Weblog von Hans-Wolfgang

Pots without cracks don't go into politics; they have other, useful things
to do. A crackpot is of no use. That's why politics is the only profession
in the world where no qualification is needed. Everybody is perfectly
qualified.
Now there is so much power in the hands of the politicians that they
themselves are afraid. They would like to win the war, but it is impossible;
both the parties are equally balanced. And the war is not going to be
between two countries; nuclear weapons will spread it all over the world.
Perhaps within twenty-four hours all life on earth will disappear. This is
frightening. That's why the war has not happened, and perhaps may not
happen. But it is always very close; anything can go wrong.
You should not depend on machines. And now the whole war game is not between man
and man -- that is out of date -- the whole war game is between
technological nuclear weapons. Even the missiles which will carry the
weapons will not have any pilots with them, there is no need. The missile
itself can be programmed where to go, where to drop the bomb.
Man has become so dependent on technological machines that anything can go wrong any moment.

You would love to
live in peace, but peace seems to be flat; nothing is happening, you are
almost in your grave. To avoid being in such a dead state, you go on doing
something or other -- falling into a love affair, chasing a man or a woman;
and then the whole drama of overpowering each other, of dominating each
other, fighting.... That too does not seem to be good -- every night a
pillow fight. It does not seem good, but excitement is there.
Every husband on his way home is thinking of excuses why he is late,
figuring out where he has been, what to say, what not to say. And the woman
is figuring out... she has phoned all his friends' houses and she has
collected all the information that she knows he will use for his excuses.
Yes, there is drama. You tell her, "I have been with one of my friends; we
met after such a long time." And the woman laughs, and she says, "Don't be
stupid, your friend has been here! Now I don't think your friend is a Jesus
Christ who can be in two places simultaneously." You are caught. Every
husband feels guilty, the woman is angry, he is trying to persuade her....
At least all these dramas and traumatic experiences keep you from falling
into that space you call flat. But at such a cost. The peace is flat, the
excitement is a torture; you are caught in a dilemma.
The reason is that you don't know what real peace is. Just not to fight, not
to get involved again with another woman, not to go to the pub and drink too
much and beat others and be beaten.... You can avoid all these things. You
can just close your door and sit inside your room, but you will not find
peace. The question is not of the room and you, the question is of your
mind.
Your mind is born out of the monkeys. Your mind is a monkey. Have you seen a
monkey sitting silently? That would be a miracle. The monkey is always doing
something or other -- jumping from one tree to another tree in search of
excitement. He is bored with peace. Even if you have not done anything, just
look at the monkey and he will make faces at you. What is he doing? He is
just trying to create some entertainment.
He will start running after you. If you run, then he will enjoy it very
much. Great excitement, although there is no point. If you stop and turn
back, the monkey will go up the tree; he does not mean business, it was just
a game. He was feeling flat, you were feeling flat, and it was a good game.
Both became excited.
Your mind is constantly seeking and searching for some involvement, some
trouble, because the peace is really killing, poisonous.
This is not the peace which I am talking about. That peace
comes out of meditation, that peace comes when you come out of your mind and
become centered as a witness, just watching the mind without any judgment,
without any evaluation, without saying, "This is good, this is bad, this is
really groovy." If you do such things, then you have already jumped in and
become identified with the monkey. The moment you say, "This is groovy," you
cannot remain outside; you are on the track again.
You have simply to be a witness, like a mirror that gives no judgment

This is the first satori -- when a man becomes loosened from the grip of the past, the hold of the past, as if a snake has slipped from the old skin. He has become absolutely new, like a tree which, after dropping all her old leaves during the fall, has sprouted new leaves. The moment something becomes old, one moment old, it is dropped immediately. One goes on slipping again and again into the present. It is a totally new style of life -- the way of Tao.

Watch it in your own life. How do you live? Do you bring the past in again and again? So you always live through the past? Is your life too coloured by memory ? Then you are living the worldly life. To live in memory is to live in the world, SANSARA; to live without memory, is to live in Tao, to live without memory is to live in nirvana, enlightenment.

Remember, by saying that one lives without memory, you should not translate it to mean that one becomes absent-minded, no. That is not the meaning of it. To become absent-minded is a totally a different thing. It is a disease. Absent-mindedness means that memory persists but becomes distorted. You know but you don't know dearly. An absent-minded person is not a man of Tao. An absent-minded person is simply absent-minded. The man of Tao is very much present, he is not absent-minded. In fact, he is SO much present that the memory cannot interfere. His presence is tremendous; his presence is so intense, the light of presence is so intense, that the memory cannot interfere. He functions out of the present, you function out of memory.

So when somebody becomes absent-minded he looks as if he is ill -- naturally -- because he goes on forgetting. But it is not that he has really forgotten, he remembers that he has forgotten -- the difference has to be understood. He remembers that he has forgotten; he knows that he knows and yet he cannot remember it. That is the man who is absent-minded.

