The Ultimate Alchemy (vol

981 Pages·2008·1.53 MB·English

TThhee UUllttiimmaattee AAllcchheemmyy,, VVooll 11
Talks on the Atma Pooja Upanishad
Talks given from 15/02/72 pm to 06/06/72 pm
English Discourse series
18 Chapters
Year published:
Original title was simply "Atma Pooja Upanishad"
TThhee UUllttiimmaattee AAllcchheemmyy,, VVooll 11
Chapter #1
Chapter title: The Tradition of the Upanishads and the
Secrets of Meditation
15 February 1972 pm in Bombay, India

AUM TASYA NISHCHINTANAM DHYANAM
AUM MEDITATION IS THE CONSTANT
CONTEMPLATION OF THAT.

THERE are some points to ponder over before we step into
the unknown. The unknown is the message of the
Upanishads. The basic, the most foundational, always
remains unknown; that which we know is always
superficial. So some points must be understood before we
can go deep into the realm of the unknown. These three
words -- the known, the unknown, and the unknowable --
must be understood first, because the Upanishads are
concerned with the unknown only as a beginning. They end
into the unknowable. The known realm becomes science,
the unknown is philosophy and the unknowable belongs to
religion.
Philosophy is the link between the known and the
unknown, between science and religion. Philosophy is
totally concerned with the unknown. The moment
something becomes known, it becomes part of science; it
remains no more a part of philosophy. So the more science
grows, the more philosophy is pushed ahead. The field that
becomes known becomes science, and philosophy is the
link between science and religion. So as science progresses
philosophy has to be pushed ahead, because it can only be
concerned with the unknown. But the more philosophy
proceeds ahead, the more religion is pushed ahead, because
religion is basically concerned with the unknowable.
The Upanishads begin with the unknown; they end with the
unknowable. That's how misunderstanding arises. Professor
Ranade has written a very deep book on the philosophy of
the Upanishads, but it remains only a beginning. It cannot
penetrate the deeper valleys of the Upanishadic mystery
because it remains philosophical. The Upanishads begin
with philosophy, but that is only a beginning. They end in
religion, in the unknowable. And when I say
"unknowable", I mean that which cannot be known.
Whatsoever the effort may be, howsoever we may try, the
moment we know something it becomes part of science; the
moment we feel something as unknown it is part of
philosophy -- the moment we encounter the unknowable,
only then is it religion. When I say the unknowable, I mean
that which cannot be known but which can be encountered;
it can be felt, it can even be lived. You can be face to face
with it. It can be encountered, but still it remains
unknowable. Only this much is felt -- that now we are deep
in a mystery which cannot be solved. So before we enter
this mystery, some points have to be understood; otherwise
there will be no entrance.
One is: how to listen, because there are different
dimensions of listening. You can listen with your intellect,
with your reason. Mm? -- that is one way of listening to a
thing: the most common, the most ordinary and the most
shallow -- because with reason you are always either in
defense or in attack. With reason you are always fighting,
so whenever someone tries to understand something
through reason he is fighting with the thing. At the most, a
very rudimentary understanding is possible, just an
acquaintance is possible. The deeper meaning is bound to
be missed because the deeper meaning requires a very
sympathetic listening.
Reason can never listen with sympathy. It listens with a
very argumentative background. It can never listen with
love; that is impossible. So listening with reason is good if
you are trying to understand mathematics, if you are trying
to understand logic, if you are trying to understand any
system which is totally rational.
If you listen to poetry with reason, then you will be blind. It
is as if one is trying to see with one's ears or hear with one's
eyes. You cannot understand poetry through reason. So
there is a deeper understanding, the second type of
understanding, which is not through reason but through
love, through feeling, through emotion, through heart.
Reason is always in conflict; reason will not allow anything
to pass in easily. Reason must be defeated; only then can
something penetrate. It is an armour around the mind; it is a
defense method, a defense measure. It is alert every
moment that nothing should pass without it being aware,
and that nothing should be allowed -- unless reason is
defeated. And even when reason is defeated the thing is not
going to your heart, because in defeat you cannot feel
sympathetic.
The second dimension of listening is through heart, through
feeling. Someone is listening to music; then no analysis is
needed. Of course, if you are a critic, then you will not be
able to understand music. You may be able to understand
the mathematics, the meter, the language, everything about
music -- but never music itself; because music cannot be
analyzed. It is a whole. It is a totality. If you wait for a
single second to analyze it, you have missed much. It is a
flowing totality. Of course, paper music can be analyzed,
but never real music when it is there, playing. So you
cannot stand aloof, you cannot be an observer. You have to
be a participant. If you participate, only then do you
understand.
