In your eyes is the hope of the world

Maneesha, this time has been of historical importance.

For seven weeks I was fighting with the poison day and night. One night, even my physician, Amrito, became suspicious that perhaps I cannot survive. He was taking my pulse rate and heartbeats on his cardiogram. Seven times I missed one heartbeat.

The seventh time I missed a heartbeat, it was natural for his scientific mind to think, "Now we are fighting a battle that is almost lost." But I said to him, "Don't be worried. Your cardiogram can go wrong; it is just a mechanical device. Trust in my witnessing. Don't bother about my heartbeats."

On the last day of the seven weeks' struggle when all the pain from my body disappeared, Amrito could not believe it. It was happening almost like a miracle. Where has all the pain disappeared?

That last night, in the middle of the night I heard somebody knocking on the door. It is rare; nobody knocks on my door. I had to open my eyes. There was absolute darkness in the room, but I saw suddenly, with the door closed, a human being made of pure light entering. For a moment there was silence, and I heard from nowhere, "Can I come in?" The guest was so pure, so fragrant. I had simply to take him into the silences of my heart.

This body of pure light was nobody but Gautam the Buddha.

You can still see in my eyes the flame that I have absorbed into myself, a flame that has been for twenty-five centuries wandering around the earth to find a shelter. I am immensely blessed that Gautam the Buddha knocked on my doors.

You can see in my eyes the flame, the fire. Your inner being is made of the same cool fire. You have to carry this fire around the earth, sharing, from eyes to eyes, from heart to heart.

We are not here to create a new religion; our every effort is to destroy all religions. They have done enough harm to humanity. To tolerate them even for a single day is against anybody who understands the meaning of compassion, who understands the eternity of his own being. Unless all these organized religions become memories of the past, man cannot live without fetters, without chains, without moralities imposed on him against his will. He cannot live as an individual, he has to subdue himself according to the masses. That is the ugliest slavery.

But for thousands of years man has lived in slavery of many kinds. He has forgotten the taste of freedom. He has forgotten the beauty of responsibility. He has forgotten that he has wings, that the whole sky is his. And he need not be tied to a post like an animal, he is a bird of the beyond.

I will be continuing to create so much fire in you that it will burn your ego and your slavery simultaneously and make you a freedom, a light unto yourself. In your very eyes is the hope of the world.

But remember, even great symbols have been misunderstood.

Zarathustra was talking about this same fire, but his people have carried fire, ordinary fire, from Persia to India, persecuted by the Mohammedans. For centuries they have been keeping the same fire alive, which is simply absurd. That fire is not going to transform you, and Zarathustra did not mean that fire. I know Zarathustra just as I know myself.

Man has always been misunderstanding great symbols. And the men who have attained to the ultimate are helpless, they have to use symbols. Now I am saying, "the fire of my eyes." Don't repeat the same mistake as the people of Zarathustra have done.

Their temples are called agiyari, fire temples. For centuries they have carried the same fire; they don't allow it to go out, they go on refueling it. And not even for a single moment do they think: "What has this fire done for us? Certainly this is not the fire that Zarathustra was talking about."

Man is so blind, it is almost certain that he will misunderstand. He is not only blind, he is greedy.

When I came back from America, Govind Siddharth, one of my very old sannyasins told me, "You used to come to Ahmedabad, and just for you I have been keeping my ancestral home, because nobody lives there." His mother has died, his father has died, and one brother has gone to America.

And Govind Siddharth lives in Bombay, has his business there.

He was certainly keeping a beautiful house. But when I told him, "I am no more going to move around the country; now whosoever is thirsty has to come to the well," he said, "I will sell the house."

He sold the house, and he informed me that, "Thirty-three lakh rupees are in the bank for your work whenever you want. Whatever the work, that money is there."

I asked him, "Is there any involvement with the family? Have you settled with your brother?"

He said to me, "Yes, the money is absolutely free now, just for your work."

After three days I told Neelam, who was working from Bombay as my secretary, to ask Govind Siddharth to transfer the money to one of the trusts, because I was going to move to Poona and tremendous forces were going to gather there. In three days his greed took over his great desire to work for me. He said, "Thirty-three lakhs is too much. I can only afford three lakhs."

Neelam told me that in just three days he has reduced it from thirty-three lakhs to three lakhs. I said, "Don't be worried. Just go and get the three lakhs." And when she reached him Govind Siddharth said, "It is very difficult. My whole family is involved in it" - I had asked him that before, and he had denied it. And I know for sure that the money has nothing to do with his family.

Neelam was shocked. She came running to me and said, "It is unbelievable that a man can turn about like this." I said, "Forget about that. You have another account of three lakh rupees, which has been donated from simple and loving people from all over the country. It is in your name and Govind Siddharth's name. It is not his money; please just take that money out of his hands."

