Trust is unaddressed

Fri, 8 May 1976 00:00:00 GMT
Book Title:
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 10
Chapter #:
am in Buddha Hall
Archive Code:
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The first question:



THE MIND IS VERY CUNNING, and that has to be constantly remembered. This is what I have been saying to you: that if you trust yourself, you will trust me. Or, from the other side, if you trust me you will naturally trust yourself. The contradiction does not exist. The contradiction arises because of the mind. If you trust yourself you trust all, because you trust life. You trust even those who will deceive you, but that is irrelevant. That is their problem; it is not your problem. Whether they deceive you or they don't deceive you, it has nothing to do with your trust. If you say, "My trust exists only with a condition that nobody tries to deceive me," then your trust cannot exist because every possibility will create a certain hesitation in you: "Who knows? - the person may be going to deceive me."

How can you see the future? The deception will happen in the future, if it happens, or if it does not happen, that too is in the future - and trust has to be here-now.

And sometimes a very good man can deceive you. A saint can become a sinner at any moment.

And sometimes a very bad man can be very deeply trustworthy. After all, sinners become saints.

But that is in the future, and if you make a condition for your trust, then you cannot trust. Trust is unconditional. It simply says that, "I have that quality which trusts. Now, it is irrelevant what happens to my trust - whether it is respected or not, whether it is deceived or not. That is not the point at all."

Trust has nothing to do with the object of trust, it has something to do with your inner quality: can you trust? If you can trust, of course the first trust will happen about yourself - you trust yourself. The first thing has to happen at the deepest core of your being. If you don't trust yourself then everything is very far away. Then I am very far away from you. How can you trust me? You have not trusted even yourself who is so close. And how can you trust your trust about me if you don't trust yourself?

If you don't trust yourself, whatsoever you do, a deep mistrust will continue as an undercurrent. If you trust yourself, you trust the whole life - not only me, because why only me? Trust is all-inclusive.

Trust means: trust in life, the whole that surrounds you; the whole out of which you have come, and the whole into which one day you will dissolve.

Trust simply means that you have understood the neurosis of doubt, that you have understood the misery of doubt, that you have understood the hell that doubt creates. You have known doubt and by knowing it you have dropped it. When doubt disappears, there is trust. It is something of a transformation within you, your attitude, approach. Trust knows no contradiction.

The questioner asks, "It is the contradiction between trusting myself and trusting you." If that is the contradiction, then trust yourself. If you can trust yourself nothing else is needed. Then you are deeply rooted in your trust, and when a tree is deeply rooted in the earth, it goes on spreading its branches into the unknown sky. When it is rooted in the earth, it can trust the sky. When the tree is not rooted in the earth, then it cannot trust the sky; then it is always afraid: afraid of the storm, afraid of the rains, afraid of the sun, afraid of the wind, afraid of everything. The fear is coming from the roots. The tree knows that she is not rooted perfectly. Any slight accident, and she will be gone. She is already gone. Such a life, unrooted, uncentered, is not a life at all. It is just a slow, long suicide.

So if you trust yourself, forget all about me. There is no need even to raise the question. But you know and I know that you don't trust yourself.

The mind is creating a very cunning device. The mind is saying, "Don't trust anybody, trust yourself"; and you cannot trust yourself. That's why you are here. Otherwise why would you be here? One who trusts himself need not go anywhere, need not go to any Master, need not go to learn anywhere.

Life is coming to you in millions of ways; there is no need to go anywhere.

Wherever you are truth will happen, but you don't trust yourself. And when I say, "Trust me," that is only a device to help you trust. You cannot trust yourself? - okay; trust me. Maybe trusting me will give you a taste of trust; then you can trust yourself.

The Master is nothing but a long way to come to yourself, because you cannot come through the shortest way. You have to follow a little longer route. But via the Master, you come to yourself. If you are stuck with me then T am your enemy, then I have not been a help to you. Then I don't love you, then I don't have any compassion for you. If I have any compassion, then by and by, I will turn you back towards yourself. That's what I go on saying: "If you meet a Buddha on the way, kill him!"

If you start clinging to me, drop me immediately. Kill me, forget all about me. But your mind will say, "When there is so much fear of clinging, it is better never to start the journey." Then you remain in self distrust. I'm simply giving you an opportunity to have a taste of trust.

Listening to me when I say don't cling to the Master, your ego starts feeling very good. It says, "Perfectly true. Why should I trust anybody? Why should I surrender to anybody? Exactly, this is the right thing!" That's what has happened to J. Krishnamurti's disciple9. For forty, fifty years he has been teaching, and there are many who have listened their whole lives to him, and nothing has happened - because he goes on insisting that there is no Master, no disciple. He goes on throwing you upon yourself. Even before you have a taste of trust, he goes on throwing you upon yourself.

