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into the whole, dropping your private will and becoming part of the cosmic will. That's what has happened to me. Now, it is possible for you too to join hands with me. I am a witness to it, as every Buddha has always been just a witness. Being with me you may be reminded of your potential, that's all. Falling in love with me, you will start seeing how you have been undoing your life. YOU were thinking you were doing great things, and in that very doing you have been undoing all. Being with me, this insight, this break-through, this SATORI, will arise one day: that how you have been unnecessarily disturbing! Tn that very understanding, you no more disturb, and all is beautiful -- and from the very beginning. You simply stop creating troubles for yourself; and when you stop creating troubles for yourself, the joy flows.
The joy has not to be created, it is already the case. You just have to be in a silent, meditative mood so that you can see that which is there. To be with me is to taste a little bit, according to your capacity, the taste of meditation. But it is not work at all.
The second question:
Question 2
AT TIMES I FEEL LIKE I CAN JUST SILENTLY SIT AND WAIT FOR ETERNITY -- AND OTHER TIMES LIKE SOBBING WITH THE FUTILITY OF SITTING OUTSIDE A GATE I CANNOT EVEN SEE -- FROZEN BETWEEN ACTION AND INACTION. DOES ONE MISS BY DEMANDING? IS IMPATIENCE A LACK OF TRUST?
One misses only by demanding. Demanding means that will is still there: you would like to have things your own way, you are still deciding how things should be. Then, naturally, if things are not like that, impatience arises; and if the demands are not fulfilled... frustration, anger, rage. And if it goes on and on, sooner or later you lose interest. YOU start thinking 'This is impossible. All this talk about enlightenment, NIRVANA IS impossible.' YOU start finding ways of escaping from it; of getting back into the world, into the meaningless trivia, the mundane, the mediocre; of getting occupied -- at least one is occupied, one has no time to think that things are futile. Sitting and waiting, again and again the idea arises 'What are you doing here?' The door has not
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