I have heard many stories about Thomas Alva Edison. He was a man who could be called perfectly absent-minded.

One day he went into a restaurant, ate his lunch, came out and met a friend at the door, just on the street. They talked for a few minutes and then the friend said, 'Why don't you come with me and have your lunch?' So he said, 'Right. You made me remember. I came for my lunch.'

Then they went inside the same restaurant again. The food was served. The friend said to Edison, 'You look a little puzzled.' And Edison said, 'Yes. What.is the matter? I don't feel any appetite at all.' And the waiter laughed and he said, 'Sir, you ate your lunch here just five minutes ago.'

This is absent-mindedness.

Once it happened. that he forgot his own name. He was standing in a-queue and when his turn came and his name was called he started looking here and there, looking for the man whose name had been called. And then somebody who was standing behind him said to him, 'Sir, as far as I know, you are Edison. So for whom are you looking?' And Edison said, 'Thank you. In fact, I had- completely forgotten.'

This is absent-mindedness. Edison is not a man of satori; he still lives in the memory but his memory is a chaos. He cannot figure out what is what. He is not a Buddha, he is not a Lao Tzu. He does not live in the moment, he still lives in the past. Of course, his past is very clumsy. Absent-mindedness is a clumsy past, a clumsy memory, a lousy memory.

But a man.who has lost his memory in the sense that Taoists use this term is a man who functions out of the presence of his mind -- presence of mind.

Just a few days ago I was reading the memoirs of a very rare man. He was a saint who died a few years ago. He lived for a really long time -- almost one hundred and forty years. His name was Shivapuri Baba, Shivapuri Baba of Nepal. In his memoirs he tells a story.

When he went to Jaipur a very rich man gave him a box full of notes, hundred-rupee notes. While in the train he looked into the box; it was full of notes and he wanted to know how many notes he had. So he started counting. In the compartment there were only two persons, Shivapuri Baba, a very old ancient man, at the time he must have been about one hundred and twenty years' old -- and an English lady, a young woman. She became interested. This old beggar was in the first class and was carrying a whole box of one-hundred-rupee notes?

An idea came in her mind. She jumped up and said, 'You give me half the money otherwise I will pull the chain and I will tell them that you tried to rape me.' Shivapuri Baba laughed and put his hands to his ears as if he were deaf. And he gave her some paper and said, 'Write it down. I cannot hear.' So she wrote it down. He took it and put it in his pocket and said, 'Now pull the chain.'

This is presence of mind! It is not functioning out of the past because this has never happened before and it may not happen again. But, in a flash, like lightning, a man who is really present will act out of his presence.

There are two painful processes. You may have heard Buddha's saying, "Birth is pain, death is pain." These are the greatest pains, the greatest anguishes possible. When the infinite becomes finite in the womb, it is painful, it is anxiety; and when the infinite is taken out of the body again there is anguish and pain.

So whenever someone dies consciously, he disappears. Then there is no more entry into the body. Then there is no more anxiety, because anxiety is the consequence of desire; then you need not be narrowed down because there is no desire to be fulfilled. You can remain infinite; there is no need to enter a vehicle because now you are going nowhere.

Whenever there is desire, consciousness is lost because both cannot exist together. Desire exists with unconsciousness, it cannot exist with consciousness; when you move in desire, consciousness disappears. Hence so much insistence by all the taoists for desirelessness. When you are desireless you will be aware; when you are aware you will be desireless. These are two aspects of the same coin -- on one aspect, desirelessness; on another aspect, alertness, consciousness.

Sex is the mid-point between death and birth; between birth and death is sex. Really, between birth and death.there is nothing but sex, an extension of sex. You are conceived out of sex, and from the moment you are conceived you start on a journey of sexual pleasure. The moment you die, this continues. And sex is so powerful that even if death is standing there, you will forget it. If sex takes the grip then everything can be forgotten; you become completely mad.

You may have heard stories, Indian stories, of rishis, seekers, doing austerities, meditating in their forest abodes in the hills. Always it happens that whenever they reach a point of awareness, suddenly sex arises. Apsaras, nymphs from heaven, descend as if they are just waiting for someone to come to a point of awareness, as if there is a subtle conspiracy against achieving awareness. Hidden deep in a forest someone achieves a little alertness, and suddenly nymphs are there, beautiful girls from heaven -- not of this earth, perfect; You cannot conceive anything more perfect; the bodies are as if of gold, transparent. Suddenly awareness is lost and the rishi has become a man of desire. He falls.

From where do these apsaras come? Do they really come from heaven? Is there some conspiracy against awareness? -- no. They come out of the mind of the seeker. The mind, when it sees that everything is going to be lost, uses sex as the last weapon. When the mind sees that now awareness is reaching a crystallization, and that crystallized the mind will not have any say, the mind will be dropped, this is its last struggle -- suddenly the mind creates sex and the desire for sex, the mind projects.