Twenty-four hours a day

Maneesha, Zen can say things which no other religion is capable of. Zen is a rare flower.

All other religions are subservient to the vested interests, to the past, to the society, to the state. Zen is an exception. My love for it is not without reason. It is the only revolutionary approach to the ultimate reality, and a man like Daikaku is a perfectly representative master. You have to listen to his every word as if you are listening to me.

DAIKAKU SAID:

The whole theological world and the whole philosophical world are concerned only with clarifying conceptual distinctions -- what is what. They never go beyond the conceptual mind. Looking from the point of view of Zen, what they are doing is not only childish, it is also stupid. A child can grow up, but stupidity only becomes thicker and thicker and thicker.

All the religions have served the politicians, the emperors, the murderers, the criminals.

You may not be aware of it, but you have to be aware. The pope in the second world war blessed Mussolini, who was a fascist, to be victorious. He prayed to God to make Benito Mussolini the victor. Now it is strange, the archbishop of England was also praying to the same God -- both are Christians -- but Italy and England were at war. Even Adolf Hitler was blessed and received the prayers of both the Catholic and Protestant religions. Their high priests prayed to God that he should be made the victor.

Now, God must have been in trouble to decide! All sides were praying to the same God, the same Christian God. They all worshipped the same Christian Bible. But this strange situation shows completely that your religion is nothing but a servant to the state -- it can even pray for Adolf Hitler to become the victor over the world. It does not matter for whom the religion is praying; it has always been favorable to those who have power and riches.

Zen is in every way exceptional. Japan was also at war but not a single Zen master blessed the emperor of Japan to be the conqueror.

The emperor of Japan had gone to receive blessings from a Zen master, and wondered how to ask him. First he had tried to persuade the master to come to his court. The master refused. He said, "Even if God calls me to his court, I will refuse. I am perfectly happy where I am. If you want to see me, then you have to come. The thirsty has to come to the well." A clear-cut answer....

The emperor finally had to concede, reluctantly, and he went with all his court following him. Not finding a word -- what to say? -- he asked, "I have always wondered: what is hell and what is heaven?"

The master said, "You idiot!" I don't think any emperor has ever received such a welcome. A poor monk who has no possessions, nothing except himself... but having himself gives him such authority that he can say to the emperor, "You are an idiot!" The emperor became furious. This was too much. He pulled out his sword and was going to cut off the head of the master.

The master said, "Wait a little... this is the door of hell."

The emperor thought for a moment. He had been given the answer: anger, violence, destructiveness. He pulled back his sword and the master said, "This is the door of heaven. Do you want to ask any more questions?"

The emperor said, "I am satisfied." He could not manage to ask, "Bless me, that I should be the victor in the great world war." Just being in the master's presence, the very idea looked stupid.

Zen has never been in any way what Karl Marx calls the opium of the people. It is unfortunate that a genius like Karl Marx had no idea of Zen. He knew, in the name of religion, only Christianity which is the worst religion in the world. He did not know the flights of Gautam Buddha, of Mahakashyap, of Nansen, of Tozan. He was absolutely unaware of the East, and religion is an Eastern contribution to the world. In the Far East, in Japan, it has come to flower in its totality.

Daikaku is one of those masters who have come to their fullness, to their fulfillment. Just listen to what he says:

Daikaku is famous for burning all the scriptures that belonged to the monastery of which he had become the head, the successor. He burned all the scriptures and he stopped one thousand disciples in the monastery from reading them, saying, "This is not a university, you are not here to study something. You are here to transform yourself, to seek yourself; and that is not possible through scriptures. Throw out all these scriptures, holy and unholy, both together."

It was very shocking when Daikaku did it. It shocked almost the whole Buddhist world.

But Daikaku was a man of the same strength and the same power as Bodhidharma or Mahakashyap. He did not care what the world said, he knew what he was doing. The only way to reach yourself is to throw away all your preconceived ideas, all your prejudices, all your scriptures, all your religious notions. Anything concerned with the self that has been conceived through the mind has to be thrown away, cleaned out completely.