She said, "Do you think he will change his mind about that money also, which is not his?" I said, "Man's blindness, his unconscious greed is vast enough. You just go, and be quick!"

And Govind Siddharth started playing games, saying, "I cannot allow you to take all of the three lakhs, because while Bhagwan was not here I gave thirty-five thousand rupees for his work to the Bombay center. I will have to deduct that much money."

I told Neelam, "Let him deduct it, if thirty-five thousand can satisfy him" - which was not his money!

Then too, it took almost one month to get the money out, leaving behind the thirty-five thousand without any reason except that his signature was needed. This money was paid for his signature.

And now I don't see him here. Perhaps he is afraid to look into my eyes, straight. I will not ask him about the money. I have never asked anybody about money, but I will for certain, absolutely for certain, look straight into his eyes. What kind of greed...!

And it is not that he has not loved me, but an unconscious love is a blind love. It is only a superficial hypocrisy, of which you are not aware.

Whatever I am imparting to you, please don't do the same as has been done down the ages by millions of people, misunderstanding or trying to manipulate things according to their own vested interest.

These sutras I am telling you just to remind you that if other people, simple and ordinary, were capable of becoming buddhas, it will be a shame if you die before you become a buddha. Let us make a deep commitment - not to anybody, but to yourself - that you are going to invest every breath for the ultimate purpose of being an eternal light, a lotus in full bloom. Without being a buddha you don't have any meaning in your life.

Maneesha has brought this anecdote:

A beautiful gesture. He said, "You have been hearing the breeze passing through the tea plants.

Of course, you could not see me, but you have heard, through the breeze passing through the tea plants, my voice."

It is a very complicated statement.

He is saying, "You know how to use yourself, but you don't know who you are. You know the use but you don't know the subject. You have been cutting tea leaves perfectly well, but you were not aware.

Where has your subjectivity been? Where has your witness been?"

Being silent, I know you have entered into your innermost being, your subjectivity, but just being silent is not enough. Your silence must become a song. Your experience of enlightenment must come to enlighten all your activities.

"You have the subject, but not the use." Just being silent is not enough.

What a tremendous dialogue between the master and the disciple!

MORE THAN TEN DISCIPLES OF KYOZAN'S BECAME ENLIGHTENED - listening to this dialogue.

Isan said, "You have the use but you don't have the subject." That was a partial statement. The remaining part is when Isan became silent and Kyozan said, "You have got the subject but not the use."

Listening to this small dialogue of immense implications... What Isan and Kyozan are discussing is how to bring the inner to the outer, how to bring the center to the circumference. How to bring your inner being into the marketplace, how to share it with your friends, with the strangers who are ready to share. Just listening to this small dialogue MORE THAN TEN DISCIPLES OF KYOZAN'S BECAME ENLIGHTENED.

Enlightenment is not a process; it is an event. It is not something that takes years and years then finally you reach the goal. It is possible it may take years and years because you don't want to be enlightened right now. You may go round and round avoiding enlightenment - that takes time.

Otherwise, this very moment you are the buddha. Just a simple opening, a straight insight into your own being, and enlightenment happens suddenly. It is not a time phenomenon.

A FEW YEARS BEFORE KYOZAN PASSED AWAY, HE COMPOSED THE FOLLOWING GATHA...

A few years before he passed away, he predicted in every minute detail how he is going to pass away.

AT HIS DEATH ON TUNG PING MOUNTAIN, IN 890, HE WAS EXACTLY SEVENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD AND ACTUALLY HELD HIS FOLDED KNEES WITH BOTH HANDS. THE EMPEROR BESTOWED UPON HIM THE POSTHUMOUS TITLE "GREAT MASTER CHIH TUNG" (MEANING WISDOM PERVASION). AND FOR HIS STUPA, for his memorial, THE EPIGRAPH - given by the emperor himself - was MIAO KUANG (WONDERFUL LIGHT).

That wonderful light brings me back....

You are full of wonderful light. You are made of it! But you wander around the world.

The world is vast and life is short. Don't waste your time wandering around the world for small positions, for gathering some money, some power. All that is just like writing on the sand. A small wind or just a wave coming in from the ocean and all the writing disappears.

Whatever you do outside yourself is nothing but writing on the sand, while a wonderful light waits within you - a light that has no source, a light that is not dependent on any fuel, a light that has been within you since eternity, a light that is your immortality. Just enter into yourself and you have entered the holiest temple of existence.

THE DEATH POEM OF HSU-T'ANG, WHO PROVIDED MUCH INSPIRATION FOR IKKYU:

Question 1:

Maneesha has asked a question.

Maneesha, I am not the medium for anyone. Gautam Buddha is just my guest. It does not in any way interfere with my individuality. He knows it, there is no need to say it. He is not the man to interfere. He himself is one of the greatest individualists. That's why meeting with him is almost like meeting with oneself.

