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CHAPTER 2
Tell, and still its hidden
12 January 1975 am in Buddha Hall KNOWLEDGE OF INNER EXPERIENCE MANY COME ASKING FOR.
STRUCK DUMB SAVOURING THE SWEET,
WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE? THE SIGN OF THE DUMB
ONLY THE DUMB UNDERSTAND. LIKEWISE, THE JOY OF A SAGE ONLY A SAGE KNOWS.
NOT OF WRITTEN WORDS BUT OF EXPERIENCING:
WHEN THE BRIDE MEETS HIS EMBRACE THE GUESTS ALL FADE AWAY.
THAT WHICH SEES CANNOT SPEAK, WHICH SPEAKS CANNOT HEAR,
THAT WHICH HEARS CANNOT EXPLAIN. WHY TONGUE, EYES, EARS?
WHAT’S FULL EMPTIES OUT; WHAT’S EMPTY FILLS UP.
EMPTY, FULL – NEITHER TO BE FOUND. THE EXPERIENCE IS THIS.
SUCH A WONDER! IT’S NEVER TOLD TELL, AND STILL IT’S HIDDEN.
KORAN AND VEDA COULDN’T WRITE IT. IF I SAY IT, WHO WILL LISTEN?
Let us go deeply into the meaning of each word. There is a saying about “containing the ocean in a pot.” Kabir has done that. He has managed to contain the unlimited in very small words, in words we use every day. But Kabir has given them a unique meaning. You may think, “But this is all known to me!” when you hear them; you may understand the surface meaning of the words, but you are not acquainted with their depth. And each word is so powerful it can set you off on an infinite journey.
KNOWLEDGE OF INNER EXPERIENCE MANY COME ASKING FOR.
STRUCK DUMB SAVOURING THE SWEET, WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE?
Information about objects can be collected, but this is knowledge you have obtained from outside. You perceive objects from four sides; you can walk all around them. For example, when you go to a Hindu temple you walk around the idol of God, but this walking only happens outwardly and so it has become phoney, a mere ritual. No matter how much you may know about something from the outside, your information about it is never inner, never from your own experience.
So long as we do not enter the depths of something our information about it will always be surface. It is like going to see the ocean and coming back home simply having glanced at the waves. The real ocean, the depths and the treasures of the real ocean, are hidden beneath the waves. On the surface there is only foam; on the surface there is only conflict, competition, enmity. In the waves,
only mischief and upheaval exist. The real ocean is hidden beneath them. There is only one way to know that ocean and that is to dive deeply into it. And there is only one kind of diving, the diving into yourself.
No matter how deeply you penetrate the inner reaches of another, you will never be able to touch his soul. Your journey will be just an orbiting on his outer boundary. So if you want to know the ocean through and through, then even diving into it is not enough. Then you have to become one with the ocean, just like a lump of rocksalt that is thrown into the sea dissolves and becomes one with it. Then and only then will you know the infinite depths of the ocean.
The experience of knowledge can only be of one’s own self, and never of another’s. We always remain a tiny bit removed from each other. Even when we make love we are still unable to reach the other’s innermost depths – even then we remain on the circumference. And this is the problem for lovers. Lovers feel they come very close to each other, but their actual experience with each other reveals to them that they always remain far away. As they come nearer and nearer to each other they begin to realize it is impossible to be really close. A distance always remains between the two. That is why love for another is never satisfying.
Love will only be satisfying when it is established in God. God is you; He is not someone else. And there, with God, the distance disappears completely. Kabir calls such an experience knowledge. Such an experience can be only of the self. Self-knowledge is the only knowledge; the rest is all information. Knowledge is only that which a man has tested for himself; it cannot be achieved without experience.
There are many things in this world that can be known through others, many things that can be known with no personal experience. Whatever we know about this world, whatever information we have about it, for the most part is given to us by others. Scientists give us information about the various sciences; experts in geography tell us where the Himalayas are and where Tibet is, and this is how we gather information. This information received from others about the world can be accepted, but you cannot accept information from others about your self.
Whatsoever another tells you about yourself will be untrue. No matter what you have learned about yourself from the Upanishads, from the Vedas, from the Koran, from the Bible, from the saints, from the scholars – give it no credence at all. After all, you are not a stranger to yourself! The idea that someone else can show you what you are is outrageous. What greater impotency can there be than your powerlessness even to know your self! What greater blindness can there be than your inability to know your self!
Are you so enveloped in darkness that you need someone else to show you the light, to show you who you are? If you need someone else, then it is quite clear you have no concept whatsoever of your being, of who you are. And how can another person give you that knowledge? There is no other way to achieve that experience than for yourself.
The master can indicate to you how to dive into yourself, but he cannot show you anything, he cannot tell you anything about your self. He can lead you to the bank of the river, but you will have to drink the water. And when you drink the water your thirst will be quenched. But that will be your own experience.
I can tell you everything there is to know about water – its whole chemistry, how it is composed of oxygen and hydrogen, its different properties, at what temperature it becomes vapor, at what temperature it turns into ice – but that will not quench your thirst. Your throat will remain parched and dry. No matter how great or how complete the information may be it will not quench your thirst. Mere information about the chemistry of water will not help you.
Understand what the master is indicating first – then go in search of water and drink. Then you will have the experience of water for yourself. Then the dryness will disappear and your throat will feel cool; then the fires of deprivation and of uneasiness will vanish, and a kind of peace, a kind of satisfaction will well up within you. No one else can give you this experience, but you are quite capable of having it for yourself if you want to.
So far you have tried to obtain this experience from someone else. You do not even wish to exert yourself enough to drink. It is your thirst, so how can my water help you? You will have to find your own water. This is why all the enlightened men, all those who know, say there is no knowledge except that which comes from experience.
