. Even your so-called religions are nothing but hopes created by the mind. Are you ready to live without hope? Are you ready to live without the future? Then there is simply no need to retire; the mind retires itself. Then there is no clinging with the mind. But you are afraid - the mind may get sore. And the mind is the Devil and may not offer again, then what will you do?

People come to me, they think their search is religious - their search is still mental. They are still moving in the dark valleys of the mind, they are still listening to the mind, they are hoping. They

hope through money and they fail; they hoped through sex - they have failed. They have hoped in many, many ways and they have failed. Now they hope through meditation, now they hope through a master - but the hoping is there. And remember well: if you hope through me you will miss me. I cannot fulfill your hopes.

Why not leave off hoping? Why do you hope? What is the basis of it? Discontent becomes hope; this is the disguise. Because here and now you are in so much discontent, in so much misery, that you need some hope in the future. That hope will help you to move. You can somehow tolerate the present; through hoping, you can tolerate the present... hope is anesthesia. The present is miserable, painful; hope is alcoholic, it is a drug, it makes you unconscious enough so you can tolerate the present.

Hope means here and now there is discontent. But have you ever looked at the whole phenomenon?

Why are you discontented here and now in the first place? Why? - because you hoped in the past, that's why here and now you are in discontent. This today was tomorrow yesterday. Yesterday you hoped for today, because it was tomorrow then. Now that hope is not fulfilled, so you are in misery, frustrated. And to hide this misery, to somehow pass today, you are again hoping for the tomorrow.

You are in a rut, and in such a rut that it will be very difficult to come out of it. Tomorrow the same will happen: you will be frustrated, because mind can promise but can never fulfill. Other-wise, there was no need for meditation; then Buddha was a fool, meditating.

If mind can fulfill, then all meditators are foolish, then all enlightened persons are fools. Because mind cannot fulfill... when they come to understand the whole mechanism, and the whole misery of it.... This is the mechanism: yesterday mind promised you that something is going to be delivered to you tomorrow. Now the tomorrow has come, it is today, and the mind has not delivered - you are in misery, your expectations are frustrated. Now the mind says, "Tomorrow I am going to deliver."

The mind promises again. And what type of stupidity is this, that you again listen to the mind? And tomorrow the same mechanism will be repeated - it is a vicious circle.

You listen to the mind, you become miserable - otherwise, this today is paradise! And there is no other paradise, this today is nirvana. If you had not listened to the mind... just don't listen to the mind, then you are not in misery; because misery cannot exist without expectations and without hopes.

And when misery exists you need more hopes for it, to hide it, to live somehow. Live hopelessly - then you are a righteous man, then you are retired.

The words are beautiful. The master said, "THE NIGHT IS GETTING OLD - WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE? Have you not had enough of this night? Have you not heard and listened to this mind too much already? Drop out of it. Don't listen to it any more. Retire!"

But Tokusan misunderstood him, because a man who is filled with so many questions cannot understand the answer. Out of his compassion Ryutan gave the answer, but the disciple misunderstood - scholars always misunderstand.

What did he think? He thought of the night outside... it was not referred to at all. Masters never talk about outside, they always talk about the inside. The master was talking about the dark night inside, and the disciple thought, "Yes, the night is getting old." He looked outside - he looked at the

periphery. The master was talking about the center. The master was using the language of the within, and the disciple understood in the language of the without. And the language of the within cannot be translated into the language of the without. No, there is no way to translate it. Either you understand or you don't understand - there is no way to translate it for you.

Hindi can be translated into English, English can be translated into Chinese - but religion cannot be translated into any language. The inner cannot be translated into the outer. Why can Chinese be translated into English? Because both are of the without, they both exist on the periphery.

"WHY DON'T YOU RETIRE?" said the master.

SO TOKUSAN BOWED, AND AS HE OPENED THE SCREEN TO GO OUT, HE OBSERVED, "IT IS VERY DARK OUTSIDE."

He understood - he thought he had understood. He bowed: "Yes, it is too late, and the night is getting darker and darker and too old, and it is time to go to sleep."

What the master was meaning, was saying, is, "It is time to awaken." For the man who knows the inner, 'retire' means it is time to come out of your sleep, out of your mind, because mind is the sleep.