Before you start clinging he's alert, very alert. He will not allow you to approach near him. This is one extreme. Your ego feels very good that you don't have any Master, that you don't have to surrender to anybody. You? - and surrendering? It does not look good; looks like humiliation. You feel very good. With Krishnamurti, all sorts of egoists have gathered together around him. If you want to find the most cultured egoists, then you will find them around Krishnamurti. They are very cultured, sophisticated, very intellectual, very cunning and clever, logical, rationalizers, but nothing has happened to them. Many of them come to me and they say, "We know, we understand, but our understanding has remained intellectual. Nothing has happened. We have not been transformed, so what is the point?" Krishnamurti says don't cling to him, but you are clinging to yourself. If there is any choice to be made, better to cling to Krishnamurti than clinging to yourself. At least you are clinging to a better person.

Then there is another extreme. There are gurus who insist that you should cling to them. Surrender seems to be the end, not the means. They say, "Remain completely with me. Never allow any movement back to your home." That too seems to be dangerous, because then you are always on the path and never reach the goal - because the goal is you. I can become a path; Krishnamurti won't allow you to make him a path. Then there are others who won't allow you to become the goal.

They say, "Go on travelling, go on travelling." You remain always on the pilgrimage and you never arrive - because arrival has to be at your innermost core of being. I cannot be your arrival. How can I be your arrival? One day or other you have to make me a departure.

I'm neither in agreement with Krishnamurti, nor with the other extremists. I say: use me as a path, but as a path remember. And if I start becoming a goal, kill me immediately, drop me immediately - because now the medicine is becoming like a disease. Medicine has to be used and forgotten. You should not carry the bottles and the prescription continuously with you. It was a means, instrumental; now you are healthy, drop it, forget all about it. Be thankful to it, be grateful to it, but there is no need to carry it.

Buddha has said that five fools crossed a river, then they all started thinking - fools are always philosophers, and the vice versa is also true - they started thinking, "What to do? This boat has helped us so tremendously, otherwise we would have died on the other side. It was wild, and night was coming, and there were wild animals and robbers, and anything could have happened. This boat has saved us. We should be grateful always and always for this boat, towards this boat." Then one fool suggested, "Yes, that's right. Now we should carry the boat on our heads because this boat has to be worshipped." So they started carrying the boat towards the town on their heads. Many people asked, "What are you doing? We have seen people sitting in a boat; we have never seen a boat sitting on people. What has happened?" They said, "You don't know. This boat has saved our lives. Now we cannot forget, and for our whole lives we are going to carry this boat on our heads."

Now, this boat killed them completely. It would have been better to be left on the other side of the river. It would have been better to be killed by the wild animals rather than carry this boat forever and ever. This was an endless misery. On the other side of the river, at least within a second, things would have happened. Now for years together they would carry the load, the burden, the boredom.

And the more they carry, the more they will become accustomed to the load. Without the load they will not feel good; they will feel uncomfortable. And now they will not be able to do anything, because how to do anything else? Carrying the boat will be so continuously absorbing that they will become almost incapable of doing anything.

That's what has happened to many religious people: they have become incapable of doing anything; they are simply carrying their boat. Go and see the Jain monasteries, Catholic monasteries, Buddhist monasteries - what are people doing? They are just doing religion; the whole life has been dropped. They are just praying, or just meditating. What are they doing? Life is not enriched by them. They are not creative. They are a curse, they are not a blessing. Life does not become more beautiful because of them. They are not helping in any way. But they are very serious people, and they look continuously engaged; for twenty-four hours they are engaged. They are carrying a boat on their heads. Their ritual is their boat.

Remember: come to me, trust me. Just learn what trust is. Come to my garden and listen to the wind passing through the trees, just to go back home and create a garden of your own. Come to these flowers, these singing birds; have a deep experience of them, then go back. Then create your own world. Just through my window, have a glimpse. Let me flash like lightning before you so you can see the whole of life - but it is going to be just a glimpse.

No need to cling to me, because then, when will you make your own house, and when will you make your own garden, and when will your own flowers flower, and when will your own birds of the heart sing? No, then you will carry the boat that helped you to the other shore. But then that other shore is already destroyed because you will be carrying your boat on your heads. How will you dance on the other shore? How will you celebrate? That boat will be a constant imprisonment.