So free yourself as quickly as possible from whatever knowledge you have gathered, from whatever information you have accumulated that is not from your own experience. You will never start out in search of that spring of fresh water as long as this burden is on your head; because you are under the illusion you have known, without really having known; under the illusion you have drunk, without really having drunk; under the illusion you have acquired something, without really having acquired anything. This is an impossible situation.
Kabir is saying that you have read a lot, that you have accumulated much information, and that many people are satisfied with this kind of knowledge.
Kabir lived in Kashi, a place abounding in scholars. They believed it was enough to read, to accumulate knowledge from books. They were well-versed in the Vedas, in the Upanishads and in the other scriptures, and they looked upon Kabir as ignorant, as an illiterate man. In one sense, you can say Kabir was illiterate. If you consider a scholar as literate, as a well-educated man, then Kabir was definitely illiterate. But of what value is the scholar’s knowledge? A scholar will go on and on about the immortality of the soul, but when death approaches you will find him trembling and weeping and wailing. All this talk of immortality will crumble into nothingness because he has not know it. He has only read about immortality; he has only heard about it from someone else. It may be someone else’s experience, but it is not his own.
When you possess the pure gold of your own experience you will be fully prepared to face the test of life, but the gold of another’s experience will turn to clay in your hands. It will not help you face life at all. The knowledge you gain from others may help you pass tests in logic and reasoning, may help you to obtain a university degree, may earn you the world’s respect as a man of letters, but you will know inside yourself that you have not attained true knowledge. Inside, the lamp will be unlit; inside, there will be no flame.
Scholars and pundits can deceive others, but how can they deceive themselves? Their so-called knowledge is like this story Buddha used to tell about a villager who sat at the door of his house, counting the cows and buffaloes of the other villagers as they passed by his door each morning and
evening. He could tell how many cows and buffaloes there were in the village, but all of his activity never provided him with a single drop of milk. Buddha used to warn his disciples not to spend their lives like that villager.
All scholars are like that villager. They keep the accounts of others – what the Vedas say, what the Koran says, what the Bible says. They spend their whole lives counting the cows and buffaloes of others without ever getting a single drop of milk to drink. The experience must be your own.
KNOWLEDGE OF INNER EXPERIENCE MANY COME ASKING FOR.
STUCK DUMB SAVOURING THE SWEET, WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE?
The great difficulty is that the man who has known the truth cannot give it to you even if he wishes to. You have no comprehension of the affliction of the wise. You only know one affliction, the affliction of the ignorant. The enlightened man has known the real thing. He knows. He sees you groping in the dark and he wants to give you all that he knows, but he is helpless. That is his affliction.
STRUCK DUMB SAVOURING THE SWEET, WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE?
He has already tasted the sweet and he sees you still wandering all over in search of it. He sees you becoming more and more downcast, more and more miserable, more and more entangled in your problems, in your cares and sufferings. He wishes you could have the taste too; he wants the door of heaven to open for you as well. He wants to help you. He wants to cry out and say, “It is so very sweet!” But just as a man who is dumb is unable to cry aloud, the throat of the enlightened man is blocked; his lips cannot form the words. He is in the same position as the dumb man.
But the difficulty of the enlightened man is even greater than that of the man who is dumb. A remedy for dumbness may be possible, but for the enlightened man there is no way out. If the difficulty were physical some cure could be found, but his predicament is his inability to express what he has known. His dilemma arises out of the very nature of the experience of self-knowledge. If you also attain to that knowledge you will understand this quandary as well.
And even if the awakened man tries, his attempts are all unsuccessful. Not only are they unsuccessful, they can create the wrong impression. He wants to say one thing but has to say something else. He wants to say something definite and precise, but words are unable to express what it is he wants to say and they carry him somewhere else. He wants to lead you to a particular spot, but when he looks at you he sees he has led you to some other place, he sees you have misunderstood him.
This is why so many religious sects exist in the world. The enlightened preach religion, pure religion, but it branches off into sects. What the enlightened men have said has not been understood
correctly. As it travels from them to you, truth becomes untruth and is misconstrued. No sooner do you hear something than you become involved in it and your mind gives it its own interpretation. You implant your own interpretation, your own meaning; you twist it to suit yourself. This is the distinction between real religion and sects.
The enlightened man tries to see that religion reaches you, but what actually happens is that it becomes distorted into a sect. He wants to make you free, but what happens is that you become even more tightly bound. And then a new difficulty arises. He wants love to manifest in your lives, but when he looks at you he sees you ready to fight in the name of love. Take the example of the Christians. Jesus used to say, “Love is God,” and yet no other people have waged as many wars as the Christians. He said to turn the other cheek to the one who strikes you, and the Christians have killed hundreds of thousands of people. And do you know why they have massacred these people? With a sword in one hand and a Bible in the other they did this to bring them religion!
The rishis of the Vedas and the Upanishads say, “There is the same Brahman in all. He alone resides in all. He is spread throughout; He exists in the smallest particle.” And what the Hindus have done is quite the opposite. The scholar who quotes the sutras of the Upanishads so often is not prepared to touch the lowborn, the untouchables. This proves he considers Brahman as untouchable. If Brahman is in all, then who can be looked upon as untouchable? Then who can be deemed unholy? But this has happened in this land of the enlightened. Not only was the untouchable not to be touched, he was punished if ever his shadow fell on a Brahmin! His shadow! Can a shadow be unholy? The shadow is a shadow; it is non-existent, completely unsubstantial! Suppose a Brahmin were sitting somewhere and an untouchable passed by. If his shadow fell on the Brahmin he would have been thrashed, beaten, perhaps even killed – the crime was considered punishable by death. What an inconceivable thing! This so-called knower-of-Brahman, afraid of a shadow!
Why were the minds of those who said Brahman was all-pervading so diseased? How did this happen?
