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Book Name: The Mahageeta, Vol 1Previous     Next
 

bank. When the lake became calm it would appear again. It is said he went mad. He died on the shore of that lake.

He must have seen the narcissus plant. It is a Western plant, found on the banks of rivers. It has been named in memory of Narcissus. It grows on the bank of a river and looks at its reflection, goes on looking at its own flowers in the water.

But everyone is a Narcissus. What we are seeking is within us. But where we are searching there are only reflections, only echoes. There is no way to find anything in echoes. We must turn towards the original source.

I am that wander-loose traveller, yet I am my own destination. What shall I gain from existence? -- what have I got to do with life?

I myself am the essence of existence.

I myself am the conclusion of life. I don't have anything to get from or give to life. I am not searching for some meaning in life -- I am myself the meaning of life. I am the conclusion of life, the epitome of life. I am its ultimate flower, its final stage, its highest peak.

But one who is searching for meaning in life continuously experiences meaningless. This has happened in the modern world -- meaning has disappeared. People say what meaning is there in living? Such a disaster has never happened before. It is not that there were not intelligent people before -- there were very intelligent people, it is difficult to find anyone to compare them with. There were people like Buddha, Zarathustra, Lao Tzu, Ashtavakra. What greater peak of intelligence can there be? What great brilliance can there be? But none of them ever said there is no meaning in life. Intelligent people in the modern age -- whether it is Sartre or Camus or Kafka -- all say there is no meaning in life. Meaningless, perverse, a tale told by an idiot. The meaningless babble of an idiot. Incoherent prattle! "A tale told by an idiot full of noise and fury signifying nothing!" No meaning, no substance, just useless nonsense -- this is life!

What happened? Why has life suddenly become meaningless? Is it not that we are looking for meaning in the wrong direction? Because Krishna says that life is immensely meaningful.

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