For the delights of kissing the deluded crave
declaring it to be the ultimately real–
like a man who leaves his house and standing at the door
asks a woman for reports of sensual delights.
The stirring of biotic forces in the house of nothingness has given artificial rise to pleasures in so many ways.
Such yogis from affliction faint for they have fallen from celestial space, inveigled into vice.
As a brahmin, who with rice and butter
makes a burnt offering in blazing fire
creating a vessel for nectar from celestial space,
takes this, through wishful thinking, as the ultimate.
Some people, who have kindled the inner heat
and raised it to the fontanel,
stroke the uvula with the tonguein a sort of coition
and confuse that which fetters with what gives release,
in pride will call themselves yogis.
Tantra is freedom – freedom from all mind-constructs, from all mind-games; freedom from all structures – freedom from the other. Tantra is a space to be. Tantra is liberation.
Tantra is not a religion in the ordinary sense. Religion again is a mind-game, religion gives you a certain pattern. A Christian has a certain pattern, so has the Hindu, so has the Muslim. Religion gives you a certain style, a discipline. Tantra takes all disciplines away.
When there is no discipline, when there is no enforced order, a totally different kind of order arises in you. What Lao Tzu calls Tao, what Buddha calls dhamma – that arises in you. That is not anything done by you, it happens to you; Tantra simply creates a space for it to happen. It does not even invite, it does not wait; it simply creates a space. And when the space is ready, the whole flows in.
I have heard a very beautiful story, a very ancient one….
In a province no rain had fallen for a long time. Everything was dried up; at last the citizens decided to fetch the rainmaker. A deputation was sent to see him in the distant town where he lived, with the urgent request to come as soon as possible and make rain for their parched fields.
The rainmaker, a wise old man, promised to do so on condition that he be provided with a solitary little cottage in the open country where he could withdraw by himself for three days; no food or drink would be required. Then he would see what could be done. His requests were met.
On the evening of the third day abundant rain fell, and full of praise a grateful crowd made a pilgrimage to his house and exclaimed, “How did you do it? Tell us.”
“It was quite simple,” the rainmaker answered. “For three days all I have done is to put myself in order. For I know that once I am in order, then the world will be in order, and the drought must yield place to the rain.”