You have heard about the sleeping disease? - mind is that disease, it is deep sleep. Even while you are awake it doesn't allow you to be awake; you move in a deep hypnosis, it is a somnambulism.

You do things just like a mechanical, automatic machine. You are like an automaton; you eat, you talk, you do things, you are efficient, but don't think that you are awakened. You are not awake.

You have many types of sleep: sometimes you sleep with closed eyes, sometimes you sleep with open eyes. Sometimes you sleep on the bed, sometimes you sleep in the temple, sometimes on the street. Sometimes you are in the shop sleeping. Sometimes you sleep doing things, sometimes you sleep without doing things. Sometimes you sleep with dreams, sometimes you sleep with thoughts - but you continue your sleep.

In the morning you don't become awake. In the morning a new kind of sleep starts with open eyes - dreams float, and thoughts continue, and you do the ritual. Awakening is not needed for the daily ritual. That's why nobody likes new things to happen every day - because if new things are happening, then you will have to awaken. With old things, with a routine, you can move sleepily, there is no need. In a life of seventy years, if you have even been awake for seven moments, it is too much. That's why when Gautam Siddhartha awakened we called him Buddha, the awakened one.

Because it is such a rare phenomenon - to be awake.

The master meant, "Retire from the mind, so that you can be awake." And the disciple understood, "Right," he said, "it is very dark outside, I must go to sleep now. I must retire." This is how, whenever the truth is given by a master, it is being distorted in the mind of the disciple.

SO TOKUSAN BOWED... just to thank the master, that he has correctly observed that the night is already so far passed... AND AS HE OPENED THE SCREEN TO GO OUT HE OBSERVED, "IT IS VERY DARK OUTSIDE."

RYUTAN OFFERED TOKUSAN A LIGHTED CANDLE... the master offered a lighted candle to the disciple ... TO FIND HIS WAY. BUT JUST AS TOKUSAN RECEIVED IT... and he was on the move to go out ... RYUTAN BLEW IT OUT.

AT THAT MOMENT THE MIND OF TOKUSAN WAS OPENED.

What happened? Ryutan offered Tokusan a lighted candle. He said, "Okay, outside it is very dark, so you take this lighted candle to see the path."

For the outside, candles can be offered, not for the inside - because how will you take a candle inside? For the inside, no candle can be offered from without. The master cannot give you the light which will enlighten you inside.

In fact, inside the light has always been burning. It is there, but you go on looking outside. Once you look within, the light is there. It has always been there. You have never missed it for a single moment. You cannot miss it. It is your Tao, your nature, your very self - no need to offer any candle for the inside, and no candle can go inside. But for the outside candles can be offered.

So remember: all those who offer you something for your path, all those candles can be only for the outside. They may light your path in the world, but never in God.

Seeing that the disciple had not understood, the master tried again. He created a situation, a very rare situation: he offered Tokusan a lighted candle.

Tokusan was asking many questions, and he didn't offer a single candle for the inside, he didn't offer a single answer. He simply said, "Retire!" But if darkness is outside, then something can be done, you can be helped. If your body is ill, then you can find a doctor; but if your soul is ill, then no doctor can be of any help - then you have to do something. Then the master can only bring you to this point that you have to do something, because inside nobody can penetrate except you. If somebody can penetrate in your inside, it is not inside, because in the interiormost temple of your being how can anybody else enter? There is no space - only you exist there in your total aloneness.

That is why Mahavira has said that even love cannot enter there. You are totally alone. Mahavira used a word for ultimate liberation, for ultimate salvation; that word is kaivalya. Kaivalya means absolute loneliness. In your innermost being you are totally alone - nobody can enter there. Not even a master can enter there. If somebody can enter there, then it is outside, then it is not the interiormost core. At the center of a circle only one point can be there, not two. If there are two, it is still not the center. Then still a small periphery is around.

You are alone in your deepest being. The master can help you to become aware of this fact, and once you know it all disease inside disappears. Once you accept your total loneliness you are liberated; then there is no attachment - love can flow. In reality, only now can love flow, because now love is not a dependence, you are not dependent on the other. If you are dependent on the other, then you will be against also - because whosoever makes you dependent is the enemy, cannot be the friend.

So lovers continuously fight, because the lover is the enemy, the beloved is the enemy. You have become dependent, you cannot live without the other, your freedom is destroyed, and any love that destroys freedom will become hate sooner or later.