When I tell you to trust me, I am simply saying that a certain climate has happened to me: have a glimpse of it. Come, let that climate surround you also. Let me vibrate in your heart; let me pulsate around you; let me throb in the deepest core of your being; let me resound in you. I am singing a song here - let it be echoed so that you can know that, "Yes, the song is possible." Buddha is gone, Jesus is not here; it's natural. Listening to Jesus is not possible for you. You can read the Bible; it simply depicts something that happened somewhere in time, but you cannot believe it. It may be just a myth, a story. Buddha may be just of a poetic imagination; poets may have created him. Who knows? - because in life you don't come across such men. Unless you come across a religious man, religion will remain somewhere like a dream. It will never become a reality. If you come across a man who has tasted of truth, who has lived in a different world and in a different dimension, to whom God has happened and to whom God is not just a theory, but a fact like breathing, then trust him, go into him. Then don't hesitate; then take courage. Then be a little bold. Then don't be a coward and don't go on slinking outside the door; enter the temple. Of course, this temple is not going to become an abode for you. You will have to create your own temple - because God can be worshipped only when you have created your own temple. In a borrowed temple, God cannot be worshipped. God is a creator and respects only creativity. And the basic creativity is to create a temple of your own. No, borrowed temples won't do. But, how to create a-temple?

In the first place, it is almost impossible to believe that temples have ever existed. Jesus' existence remains doubtful; Buddha looks like a myth, not like history; Krishna is even more in the world of dreams. The farther back you go in history, the more and more things fade into mythologies. No signature is left on reality.

When I say trust me, I simply mean: don't stand outside. If you have come so close to me, come a little more close. If you have come, then come in. Then let my climate surround you. That will become an existential experience to you. Looking into my eyes, entering into my heart, it will become impossible for you then to distrust Jesus. It will be impossible for you then to say that Buddha is just a myth. But still, I will go on saying that if Buddha comes, meets you on the path, kill him.

Come through me, but don't stay there. Have the experience and go on your way. If the experience is lost again in memories and fades out, come again to me while I'm available here. Have another dip, but remember continuously that you have to create something of your own. Only then can you live in it. I can be a holiday, at the most, from your ordinary life, but I cannot become your life. You will have to change your life.

Now, the mind is very cunning. If I say trust me, the mind feels it is difficult. Trusting somebody else is very ego-destroying. If I say just trust yourself, the mind feels very good. But just by feeling good, nothing happens. I say to you, trust yourself. If it is possible, there is no need to trust me; if it is not possible, then try the other. Mind is always in search through everything to somehow make itself more strengthened.

I will tell you one anecdote.

A country dweller moved to the big city, and every Sunday for about six months, he attended a different church in an endeavor to find a congenial congregation. Finally, one Sunday morning, he entered a church just as the congregation recited with the minister, "We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done." He sat down with a sigh of relief and satisfaction, murmuring to himself, "At last I have found my lot."

You are just trying to find something which does not disturb you. On the contrary, it strengthens your old mind. It strengthens you as you are. That is the whole effort of the mind: to perpetuate itself.

You will have to be mindful about it. The mind has the tendency to hear not that which is said, but that which it wants to hear.

Harry had married his elderly, ugly wife only for her money. Of course, he found plenty of ways to spend it, like the present safari trek through the African jungle. When a huge alligator slipped out of the marshes, grabbed his wife between its teeth and started to pull her away, Harry did not move a muscle. "Quick! Shoot it!! Shoot it!" screamed his unfortunate wife. Harry shrugged, "I would love to, dear, but I haven't any film in my camera."

The mind has the tendency to hear what it wants to hear. Never think that you are hearing me. You go on manipulating it in many ways. When something enters into your head, you don't listen to it directly. First, you mix it with your ideas; you change here and there. A few things you drop, a few things you add. Then of course it starts suiting you, by and by, and you convince yourself that that is what was said to you.

A tramp collapsed on a London street during a very hot spell, and immediately a crowd gathered around him.

"Give the poor fellow a drop of whisky," said an old lady.

"Give him some air," said a man.

"Give him some whisky," said the old lady again.

"Take him to the hospital," said another gent.

"Give him some whisky," said the old dear once again.

The conversation went on like this till the tramp sat up and yelled, "Will you all belt up and listen to the old lady!"

Even when you are unconscious, you can listen to that which you want to listen to; and even when you are conscious you are not listening to that which is being said to you.

One beggar comes here to listen to me. That beggar approached a fellow in the main street and said, "Give me a few annas for a cup of coffee." The man said, "But I gave you eight annas only ten minutes ago." The tramp said, "Oh, stop living in the past." Continuously I am teaching you to stop living in the past - perfectly true.

Remember, your mind continuously is playing tricks on you. There is no contradiction; contradiction is created by you.