No scriptures can give you the experience of your being. They are really the hindrances -- your life spring is covered by those layers of prejudices and conceptions. Unless you throw them away, whether it is the Bible or Shrimad Bhagavadgita or the holy Koran or Dhammapada... it does not matter what it is. Whatever is covering your life spring, throw it away without a single moment of hesitation. Because all that is borrowed is just dust, layers and layers of dust, and you are covered with that dust.

ALL THE HOLY ONES HAVE TURNED WITHIN AND SOUGHT IN THE SELF, AND BY THIS, WENT BEYOND ALL DOUBT.

He is saying, "It is not only me, but all the buddhas have done the same. They have all burned the whole contents of the mind and cleared the space so that the life springs can flow directly and you can know for the first time your own eternity, your own splendor."

It is a paradox to say it, but it is a fact that all your religious teaching is a barrier to your becoming religious. To know anything about God from others is dangerous. It will prevent you from knowing existence directly, and you will settle for cheap knowledge.

Zen's whole revolution is: don't settle for cheap knowledge; go for the costly experience.

And anything that hinders the way, throw it out. Gautam Buddha has even said, "If I come into your meditations, cut off my head immediately! Nobody is to be allowed to hinder your progress." These were real lions. Humanity can be proud of these people who did not desire to enslave you, as Catholics, as Hindus, as Mohammedans; whose whole effort was to liberate you from all "isms," from all churches, and to help you penetrate your own reality. That is the only truth, the only space which is holy.

In these few statements he has covered the whole journey from falsehood to truth, from darkness to light, from death to immortality. What he has said can be condensed, so that you can remember it not as knowledge but only as a finger indicating the moon -- just a few hints for your own inner journey.

The first thing is, twenty-four hours a day, to remember what you find in your meditations. You will forget again and again, but the gaps of forgetfulness will become less and the length of remembering will become longer. By and by the gaps of forgetting will disappear. There comes a time when you are a whole circle of remembrance, twenty- four hours. Even in your sleep you know you are a buddha.

A small story will explain it to you....

Ananda, Buddha's very intimate disciple, was almost forty-two years continuously serving Buddha, day and night, summer and winter. One night when Buddha was going to lie down, Ananda said, "I don't generally ask any questions, because every question that I could ask, others ask. And I am always here, so I listen to the answer. I know that any question I have is going to be asked by somebody or other; in these years this has become my experience. But there is one question I don't think anybody is going to ask. It is very situational."

Buddha said, "You can ask."

"The question," he said, "is not very great. But it has been troubling me for years."

Buddha said, "You could have asked at any time."

Ananda said, "I never wanted to trouble you. The whole day you are working on people, and in the night you are alone with me. The question is that I have been watching you for twenty years continuously... even in the night I get up once or twice to have a look at you to see whether you are all right. What has been puzzling me is that you keep the same posture the whole night. You don't change sides, you don't even move your leg. Do you sleep or do you remain awake?"

Buddha said, "My body sleeps; it sleeps very profoundly. But as far as I am concerned, I am just a pure awareness. So having found the right position, the one which is the most comfortable, I have not changed it for twenty years. And I am not going to change it till my last breath."

He died in the same posture. Because of Buddha, the posture has become known as the Lion's Posture. For forty-two years after his enlightenment, his day and night was a continuity of awareness.

That's what Daikaku is saying:

Go on turning in. Whenever you find a moment to turn, turn. And it is such a simple act to turn within -- nobody's help is needed. No ladder is needed, no door has to be opened.

Just close your eyes and look in. Sitting in a bus, traveling in a train... you can do it any time, and slowly slowly you don't even need to close your eyes. The remembrance simply remains, of its own accord.

That's what Daikaku is saying:

What is the truth of the heart? The ordinary commonsense view of the heart is that it is the source of emotions like love or hate or anger. Just as the mind is the source of conceptual thoughts, the heart is the source of all that is emotional and sentimental. That is the commonsense view.

But when Buddha says 'the heart' he means the very center of your being. It is his understanding that your love, your hate, everything, arises out of your mind. And I think he is being absolutely scientific; all psychologists will agree with him.

