There is this guy from India and he is walking along a cliff, falls off, grabs the branch and pleads, “Is there anyone up there? Help me!”
God answers true to form, “Trust me – let go!”
The guy does, and immediately falls to his death on the rocks below.
God speaks again through the clouds, “That will teach you, you stupid Indian!”
And the second story…
A Jew is walking along a cliff, falls off, grabs the branch and pleads, “Is there anyone up there? Help me!”
God answers, “Trust me – let go!”
The Jew thinks for a minute, then with eyes uplifted to the sky, says, “Is there anyone else up there?”
These are the two alternatives, simple alternatives, available: either blindly believe – but remember, God is not available to blind, superstitious people. Or blindly doubt – God is not available to them either. God is available to intelligent inquirers.
What is intelligent inquiry? The first requirement is to be a little more conscious than you are. Whatsoever you are doing, bring the quality of consciousness into it. Walking, remember “I am walking.” Not that you have to repeat these words “I am walking,” just remain alert that you are walking. Drinking water, remember you are drinking. Remember it is cool, remember it is quenching the thirst, not afterwards, not when the thirst is quenched, not when it has become a past thing, but when it is on the way, when the process is happening, when really the thirst is being quenched; not when it has become a noun but when it is a verb, still alive, vibrating. Feel the coolness of the water in your throat, the quenching of the thirst – not afterwards, let me repeat, not even a split second later.
Eating, working, taking a bath – whatsoever you are doing, bring the quality of awareness so that awareness becomes soaked into your being. Then only will you be able to become a conscious lover, because love is one of the deepest phenomena. Unless you are aware, conscious in your ordinary life, you will not be conscious in your love. And conscious love is prayer.
If love is not conscious it remains lust, and lust can never have anything of prayer in it. Lust is unconscious, love is conscious.
The lush staggered into the heart of Lover’s Lane, blundered into the parked convertibles and caused a minor commotion. Just then a young man appeared from the shadows, breathing heavily. “Wow!” he exclaimed, “what a dynamo. A woman like that would kill you in no time flat – she’d burn a guy up.”
“So what?” slobbered the drunk.