Now, I will read the remaining part of the question - see the emphasis. "There is a part of me that says if I trust my own self and follow my own self, then I have surrendered and said yes to you." But this is only a part; and what about the remaining? If you trust this part, the remaining mind will say, "What are you doing?" That's how the doubt arises. If you listen to the remaining part, this part will go on creating doubts. This is how the mind moves - always in a dichotomy. It divides itself against itself, and it goes on playing the game of hide and seek. So whatsoever you do, frustration comes - whatsoever. But the frustration is bound to come. If you trust me, one part of your mind will go on saying, "What are you doing?" I have always been telling you, just trust yourself. If you don't trust me and trust yourself, the other part of the mind will continuously be frustrating. It will say, "What are you doing? Trust him. Surrender." Now, look at the dichotomy of the mind.

If you can see this constant division of the mind which is never able to come to a total decision, then by and by, a different type of consciousness will arise in you which can decide totally. That is not of the mind. That's why I say that surrender is not of the mind. Trust is not of the mind. Mind cannot trust. Distrust is very intrinsic to mind; it is inbuilt. Mind exists on distrust, on doubt. When you are in too much doubt, you see too much mentation around inside, moving. Mind gets in too much activity. But when you trust, there is nothing for the mind to do. Have you watched it? When you say, "No!" you throw a rock into the silent pool of your consciousness; millions of ripples arise. When you say, "Yes" you are not throwing any rock. At the most, you may be floating a rose flower in the lake.

Without any ripple, the flower floats. That's why people find it very difficult to say yes, and find it very easy to say no. 'No' is always just ready. Even before you have heard, the no is ready.

I was staying with Mulla Nasrudin once. I heard the wife saying to Nasrudin, "Nasrudin, just go and see what the boy is doing, and stop him."

She does not know what the boy is doing: "Just go and see what the boy is doing, and stop him."

Whatsoever it is, is not the point; but stopping, saying no. Denying comes easy; it enhances the ego.

The ego feeds on no; the mind feeds on doubt, suspicion, distrust. You cannot trust me through the mind. You will have to see the dichotomy of the mind - the constant duel, the constant debate inside the mind. One part is always functioning as the opposition.

The mind never comes to a decision. There are always a few fragments of the mind as dissenters.

They wait for their opportunity, and they will frustrate you.

Then what is trust? How can you trust? You have to understand the mind. By understanding the mind and the constant duality in it, by witnessing it, you become separate from the mind. And in that separation arises trust, and that trust knows no division between me and you. That trust knows no division between you and life. That trust is simply trust. It is unaddressed trust, not addressed to anybody - because if you trust me, you will immediately distrust somebody. Whenever you trust somebody, immediately, on the other end, you will be mistrusting somebody else. If you believe in the Koran, you cannot believe in Buddha. If you trust in Jesus, you cannot trust in Buddha. What type of trust is this? It is of no worth.

Trust is unaddressed. It is neither addressed to Christ, nor to Buddha. It's simple trust. You simply trust because you enjoy trusting. You simply trust, and you enjoy trusting so much that even when you are deceived, you enjoy. You enjoy that you could trust even when there was every possibility of deception, that the deception could not destroy your trust, that your trust was greater, that the deceiver could not corrupt you. He may have taken your money, he may have taken your prestige, he may have robbed you completely, but you will enjoy. And you will feel tremendously happy and blissful that he could not corrupt your trust; you still trust him. And if he comes again to rob you you will be ready; you still trust him. So the person who was deceiving you may have robbed you materially, but he has enriched you spiritually.

But what happens ordinarily? One man deceives you and the whole humanity is condemned. One Christian deceives you; all Christians are condemned. One Mohammedan has not behaved well with you; the whole community of Mohammedans are sinners. One Hindu has not been good to you; all Hindus are worthless. You simply wait. Just a single man can create a distrust of the whole humanity.

A man of trust goes on trusting. Whatsoever happens to his trust, one thing never happens: he never allows anybody to destroy his trust. His trust goes on increasing. Trust is God. People have told you to trust in God; I tell you, trust is God. Forget all about God; just trust, and God will come seeking and searching for you wherever you are.

The second question:


The question is absurd, because a Buddha becomes a Buddha only when all motivation has left, when all desires have disappeared. A Buddha becomes a Buddha only because he now has nothing to do, nothing to desire, nowhere to go, no achievement. The achieving mind disappears - then one becomes a Buddha. So if you ask, "What motivates a Buddha?" you are asking an absurd question.

Nothing can motivate him; that's why he is a Buddha.