So with feeling, the way of understanding is through
participation. You cannot be an observer, you cannot stand
outside. You cannot make music an object. You have to
flow with it, you have to be deeply in love with it. There
will be moments when you will not be and only music will
be there. Those will be the peaks; those moments will be
the moments of music. Then something penetrates to your
deeper being. This is a deeper way of listening, but it is still
not the deepest.
The first way is through reason -- rational; the second is
through feeling -- emotional; and the third is through being
-- existential. When you listen through your reason, you are
listening through one part of your being. Again, when you
listen through your feeling, you are listening through one
part of your being. The third, the deepest, the most
authentic dimension of listening, is through your totality --
body, mind, spirit -- as a whole, as a oneness. If you
understand this third way of listening, only then will you be
able to penetrate the mystery of the Upanishad.
The traditional term for this third listening is "faith". So we
can divide: through reason the method is doubt; through
feeling the method is love, sympathy; through being the
method is faith, trust -- because if we are going into the
unknown, how can you doubt? You can doubt the known,
but that which is not known at all -- how can you doubt it?
Doubt becomes valid if it is concerned with the known.
With the unknown, doubt is just impossible. How can you
love the unknown? You can love the known. You cannot
love the unknown; you cannot create a relationship with the
unknown. Relationship is impossible. You cannot relate
with it. You can dissolve into it -- that is another thing --
but you cannot relate with it. You can surrender to the
unknown, but you cannot relate to it. And surrender is not a
relationship. It is not a relationship at all! It is just
dissolving the duality.
So with reason the duality remains: you are in conflict with
the other. With love the duality remains: you are in
sympathy with the other. But with being the duality
dissolves: you are neither in conflict nor in love; you are
not related at all. This third is known traditionally as faith,
trust -- shraddha. As far as the unknown is concerned, faith
is the key.
If someone says, "How can I believe" then he
misunderstands, then he misses the very point. Faith is not
belief. Belief is, again, a rational thing. You can believe;
you can disbelieve. You can believe because you have
arguments for believing; you can disbelieve because you
have arguments for disbelieving. Belief is never deeper
than reason. So theists, atheists, believers, nonbelievers,
they all belong to the most shallow realm. Faith is not
belief, because for the unknown there is no reason for or
against. You can neither believe nor disbelieve.
So what remains to be done? You can either be open to it or
you can be closed to it. It is not a question of believing or
not believing. It is a question of being open or being closed
to it. If you trust, then you open. If you distrust, then you
remain closed. This is just a key. If you want to open to the
unknown, then you will have to be in trust, in faith. If you
do not want to be open to it, you can remain closed -- but
no one is missing except you; no one is at a loss except
you. You will remain closed like a seed. When I say it I
mean it.
A seed has to break, has to die; only then is the tree born.
But the seed has never known the tree. The dying of the
seed can happen only in faith. The tree is unknown, and the
seed will never meet the tree. The seed can remain closed
in fear -- in fear of death. Then the seed will remain a seed
and will die ultimately, without being reborn. But if the
seed can die in faith that the unknown may be born out of
its death. only then does it open. In a way it dies, in a way it
is reborn -- reborn into greater mysteries, reborn into a
richer life. The same is the phenomenon with faith. So it is
not belief: never misunderstand it as belief. It is not feeling.
It is deeper than both: it is your totality.
So how to listen with one's totality? With neither reason
functioning in antagonism nor feeling functioning in
sympathy, but with the totality of one's being. How can the
totality function? Because we know only functions of the
parts, we do not know how the totality functions. We know
only parts -- this part functioning, that part functioning,
intellect working, the heart functioning, the legs moving,
the eyes seeing. We know only parts functioning. How
does the totality function? The totality functions only in a
deep passivity. Nothing is active; everything is silent. You
are not doing anything. You are just here -- just presence --
and the doors open. Only then will you be able to
understand what the Upanishad's message is. So your
simple presence is needed -- no doing on your part, no
functioning. That is what is meant by total functioning --
just your presence.
I must make it more clear, what I mean by "just presence".
