But this will be just speculation to you. It will not mean much unless you know what life is. That’s why I say, ask the right question. A wrong question cannot be answered, or it can be answered only in a wrong way. A wrong question presupposes a wrong answer. I am here to help you to know something, not to help you to become great speculators, thinkers. Experience is the goal, not philosophizing – and only experience solves the riddle.
You are born, but not yet really born. A rebirth is needed; you have to be twice-born. The first birth is only the physical birth, the second birth is the real birth, the spiritual birth. You have to come to know yourself, who you are. You have to ask this question: Who am I? And while life is there, why not inquire into life itself? Why bother about death? When it comes, you can face it and you can know it. Don’t miss this opportunity of knowing life while life surrounds you.
If you have known life, you will have certainly known death – and then death is not the enemy, death is the friend. Then death is nothing but a deep sleep. Again there is a morning, again things will start. Then death is nothing but rest – a tremendous rest, a needed rest. After the whole life of toil and tiredness, one needs a great rest in the divine. Death is going back to the source, just as in sleep.
Every night you die a little death. You call it sleep; it would be better to call it a little death. You disappear from the surface, you move into your innermost being. You are lost, you don’t know who you are. You forget all about the world, and the relationship, and the people. You die a small death, a tiny death, but even that tiny death revives you. In the morning you are full of zest and juice again, again throbbing with life, again ready to jump into a thousand and one adventures, ready to take the challenge. By the evening you will be tired again.
This is happening daily. You have not even known what sleep is; how can you know death? Death is a great sleep, a great rest after the whole life. It makes you anew, it makes you fresh, it resurrects you.
The second question:
The owner of the Grand Hotel where I am living would like an answer to this question: “Why did God create this world?”
First, never bring anybody else’s questions to me, bring the questioner – because I cannot answer anybody else’s question. The questioner has to be here, in my presence, because deep down my presence is the answer – not what I say, but what I am. Never bring borrowed questions. If it is not yours, it is meaningless. Tell the owner of your hotel, “You can come,” and if he is really interested, he should come. I don’t think he is interested in God or in anything – maybe curious, but curious people are just stupid. Any stupid person can be curious. To really be an inquirer, one needs great intelligence.