Question 1

Maneesha has asked:

OUR BELOVED MASTER,

LATELY I HAVE FELT AWARE THAT WE ARE JUST BIG VACUUMS, EMPTINESSES, WALKING AROUND WITH A FACADE OF PERSONALITY THAT DOES THINGS AND THINKS THOUGHTS. BUT BUKKO TALKS OF "APPROACHING THE SELF." IS THE SELF ANYTHING OTHER THAN THAT SENSE OF EMPTINESS? ARE THE QUESTIONS JUST A MEANS TO DISCOVER THERE IS NO SELF?

Yes, Maneesha. All inquiry in the beginning is to find the self. But when you find it, it is not the self. When you find it, it is no-self. But to tell somebody, "Go on a search for no-self," he will say, "Are you mad? I am already puzzled and in trouble, and I should go in search for no-self, no-mind, emptiness, nothingness? I am already troubled and you are encouraging me to go into more troubled waters. Why should I search for no-self?"

Hence the buddhas say to you, "Go to search the self." Because they know you will find no-self, so there is no problem. They say, "Go and search inside and you will find everything." But you will find only a pure nothingness.

But that cannot be said. That can be said only to the adepts, to those who are on the path and are able to listen and understand that the ultimate search can only be a dissolution into the whole cosmos, just like a wave disappearing into the ocean, or a stream running fast -- according to Bukko -- with haste, reaching to the ocean just to disappear.

People's minds are oriented to achieve something. If you say to them, "Search for God," it is understandable, because finding God will be a great joy, and he will give you all that you had always desired. He will give you a right place to live in heaven, a beautiful palace, where rivers are full of wine, and where young women who never grow old... at least up to now it has never been heard that they ever grow old -- they have been at the age of sixteen, fixed, for centuries.

My own understanding is that they are not real women but plastic, pumped with air. They don't perspire -- that is significant to understand. The scriptures make it clear that they don't perspire. Only plastic does not perspire, and only plastic never grows old. And it is very good and transportable. Just take the air out, fold up the woman, put her in your suitcase, and wherever you are going, go. You can even have two or three women in one suitcase.

I have heard.... Two scientists were going to explore in Siberia. They were in the last village post, and they were collecting everything that they would need in the cold, in the eternal snows. And they were going to live there for almost a year, so they were collecting all the things that they would need .

The shop owner said, "Listen, I have been here selling things to scientists, explorers, and I always suggest to them... first they feel shocked, but then finally they agree with me." Those two scientists said, "What do you mean?"

He said, "You take a plastic woman with you -- I have very beautiful models."

They said, "What nonsense! Plastic women? What will we do with plastic women?"

The old shopkeeper said, "You will miss... don't take the chance, be on the safer side. And it will not take much space in your suitcase." And he brought a folded woman, pumped air into it -- and it was really a good model, a Sophia Loren. They both thought, "It looks a little weird, but what is the harm?" But one said, "No, I don't want to be so stupid. Carrying a plastic woman... and I am a great Nobel Prize winner!"

The other said, "You remain a Nobel Prize winner, but remember, it is my woman. I am purchasing it, and if I ever find you fiddling with her, you know my temper -- then I will not remember whether you are my friend or not. My gun is always loaded."

The friend said, "You are getting unnecessarily hot; let the time come. Let us go -- you put the woman in your suitcase."

The man who had the woman enjoyed the woman very much, and the other fellow forgot all about Nobel Prizes; he felt very lonely. One day when the friend had gone out, he pumped up the woman... When the other fellow came back he saw the woman flying out of the window. He came inside and he said, "What happened? Why has the woman flown out of the window?"

He said, "I forgot, and I bit on her breast too hard; the air leaked out and the woman simply jumped!" True to his word, the man simply shot his friend immediately.

After a year when he came back to the village to collect things again, the old man said, "How are things going with the woman?"

He said, "It is a very sad story. You will have to supply me with another woman -- but that one was a very rare model."

The shopkeeper asked, "And what happened to your friend?"

He said, "I told him from the very beginning, `Don't fiddle with my woman!' And that idiot bit on her breast so deeply that she flew out of the window. And she flew out just when I was coming back, so I shot the man. Now you can give me another woman and we will live in peace. And I have discovered a great truth: it is better than a real woman, because there is no harassment, no nagging. And whenever you want to fold it you can; it is so convenient. It never says, `I have a headache.' It is always available..."

My feeling is that if there is a God and there is a paradise, then those saints must have been playing with plastic women for centuries. Real women anyway are not allowed to go to heaven. No religion allows women to go to heaven, so naturally that is the only alternative, a plastic woman. And the poor saints, they can't afford a real woman; they could not manage here -- how can they manage there?

They escaped from the world -- in fact they escaped from the woman. `The world' is just the name. When they say somebody has renounced the world, they mean he has renounced the woman. The world? Where are you going? Wherever you go it is the world; nobody can renounce the world.