Those who said that Brahman is all-pervading were perfectly correct, but those who heard it interpreted it in their own ways, in quite different senses. Words travel a very short distance between the master and his disciples, but even in that short distance everything is perverted. This perversion is not because of anything related to the body, memory or mind – if it were it could be corrected – but it is nonetheless quite natural. The nature of this sort of discourse, of this sort of transmission, is such that we can only say exactly what it is we wish to say to those who have had similar experiences, to those who exist at the same level of experience. That is why Kabir says:
THE SIGNS OF THE DUMB ONLY THE DUMB UNDERSTAND. LIKEWISE, THE JOY OF A SAGE ONLY A SAGE KNOWS.
The master is speaking from a particular level and the disciple is hearing at another level, at a different one. So how is a dialogue possible between the two? The master stands on a high peak
of consciousness and the disciple is floundering in an abyss of darkness. How can there be any dialogue between the two? The words of the master, spoken from the golden peak, have to descend into the dark abyss – they are polluted with darkness before they enter you. In their journey to you the words are lost, and only darkness reaches you. Kabir says you will never truly understand until you and the master are both on the same level.
One dumb man understands the language of another. If one wishes to say to another, “It is very sweet,” he will be able to do so by hand-signals. They share the same language. They are on the same level; they have the same experience. This means that a dialogue, a communication is possible between them.
Until our experience is on the same level, discussion is possible between us or criticism, but there cannot be a dialogue. If I say something to you, you may immediately begin to discuss in your mind whether what I have said is right or wrong; you may give reasons for and against it, but there will not be a dialogue. When there is a dialogue, no sooner is something said by one person than it is totally understood in the same sense by the listener – with nothing whatsoever missing, with not the slightest difference at all. This is only possible if you are at the same level as I am. This is only possible if two individuals – the speaker and the listener – are standing at the same level. Then there is no distinction.
Only the enlightened can explain to the enlightened – but then it is quite useless because then there is no need. This is a paradox of life. There is no need to explain to one who understands, but it is necessary to explain to one who does not understand. And it is not possible to explain to him.
Then what can be done? How can those who have known distribute their knowledge? How can they share their precious treasure? How can those who have known lead you to that place where knowing happens? How can those who have tasted truth invite you on that journey?
Many ways, many methods have been found. All the techniques of yoga have been uncovered to create a bridge between you and the enlightened men.
Patanjali has said that faith will find a way, that there will be no arguing then, for or against. Faith is the indication that even though you are fully conscious you are not yet ready, not yet fit for truth; it shows you are still standing in darkness. It means you have accepted what has been said to you as gospel; it means you have not begun to discuss, to reason things out, to raise questions. And if you do start to reason and to question, the real meaning of what has been said to you will be lost. Whatever interpretation you give it will be your own, and not that of the master.
Faith has only one meaning. Faith is a device to bridge the gap between master and disciple. You are simply to hear what the master says and accept it immediately. You are not to engage in any inner discussion. Just see that he is giving you an indication and begin your journey. Do not hesitate even for a moment. Do not even stop to think, “Where am I going? Why am I going?” Do not consult your mind at all; just give your mind a holiday. Faith means giving your mind a holiday. Ask your mind just to keep its place, just to be quiet. Tell it, “Let me hear this directly. Don’t get in my way. Don’t interfere. Don’t bring your interpretation in. It is not needed. If it is needed, I will consult you. Do not interfere. Do not offer advice for which you have not been asked.”
The mind will try to butt in, that is for certain – that is its habit. No matter what you undertake, it will say, “This is the right thing to do,” or it will say, “That is the wrong thing to do.” It will say, “I am telling you this for your own good, for your own safety.” Such behavior by the mind may be acceptable in worldly affairs, but in moving beyond the world, in moving into spiritual realms, it is a hindrance. How can it be trusted in areas about which it knows nothing at all, or in things it has never tasted? In the beginning the mind will tell you not to trust; it will say you shouldn’t trust because this kind of thing has never happened before. And from one standpoint it is right – you really have never experienced this kind of thing before.
Your mind is nothing but a storehouse of things that have happened to you in the past. It is the sum total of all that you have experienced up to now. So, immediately, the mind will tell you that this kind of thing has never happened before, that there is no such taste. It will tell you this man is deceiving you, that this man is trying to ensnare you. It will say, “This kind of thing never happens. It is illogical, irrational. Don’t listen to this man. Be careful. Run from him, from these things he is suggesting.” The mind is telling you these things for your protection. And it is not wrong. Whatever it has known or experienced does not include this taste. It has no knowledge whatsoever of this taste. Then what is to be done?
If you follow the advice of the mind then the doors of the unknown will remain closed to you, then what you have not known will remain unknown forever. The mind is only in favor of what it has known. The mind knows the desire of sex, it knows the taste of sex, but it has no idea at all what BRAHMACHARYA is, what celibacy is. So if anyone speaks about brahmacharya, the mind will consider it sheer nonsense. The mind has never known what celibacy is. The mind only knows the downward flow of energy, the flowing into sex. The mind only knows the momentary bliss that comes from the downward flow of the life-force. It has never known the upward flow; it does not know it can rise upward. And so the mind will argue. The mind will say it never really flows upward at all; it will ask how something that has never happened before can possibly happen. “If it could happen,” the mind will say, “then it would have happened already.”
Your mind will tell you that everything has already happened, that everything is already over – but the master says everything still remains to be accomplished, that what has happened so far is practically nothing, is as good as nought. You are now a seed; you are not yet a tree. And yet your mind will tell you that you are already a tree. It tells you that whatever fruit the tree will bear has already been borne; it tells you that whatever the tree can produce has already been produced. It says that all the possibilities are now over, that all is now fulfilled.
That is why the mind is so troublesome; that is why it is so bored. It says that whatever you wanted to taste you have already tasted, that all is repetitious now. It says you have already enjoyed whatever you wanted to enjoy and that now you are only repeating the same thing over and over again. The mind knows perfectly well it moves in circles, that it repeats the same things continuously, but it does not know that this whole existence, this whole universe is much bigger than it is. The unknown is infinitely greater than the known.