You can experiment yourself. You can see from where your anger arises -- it is the mind; from where your emotions arise -- it is the mind. Mind is a big phenomenon; it covers conceptual thinking, it covers your emotional patterns, your sentiments. To Buddha, the mind contains all that arises in you, and the heart is that which is always silent and empty and watching.

What is THE TRUTH OF THE HEART? -- Silence and watchfulness.

From the very beginning one should remember that we are in search of a place, a space, where nothing arises -- no dust, no smoke; where everything is pure and clean, utterly empty, just spaciousness. One should be clear from the very beginning what we are looking for.

Zen is not against the world. That is one more of its rebellious attitudes against all religions. All religions somehow condemn the world. All religions praise those who have renounced the world, those who have gone away from it, renouncing the wife, the children, the home.

Somebody has some day to do deep research into how many millions of people have left the world in the name of religion and caused to suffer small children, old parents, wives and husbands; who have disturbed the life of many in the name of religion. And do you think these people have found anything? They have simply created many prostitutes, many orphanages, many poor old people, dying without food or medicine. And what have they gained? Not a single one of them has attained to buddhahood.

Zen is very clear and straightforward about everything. It is not a question of renouncing the world; the question is of renouncing your mind.

Wherever you go, your mind will go with you. Your knowledge will go with you, your prejudices will go with you, your scriptures will go with you. Your idea that you are a Hindu or a Mohammedan will go with you. So what are you renouncing?

Zen does not want you to renounce the world but to renounce the mind, so that you can find the empty heart. The empty heart is your purity, your virginity. This empty heart opens the door to the universal and the eternal.

Daikaku is saying that people ordinarily do one thing: wherever there is strife or some disturbance, they avoid that place. These are the people who have renounced the world because to be in the world is a difficult task, every moment there is some difficulty. They are escapists.

Once and for all it should be clear that the future of religion cannot depend on the escapists. The authentic religious man will live in the world without being disturbed by all kinds of disturbances. He will be simply a watcher, unperturbed. In fact the world is a good place because it gives you an opportunity to test your silence, your meditativeness, your watchfulness. Be in the world but don't be of it. Be in the world but don't let the world be in you.

It is the ordinary mind's approach that where things are quiet and peaceful, it is good; there you can meditate. So people have gone to the Himalayas to meditate. And what they meditate on, you will be surprised: they meditate more on the world that they have left behind! Because everything that they have left behind forcibly, follows them in their minds.

I have heard two stories. One is about an American billionaire. He became tired of money, tired of women, tired of drugs. Finally he thought, "I have to go to the Himalayas, to find a real master to show me the way to peace." He traveled to the Himalayas and inquired, "Is somebody aware of an authentic master?" People said, "Yes, there is a man near Mansarovar" -- the highest lake in the world, on top of the Himalayas. "He has been there perhaps for sixty years or more, nobody remembers; we have always known him to be there. He is the only man there."

Even the swans which live in Mansarovar leave it for three months and come down to the plains, because for those months the lake is completely frozen. You can walk on it, you can drive over it; it is like solid rock. The people said, "But even in those months that man never leaves the place. Obviously, he must have found the truth; otherwise why should one remain there for sixty years in such arduous conditions?"

The billionaire was not to be discouraged; on the contrary, it became a challenge. He was a man who had fought many challenges in his life. He was born a poor man and he became a billionaire by sheer effort and struggle. So he struggled; it was a difficult task to reach there, because no buses go there, no roads go there. He had to find his path by just looking at the map and moving into the unknown .

Finally, he found an old man, a very old man. He thought in his mind that if there is any God, he must look like this man! He was very happy, although tired and tattered. He fell at the feet of the old man and he said, "I am coming from America. I am a super-rich man, but I am tired of the world; I have renounced everything."

The old man looked at him and said, "These matters we will discuss later on. Do you have a cigarette on you? Sixty years, and not a single idiot has come here with a cigarette."

The billionaire was very much shocked, but he gave his whole packet, and a lighter, and the old man said, "You are a very religious person."

"But," the billionaire said, "what am I to do now?"

He said, "Go back. And when you come again, bring as many cigarettes as possible."

He said, "This is strange! I had come here for enlightenment..."