But people call it `renouncing the world' to hide the fact that it is simply renouncing the woman. And without renouncing the woman you cannot be a saint. It is a tragedy that you renounce a real woman, and in paradise you get a plastic woman with a pump.

I don't believe that you should think of any positive achievement through meditation. You won't get any God, because what will you do with God? You both will feel very awkward. After saying, "Hi!" what are you going to say to God? All the miseries of the world that he has created... This is the worst kind of world that anybody could have created.

I had an old Mohammedan tailor. I used to go to different cities, lecturing in different universities. I told the old man -- he was a very nice guy -- I told him, "I am going in six days, so you have to prepare my clothes; give the priority to my clothes, put everything else away."

He said, "Listen. Do you know that God created the world in six days?"

I said, "What has that to do with my clothes?"

He said, "It has something to do with it. Look at the world -- it is in a mess! If you want your clothes to be made in six days, then don't complain -- they will be a mess."

What are you going to say to God? Perhaps you have never thought about it, that it will be a very awkward encounter. And what are you going to do with your paradise? It is a question of eternity; forever and forever the same plastic women, and the same dirty wine flowing in the rivers. And I know perfectly well that Indians must have reached there, and they will be doing all kinds of nasty things -- that wine is no more of any use.

So please, settle for no-self.

Enough of seriousness. This is not a serious place, it is a temple of laughter.

Ace pilot, Captain Cliffski, and his faithful co-pilot, Captain Kurtski, borrow a small airplane from the main runway of Bombay airport to go for a joy-ride.

They are flying around and having a great time, and everything is going fine, when suddenly Kurtski remembers he has a hot date with Gertie, the Polack Airlines stewardess.

"Hey, Cliffski," shouts Kurtski, over the buzzing of the engines, "it is time to land. I've gotta pee and I've got a date."

"Roger-dodger," shouts Cliffski, taking the plane into a nose-dive towards the earth.

Kurtski is clutching the controls while Cliffski is frantically working the foot pedals, and shouting out readings from all the instruments.

They finally get the plane onto the ground, but have to screech to a stop.

"Wow!" screams Cliffski, mopping his forehead. "That was a short runway."

"Yes," pants Kurtski, collapsing in his seat, "but look how wide it is!"

Mrs. Benzini, the big Italian Catholic mama, herds her large family into the cinema, and explains to the cashier which of them is entitled to half-price admission.

"These-a two," points out Mrs. Benzini, "are under five. These-a two are under seven. These-a two are under eight, and the older twins will be-a ten next week."

"Mama mia!" exclaims the cashier. "Do you and Mr. Benzini have-a twins every time?"

"Not every time," blushes Mrs. Benzini. "Lots and lots of times we don't-a have-a any kids at all."

Olga Kowalski enters an elevator on the forty-second floor of the Polack Salami Emporium.

It is the operator, Mad Melvin, the escaped lunatic's first day on the job.

Suddenly Melvin, giggling hysterically, throws the switch and drops the elevator through space at a dizzy speed. Then he throws on the brake and brings the elevator to a grinding, shuddering halt.

Seeing Olga standing there in the lift with her eyes crossed, Melvin asks, "Did I stop too quick?"

"Oh no, Melvin," replies Olga, wobbling. "I always wear my panties down around my ankles."

Now, Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

(Gibberish)

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Be silent... close your eyes...

Feel your body to be completely frozen.

No movement, so that all your energy can gather inside.

Look in!

Deeper, and deeper...

The deeper you go, the more you will feel

what it is to be aware, what it is to be a buddha.

Don't come back without reaching to the very sources of your life. Be acquainted with this territory, with this space.

Remember this silence, this peace, this bliss, twenty-four hours, just like an undercurrent. Soon it will become your very breathing, your very heartbeat.

Then there is no difference between you and a buddha. You have reached to the ultimate significance of existence and you have touched the eternity, immortality of your being.

To make it clear, Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Relax... just let the body be there, the mind be there, and you are neither. You are a watcher. Watch the body, watch the mind, and remember: you are simply the watcher.

Bodies come and go, mind changes every moment, only the watcher remains for eternity.

This watcher is your original face.

Let the experience sink deep into every fiber of your being. It is going to transform all your activities. It will radiate in your actions, in your gestures; it will radiate from your eyes, from your words, from your silences.

This moment you are in

the very land of the buddhas.

This moment you are a contemporary

of all those who have known.

Be grateful.

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Come back,

but don't come back as you have gone in.

Bring something new with you;

bring the buddha with you.

Sit silently for a few moments,

just recollecting and remembering

where you have been, to what space.

This has to become your everyday experience.

It has to penetrate all your life

around the clock.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Beloved Master.

Can we celebrate the gathering of the buddhas?