The master keeps on telling you that whatever has happened so far is not even the beginning, that you are still standing outside your real home, that you have not even begun to mount the stairs, that your admission to the palace that is your real home is still very far off.
The question now is how to solve this puzzle. If you listen to what your mind says you cannot listen
to what the master says. If you wish to listen to what the master says you will have to get rid of your mind. That is why Patanjali stressed the importance of faith; this is why he considered it the first step. All the enlightened men regard faith in the same way.
Why was faith made the first step? The reason faith was made the first step is indicated by Kabir when he says:
KNOWLEDGE OF INNER EXPERIENCE MANY COME ASKING FOR.
STRUCK DUMB SAVORING THE SWEET, WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE?
Next, Kabir says:
THE SIGNS OF THE DUMB ONLY THE DUMB UNDERSTAND. LIKEWISE, THE JOY OF A SAGE ONLY A SAGE KNOWS.
There is no word in our language to express that ecstasy, not even to indicate it. Your language is your language – it is the result of your experience – but the enlightened man has no language; all of his experience comes from silence, from emptiness, from total peace. His experience does not come from thoughts, it comes from the absence of thoughts.
Whatsoever the enlightened man knows is known in emptiness, is known where there are no words at all. What you will come to know in emptiness you will not be able to express in words either. That which is born out of emptiness can only be experienced in emptiness; only the dumb will be able to communicate with the dumb. But for the dumb, there is no need to tell each other anything.
Buddha and Mahavir often used to stay in the same village at the same time. Once they even stayed in the same inn. Yet no meeting took place between them. There was no need for it. But for the Jains and the Buddhists this has remained a problem. And they keep on discussing it. “Why did they not meet with each other?” they ask. “They both seem quite egotistical,” they say. “When they were both in the same inn they should certainly have met. Who knows what beauty might have flowered out of that meeting?”
I tell you there was no need for them to meet at all. Both had tasted the sweet and both were dumb. What would have been the point of exchanging mere signals? If one of them had made a gesture he would have been considered a fool. If either of them had tried to speak he would have been in error; he would have shown he was unable to see that the other had also arrived. So the meeting did not occur, simply because there was no need for it.
There are three kinds of meetings. The first kind is between two ignorant men, between two unenlightened men. When they meet there is great discussion between them. There is talk and talk and more talk, and no good whatsoever comes of it. It is mere prattle, going on for hours.
The second kind of meeting is between two enlightened men. There is no discussion; complete silence prevails. Emptiness flows between them. It is as if the two are standing on separate banks of a river and the river of emptiness is flowing between them. There is no noise, no talking, no sound.
The third kind of meeting is between the enlightened man and the unenlightened one. When two unenlightened persons meet there is discussion, but it has no substance to it at all. When two enlightened beings meet there is substance, but there is no discussion. And what usually happens in the third case, in the meeting between the enlightened and the unenlightened, is that the unenlightened man talks and talks and talks while the enlightened man just keeps silent and listens.
Many people come to me. They come to ask some question, to seek some solution, but they soon forget that they have come for some reason and begin to give me all sorts of information about themselves. And when they take leave of me they say, “We are so very pleased we came. You spoke of such nice things.”
There was once a saint called Balsen. One day a very loquacious man came to see him. He talked so much nonsense, and such a lot of it, that Balsen grew fed up and began to wonder how he could get rid of him. The man talked non-stop; he didn’t even give Balsen a chance to say, “Enough, brother! Now I have other work to do.”
After quite some time the man began to tell Balsen how he had gone to another village to meet such and such a saint. “We spoke of you,” the man said, “and he told me a great deal about you.”
This was the chance Balsen had been waiting for. He immediately shouted, “This is totally untrue, completely false!”
The man was quite surprised. He said, “I have not yet repeated what the saint said about you, and you tell me it is totally false?”
Balsen replied, “Certainly I say it is false. You probably didn’t even give him a chance to open his mouth! So how could he say anything about me? From my own experience with you I can clearly see he never had a chance to say a word!”
The third kind of meeting is like this – the unenlightened man goes on talking and talking and the enlightened man listens. This is what happens in most cases. The enlightened man listens out of compassion. He thinks it may lighten your load if you can give vent to your feelings and to your thoughts; he feels you may obtain a little relief from your cares and tribulations. This talking is a kind of catharsis. And so he listens.
In the West the practice of listening has turned into a business, a very flourishing business based on the idea that talking about one’s problems is a kind of catharsis. These days a psychoanalyst
has the most profitable business. It has become very expensive, and all the psychoanalyst does is listen.
For ignorant people the discoveries of Freud have been a great boon, a great comfort. In the psychoanalytical treatment Freud developed for mentally ill people, the patient is asked to lie down on a couch and the psychoanalyst sits behind the couch and says, “Say whatsoever you want to. Just speak aloud whatever thoughts come into your mind. Don’t worry at all whether they are relevant or irrelevant, whether they are good or bad, meaningful or meaningless. Just let the thoughts come; just give voice to them.” Sometimes this treatment can go on for three years; it all depends on the condition of the patient. And the whole treatment costs a great deal of money. The time of treatment varies – it may be one hour a day; it may be two to three times a week – and the psychoanalyst simply listens. After prattling on like this for three years or so many people eventually become calm and quiet.
The psychoanalyst is a professional listener. He does nothing; he simply listens. You have undoubtedly encountered professional speakers; this man is a professional listener. Even when Freud grew old he worked eight to ten hours a day, listening to the jabber of eight to ten people every day. One of his newer pupils once asked him, “Don’t you get fed up? Don’t you feel exhausted after listening to two or three patients? I get so tired of it sometimes I feel I’ll just die. But you are wonderful. You go on listening from morning until night.” “Don’t be a fool!” Freud replied. “Who listens? The patient keeps on talking – that’s fine, let him speak – but who listens? If you did listen you would wear yourself out!”