Siddhartha Gautama became enlightened. The story goes that a Brahmin was passing by. He had never seen such a beautiful person. Something unearthly was surrounding Buddha sitting under his tree; he was luminous, a tremendous peace. The Brahmin could not go. He was in a hurry, he had to reach somewhere; but the silence of Buddha pulled him. He forgot where he was going, he forgot his motivation. Being close to this man who had attained to the state of no motivation, he was pulled into his whirlpool. Enchanted, he remained there, the story says, for hours. Then suddenly he became aware; what was he doing there? Then he suddenly became aware that he was going somewhere, but where? Then he asked, "Who am I" - as if the whole identity, the whole past had somewhere disappeared. He could not bring who he was to his consciousness. Then he shook Buddha and he said, "What have you done to me? I have completely forgotten where I was going, and from where I was coming, and who I am. Now who am I going to ask? Who will answer this?

And I am a stranger to this part of the country. You tell me what you have done!" Buddha opened his eyes and he said, "I have not done anything. I have stopped doing. Maybe because of it, maybe just being close to me... you don't be worried. You run away from me fast." The man said, "Before I go, one thing I have to ask: are you a God?" He had heard, he was a learned Brahmin. He had recited the Vedas every day as part of ritual, daily ritual. He had heard about Krishna and Ram, but they had remained just stories. For the first time somebody seemed to be there - solid, real, earthly, and still divine: "Are you a God?" Buddha said, "No." The man said, "Are you a saint, an ARHAT?" - because the man understood. In India Jains don't believe in God, so when somebody attains to the perfect, ultimate truth, he is called an arhat: one who has arrived; the sage, the saint. So first he asked, "Are you a God?" He asked a question in the terminology of the Hindus, and Buddha said, "No." Then he thought, "Maybe he belongs to the other tradition of the Indians, the tradition of the shramanas who don't believe in God." He asked, "Are you an arhat, a sage, a saint?" and Buddha said, "No." Then he was puzzled because these were the only two languages possible. Then he said, "Then who are you?" Buddha said, "I am aware." It is not very grammatical, but true. He said, "I am aware." He simply indicated the quality of his being at that moment - awareness - not God, not saint. Because when you say 'God', it seems something is static. When you say 'saint', it seems something is complete, static, has become a thing. Buddha said, "I am aware." Or, an even better translation: he said, "I am awareness" - no identity, just a dynamic energy of being aware. In awareness, in such awareness there is no motivation; and if there is motivation, there is no awareness.

Let me tell you one anecdote, a very beautiful one. Listen to it as deeply as possible.

The lady and her small son were swimming in the surf, and there was a very heavy undertow. She was holding her son tightly by the hand and they were splashing around happily, when a huge wall of water loomed up ahead of them. As they watched in horror, this tidal wave rose higher and higher directly in front of them, and crashed over them. When the water receded, the little boy was nowhere to be found. Panic-stricken, the mother searched in the water screaming, "Melvyn, Melvyn, where are you? Melvyn!" When it was obvious the child was lost, washed out to the sea, the distraught mother lifted her eyes to heaven and prayed, "Oh, dear and merciful Father, please take pity on me and return my beautiful child. I will promise eternal gratitude to you. I promise I will never cheat on my husband again; I will never cheat on my income tax again; I will be kind to my mother-in-law; I will give up smoking; anything! Anything, only please grant me this one favor and return my son."

Just then, another wall of water loomed up and crashed over her head. When the water receded, there was her small son standing there. She clasped him to her bosom, kissed him, clung to him.

Then she looked at him a moment, and once again turned her eyes heavenward. Looking up, she said, "But he had a hat."

This is the mind: the son is back but the hat is lost. Now she was not happy because the son was back, but unhappy because the hat was lost - again complaining.

Have you watched this happening inside your mind, or not? It is always happening. Whatsoever life gives to you, you are not thankful for it. You are again and again complaining about the hat.

You always go on seeing that which has not happened, not that which has already happened. You always look and desire and expect, but you are never grateful. Millions of things are happening to you, but you are never grateful. You always remain grumpy, complaining, and you are always in a state of frustration. Even if you reach to heaven, this mind will not allow you to live there. You will create a hell wherever you are: so much desire that one desire is fulfilled, ten desires arise out of it; and it never comes to an end.

By desiring, no one has ever attained to the state of peace, the state of non-desire. By understanding the desire, by understanding the motivation, one becomes, by and by, alert. One comes to know that if you drop motivation, there is no frustration in life. Then nothing can make you unhappy. Then happiness is natural; it is just the way you are. Then whatsoever happens, you remain happy. Now, whatsoever happens, you remain unhappy.