The old man said, "Do what I have told you. Just this way -- going back and coming again, going back and coming again -- you will become enlightened."

Miserably, he went away. No one has ever heard that he came back again. But this man, for sixty years, had been waiting for a cigarette.

The second story is certainly fiction. This one that I have just told you may be true. The second is that when Edmund Hillary reached Everest he was surprised to see a Hindu sannyasin squatting on the ground there. He said, "My god! We used to think that nobody had ever reached here. How did you manage?"

He said, "I come here every day. This is a sort of toilet for me. I live just nearby. But these things we can discuss later on -- how much for your watch? Because here it is so difficult to know what time it is..."

These people who have escaped from the world, do you think they are thinking about anything else? They are thinking more of the world than you are, because you don't have to think -- it is there! These poor fellows have to think thousands of things which are not there. Mind always desires that which is not there. That which is with you, mind simply accepts; there is no need to think about it.

This ordinary conception has prevailed amongst humanity that one should go to a quiet place to meditate, and get away from places which are full of strife, struggle, conflict. But Zen has a totally different attitude -- and more psychological. There is no need to leave the world. The world is a perfectly good place -- as a fire test. What is needed is to go in, not to go somewhere out.

And you can go in anywhere in the world, whether it is the Himalayas or the M. G. Road.

You can become enlightened even with a rented bicycle! It does not matter that it was rented. I have heard of people becoming enlightened even on stolen bicycles, because becoming enlightened has nothing to do with bicycles.

Daikaku says:

No other religion has said that. And I authenticate it: The person who escapes from troubles falls certainly into a very dark space, because his very beginning is wrong. He is going away from the trouble. He should have remained in the trouble, untroubled -- that would have been some gain. But he has escaped from it, and when there is no struggle, no trouble, no strife.... Sitting somewhere in the Himalayas, the silence that surrounds you is of the Himalayas, not of you. That is not going to help. You have to find your own Himalayas within.

You can see the rebelliousness of Zen. Every religion is concerned that you should be good, you should not be bad, you should be respectable, you should not be condemned by the society. You should not lose your good repute even if you have to be a hypocrite. Just be good, even though the good is not arising on its own but you are forcing it.

It is the greatness of Zen.... Don't have any thoughts about good or bad. Be absolutely a witness, and while you are just a witness, whatever happens through you is bound to be good. The whole world may condemn it; it does not matter. You have to listen only to your own heart. If your heart says "yes, go on," then go on straight forward. Even if it is against all morality, against all doctrines, against all religions, it does not matter. It should not be against your simple, innocent heart. The only criterion is that it should be spontaneous. Spontaneity is good; non-spontaneity is hypocrisy.

On every point Zen differs from all other religions, and on every point Zen is right. It does not say to you, "Fight with your passions, drop your passions. Unless you drop all your desires, passions, longings, you cannot attain to the truth." The reality is just vice versa. If you get into this struggle of dropping passions, you will never win. Don't be bothered by the passions, by the desires. Find the empty heart and its purity and you will find that all passions, all desires are transformed.

People always begin from the wrong end. And there is a reason why they begin with the wrong end. The wrong end seems to be rational. For example, they see in Gautam Buddha great compassion. This compassion is arising spontaneously, but they don't know the empty heart of the buddha, from where this compassion is arising. They can see his compassionate actions, and they logically derive the conclusion that if you do compassionate acts you will become a buddha.

The law, the dhamma, does not work this way. In the first place you cannot drop the passions. You can fight, you can wrestle, and you can suffer and you can torture yourself.

You can repress, you can become a pervert -- as all the monks of all the religions have become perverts, psychologically sick, because they have been fighting against nature.

Nobody can win against nature. But they are doing something "rational." It seems to them that by being compassionate... And their compassion will be bogus, false. You know when your smile is just on the lips, a lipstick smile, it has no roots anywhere inside. It is just there on the lips.

I have heard about a politician in America. In America, politicians in an election go from house to house, kissing small babies. In a small park there were at least two dozen babies with one woman. The politician thought, "My god!" And all those babies were dirty, smelly, their noses running, and he had to kiss all of them just to convince the woman that he was the right candidate. Then he told the woman, "Remember, this is my name and I am running for president."