In the West psychoanalysis has become a very thriving business, growing day by day. And there is a reason for it. These days people do not have enough leisure to spend time in conversation, in chit-chat. Who listens any more? The wife does not listen to the husband and the husband does not listen to the wife. There is no leisure; there is no free time, and so people need a professional listener to hear their problems, to afford them some relief, to lighten their loads.
The enlightened man will listen to the unenlightened man, but he only does so to bring you some relief. The opposite should happen. The unenlightened man should listen to the enlightened man. But this can only happen when there is faith between the two; otherwise, the unenlightened man will always mistrust what the enlightened man is saying. No matter what he says, it will create suspicion in the unenlightened man’s mind. His mind will protest. It will say, “This cannot be! It is impossible! Why should I move towards the unknown? Why should I waste my energy? Why should I pay any attention to him?” To be able to set the mind aside you need faith.
The mind will not allow you to move into the experience of the unknown. It will stop you at the shore; it will not allow you to plunge into the ocean. It will ask, “Where is the other shore? What guarantee is there the boat will take me to the other shore? That other shore is not even visible. That other shore is just a possibility; it is not a fact. Has anyone ever reached there? Why do I even want to bother? Those who are supposed to have gone to the other shore have not even returned to say they have arrived! And this one I am supposed to follow, has he a map to show me the way? Is there any real basis to all his talk about this unknown? Has he any real proof?”
No, the master cannot give you any proof. There is no proof. The experience itself is the proof. But when you have deep faith in your heart you can enter into his experience. Your faith must be so
strong that you can bridge the distance between you and him, so strong that you begin to obtain not only direct proof but direct sensual perception of his experience as well, so strong that you can also hear the sound of the harmony that rings continuously within him, so strong that you also have an inkling of the taste that fills his mouth, so strong that what has happened to him touches you too, so strong that the darkness within you is shattered by a brilliant flash of lightning and you see for a moment who you are. For this phenomenon to occur you must give yourself the opportunity. And that opportunity will be given to you by your faith.
STRUCK DUMB SAVORING THE SWEET, WHOSE MOUTH WILL TELL THE TASTE? THE SIGNS OF THE DUMB
ONLY THE DUMB UNDERSTAND. LIKEWISE, THE JOY OF A SAG ONLY A SAGE KNOWS.
Remember this and remember it well: if you do not approve of a master, of a guru, of a sage, or a saint, leave him at once – but do not make up your mind that he is false, that he is a fake. How can you decide? If you do not approve of him, then just leave him quietly, just say to yourself that his is not the path for you. But do not pronounce judgment on him. Many people turned away from Buddha and declared that he was a fake. Many did the same to Jesus and played their part in placing him on the cross. So don’t set yourself up as being so very intelligent. All of these people were intelligent men; they were just like you – and see what happened! They said Buddha was a fake, that what he said was not to be trusted – and they were just as intelligent as you. They had the same minds; they put forth the same arguments as you. They had the same experiences of the world as you do. How could they believe what someone like Buddha said? They had no experience of the world beyond, the other shore was not visible to them. And Buddha was speaking of that other shore.
That other shore is not only unknown, it is also unknowable. Even after knowing it, it cannot be known completely. You have to keep on trying to know it, to keep on trying more and more, and still your knowledge will remain incomplete. Its totality is such that it is always expanding. There is no contradiction in speaking of its totality or of its non-totality. What Buddha was saying was beyond intellect, so may people did not believe what he said. Many people rejected him. But because of their disbelief Buddha loses nothing; on the contrary, it is the disbelievers who miss, who fail to realize the truth. Remember, no one loses anything because of your doubt, because of your disbelief. You are the only loser. And you are the loser because you are hindering your own progress.
So when you feel someone is not completely right for you, do not make any decision about him – just leave him quietly and seek out someone else. What is the problem? There are two alternatives open to you. You can either say, “I am leaving this man because he is wrong,” or you can say, “I am leaving this man because his path is not for me.” There is a difference between these two statements.
You have come to me. If you feel that what I have to say does not suit you, that you do not approve of what I say, then leave me quietly. Why? Then you will seek out someone whose views suit you
better. But if you decide that I am false then your mind will harden, and when you go to the second man you will also decide that he is false. And when you go to the third man you will come to the same decision as well. Eventually this decision you have taken will be like a weight on your mind, and then wheresoever you go it will be an impediment on your path, it will hinder your progress; it will always cause you to find fault with others. And then you will never be able to recognize an enlightened man.
Kabir says:
... THE JOY OF A SAGE ONLY A SAGE KNOWS.
There is no other way to know Buddha but to become a buddha yourself. To know Krishna, to understand him, you will have to become like Krishna yourself. Nothing less will do. But we decide things in such a hurry. You are drowning in the valley of darkness and yet you reach monumental decisions about the peaks, about places your vision is not even able to reach – not to mention making up your mind about the journey itself. You make up your minds about things you have not even glimpsed.
There is a reason you make such decisions. The mind decides every master is false because the mind does not want to go anywhere at all. So with this kind of attitude you are definitely going to remain in the dark valley. If you find an authentic master the mind will have to begin its uphill journey, and that it does not want to do, the uphill journey seems painful and arduous. The mind loves to be idle; it loves inertia. It says, “Stay in bed. There is no need to go anywhere today.”
The valley is all there is for you. Earning money, having children, seeing your name in the newspaper on and off, having one or two hundred people attend your funeral – all this is enough for you. Then you can say you are a successful man. What success!
The most amazing thing is that you do not believe the enlightened man! You doubt him – yet you never have doubts whatsoever about this mind that makes you so mean and selfish. You never ask your mind, “Is earning money, siring half a dozen children, achieving fame, enough? Is this all? Is this the goal of life? Is this real achievement?” But this is what your mind keeps telling you. When you kneel to pray it reminds you of your shop. It tells you how much you could have earned this hour you are spending praying. It rushes you through your worship, but when it leads you to the house of a prostitute it wishes the night could have been longer. And you never entertain the slightest doubt about your mind?
