Chapter 8: The Silence That Follows the Storm
There are many tricks to still the mind. You can use a mantra. You can sit silently in a Buddha posture and go on repeating, “Aum, aum, aum.” Go on repeating it. If you go on and on and on repeating it, you will get bored, and that boredom will look like stillness. When you get bored, the mantra will drop. A sort of sleep will be created within. Hypnos, hypnosis, a sort of sleep, will be created within. You will feel good, but that sleep is not dhyana, that sleep is not silence. That sleep is simply negative. You have become dull because of the repetition. Every repetition creates dullness: you have simply become dull. Through dullness you cannot experience misery, you cannot experience suffering. The dullness is an anesthetic - it has made you unconscious.
This is negative. Now you will be less tense, but not more alive. A silence, to be real, must be more alive and more sensitive. It must not be a sort of dullness. Through mantras you can create a facade of silence on the periphery, and you can live in that facade for lives, but you are living a false silence. A real silence comes only after the storm. Don’t force the storm to disappear.
Rather, live it, allow it to happen. Act it out, throw it out. Allow the storm to disappear from you, evaporate from you. Don’t suppress it. Suppressed, it will remain with you. Suppressed in the unconscious, it will persist and it will wait for the right moment to explode. You will always be afraid of it exploding; you will have to continuously fight it. And you can never be victorious, because that which is suppressed has to be fought again and again, has to be suppressed again and again. Your stillness will be on top of a volcano, and that volcano can erupt at any moment.
Then you will always be afraid of life, because life can create situations in which the volcano can erupt. You will negate life, you will try to escape from life. You will want to go to the Himalayas, because there, there is no one to provide an opportunity for your volcano to erupt. But the volcano is still there, and the Himalayas cannot help unless the volcano is thrown out.
And it is good to throw it out. You are missing the basic experience of completely throwing out the volcano, of totally releasing the madness, of acting out whatsoever is there: the storm within. Allow it to move without and don’t resist, don’t suppress. Allow it to move out totally. Then a moment will come when the storm has gone.
In that moment, real silence happens to you - real in the sense that now it is not cultivated, it is spontaneous. The stream is flowing. It is not anything that you have created; it is not anything that is happening because of your effort. Rather, on the contrary, you are not there, only the silence is. And this silence is fearless. Nothing can disturb it because that which could be a disturbance has been thrown out. The storm has disappeared.
Hence my insistence - so much insistence - on throwing out your madness. Within, it is dangerous. Thrown out, it disappears. Your heart becomes empty, a certain space is created. Only in that space can silence happen. Then you have room for it, you’re ready for it, open to it.
Look for the flower to bloom in the silence that follows the storm: not till then. What is that flower? The flowering of your being will happen only when real silence has happened to you, never before. You cannot force the flower to open, it opens by itself. You cannot force your being to open; there is no possibility of it. You cannot rape it, you cannot be violent toward it. It will simply be destroyed.