If you are in love with someone, then there are moments
when you are not doing anything. You are just present by
your lover's or beloved's side: just present, totally silent;
you are not even loving each other -- just present. A very
strange phenomenon happens. Ordinarily, our existence is
linear. We exist in a line, in a sequence -- "my past, my
present, my future": this is a line. I move on my track, you
move on your track. We have our tracks, linear tracks, I
moving on mine, you moving on yours. Really, we never
meet. We are parallel lines -- no meeting. Even if we are
crowded there is no meeting, because you are on your track
and I am on my track; you belong to your past, I belong to
my past; my present is born out of my past, your present is
born out of your past. Your future will be a causal sequence
of your past and present, and mine will be of mine.
So we move on tracks -- linear tracks, one-line tracks.,
There is no meeting. Only lovers meet because, suddenly,
when you are just present with someone, a different time
comes into existence. You both meet in a single moment,
and this moment neither belongs to you nor to your lover.
This is something new. This is neither out of your past nor
out of your lover's past. Time moves in a different
dimension -- not linear, not from the past to the future, but
one present with another present. And there is a meeting
between two present moments -- a different dimension.
This dimension is known as the dimension of eternity, so
lovers have said that one moment of love is eternity unto
itself. It never ends. It has no future, it has no past. It is just
present here and now.
This is what I mean when I say that if you can listen not
with your past, not with your future, but with such a totality
that in the present moment only your presence remains; if
you can listen silently, passively; if you can just be present
here and now; if this very moment is enough -- then a
different dimension will open. And the Upanishadic
message can penetrate only in that dimension.
That is what is meant when it is said that the essence of the
Upanishads is eternal. It does not mean permanent. It only
means a different dimension of time in which there is no
future and no past. So you will have to move in a different
way -- in your inner time. And with that inner change,
words begin to take a different shape and a different
significance is born out of them.
We use similar words. Everyone uses the same words, but
with a different mind the words have a different meaning.
For example, a doctor asks a patient, "How are you?" and
at a casual meeting on the street, you ask someone, "How
are you?" and a lover asks a beloved, "How are you?" -- the
words are the same, but is the meaning the same? When a
doctor asks a patient, "How are you?" does it mean the
same as when a lover asks a beloved, "How are you?" A
different significance comes into being.
The Upanishads cannot be understood in an ordinary way.
That is how scholars miss the whole point, linguists miss
the whole point, pundits miss the whole point. They work
with language. with grammar, with everything that is
pertinent, but still they miss. Why do they miss? The
missing happens because their inner time is linear. They are
working with their intellect. not with their being. Really,
they are working on the Upanishad: they are not allowing
the Upanishad to work upon them. That is what I mean
when I say to just be present: then the Upanishad can work
upon you -- and that can be a transformation. That can
transport you to different planes of existence.
So the first thing to remember is how to listen just by your
presence. Absorb through your faith and trust -- drink! Do
not fight with reason, do not feel with feeling. Just be one
with your being. This is the key -- the first thing.
The second thing is that the Upanishads use words, they
have to use them, but they stand for silence. They talk and
they talk continuously, but they talk for silence. The effort
is absurd, paradoxical, contradictory, inconsistent -- but this
is how it is possible, this is the only way. Even if I have to
provoke you toward silence, I have to use words. They use
words, but they are completely against words and language;
they are not for them. This must be remembered
continuously; otherwise it is very easy to be lost in words.
Words have their own magic, they have their own
magnetism., And each word creates a sequence of its own.
Novelists know, poets know. They say sometimes they only
begin their novel. When it ends, they cannot say they have
ended it. Really, the words have their own sequence. They
begin to be alive in their own way, and then they go on.
Tolstoy has said somewhere, "I begin, but I never end, and
sometimes my own characters say things that I never
wanted to say." They begin to have their own life and they
go on their own tracks. They become free from the author,
from the novelist, from the poet. They become as free as
children become free from their parents. They have their
own life.
So words have their own logic. Use a word, and you are on
a track. And the word will create many things. The word
itself will create many things, and one can be lost. But the
Upanishads are not for words. That is why they use as few
as possible. Their message is so telegraphic that not a
single word is used unnecessarily. The Upanishads are the
shortest treatises; not a single word is used unnecessarily
because words can create a hypnotic sequence. But words
have to be used, so be aware that you are not lost in words.
Meaning is something different. Even more than meaning -
- it would be good to use the word "significance". The
Upanishads use words as signs, as symbols, as indications.
They use words to show something, not to say something.
You can say something by your words, you can show
something by your words. When you show something, then
the word must be transcended, must be forgotten.
Otherwise words come in the eyes and they distort the
whole perception.