If you want to doubt anything, doubt your mind! But you do not doubt it at all! You have become so identified with it you have forgotten you are not the mind, you have forgotten you are separate from the mind. You are identified with it; you think it is you. You raise doubts about the enlightened man because to be associated with him you will have to begin an uphill journey, you will have to work hard, you will have to repent. You will be transformed; you will no longer be what you are – and so you find all sorts of excuses not to follow the men who have become enlightened.
NOT OF WRITTEN WORDS
BUT OF EXPERIENCING:
WHEN THE BRIDE MEETS HIS EMBRACE THE GUESTS ALL FADE AWAY.
Where can you find greater words than these!
Truth is not something that can be reduced to written form; it is not to be found in books and scriptures. Truth is unfathomable. You will not be able to find it anywhere. You may read the Vedas; you can memorize them, but, as Kabir says, you will not be able to find the truth. Truth is not something that can be reduced to paper. Truth has to be seen, to be experienced.
Look at it this way – suppose a blind man were to memorize everything that has ever been written about light; suppose a blind man were to master the whole theory of light, would all his knowledge create a single ray of light? Would it afford him the tiniest glimpse of light? Would it light even a few steps in front of him? There is no way it can happen. Truth has to be seen, to be experienced. One’s eyes must be wide open.
And the eyes with which you view the outside world are not the eyes I mean. There are eyes that see within as well. Keep this subtle and deep discovery of yoga in mind – there are as many inner faculties as there are outer ones. It has to be so. A river cannot have just one bank; there must be two. It does not matter whether the second bank can be seen or not. You see the outside world with your eyes, but they have another side, another bank, so that you can see within as well. You hear the sounds of the outer world with your ears, but there are ears for inner hearing too. You touch things with your hands and know them in this way, but on the inside there is also a capacity of touch to allow you your own inner experiences. It would make no sense if we were able to experience all these things on the outside and yet were unable to experience our own selves. It would make no sense if we were able to see everything but our own selves, if we were able to hear the hustle and bustle of the whole world and yet were unable to hear our own inner music.
No, yoga says, the sense-organs are of two aspects. One aspect is gross, belonging to the body, moving towards the outer world; the second is subtle, moving within. And about these organs of sense there is no written science for you to read, for you to master.
The Vedas, the Koran and the Bible all belong to the outer world. There is no inner scripture. There is only the soul. Only you are within. And that is the scripture. Kabir says, this phenomenon of seeing the inner scripture is one of experiencing. It happens when you stand in front of your self, when you know your self, when you see your self in such a total way that nothing more remains to be seen.
NOT OF WRITTEN WORDS BUT OF EXPERIENCING:
You have already wasted enough time on written words. You have read enough scriptures; you have amassed enough information. What is left to read? You have been wandering in this jungle of words from birth to birth and still you have not awakened.
Words are like the dry leaves the trees discard. These words have come down to us from the enlightened men, from those in whom the fresh green leaves of experience have sprouted, but they have dried and fallen. And you just sit there, collecting them at your leisure. The nights are cold. Burn them. Warm yourselves with them. Their warmth will make you feel good. The man who learns the art of burning words will also be able to learn the art of diving deeply into experience.
NOT OF WRITTEN WORDS BUT OF EXPERIENCING:
There is a wonderful story about the Zen monk Lin Chi. He was sitting under a tree when he became enlightened. He immediately ran into his room and brought out all the scriptures of Buddha, the Tripitaka and others, and set fire to them. A crowd soon collected. People thought he had gone mad, that he had gone insane. They could not imagine a greater sin than reducing the priceless words of the Buddha to ashes! And all the time Lin Chi was laughing loudly. Some of the people tried to extinguish the fire so something might be saved, but Lin Chi laughed and said, “Fools! There is no need to save anything! There is nothing there worth saving!”
Later, people asked him, “Had you taken leave of your senses? You threw such priceless literature away!”
He replied, “I realized today there is nothing substantial in the scriptures whatsoever.”
If Lin Chi had heard the words of Kabir in those days, he would have agreed with him; he would have said, “Truth cannot be obtained from the scriptures. It is a matter of self-experience.” What he did say was, “I have reduced the scriptures to ashes so you may learn from my action, so you may remain aware.”
It is not that there is nothing at all in the scriptures, that there is no substance in them – they are the words of those who have seen, of those who have experienced. But their experience is their own; it cannot be conveyed through words. Words cannot express that experience fully; words cannot express that experience totally. Words are like used cartridges, and you are collecting them now that they are of no use. To reach truth you must be free of words, and by becoming free of words you become free of the mind. Becoming free of the mind is taking the first step towards the authentic experience.
WHEN THE BRIDE MEETS HIS EMBRACE THE GUESTS ALL FADE AWAY.
This is a very beautiful statement. When the bridegroom sets out for the house of the bride he is accompanied by a wedding-party. There is much carry-on, much merriment; a band plays all along the way. The procession of the bridegroom to the house of the bride is considered an important event and guests are especially invited to join it. This procession is composed of all the bridegroom’s relatives and friends. Later the bride and bridegroom meet; they sit together and the marriage is solemnized. And as soon as the ceremony is over the procession is the first thing to be forgotten. Then the bridegroom is quite indifferent to his guests. So long as the bride and the bridegroom were as yet unmarried the wedding procession was important, but now THE GUESTS ALL FADE AWAY.
Kabir is saying that words and scriptures are like the members of a wedding procession. As soon as the marriage has been solemnized the procession ceases to be of any significance. Of what use are the Vedas then? None. When the real thing has been achieved all the scriptures become useless. They were fine before, but then you had not yet reached the door of the bride. If the scriptures can lead you to the door of the bride it is enough; if they fulfill the function of the wedding procession it is more than enough. What bridegroom will care about the procession when he has been given to his bride? Then the guests are unimportant; then the whole affair is over. Who cares about the river or the boat after one has reached the other shore? Who remembers the bridge after it has been crossed? Who keeps carrying a ladder after one has climbed to the top?