Only that love which gives you more freedom will never turn into hate, it will be eternal. So only a Jesus, a Buddha, can love eternally. There is no change of climate, the same harmony continues.

Why? - because a Buddha or a Jesus has attained his total loneliness, and has accepted this fact.

And this is so beautiful... to be totally alone, like an Everest.

At the very peak, you are alone. At the very core, the innermost being, you are alone. When you have accepted it, now love can flow like the Ganges, now there is no trouble, now you can love without any condition. Now you can love without becoming dependent, or without making anybody dependent on you. Now love can be a freedom.

A master helps you to be aware of your total, ultimate loneliness. The word loneliness is not good, because it carries a sadness about it - because of you, not because of the word. Because of the old associations, you always feel sad when you are lonely.

In Japan it happened once: A Zen master was a great gardener, a lover of gardening. Even the king became jealous of his garden, and one day somebody came to the king and said, "Now you must go and see."

Japanese love the morning-glory flower very much and the man who spoke to the king said, "I have never seen such flowers, millions of them, the whole garden of the Zen master is filled with flowers.

And the fragrance - it is so beautiful. Don't miss it. You should go."

It was too much for the king to go to see this poor man's garden. He had a big garden - hundreds of acres of greenery, hundreds of gardeners working there - and he had to go and see?

But the man reported, and he said, "It may not happen again."

So the king said, "You go and inform him that tomorrow morning I am coming."

The master was informed. The next morning the king came with his court, with his generals, queen, princes. The whole capital was stilled, thousands of people gathered around the monastery. And the king came, he looked around and he said, "What! I was informed there were millions of flowers, and I see only one morning-glory flower in the garden."

The Zen master said, "Yes, there were millions, but in the night we removed them all, because we believe in the one. And this is the most beautiful of them all - in a crowd you would have missed this. So we have removed all; only the best, only the most beautiful has been saved for you."

The king became a little sad. He said, "It looks so lonely."

And the Zen master laughed and said, "It is not lonely. It is alone."

Remember this: when you reach to your innermost center you are not lonely, you are alone. And this aloneness is not an emptiness - it is the fulfillment. This aloneness is not empty, it is overflowing.

This aloneness is not a void, it is the all.

The master can only make you aware of this fact - which is already there. He cannot give you anything new. He only gives you that which you already have, which you already are, which you

have already been carrying within you, but never alert to. He only makes you mindful of the fact that is, of your being. He only makes you aware of the truth: the treasure that is hidden there - and you have not looked at it.

Your being a god is already the case; the master simply makes you aware of this fact. It is not an achievement.

RYUTAN OFFERED TOKUSAN A LIGHTED CANDLE. He said, "Okay. If you cannot look within, and the darkness that you are living in, the darkness of the mind.... I talk about the inside and you look outside - if you are so focused, I will give you a candle."

He gave him... A LIGHTED CANDLE TO FIND HIS WAY, BUT JUST AS TOKUSAN RECEIVED IT...

and he was going to move, step down from the temple of the master... RYUTAN BLEW IT OUT.

Suddenly, darkness! With the lighted candle there was light. It was not even given and it was immediately blown out, suddenly there was darkness.

AT THAT MOMENT... what happened? ... THE MIND OF TOKUSAN WAS OPENED - he became enlightened.

What happened in this moment? Many things happened simultaneously. They happened in a single fragment. No time was lost. Here the candle was blown out; there, immediately, the disciple was enlightened.

What happened? One thing: suddenly he became aware that the master was not talking about the dark night outside. That's why he had blown out the candle - to indicate that this candle won't do.

He was talking of the inside, of the dark night within. He was not saying go and retire and fall into sleep. He wanted to make him alert and aware. And when the light suddenly went out, his mind suddenly stopped. He couldn't conceive... it was so unpredictable. The master gave him the candle and then blew it out. It was so absurd! Then why give it?

It was so contradictory, for a moment the mind couldn't think - because the mind cannot think when there is a contradiction. Many times I give you the candle and blow it out immediately. I say a sentence and contradict it immediately, just so that your mind cannot think anything about it, cannot work it out. If your mind can work it out, the opportunity is missed. It was so contradictory: the night was dark and the master offered a candle, and when he was just about to move, he blew it out. What does he mean? So inconsistent!