She said, "I will remember. You are so kind."

Then he asked the woman, "Just one question arises -- are all these children yours?"

She said, "No, not a single one."

The politician said, "Not a single one? What are you doing here?"

She said, "I am just keeping an eye on them. Their mothers have gone to a conference."

He said, "Fuck you, you noodle! Why didn't you tell me before? I had to kiss all these brats -- they all seem to be Italians, full of spaghetti -- and you didn't stop me!" All that kissing was just political, diplomatic.

Unless your life arises from your spontaneity, from your very empty heart, it is going to be just superficial. And with the superficial you cannot be blissful; with the superficial you are going to remain miserable. Only with the truth is there the beginning of a different kind of life -- of joy, of bliss, of dance. Then your whole being is full of songs.

Then all your actions are poetic. Then your very presence has a grace, a beauty which is not of the body. It is radiating from the body but it is coming from the deep sources of your own empty heart.

Upon his enlightenment a Zen monk wrote:

At the moment of death you cannot think about what movie is running in a certain theater. When death is standing before you, you cannot think of anything else. The Zen monk is saying in this small haiku:

In the mirror of death he has seen his original face. All things are dropped, all concerns are dropped, all preoccupations are dropped.

You are all in search of a secret love. And you are all trying to find it in somebody else.

Hence the frustration of all lovers except those who are never allowed to meet. Only those who are never allowed to meet are remembered, for centuries, for their great love.

In the East we know Shiri and Farhad, Laila and Majnu. Because they were never allowed to meet by their parents and society they have become symbolic of great lovers.

But it is strange: they were never allowed even to meet with each other, and they have become the symbols of great love. And what has happened to the millions of lovers who have been allowed? Not a single one of them has proved to be a great lover. All are simply lousy.

Every love affair is a failure, without exception. You may accept it, you may not. One tries to hide the fact as long as possible, but everybody knows what everybody is doing.

Your frustration is bound to happen. Your real love is for the eternal self, hidden behind the curtain, and you never look behind the curtain. You are just playing on the stage and befooling.

Everybody's great love is to know the secret of the eternal and immortal life. You cannot find it in another person. When you meet on the sea beach it seems -- and to everyone it is the same story -- "this woman -- or this man -- is made for me." Nobody is made for anybody; everybody is made for himself.

You are not some kind of manufactured parts, such that you are made to fit with each other. So when you don't fit, then the tragedy begins. Before that all is goody-goody. The real test is after the honeymoon. After the honeymoon the lovers are finished, they don't look at each other eye to eye. The husband goes on reading the same newspaper to avoid the wife....

A man was saying to his friend in the pub, "Why do you always remain silent? You don't say anything."

He said, "The whole credit goes to my wife. She talks and I listen. She does not like any interruption. So after years of listening without interrupting, it has become a habit.

Wherever I am, even though my wife is not there, I sit silently."

The failure of love in the world shows a significant fact: perhaps our love is searching for something else, and because we don't find it in our so-called lovers, the frustration arises.

Nobody is responsible, it is just that our direction is wrong. The real lover is within you.

The eternal lover is within you. Once you have found it, you are absolutely content with yourself. There is no need for anyone because you are no longer incomplete.

Only a buddha is fulfilled.

Question 1:

Maneesha has asked:

Maneesha, common sense carries many fragments of truth, but they are never complete.

Around the world everywhere it is heard -- "the wisdom of the heart." But the truth is, wisdom arises not out of the heart, it arises out of the emptiness of the heart. But that is known only to those who have reached deepest into the self.

But common sense carries fragments of knowledge. It knows that the people who are compassionate, people of heart, have a certain wisdom which is not knowledge, a certain insight, a certain intuitiveness which cannot be taught. They can see things, feel things.

They are sensitive to things which are not available to the mind. So people start thinking that there are possibilities of the heart having wisdom.

But they don't know that the heart is your emptiness. And out of your emptiness a clarity, a transparency arises which can see things which you cannot intellectually infer. This is wisdom.

