Question 2

Maneesha has asked another question:

OUR BELOVED MASTER,

THE STORY OF BUDDHA MECHANICALLY BRUSHING AWAY THE FLY IS PUZZLING. WAS IT STILL POSSIBLE FOR HIM TO DO SOMETHING WITHOUT BEING CONSCIOUS, SOMETIMES MECHANICAL? I THOUGHT ONCE ONE WAS ENLIGHTENED, ONE COULD NOT HELP BUT BE CONSCIOUS IN ALL THAT ONE DID, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY.

Maneesha, you have raised a right question.

I have spoken with Buddhist monks in their assemblies. The head of the Buddhists in India, Anand Kausalyayan, was very much puzzled by the story because it is not written anywhere. But even he could not ask the right question. He asked me, "Where is it written?"

I said, "That does not matter. You can write it!"

But he said, "The story is beautiful, makes the point of mechanical behavior and conscious behavior very clearly." But even he could not ask the right question.

Your question is far more significant. I was hoping someday somebody would ask. It is true that once a buddha you are always a buddha. Then how do I explain the story?

This was a device for Ananda, who was following him. Even on the first occasion he was not mechanical, he just acted mechanically -- with full consciousness. And then he stopped, and again moved his hand.

Ananda said, "What are you doing? The fly is gone."

Buddha said, "The first time I did it mechanically; that was wrong. I continued to talk with you. I should have been more conscious and aware, more graceful, more loving in shooing the fly. That's what I am doing now. The fly is not there, but what I should have done -- and I missed the situation -- I am making up for it."

As far as I know, Buddha could never be mechanical. He acted mechanically for the sake of Ananda to make the clear distinction between the conscious act and the unconscious act -- and he made it really beautifully. But it is not in Buddhist scriptures. What to do? -- the story is so beautiful that it should be.

In my book on DHAMMAPADA I have written it. After all, Buddha has not written anything. Anybody writing anything is writing after Gautam Buddha -- somebody one day after, somebody one year after. I am writing twenty-five centuries after! And a living river should move on to new territories, new pastures. The moment it stops flowing it becomes stagnant and dead.

Now comes the time for Sardar Gurudayal Singh. He has been waiting so long. Now he has come in his full glory, with the rainbow turban. I was worried whether I would see him. But he is a very stubborn guy: he is sitting in his place with his great turban, waiting for his time.

Pope the Polack has a terrible problem: he wets his bed. He gets so embarrassed by this habit that he goes to see Doctor Feelgood, the psychiatrist, in the hope of a cure.

"Sit down, your holiness," says Feelgood, "and tell me all about it."

"Well," says the Polack pope, "every night, when I go to sleep, I dream about this little red devil with horns and a tail, who says to me, `Pope, now it is time to do a pee-pee.' And then, when I wake up, I find that I have wet my bed."

"That is very interesting," says the shrink, "but very simple to cure. Next time this little red devil comes into your dreams and tells you to urinate, just say, `No, Devil! I don't need to pee -- I don't want to pee -- so I won't!'"

"Great idea!" says Pope the Polack, and he thanks Feelgood and goes back to the Vatican. Sure enough, that night, when the Polack is asleep, the little red devil with horns and a tail comes into his dreams and says, "Hey, Pope, now it is time to pee-pee."

But the pope says, "No, Devil -- I don't need to pee -- I don't want to pee -- so I won't"

"A-Ha!" says the devil. "So you don't want to pee-pee? Okay then -- tonight you can do KA-KA!"

Father Finger and Old Father Fungus are trying out some new communion wine after Holy Mass in the church one night. An hour and two bottles later, they are feeling great, so Father Finger suggests that they go for a ride to the park.

Off they go, Father Finger driving on his moped, carrying Old Father Fungus on the back -- both of them utterly drunk. They are speeding and weaving along the city streets like two little bats out of hell, when Father Finger holds up both his hands and shouts out, "Look! No hands!"

Just then they swerve past Police Officer Muldoon, who is cruising slowly along on his motorcycle.

When the cop pulls the two priests over, he smells the wine, and pulls out his notebook and pencil.

"That will be a fifty dollar fine, Father," says Muldoon. "Your hands were not on the handlebars, and you are drunk."

"But, officer!" slobbers Father Finger, "I was praying, so God took over the driving."

"Okay," smiles the cop, writing on his paper, "then that will be a one hundred dollar fine -- for driving with three drunks on a moped!"

Farmer Meadow-Muffin's young son Cyril comes running into the farmhouse one day, crying. His arms and legs are covered in bee-stings.

"What happened to you?" asks Farmer Meadow-Muffin.

"Well, Dad," howls Cyril, "I was just walking through the cow field, past the bee-hive, when all the bees flew out and stung me!"

"Nonsense!" says the farmer. "Bees don't sting for no reason. You must have been fooling around with their hive."

"No, Dad, really," sobs Cyril. "I was just walking past and they all flew out and stung me!"

"You are lying!" says Farmer Meadow-Muffin. "And to prove it, you can tie me naked to that apple tree next to the beehive and leave me there for the rest of the day. And by the evening I bet you that not one bee has stung me."

"Okay, Dad!" says Cyril, brightening up. And then he ties his naked father to the tree and goes off to play.

All through the day, Cyril hears his father shouting and screaming, but he leaves him there to teach him a lesson. That evening, Cyril goes along to release his father.

"What was all that shouting about, Dad?" he chuckles. "Did you get stung badly?"

"Not one bee touched me!" snaps Meadow-Muffin. "But you see that baby cow there? All day long she thought I was her mother!"

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

(Gibberish)

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

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

Now, look inwards with your total consciousness, and with an urgency as if this is your last moment of life.

Your center of being is not far away. Just all that you need is a total urgency.

Deeper and deeper, like a spear... the deeper you go into your being, the deeper you are going into existence.

This moment you are a buddha, and to be a buddha is to attain to the ultimate potential of your being. The seed comes to blossom in a blue lotus.

This very body the buddha, this very earth the lotus paradise.

Remain a witness. That is the only thing that is eternal in you. Everything is mortal except witnessing. Witnessing is another name of buddha.

To make it more clear,

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Relax, but remain a witness. You are not the body, you are not the mind; you are pure consciousness. And soon you will find you don't have any limits.

This Buddha Auditorium becomes a lake of consciousness without ripples.

Gather as many flowers that are blossoming in the invisible around you, as much fragrance... And remember that this buddha has to come slowly slowly onto the circumference of your life, in your ordinary day-to-day work. Then even that work becomes meditation. Anything done with awareness is meditation.

Before Nivedano calls you back, gather as much of this pure space as possible. Bring with you the dance of it, the music, the poetry....

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Come back, but show even in your coming back a grace, a beauty, a silence. Sit for a few moments remembering the experience you have gone through.

You have to become a buddha in your day-to-day affairs, twenty-four hours.

Living or dead, you have to be a buddha. Only the buddha does not die.

To be a buddha is your destiny.

There is no other blessing that goes higher.

There is no other ecstasy that goes wider.

There is no other blissfulness that goes deeper.

Meditation is the only revolution in the world. All other revolutions are fake.

Okay, Maneesha?