Enlightened persons are always inconsistent. Consistency is always of the mind; you can find a consistent thinker, but you cannot find a consistent Buddha. Each moment he behaves in a new way - because he is not behaving out of the past, he responds with the present moment. And it was so accidental that the mind couldn't work it out - and suddenly there was darkness all over.

The disciple understood one thing, that the master was not talking of the outside. He was not talking of the night out there, he was talking of the night here, inside. He offered the candle and then blew it out. He was saying that no help is possible inside. You have to move in your darkness yourself, these candles won't do. Nobody can be a guide there, only indications....

Buddha is reported to have said that buddhas only show the way - you have to walk, they cannot go with you. If they go with you, you will become dependent on them, and they will become your world and they will become your attachment. They cannot go with you. And it is inherently, intrinsically impossible for somebody else to take you to your center. He can indicate the way - buddhas only point the way; you have to move.

Suddenly there was darkness - the mind stopped. The mind could not conceive, the mind could not reconcile this inconsistent behavior. There was a gap, a discontinuity in the mind - and that gap becomes meditation. Suddenly his mind opened. When the mind cannot function, when the mind finds something impossible to reconcile, to solve, the mind drops.

If the mind can find the logic then it continues. So a master has to be illogical because of your mind; only then gaps are possible. This moment he behaves in a certain way, and the next moment he contradicts himself. This moment he says something, the next moment he says something quite the opposite. You cannot make a system out of it.

That's why when Buddha died many systems arose, because everybody started to create a system of his own. And he was an inconsistent man, he was not a system-maker, so there were millions of contradictions. So everybody - philosophers - started working, and now Buddhists have many philosophies. In those philosophies contradictions have been left out and they have made a consistent whole.

But when you leave the contradictions out, you have left Buddha himself out - because he was in his contradictions. He was in the gaps. He was giving shocks to your mind. This is a shock: Tokusan, at that moment, suddenly became alert. He could not have predicted it. If the mind can predict anything, there is no shock. If I repeat this story with you... if I give you a candle this night, you know the story well, and then I blow it out - nothing will happen, because you expect it.

So a device cannot be used again; it is impossible to use it again. That's why new buddhas are always needed, because old buddhas ... your mind has absorbed them, it knows very well. So a new buddha may do exactly the opposite. He may give you the candle and will not blow it out, and you will go in the dark night with that candle thinking continuously, "What happened? The story seems incomplete." A new buddha has to create new devices, new methods, new techniques, because your mind is so cunning: once it knows, it makes everything part of it.

At that moment the mind of Tokusan was opened. And when the mind is opened you are enlightened.

Mind is a closing, mind is a closed door. And being is an open door - that's the only difference. Mind open, you are a being; mind closed, you are just a past, a memory, not a living, alive force. Mind closed, you can look only outside, because how can you look inside? The mind is closed, the door is closed. Mind open, you can look inside.

Looking inside, you are totally transformed. Once there is a single glimpse of the inside, you will never be the same again. Then you can move, you can look outside, you can move in the world; you can be a shopkeeper, you can be a clerk, you can be a teacher in a school, you can be a butcher - you can be whatsoever you were before, but the quality has changed.

In Zen they say that before a man is enlightened, rivers are rivers, mountains are mountains. Then, when a man becomes a seeker, rivers are no longer rivers, mountains are no longer mountains -

everything is confused, a chaos. And when a man becomes enlightened, rivers are again rivers, mountains are again mountains.

Zen people say that a man of enlightenment lives the same way as any ordinary man - no difference on the outside. He eats when he feels hungry, he sleeps when he feels tired - no difference on the outside. Just the nature of being, the quality of being has changed: now the mind is open. He can look outside, but he remains inside. He can move in the world, but the world never moves in him. He remains in the world, but the world is no more a part of his being. He can do whatsoever is needed, but he is never attached. Not that he is detached - no, he is neither attached nor detached. The world has become a dream, the world has become a play, a game. It is no more real, it is no more substantial. If he happens to be a butcher, he will remain a butcher; he will carry it out to the very end.

Zen says that the ordinary mind is the enlightened mind - with only one difference; the mind open, the door open, alert, awake. The sleep has gone. You are no more in hypnosis, you are no more in a drugged state. You are alert.