WHEN THE BRIDE MEETS HIS EMBRACE THE GUESTS ALL FADE AWAY.
Then Kabir says:
THAT WHICH SEES CANNOT SPEAK, WHICH SPEAKS CANNOT HEAR,
THAT WHICH HEARS CANNOT EXPLAIN. WHY TONGUE, EYES, EARS?
Both the anatomist and the psychologist will have to agree with what Kabir says here. Modern science will support him. Kabir says that the eyes do the work of seeing but cannot speak, that the tongue does the work of speaking but cannot hear, that the ears do the work of hearing but cannot explain anything. Then how, he asks, are all these organs united – the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue?
Each of the sense organs does its own work, but there must be an inner center where they all meet – otherwise this functioning would not be possible. For example, I am speaking now. You are listening to me with your ears and you are seeing me with your eyes, and somewhere within you it all meets and you know that the person you are seeing is also the one who is speaking.
The eyes and the ears relay their experience to some inner center. And there they meet. They meet in the consciousness, in the self hidden within the organs. Eyes see, ears hear, noses smell, hands touch – all the organs gather their own experiences. And they are assembled in the self; they are brought together as if servants were to carry things from all over the house and lay them at the feet of the master.
The sense organs cannot do anything on their own. A bird may be singing but, the moment it flies away, although the eyes are quite healthy they can no longer see it, although the ears are fine they cannot hear it, and the tongue cannot speak of it because it has gone. The thing that united them has flown away; the bridge that united all the separate functions is gone. It is like the thread of a MALA. The thread passes through the beads and links them together. Although it is invisible, it is the support. As soon as the thread breaks, the beads scatter. The sense organs are like the beads and the self is like the thread. The self supports the senses; it maintains them.
You are following the servants. You have no idea who the master is at all. You follow whatever the eyes say immediately. If your eyes tell you a certain woman is beautiful you begin to chase after her right away. If your ears tell you a certain piece of music is sweet you immediately stop to listen to it. You follow the dictates of your sense organs without realizing nothing is more helpless than they are. They are absolutely helpless. They only function because of another entity. Their existence depends on another entity; their energy is dependent on another. Someone else, hidden within you, is in the driver’s seat. This entity is not visible; it is as invisible as the thread of your MALA. The beads are visible, but as soon as the life force within takes its leave they will be scattered.
THAT WHICH SEES CANNOT SPEAK, WHICH SPEAKS CANNOT HEAR,
THAT WHICH HEARS CANNOT EXPLAIN. WHY TONGUE, EYES, EARS?
Of what use are the eyes, the ears, the nose? How are they useful? Why do you put so much importance on them? Be mindful of him in whose service they are employed. Seek the master of the house. Seek the self.
WHAT’S FULL EMPTIES OUT; WHAT’S EMPTY FILLS UP.
EMPTY, FULL – NEITHER TO BE FOUND. THE EXPERIENCE IS THIS.
Such a definition of experience is rare. Very great and very wise men have tried to define experience, have tried to tell us what experience is, but they have not been too successful. Kabir has been quite successful indeed. Let us try to understand him, let us go deeply into Kabir’s definition.
Life consists of opposites. Day follows night, birth follows death, happiness follows misery, prosperity follows adversity and health follows illness. Each of these things is changing continuously, always moving from one pole to the other. Right now you are perfectly hale and hearty, but in a moment you can suddenly become ill. When you are healthy you cannot conceive that you can be taken ill suddenly, and when you are ill you are sure you will never be healthy again. One moment you are happy and in a good mood, and the next moment you are sad. When you are happy you think how successful you are and you feel that sadness will never come; when you are overcome with sadness you wonder if you’ll ever be happy or in a good mood again and you think the sadness will never go away. But if you think about it, if you look back, if you analyze what has happened in your life you will be able to see that every state is eventually transformed into its opposite.
Neither happiness nor misery lasts for long; one state is continuously giving way to another. If you understand this clearly you will not be disturbed when misery overtakes you, because you know that in a little while things will change. Nor will you become so excited when you are happy that you will
forget everything else and view happiness as a permanent feature of your life. You will know that in a short while everything will change again. Kabir expresses this phenomenon in these words:
WHAT’S FULL EMPTIES OUT; WHAT’S EMPTY FILLS UP.
There is no escaping this. It is an eternal law of life. One who is young will grow old, and one who lives will die. One who has achieved will lose, and one who has attained success will become a failure. One who has reached the top will topple into the valley.
WHAT’S FULL EMPTIES OUT; WHAT’S EMPTY FILLS UP.
Mountains crumble and lakes are formed. Lakes fill up and mountains rise out of them. This phenomenon happens continuously.
EMPTY, FULL – NEITHER TO BE FOUND. THE EXPERIENCE IS THIS.
So you must try to reach to a state where you are neither empty nor full. Then and only then will there be liberation, freedom, moksha, the ultimate ecstasy. Then there will be no distinctions whatsoever.
THE EXPERIENCE IS THIS.
Can you find a state within yourself where you cannot say you are empty and you cannot say you are full, where you cannot say you are miserable and you cannot say you are happy, where you cannot say you are quiet and you cannot say you are restless, where you cannot say you are alive and you cannot say you are dead? Exactly in the middle lies transcendence. One who has attained to the middle of two extremes, who remains unperturbed in the midst of opposites, has achieved what Kabir calls THE EXPERIENCE. This is the experience of the self. All other experiences are experiences of the mind.
The mind exists in duality. The mind vacillates from one pole to the opposite, from one extreme to the other. The mind is either happy or unhappy, pleased or displeased, in defeat or victorious. It never stops in the middle. It swings from one extreme to the other like the pendulum of a clock.