To make it complete, Maneesha, it has to be said, "the wisdom of the empty heart." The heart, as the physiologist knows it, is just a blood-pumping system. Out of your heartbeats no wisdom can arise. Have you ever felt any wisdom arising from your heartbeats? Has any doctor ever heard some wisdom while checking your heartbeats through his stethoscope?

This heart is not the one we mean when we are talking about the emptiness of the heart.

Actually, we are talking about throwing away all the contents of the mind. Then, the no- mind itself becomes your heart. It is not a physiological thing. It is your no-mind -- no prejudice, no knowledge, no content. Just purity, simple silence, and the no-mind can be called the empty heart. It is only a question of expression. What you want to choose, you can choose: the wisdom of the empty heart, or the wisdom of no-mind -- they are equivalent.

When you are in deep meditation, you feel a great serenity, a joy that is unknown to you, a watchfulness that is a new guest. Soon this watchfulness will become the host. The day the watchfulness becomes the host, it remains twenty-four hours with you. And out of this watchfulness, whatever you do has a wisdom in it. Whatever you do shows a clarity, a purity, a spontaneity, a grace.

A Mulla Nasruddin story....

He was born in Iran, and in Iran his grave is still there. A strange grave, unique in the whole world. There are millions of graves, but nothing like Mulla Nasruddin's grave. On the grave there is standing a closed door with a big lock on it. And the lock... Mulla Nasruddin before dying made all the arrangements. "You put the key with me inside the grave, so nobody can open the door." Even the emperor came to see -- "What nonsense is happening! And this man is thought to be a wise man, of course a little eccentric, but loved by everybody."

The emperor inquired of Nasruddin's disciples, "What is the matter?"

They said, "It is not new. He used to carry this door wherever he went. We asked him, 'What is the matter?' He said, 'If I take the door with me, nobody can enter into my house. Obviously, everybody enters into the house from the door. So just to protect the house, I carry the door with me.' And before dying he said, 'Fix that door on my grave, lock it, and put the key with me. Any time I like I can open the door and just have some fresh air.'" The emperor said, "All nonsense."

But the emperor also liked the man. The chief disciple said, "There is something in it. He is saying: Don't think that my death is my death. You are putting my body in the grave but I am still alive. My life is eternal."

But he was crazy always. To make this statement, that life is eternal, he has put up this door: "Any moment, if I want to come out, at least I have the key and I don't have to ask anybody's permission. I can open the door, have a little walk, or enjoy around the city.

You will not see me, but I will see you."

Mulla Nasruddin was once sent by the emperor of Iran with great gifts to the emperor of India. And Nasruddin praised the emperor of India as the full moon. The rumor reached Iran -- there were enemies of Nasruddin, and they said, "You have not chosen the right person to take the message. He has praised the emperor of India as the full moon!"

The emperor said, "Let him come back. He will have to answer; otherwise he will lose his head."

Nasruddin came back. The Indian emperor was very impressed by him, and had given him many presents. The emperor of Iran was very angry and he said, "Nasruddin, your life is at risk!"

Nasruddin said, "Everybody's life is always at risk. Do you think your life is not at risk?"

The emperor said, "Don't discuss philosophy, you have to answer. You called the Indian emperor the 'full moon.' It is insulting to me."

Nasruddin said, "You are an idiot; you don't understand the meaning. You are the rising moon, the first-day moon, which is just a small arc, remains for a few moments and disappears. The full moon means the days of decline have come. That Indian emperor was an idiot. He thought I was praising him, but I was simply declaring that 'Your time has come. Now there is no more growth, only decline.' And you are an idiot for being angry. You are the rising moon -- you have to expand, conquer. You have enough time to become a full moon."

The emperor was very much impressed by the interpretation. Nasruddin's enemies were simply shocked. They had never thought that he would give this interpretation. Nobody ever thought about it; everybody thought that he had been insulting.

Nasruddin is a Sufi mystic, a little crazy, but always tremendously wise. One day he was going to take his disciples to see a rare collection of paintings that had come to the city.

