The emperor was even more puzzled, and he could not contain himself. He said, “This is too much! This man might be seventy-five, might be eighty, might be seventy, but not four years of age. Absolutely not!”
Gautam Buddha said, “Perhaps you do not know about the way we count age. This man became a sannyasin four years ago. Hence, the real brahmin, the one who has known the divine, the brahma is called dwij, twice born. The first birth is only an opportunity for the second birth. If the second birth does not happen your first birth is meaningless.
And to the sannyasin Buddha said, “Don’t be worried. We have an ancient proverb.” He quoted it: “The man who gets lost in the morning, if he comes back home by the evening he should not be called lost. Four years are plenty. Even one minute of awareness is equal to eternity.”
So the first thing: don’t be worried about the fifty-eight years that have passed in sleep. Whether they existed or not does not matter; they were like signatures made on water – you go on making them, and they go on disappearing.
These two years you have been a sannyasin are immensely significant. And the significance does not require time, it requires depth. You can have the whole eternity superficially. And you can have one single moment of abysmal depth or of the height of Everest and you are fulfilled.
So the first thing I want to say to you: don’t be worried about the fifty-eight years that were lost wandering in the desert. Be grateful for the two years that you have entered into the garden of existence. Now it is up to you to make each moment a deep contentment, a profound silence, a joyful dance, an eternity of rejoicing, a fragrance that is not of this world, that is not of time and space but belongs to the beyond.
And as I see it, you are growing on the right path with a sincere heart. I have been listening to your songs; they have a sweet pain, a heartfelt thankfulness, sweet because nothing can be sweeter than to come in contact with the immortal, timeless, deathless source of life.
To be in touch with a master is, in an indirect way, to be in touch with the godliness of existence.
There is sweetness in your songs, and there is a certain pain too. Pain because whatever you want to express, words are impotent to express it. What you want to sing, your heart is overflowing with it, but the language is not capable of translating it. Your musical instruments, howsoever refined, are not able to bring the music of silence into the world of sound. They are two diametrically opposite dimensions. But your pain does not destroy the beauty of your sweetness; it makes it even more beautiful, gives it depth. It shows your experience and, at the same time, the inability to express it. That which can be expressed is mundane. That which cannot be expressed is sacred.