If you try too much to change the outside, that shows that you are still attached. If a man tries to be detached, it shows attachment. Why bother about detachment if you are not attached? If a man escapes from women, it shows that sex is still the obsession. Otherwise, why escape from women if you are not obsessed?

If a man avoids the market, moves to the Himalayas, he is still somehow in the market, or the market is in him. He is still afraid, and fear always shows that you have not changed. Otherwise, a man of enlightenment will be as ordinary as anybody else. More ordinary than anybody else! Extraordinarily ordinary! Why? - because he is not an exhibitionist. He may just be your next-door neighbor and you may not know him ever, because you are after extraordinary men.

If a man stands for years, you will go... many, many miles you will travel. It will become a pilgrimage, because you are going to see a man who has been standing for ten years. It may be a feat, but it doesn't show anything. It again shows just an egoist standpoint, an exhibition. You may go and bow down to a man who has been fasting, because you cannot fast. This man has achieved the goal and you cannot achieve it. You feel inferior before this man. You bow down because deep down you also wanted to be like this: extraordinary. You wanted some powers, miracles, and this man has achieved.

A man is a brahmachari, a celibate: you feel awe, you feel very much influenced, impressed, because you cannot live without a woman, and this man has. He has achieved the desire that you also have deep down, a desire to live without a woman, because the woman is the bondage.

You feel she creates a boundary around you, she possesses you. You cannot move beyond that boundary, you are afraid of women.

Somebody was asking Mulla Nasruddin, "Why, Nasruddin, are you leaving so early today?" - he was leaving the tavern.

He said, "Every day it is a problem. The wife!"

So the man said, "Are you afraid of your wife? Are you a man or a mouse?"

Nasruddin said, "I am a man."

And the man said, "Then why you are going so early if you are a man? And what certainty have you got that you are a man?"

Said Nasruddin, "I am certain, absolutely certain, because my wife is afraid of mice. I am certainly a man. I am afraid of her and she is afraid of mice. Had I been a mouse...!"

The wife, the husband, the family, the work, the responsibility, the world - everything becomes a burden, a boundary around you. You feel encaged, imprisoned. And a man who has left all, standing alone in his majesty, neither burdened by a wife nor children, neither worried, nor afraid - you bow down to him, because you feel, "This is the goal. This is what I would also like to achieve."

But this man is just the opposite pole of you. He may have become the mouse and you may still be the man, the wife may be afraid of him, but nothing has changed. He is just the opposite. He is also hiding the same fears. He is also hiding the same lust, but he has reversed the whole process.

He is floating upstream, that's all - but the stream is the same, the fight continues. He may be a greater fighter than you, or may be a more stupid fighter than you - because stupid people are always courageous, and they can float upstream more easily than anybody else. Idiots can do things intelligent men ordinarily cannot do.

Fools can enter where even angels are afraid to go. So if you see in your monks in the monasteries, your sannyasins, your so-called sadhus, stupid people, that is natural. Look in their eyes, you will never see the look of intelligence, you will not see the clarity, you will not see the flame. You will just see stupid, idiotic people, dull - dullards! They can do such things more easily. They can stand on their heads, shirshasan, and they can do so for years, but they have not changed, the transformation has not happened.

Zen says the ordinary mind is the enlightened mind. You don't go anywhere; the ordinary world is the paradise. Here and now, everything is there. You need not go anywhere.

A man whose mind is open, the wife disappears. Not that he goes, escapes from the wife - simply the wife disappears and a beautiful being is there. When there is no wife, a beautiful being is there.

When you make a being a wife, a husband, ugliness enters. Then there is a friend, a beautiful loving friend - because expectations bring enmity. It is your mind, a closed mind, which creates the problems, not the wife.

For the first time you become aware of the beauty of the world ... everything is young and fresh and alive, and God is here! If you think your God is somewhere else you are still listening to the mind, because that is the language of the mind: "Somewhere else, somewhere else. Never here" - and he is always here.

Meditation reveals to you the here and now. And then the ordinary mind becomes the most extraordinary, and the ordinary life becomes the supreme, the ultimate. The only difference is of a closed or open mind.

When thoughts are there the mind is closed. When thoughts are not there, the clouds are not there and the mind is open. And when the mind is open the old pail has fallen, the water has flowed out, the reflection disappears - no water, no moon.

Enough for today.