I am not anybody's medium. I have just found another companion, a tremendous force to help you.

Now the caravan is not only to depend on my insights. Now my insights will also be supported by the greatest human being, Gautam Buddha.

And his choice to be my guest is simply because what he has known I have known, what he has become I have become. There is such a deep synchronicity that it is only in language I can say there is a division between the host and the guest. But in existential terms, the host and guest have become one. When two unbounded souls meet, it is a merger. It is just a merger like a river descending deep into the ocean and disappearing.

... Tonight, I will not take away Sardar Gurudayal Singh's time. He was kind enough yesterday.

Father Finger meets his arch-enemy, Rabbi Horowitz, on the street.

"Last night," says Father Finger, "I dreamt that I was in Jewish heaven. Man, Jewish heaven was a mess! Everybody was yelling and screaming, and eating, and waving their arms in the air; people were fighting about money - all kinds of chaos, and the noise was deafening."

"Well," replies Rabbi Horowitz, "that's strange. Last night I had a dream that I went to Christian heaven, but it was very different. Beautiful flowers everywhere, beautiful architecture, wide open streets, such peace and quiet all around."

"And the people?" asks Father Finger proudly.

"People?" answers the rabbi. "What people?"

It is another day at the elementary school and Mr. Smell, the teacher, is giving the class a test before he lets them go home.

"Now, Albert," says Smell, "can you give me the names of three fruits?"

"No," says Albert, looking out of the window. "I don't eat fruit."

"Okay, smart-ass," snaps Smell, "for that you can stay after class and do extra homework."

But after class, Smell calls Albert over and makes a deal with him. "Listen, Albert," he says, "if you take this letter to your sister, Ruby, I will let you go home, and you can tell me the three fruits tomorrow."

"Okay," shrugs Albert, taking the letter. But on his way home, he sneaks a look inside the letter and it reads: "Ruby, meet me at five o'clock behind the church."

So Albert delivers the letter to Ruby, his sister, and then at five o'clock he waits behind the church, and watches the secret meeting.

The next day in school Mr. Smell asks, "Okay, Albert, can you recite a sentence with three fruits in it?"

"Sure," says Albert. "If I catch you one more time putting your fat banana into my sister's peach, I'm going to kick you in your little pink plums!"

Gilbert Gurgle, who is seventy years old, is getting married for the sixth time. As he waits at the church door for the wedding to begin, he thinks of all the music played at his previous marriages.

The first time, he had been twenty years old. The band played: "There'll Be A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight!"

When he got married the second time, at the age of thirty, it was to the tune: "If You've Got The Money, Honey, I've Got The Time."

At forty, they played the song: "Now and Then."

At fifty, it was: "I Don't Get Around Much Anymore."

When he reached sixty, marrying the fifth time, the music was: "The Thrill Is Gone."

His thoughts are interrupted as the church organ starts to play. Gilbert wobbles down the aisle to the tune of Michael Jackson's hit song: "Beat It!"

Now, Nivedano, beat it!

(Drumbeat)

(Gibberish)

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Be silent. Close your eyes. Feel your body to be completely frozen.

This is the moment to look inwards with your total consciousness, and with an urgency as if this is the last moment of your life. Without such urgency and totality nobody has ever become enlightened.

It is not a question of time, it is a question of deepening consciousness.

Deeper and deeper. Don't hold anything, because at the deepest center of your being you are going to encounter your real being, the buddha.

Just remember one thing: the only quality the buddha has is that of witnessing.

Remain centered and witness that you are not the body, you are not the mind, you are simply a witness.

To make it clear,

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Relax, and remember, remain centered in your witnessing.

It is here you will find the buddha.

It is here you will find the eternal fire.

It is here that your splendor is hidden.

The night was beautiful in itself, but the ten thousand buddhas melting into a lake of consciousness have made it majestic, a miracle.

There is no other miracle than becoming a buddha. The whole existence will rejoice with you. The trees will sing in their silence; the stars will dance in faraway skies, and invisible flowers will shower on you.

This moment is a historical moment. For centuries there has not been such a gathering.

Collect as many flowers and fragrances as possible, and persuade the buddha to come with you.

You have to be both - the subject and the use. Your buddha is not something to be worshipped; your buddha has to chop wood and carry water from the well. Your buddha has to become your very breathing, your very heartbeat - in all your actions the same grace, in your words the same poetry.

Even your walking will become a dancing.

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Come back, but come back with great grace, with great beauty, with the silence of a buddha. Sit down for a few moments just to recollect the golden path you have been on, reaching to your very center.

And around the clock remember to remain a witness, and soon you will be filled with what I have been calling the buddha.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Buddha.