But when the pendulum stops in the middle the clock stops working, so when you can remain in the middle, the clock of the mind will stop working as well. From that moment on time will no longer exist for you. From that day on there will be no more birth or death for you; then you are liberated. Remaining in the middle is liberation. In the middle there is no change; nothing is opposite to the middle. This is why Buddha called his path “the middle way.” When you are in the middle you have achieved all.
Kabir’s way of saying this is quite unique. It is virtually impossible to find a style such as his anywhere else.
To explain truth even the enlightened ones had to choose one extreme or another. The Vedas say, “Be filled with the whole. Be so full that you cannot be empty at all,” and Buddha says, “Be empty. Be void. Be so empty of ego that not a single grain remains within you.” Buddha indicates truth through his doctrine of emptiness and the Vedas indicate the same truth through the principle of fullness – but both are saying the same thing.
Buddha says to be free from the ego, be empty, and so his doctrine is known as SHOONYAVAD, as the path of emptiness, of no-self. His stress is laid on emptiness. He uses words like ‘void’ and ‘negation’ to indicate freedom from the ego. Buddha does not say that you will become one with God, that you will be filled with God or that God will fill you, he says it will happen of its own accord. He says not to worry about it; he just says to free yourself of the ego. On the other hand, when the Vedas, the Vedant and Shankar speak of this point they say, “Be filled with God. Do not worry about being empty. When you are completely full your ego will automatically be discarded. When you are filled with God there will no longer be any room left for the ego.”
But Kabir is incomparable. Kabir is unique. He is more successful than Buddha and the Vedas in defining what the experience is. He has defined it with more precision and with more skill than the Vedant and Buddha have done.
He says:
SUCH A WONDER! IT’S NEVER TOLD. TELL, AND STILL IT’S HIDDEN.
Kabir has realized himself how wonderful this phenomenon is, how unique it is; he has realized it can never be defined, that it can never be put into words. He says it is so wonderful he is keeping it a secret; he says he will only speak of it if he can find a man who is worthy.
KORAN AND VEDA COULDN’T WRITE IT. IF I SAY IT, WHO WILL LISTEN?
Kabir says people might possibly believe it if it were written in the Vedas or in the Koran. But the truth is not recorded in either of these scriptures.
SUCH A WONDER! IT’S NEVER TOLD. TELL, AND STILL IT’S HIDDEN.
KORAN AND VEDA COULDN’T WRITE IT. IF I SAY IT, WHO WILL LISTEN?
Kabir says he wants to share this wonderful thing; it is in his mind to tell people about it, but he keeps it a secret. “Whom should I tell?” he asks. “Who will believe it? Who will have faith in it? It is not written in the Vedas or in the Koran. If it were written in the Vedas at least the Hindus might
believe it; if it were written in the Koran then Moslems might believe it. But Kabir knows full well no one will believe him.
The truth is that neither a Hindu nor a Moslem will believe anything that has to do with authentic religion. Only a man who is neither Hindu nor Moslem, neither Jaina nor Christian, neither Parsi nor Sikh, will believe something that is in the realm of pure religion, will believe something that does not relate to a specific sect, to a particular religious denomination. Religion has no denomination. No adjective can precede religion. Each sect has a different name, and each sect emphasizes one particular aspect of religion. One sect will stress fullness for example, while another will lay importance on emptiness. Kabir says not to emphasize either of the two – to seek the middle and to remain there, steadfast and firm.
Such a place exists, but how are you going to seek it?
When you are miserable just sit quietly and observe your misery. Don’t try to do anything to erase it. Don’t fight against it, just let it come. Just let the tears flow; just let the heart weep. Just sit by yourself and keep watching everything that is happening, don’t make any effort whatsoever to rid yourself of your misery. If you try to get rid of it, it means you are wishing for happiness.
If you think of misery as emptiness then fullness will represent happiness for you. And when happiness does come to you, just sit quietly and observe it as well. Don’t try to cling to it either. Don’t try to hold on to it; don’t try to make it last. Simply watch it. Be completely indifferent to it. If it comes, let it come; if it takes its leave of you, then let it go. When you make an effort to cling to happiness, when you try to hold on to it, because of the very act of trying your misery will be as great as the effort you spend trying to hold on to your happiness. They are linked together. If you have a greater partiality for one, it will immediately be replaced by the other.
Have you ever watched a tightrope walker? The whole secret of life is hidden there. To maintain his balance the tightrope walker holds a bamboo pole in his hand. There is potential danger in every step. If he leans a little to the left he may fall, so he leans his bamboo pole a little to the right and thus maintains his balance. And still he is in danger, because the maintenance of balance is not a static phenomenon. Balance must be maintained every moment; it must be readjusted at every step. Suppose that now he leans to the right – there is a possibility he may fall to the right so he has to lean his pole to the left. He keeps balancing from left to right and from right to left so that he won’t fall. And so he keeps himself in the middle and is able to walk his tightrope. Happiness and misery are like right and left to the tightrope walker.
Just be still within. Just sit quietly, turning neither to the left nor to the right. Just be a witness; just keep on observing. If misery comes, just recognize it. Don’t form any judgment as to whether it is good or bad, as to whether it should have come to you or should not have come to you – just be aware that misery is present, just experience it. And do not try to create happiness either, otherwise you will tilt to the other side. If happiness comes, don’t try to cling to it or you will lean to the other side again, back towards misery.
If you just keep on watching, just keep on observing both happiness and misery, all of a sudden you will find one day that you are separate, that you are quite apart, quite aloof from both. Suddenly you will come to know that both things are only happening around you and that you are beyond them both. This beyondness is the universal soul.
This phenomenon of beyondness, this observing of both and yet not belonging to either, is the moment when you are neither empty nor full. You are neither empty nor full because now you realize you are neither happiness nor misery. Kabir says, this is real knowledge.
SUCH WONDER! IT’S NEVER TOLD. TELL, AND STILL IT’S HIDDEN.
KORAN AND VEDA COULDN’T WRITE IT. IF I SAY IT, WHO WILL LISTEN?
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