Question 6

QUESTIONER ONE OF MARSHAL MC LUHAN'S MAXIMS SAYS: THE MEDIUM IS THE MESSAGE. SOME CRITIC SUBSTITUTED "THE MASSAGE" FOR "THE MESSAGE" AND THUS GAVE AN ALTOGETHER NEW MEANING TO THE MAXIM. IN THE SAME WAY CAN WE CALL KRISHNA'S FLUTE A BEING'S LOVING CALL TO GOD? THEN I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IS THE MEANING OF KRISHNA BLOWING HIS CONCH, PANCHJANYA, ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF KURUKSHETRA. AND IS IT SOMETHING SYMBOLIC THAT HE CARRIES HIS FLUTE AND A WEAPON LIKE THE SUDAR SHANCHAKRA TOGETHER? THERE IS A SHLOKA, A STANZA IN THE BHAGWAD'S CHAPTER ON MAHARAAS, WHICH DESCRIBES KRISHNA'S PLAY WITH THE GOPIS IN THESE WORDS: YATHA ABHRAKA SWAPRATIBIMBA VIBHRAMAH -- AS IF THE CHILD IS PLAYING WITH HIS OWN SHADOW. WHAT IS THE UNDERLYING MEANING OF THIS METAPHOR? AND A MYSTIC HAS SAID THAT "LIVING BEING'S EGO IS GOD'S FOOD " IS THIS THE REASON THAT KRISHNA SUDDENLY DISAPPEARS, FROM THE MIDST OF THE DANCING GOPIS IN MAHARAAS?

Marshal McLuhan is a great thinker, and his statement that "The medium is the message" is highly significant. He came out with something which is quite new. Before McLuhan it was thought that the medium and his message were separate things. It was thought that although the message comes through the medium, still the message is not the medium, nor is the medium the message. The dualistic mind has always thought like this; it always divides everything in two. It says that the body and mind are two separate entities -- the body being the medium and the mind its message. It says that movement and the mover, light and the lighter are different. In the same way the world and God are two. And this dualistic approach has dominated up to now, resulting in the belief that the message and the medium are separate.

I consider McLuhan to be a non-dualist, an advait-wadin. He himself might not be aware of it, but I call him so. For the first time he has brought the non-dualistic approach to the matter of the medium and the message. He means to say that what you say and the way you say it are the same, are not different.

To understand this maxim of McLuhan's we need to go into it in depth. For instance, when a sculptor sculpts a statue, he is separate from his creation. We can see it clearly. As the statue is complete it stands apart from the sculptor; they are two separate entities. And it needs a profound monist, an adwait-wadin, to say that the sculptor and the sculpted, the statue, are one. It will be difficult for us to accept it. Our eyes, our intellect, our mind will refuse to accept that they are one. To say so seems to be utterly fantastic. Tomorrow the sculptor will die, but his statue will remain. It needs very penetrating eyes to see and to say that the sculptor will live as long as his handiwork lives. Even if the artist moves away from his art in space, he will remain one with it spiritually. There is an inner unity between the two which will last forever, which cannot perish.

The example of a dancer and his dance comes closer. It also comes very close to Krishna. And it is easier to understand. Are the dancer and his dance separate from each other? If you separate the dancer from his dance, the dance will immediately disappear. And in the same way if you detach the dance from the dancer, the dancer will be a dancer no more. So the dancer and the dance are one. The flute and the flute player are one. The singer and his song are one. Similarly, God and nature are one and the same.

The message and the medium are one. To know that the medium is the message, it is necessary to have a wide range of view. It is easy to understand that the dancer and his dance are one. But if one is a hard-headed dualist he will divide them into two; it is not difficult. He will argue that while the dance is an external act, the dancer is the inner being, who is not dancing, who stands still in the thick of the dance, which is happening on the outside. The dualist can say that the dancer, if he wants, can observe his own dance, can be a witness to it. In that case the dancer and the dance are separate from each other.

How you look, how you observe is the question. Seen with superficial eyes, even one will seem to be two, and seen with insight two will become one.