Now the question was... He would be riding on his donkey. He asked his disciples, "What to do? If I ride on my donkey in the usual way, then my back will be towards you. That is insulting, and I cannot insult my disciples. If you walk ahead of me, your backs will be towards me. I don't think you will do that insult to me. So the only possible way is, I will ride on the donkey facing you."

The disciples said, "But the whole town will laugh, and you will make us also look stupid... although there is a point in it. But to go anywhere with you is a trouble."

The procession went on through the town. Everybody looked -- what is the matter?

Nobody had ever seen anybody riding on a donkey facing backwards. Finally a crowd gathered, and they said, "We will not let you go unless we get the explanation."

Nasruddin said, "The explanation is simple. I don't want to insult my disciples so I cannot have my back towards them. And I don't want to be insulted by my disciples, so they cannot walk ahead of me. They have to walk behind me. Now what do you say -- how can it be managed? This is the only way."

People said, "It is crazy, but it is the only way. If keeping somebody at your back is insulting, then certainly you are doing the right thing."

A simple man with utter purity -- every act in his life is full of wisdom, but on the surface looks a little crazy. He belongs to the same category as Bodhidharma, as Mahakashyap.

But he is a little more eccentric than any of them.

From the emptiness of the heart, it is not necessary that what arises will be understood by people as wisdom. You will be perfectly at ease with it, and those who understand you will be perfectly at ease with you. But in this world to find people who can understand the wisdom of the empty heart is very difficult and rare.

But there is no problem. The man of empty heart does not need any recognition. He is so fulfilled that he may look mad to the whole world, but if it is arising out of his spontaneity, it does not matter. All that matters is that it should not be fake, that it should not be hypocrisy, that it should not be phony. It should be coming out of your heart and its emptiness. Then everything is wise whether people recognize it or not.

Who has recognized Mulla Nasruddin? Very few people. Who has recognized Bodhidharma? Very few people. Who has recognized Mahakashyap suddenly laughing?

Only Gautam Buddha. Ten thousand monks were present but nobody could understand this eccentric behavior. But it was arising out of the empty heart, from a clarity of vision.

Only another man of the same clarity can understand it.

Maneesha, the wisdom of the empty heart is understandable only to those who have entered into their own emptiness. To others it will remain a puzzle, a craziness, a madness. And there are so many beautiful buddhas -- their behavior was absolutely in tune with the emptiness of the heart, but it was not rational. It could not be understood by the so-called intellectual. It was almost impossible to be understood by the crowd.

In Japan there is a doll... it is available anywhere, here too. The doll is called daruma.

Daruma is a Japanese nickname for Bodhidharma, and the doll represents something special. It was made, so goes the story, by Bodhidharma. The doll is made in such a way that its bottom is very heavy, so you can throw it any way and it will always fall and sit up immediately in the lotus posture. When Bodhidharma made it, his disciples laughed:

"What are you doing?"

He said, "This will be a teaching even for small children to be a buddha in every position, in every situation. Look at this doll; throw it any way and it will immediately regain its balance and sit in the buddha posture."

A buddha of the category of Bodhidharma can make a doll far more important than any scripture. The tea you drink... perhaps you don't know the whole story of it. Bodhidharma was meditating on a mountain in China called T'a. And he did not want to blink his eyes, but it is natural for the eyes to blink. He wanted to keep his eyes open while he was meditating, so he cut off his eyelids and threw them just in front his temple. From the hairs of the eyelids, the first tea leaves grew.

That is the story. It is called tea, because it was first found on the mountain of T'a and all the names in the different languages refer to the mountain, T'a. In Marathi it is cha, in Hindi it is chai. But it originates with the mountain, T'a. Of course it is a fiction. But because it grew out of the hairs of Bodhidharma, it keeps you awake.

So when you want to be awake... just a cup of tea. But remember, it keeps you awake because it is a product of Bodhidharma's eyelids. And Bodhidharma was a man of absolute awareness, so some quality of awareness still continues in tea.

It is a beautiful story, and its implications are great. Anything that comes out of the empty heart and its wisdom is going to carry some quality for the coming centuries. It may look like a fiction -- it is a fiction. But even a fiction can be used to indicate a truth. Tea keeps you awake because Bodhidharma was a man of fully awakened consciousness.

