Chapter 3: The Last Morning Star
Meera danced from village to village. She forgot the normal order of things. She was a lady of the royal household, but she began to dance like a mad woman on the streets, in the crowded bazaars, in the temples.
The members of her family must have become disturbed. When they sent her a cup of poison it was an act of prudence, it was not out of enmity - bear this in mind. They had no reason to be her enemy. They sent her the poison because, to them, Meera had now become a disgrace to the family, a dishonor. Better that she were dead.
The divine manifests in her and the members of Meera’s household are disturbed! Take this as a symbol. When a ray of the divine descends into your heart, your intellect will be disturbed. Your intellect is like the members of the household. The intellect is calculating, the intellect means logic. When a ray of love descends into your heart, stay with it, help it, because the intellect is very strong. It can kill the light. It can shut the door completely.
This often happens. You must have experienced it many times. It sometimes happens that when something begins to take hold of you you become nervous. You immediately cling to your intellect. You ask yourself, “What is this? How did it happen?”
People often come to me and say, “A moment comes during the meditations when we feel as though we are possessed with a dance, but then something from inside gets a hold on us. It is as if chains have suddenly been put on our feet. We stop just as we are about to start. A feeling arises somewhere as if to say, ‘What are you doing? This is madness.’”
The intellect is the opposite to the heart. For the intellect, love is madness. So those who only listen to the intellect live lives which are empty of love: paradox never enters their lives. And when there is no paradox, no lotuses ever blossom in their lives either.
The lotus flower is a great paradox. It blossoms in the mud. What could be more paradoxical than that? In filth! Such a beautiful flower, yet it blossoms in the ugly mud. That is why it is called pankaj. Pank means mud. A lotus is known as “pankaj” - one that is born from the mud. It would still be a miracle if the lotus blossomed out of gold, but when it grows out of mud - what to say of such a miracle? It would still be a miracle if the lotus blossomed out of diamonds and gems, because they are dead and the lotus is alive. But it grows in mud, where there is nothing but stench and filth. When you walk past the mud, you have to cover your nose with a handkerchief. And the lotus has an unparalleled beauty and fragrance. It really is a paradoxical phenomenon.