You are playing a flute. Can you tell where your lips separate from the flute? And if they are really separate, how can your lips play the flute? Then there is an unbridgeable gap between the two which will make flute playing impossible. After all, notes will come from you and they have to reach the flute. If you and the flute are really separate then you cannot play it. No, they only seem to be separate; really they are not. In fact, the flute is the extension of your lungs, throat and lips; it is their instrumental form.

Let us understand it in another way which will accord with McLuhan. We look at the stars with the help of a telescope, and the stars that were invisible to the naked eye become visible at once. Can you say that the telescope and the eyes are separate? No, the telescope is an extension of the eyes made possible by science. Now, with the help of the telescope your eyes can see much more than they saw before. Or, I touch you with my hands. Is it I who touch you or is it my hands that do so? Apparently my hands touch you, but is there a distance between me and my hands? Where do my hands separate from me? No, my hands are extensions of my being, they are not different from me,

Even if I touch you with the help of a stick, it is again I who touch you. The stick is just an extension of my hand. And when I speak with you through the telephone, the latter becomes my own extended form. It is the same as when I look at the stars with the help of the telescope -- the latter is the extension of my eyes. Even the stars are not separate from me. Or are they? There must be some inner connection between the stars and my eyes; otherwise, how can I see them with my eyes? I cannot see them with my ears. For certain there is some intimate connection between my eyes and the stars. Therefore, not only the telescope, even the stars are extensions of my eyes. Or, seen conversely, my eyes are extensions of the stars.

This is the vision of the non-dual, the advait. Then all things are extensions of one and the same. And there is an inner harmony permeating them all. Then the medium is the message, and the message is the medium.

It is right to ask if Krishna's flute and its songs are prayers to God. I will not say it is a prayer, because a man like Krishna does not pray. To whom is he going to pray? Prayer creates a distance, a separation between the one who prays and the object of his prayer. Prayer is dualistic. And it would be good to understand this point clearly.

Prayer is dualistic; Krishna cannot pray. Playing the flute, Krishna is in meditation, because meditation is non-dualistic. There is a basic difference between prayer and meditation. Prayer is the discovery of the dualist who believes that he and God are separate, that God is somewhere far away in the distant heavens, and that he needs to pray for his mercy, for his grace, or whatever. Prayer is a kind of supplication. Meditation is a non-dualistic state: it says God is not somewhere else, away from me, nor am I here, separate from him; whatever is, is one whole. So Krishna's flute is not a prayer, it is the voice of meditation. It is not a supplication to some God; it is just a thanksgiving, directed not to God but to oneself. The musical notes of the flute are an expression of gratefulness, utter gratefulness.

It is only in gratefulness that one is free and expansive. In prayer you are inhibited and afraid, because prayer flows from some desire and desire creates fear. You are afraid if your prayer is going to be heard at all. You are also afraid if there is someone listening to your prayer or if it is being lost in the wilderness. In thanksgiving you are fearless and free, because you don't want anything in return. And you are not afraid about its acknowledgement it is just an outpouring of your heart. It is not addressed to someone; it is unaddressed -- or, it is directed to the whole. The winds will hear it and carry it on their wings. The skies will hear it, the clouds will hear it, the flowers will hear it. It is not a means to some end; it is an end unto itself, Prayer is enough unto itself. Playing the flute is all and everything.

It is for this reason that Krishna plays his flute with immense bliss. Meera could not dance with that abandon and blissfulness, because there is no meditation in her dance. Her dance is a kind of prayer, a prayer to her beloved Krishna, who, in spite of all her closeness, all her intimacy with him, is separate and distant from her. Meera's dance lacks that freedom there is in the dance of Krishna. There is an ache of separation in the songs of Meera; they are wet with her tears. Her songs are addressed to Krishna for whom she makes a beautiful bed and awaits with utter fondness. Her songs have a purpose, and therefore are tinged with her desire and fear. Krishna is utterly free from desire and fear. His songs are not addressed to any God, they are God's own songs. There is no cause behind Krishna's flute; it is causeless. He is utterly fulfilled, and he is celebrating this fulfillment with flute and dance.