Even if you watch Buddha's statue silently, you will be surprised that slowly your mind becomes empty and you start entering into your own spring of life. That statue is made exactly in the posture that Gautam Buddha used to meditate in. Sitting in front of that statue, something in you starts synchronizing with the posture of the statue. Doing nothing, just sitting, and the buddha starts reflecting in your mirror.

But the mirror has to be clean, the mirror has to be empty of content. That's what we are trying to do every day -- washing the mirror, cleaning the dust of the centuries. Every day something of the impurity drops away; something becomes more recognizable as a buddha. Maybe just a glimpse, but soon this glimpse will become your whole life.

Before you all become buddhas, a few laughters, because after becoming a buddha, laughter does not suit. No buddha laughs. So it is always good to laugh before you become a buddha, because if you laugh when you are a buddha it will be objected to.

Good old Olga Kowalski comes stomping down the stairs to find her husband on the couch watching football on television.

"Kowalski," she nags, "how come we never talk anymore? Other husbands talk to their wives. You have not said two words to me all week!"

Then Olga furiously steps in front of the TV and demands, "Just say two words!"

"Okay," says Kowalski, stretching his neck around to see the TV. "Shut Up!"

Miss Goodbody is teaching sex education to her ninth-grade class. Sitting in the back of the room, reading Playboy and smoking a cigarette, is Chester Cheese's kid, Wise-guy Willy.

"Class," begins Miss Goodbody, shakily, "today we will discuss sexual intercourse."

Wise-guy Willy puts down his magazine, smiles, and winks at Miss Goodbody.

"Uh... there are eight basic positions for sexual intercourse," Miss Goodbody says nervously.

"Nine," comes Willy's voice from the back.

Flustered and blushing, Miss Goodbody begins again. "There are eight basic positions for sexual intercourse," she stammers.

"Nine," interrupts Willy, again.

This time Miss Goodbody takes a deep breath and continues, "The first is called the missionary position: the man is on top of the woman and facing her..."

"Aha!" says Willy, winking again, "ten!"

Paddy and Kowalski are in town for a drinking spree. After a lot of drinking, they decide to go to the hundred-story-high, revolving, Roasting Rhinoceros Restaurant for some dinner.

They choose a table overlooking the city lights, but have only been sitting there for a few minutes when both of them feel the need to pee.

"Can you tell us where the bathroom is?" Paddy slobbers at the head waiter.

"Certainly, sir," replies the waiter, pointing across the restaurant. "Just go down the passage over there, turn left and go two steps down."

The directions are repeated again for Kowalski, who is not quite sure he knows where he is, or what he is looking for.

"Just remember," says the head waiter, "turn left and two steps down..."

So, Paddy and Kowalski set off across the room and down the passage. They take the first door on the left and step inside, into the open elevator shaft.

One hundred stories below, Paddy slowly picks himself up off the ground.

"How do you feel?" Paddy asks his Polack friend, lying beside him.

"Not too bad," replies Kowalski. "But I don't think I can manage that second step."

Nivedano...

Nivedano...

Be silent, close your eyes. Feel your body to be completely frozen.

Look inwards, as deep as possible.

It is your own space.

At the very end you will find the empty heart.

The empty heart is a door to eternity. It is a connection between you and existence. It is not something physical or material. It is not something mental or psychological. It is something beyond both, transcending both.

It is your spirituality.

Remember, the empty heart makes you a buddha.

This moment is blessed.

Ten thousand hearts are feeling the silence and the merger with existence.

You are the fortunate ones of the earth.

Make it clear, Nivedano...

Relax... just be a watcher of mind and body both.

The insistence should be on the witnessing.

Witnessing is your secret love.

Witnessing is Buddha, watching.

Catch hold of the experience so that when you come back, you bring something out of your depth -- some gold, some diamond, some splendor.

Nivedano...

Come back, but come back with a new richness, with a new integrity, with a new individuality.

Reborn, sit for a few moments recollecting the experience that you are the buddha.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Beloved Master.

Can we celebrate the gathering of ten thousand buddhas?

Yes!

The Buddha: The Emptiness of the Heart