A Buddha has no motivation; that's why he's happy. He's so happy that if you ask him, "Are you happy?" he will shrug his shoulders - because how to know? Happiness can be known only in contrast to unhappiness. He has forgotten the very experience of unhappiness, so if you ask him, "Are you happy?" he may keep quiet. He may not say anything. Because when unhappiness disappeared, with it disappeared that dichotomy also. That's why Buddha has not said that the ultimate state is that of bliss. No, he says it is of peace, but not of bliss.

That is one of the differences between Hindus and Buddhists, between Patanjali and Buddha. That is one of the basic differences. And of course, both are right; these things are such when you talk about the ultimate, if you know about it. So whatsoever you say, howsoever contradictory it appears, it is always right. Patanjali says that it is a state of bliss because all misery, all possibility of misery has disappeared. Of course, he is right. Buddha says, "It is not even bliss, because who will know and how will you know that it is blissful? When all misery has disappeared, there is no contrast, there is no way to know it." If nights disappear completely, how will you know that this is day? It will be day, but how will you know it is day? Buddha is also right: it will be bliss, but it cannot be called bliss because to say so, you bring unhappiness in.

One becomes a Buddha when one has understood the mechanism of all motivation. What is motivation? - it is a discontent in the present, an uneasiness in the present, and a hope in the future. Motivation is a discontent here-now, and a dream of contentment somewhere in the future.

You live in a small house: you are unhappy with this small house, discontented here-now, and you hope for a bigger house in the future. Future is needed; right now the big house is not possible.

Time will be needed to make, to earn money, to do a thousand and one things, to compete. Then, the big house will be possible. So right now you are in discontent, but in future you have a dream of contentment. You work hard. Then the big house becomes possible one day, but suddenly you see nothing like contentment is happening to you. The moment the big house becomes available, you start thinking of bigger houses. You have become addicted to motivation. Now you cannot live without motivation. Again in the big house, you are unhappy. Again you are hoping: "Someday, some palace, somewhere" - and this is how one goes on wasting one's whole life.

Understand the mechanism of motivation. It gives you a dream in the future - and a dream is a dream - and it takes all blissfulness from the present. For something unreal, it destroys that which is real. Once you understand, you stop living through motivation. Then you live simply without motivation.

What is without, what is living without motivation? - living in deep contentment here and now, and not bothering for the tomorrow.

Says Jesus, "Think not of the morrow. Look at the lillies of the field. Even King Solomon was not so beautiful in all his grandeur. Look at the lilies in the field; they don't think of the morrow. They are just here and now. They are with God here and now. They don't have any future; they don't carry the past. This moment is all."

A mind which has dropped motivation is no more a mind. Once you drop motivation, you have become part of the eternal reality which is always now, always here. And then you are contented.

Out of your contentment, more contentment arises; bigger and bigger waves of contentment arise.

Out of your discontent, more and more discontent arises.

So look... this moment you can move into the world of motivation in which you are already moving - the competition, the market-place - or, you can move in the world of non-motivation. At each step the paths bifurcate. If you drop motivation, you decide to be happy right this moment and you say, "Let the future take its own care. Now I will be here and now, and that's all, and I don't ask more. I will enjoy that which is already given to me." And more than enough is given to you already.

I have never seen a man who is not rich in life, but it is very difficult to find a rich man - all are beggars. And I tell you, nobody need be a beggar. Life has given so many riches to you already, that if you know how to enjoy them you will not ask more. You will say, "Even this much I cannot enjoy. This is too much already. I cannot hold it. My hands are too small, my heart is so small; I cannot hold it! You have given me so much dance, and so much song, and so much blissfulness.

More I cannot ask. Even to exhaust this is not possible."

To live here-now is to be religious. To live here-now is to live without mind. To live here-now is to become a Buddha. That's what he said: "I am aware." Because Gods are also motivated, they are also chasing women - maybe better women on some higher plane, but chasing women. They are competitive with each other.

Hindus are tremendously beautiful about this. They have not shrunk back about anything. If you listen to God's stories in Hindu puranas, you will be tremendously surprised: they are almost human.

They are doing all the same things that you are doing - maybe in a little better way, or maybe on a little higher plane. The head, the chief God is called Indra. He is the King of Gods. And he is always afraid - as kings always are - and his throne is always shaking because somebody is always pulling his legs. You can go to Delhi and ask people. Whenever you are on a throne somebody is pulling, many are pulling in fact, because they also want to be on the throne. Indra is continuously trembling.

I think, by now, trembling must have become a habit to him. Whether anybody is pulling or not, he must be trembling. For centuries he has been trembling. Stories say that whenever some ascetic, some saint on the earth starts achieving higher planes of being, he starts feeling afraid. His throne starts shaking; somebody is trying to be competitive with him. Somebody is trying to become a king of Gods. Immediately he sends beautiful damsels, apsaras, to destroy that poor ascetic. They dance a beautiful, sexual dance around him; they seduce the poor ascetic. And then Indra sleeps well: now one competitor is destroyed.

