Chapter 26: Existence Does Not Believe in Speed
Thirty-five to forty-five, like Europe: devastated but interesting in parts.
Forty-five to fifty-five, like America: efficient but unconscious.
Fifty-five to sixty-five, like Russia: everybody knows where it is but nobody really wants to go there.
Sixty-five to seventy-five, like the UN: it functions, but nobody is interested.
Seventy-five and beyond, like Atlantis: lost and forgotten.
You are doing perfectly well. Sleepily and slowly the light will come to you, the truth will awaken in your being. It is in fact already there. Just silently it will make its presence felt without any whisper and without any notice. Spontaneously and suddenly, one suddenly feels, “My God, what I have been seeking is sitting within me; in fact, what I am seeking is what I am: I am seeking myself. There is no need for seeking. I cannot be otherwise; I am myself.”
Just be silent, utterly silent. Let peace descend over you, and the revelation of the mysterious truth of existence is yours.
I hope you will not misunderstand me, because this is my destiny to be misunderstood. I am not saying for you to be happily asleep.not to worry that whenever the spring will come it will bring flowers. I am saying to you, respect your slow growth and even in your sleepiness, don’t lose track of awareness. Sleepiness is not sleep. Just within the circle of sleepiness there is burning a small flame of awareness. Who is aware of sleepiness and who is aware of slowness?
This awareness has to be sharpened more and more, like a sword. The day your awareness is total and complete is the day your enlightenment has come. So I am not supporting your sleepiness, I am supporting you to be aware of your sleepiness.
I am supporting your awareness.
I am supporting your awareness of slow growth. That awareness is your real treasure.
Little Ernie trots into the bathroom just as his pregnant mother is getting out of the bath.
“What is that?” he asks, pointing at her bulging belly.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, and not wanting to explain all about the birds and the bees, his mother tells him, “It is a present Daddy gave me.”
A bit puzzled by this reply, little Ernie goes into the kitchen, where his father is reading the newspaper over breakfast.
“Dad?” says Ernie.
“Yes, Ernie,” replies his father.
“You know that present you gave Mummy?” asks Ernie.