In the Hindu heaven the paths are studded with diamonds, and the trees are of gold, and flowers are of silver and jade and jewels - but the same world. Women are very beautiful there - but the same world, the same lust, the same desire. Hindus say, "Even Gods will have to be reborn on earth when their virtue is finished, when they have enjoyed their punya, their virtue."

This word 'punya' is very good. 'Poona' comes out of punya. It means: the city of virtue. Those Gods are as worldly as this world. They will have to come back once their punya, their virtue, is finished. Once they have enjoyed then they have to come back to the earth, to crawl again.

Buddha says, "No, I am not a God, because I have no motivation." "Are you a saint, an ARHATA?"

Buddha says, "No, because even a saint has a certain motivation to achieve liberation" - how to achieve moksha, how to go beyond the world, how to become desireless. But still, the desire is there. Now the desire is of becoming desireless. Motivation can be of becoming motiveless: how to achieve a state of non-motivation - that can become a motivation. But it is all the same; you are again in the same trap.

Buddha says, "No, I am aware." In awareness, motivation does not arise. So whenever motivation arises, a desire arises. Don't do anything. Just be aware, and you will see the desire is receding back, disappearing. It evaporates. When the sun of awareness arises, desires evaporate like dew- drops in the morning.

The third question:


Enlightened persons don't have children; neurotic persons should not have. Just between the two, there is a state of mental health, of non-neurosis: you are neither neurotic nor enlightened, simply healthy. Just in the middle - that is the right time for parenthood, to become a mother or to become a father.

This is the trouble: neurotic persons tend to have many children. In fact, in the West neurosis is more. People don't have many children. That may be one of the causes that neurosis has become so prevalent: the old engagement with children is no longer there. In the East, people are not so neurotic. They cannot afford to be neurotic; children are enough. A joint family has so many children.

You cannot have any time to go mad - impossible. They won't allow you to. You are in such a mad state and so tuned with it, that you will not become aware that you are mad. In the West, the joint family has disappeared. Children have also disappeared, the way they appear in the East. There are one or two children, at the most. Much space is left. The whole old occupation is no longer there. People are becoming more and more rich, affluent, less and less work is there, more and more leisure, and they don't know what to do with the leisure. They go neurotic. Just think about yourself if you have nothing to do, no children to work for.

Once I asked Mulla Nasrudin, "Are you still working for the same firm?" He said, "Yes, the same company: the wife and thirteen kids!"

If you have a family to support, to work hard for the whole life, from morning till evening, and you come home tired and go to sleep and in the morning you are again on the track, how can you afford to be neurotic? When will you find time to go to a psychiatrist? In the East the psychiatrist does not exist. Children are the only psychiatrists.

Neurotic persons tend, in their neurosis, to create a very occupied space around them. They should not, because that is avoiding. They should face the fact of neurosis and they should go beyond it.

An enlightened person need not have children. He has given the ultimate birth to himself. Now there is no need to give birth to anything else. He has become a father and mother to himself. He has become a womb to himself, and he is reborn.

But between the two, when the neurosis is not there, you meditate, you become a little alert, aware.

Your life is not just oP darkness. The light is not as penetrating as it is when one becomes a Buddha, but a dim candlelight is available. That is the right time - the twilight time, when you are just on the border, moving out of the world, moving in the other world; that is the right time to have children, because then you will be able to give something of your awareness to your children. Otherwise, what will you give as a gift to them? You will give your neurosis.

I have heard: A man with eighteen children took them to a dairy show. Included in the show was a prize bull worth 8,000 pounds and there was an additional charge of five pence to go in and see it. The man thought that this charge was exorbitant, but his children wanted to see the animal, and so they approached the entrance to its enclosure. The attendant said, "Are all these children yours, sir?"

"Yes, they are," answered the man. "Why?"

The attendant replied, "Well, wait here a minute and I will bring the bull out to see you!"

Eighteen children! - even the bull will feel jealous.

You go on unconsciously reproducing your own replicas. First think: are you in such a state that if you give birth to a child, you will be giving a gift to the world? Are you a blessing to the world, or a curse? And then think: are you ready to mother or to father a child? Are you ready to give love unconditionally? Because children come through you, but they don't belong to you. You can give your love to them, but you should not impose your ideas on them. You should not give your neurotic styles to them. Are you ready not to give your neurotic style to your children? Will you allow them to flower in their own way? Will you allow them freedom to be themselves? If you are ready, then it is okay. Otherwise, wait; become ready.

With man, conscious evolution has entered into the world. Don't be like animals, just reproducing unconsciously. Now get ready before you would like to have a child. Become more meditative, become more quiet and peaceful. Get rid of all the neurosis that you have within you. Wait for that moment when you are absolutely clean, then give birth to a child. Then, give your life to the child, your love to the child. You will be helping to create a better world. Otherwise, you will be simply crowding the world. The crowd has already become maddening. There is no longer any need to increase the crowd. If you can give human beings to the world, not just like worms, crowding and crawling all over the earth, then first be ready.

To me, to become a mother is a great discipline; to become a father is a great austerity. Otherwise, you will leave somebody just like you, or even worse than you, in your place. That will not be a good gesture on your part. Enlightened people need not give birth to anybody; neurotic people should not. Just in between the two, is the point.

The last question:


I don't see anything wrong in sex, in love, in romance. You are on the right track. Love is the right track, and only through a lived life of love, prayer arises - never otherwise. Only out of deep experiences of love, sweet and bitter, pleasant and painful, high and low, heaven and hell; only out of deep experiences of pain and pleasure through love does one become aware. They are needed to make you aware.

Pain is as much needed as pleasure, because both work. And by and by, between the pleasure and the pain, you become a tightrope walker. You attain to balance.

But for centuries love has been condemned, sex has been condemned. So of course, the idea arises in your mind that you must be on the wrong track. You are simply natural. To be natural is not to be the wrong track. If you think in that way and you become condemnatory, then you will be on the wrong track. Then you will repress, and whatsoever you repress will remain lurking in your unconscious, in your basement, and then much ugliness arises out of that repression.

Let me tell you a few anecdotes.

It is said about a very rich and well known man, Lord Dewsberry: he was ninety years old to the day, and sat in the large bay window of his ground floor flat in Park Lane watching the Sunday morning strollers. Suddenly, he spotted a pretty, young, and fair girl wheeling a pram across to the park.

"Quickly James," he said. "My teeth; I want to whistle."

Ninety years old! - but this happens.

The question is from Krishna Priya.

Remember, if you don't whistle now, then someday when your teeth are also gone, you will see some young man walking and, "Quick, bring my teeth!" That will be ugly. Right now the teeth are okay; you can whistle. Everything should be done in its time. Otherwise, things become ugly.

A child running after butterflies is okay, but a man of forty running around butterflies will look mad.

Young men are bound to be a little foolish. One expects that and accepts also. Nothing is wrong in it. That must be something basic to life: to be foolish at some times, because wisdom comes out of the experience of many foolishnesses. You cannot become wise suddenly. You will have to move, and go astray, and do many foolish things. And out of all those actions, foolish or otherwise, wisdom arises.

Wisdom is like fragrance, and experiences of foolishness work like manure. They stink! - but beautiful flowers come out of them. So don't avoid the manure of life, otherwise you will miss the flowers of wisdom. And you can repress one desire from one side, but it will start arising from another side. You cannot deceive life.

"Mummy," said the little monster, "the lads at school keep saying I have got a very big head."

"You have not got a big head at all," said the mother. "Just forget about those nasty boys and pop down to the shops for me. I want ten pounds of potatoes, five pounds of turnips, and two cabbages."

"Alright, mummy. Where is the shopping bag?"

"Oh, don't bother about that. Just use your cap."

So from this way or that... just think again. Ten pounds of potatoes, five pounds of turnips and two cabbages - and just use your hat, just use your cap. You can suppress from one side; it bubbles up from another side. Never suppress anything. If sex is there, allow it before it is too late. Allow it, move into it, accept it. Et is a God-given thing. There must be a deep reason in it. There is. Never shirk any responsibility that God has given to you, otherwise you shirk from growth. And now, to ask such questions in this century, this twentieth century, is simply stupid.

The six-year-old was having his first trip to the zoo, and was asking awkward questions as usual.

"Hey Dad, where do baby elephants come from?" he asked; then added, "and if you give me that old stork story this time, I will really know you are crazy."

Elephants being brought by the stork? - so the six-year-old is saying, "And if you give me that old stork story this time, I will really know you are crazy."

Gone are those foolish days when people were thinking in terms of condemnation, of anti-life philosophies. After Freud, man has come to accept sex more naturally. A great revolution has happened in the world.

Now to think in condemnatory ways is simply not to be contemporary. Now, Krishna Priya's question was okay if she had asked it five hundred years ago, but now? It is absurd.

And in my ashram?

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"We, the Jews, not only have degenerated and are located
at the end of the path,
we spoiled the blood of all the peoples of Europe ...
Jews are descended from a mixture of waste of all races."

-- Theodor Herzl, the father and the leader of modern Zionism