Music will make you silent, will make you disappear, will make you almost absent. Only the music will be there, not the musician – because in meditation the musician cannot exist. And if you are listening, soon you will find yourself melting, disappearing. It will create a new space within you. It has come out of meditation, and anyone who listens to it will feel something of meditation.
Old mystics have used music to convey their experience – for example, Kabir, Meera, Nanak. They will not discuss, they will not talk with you. They will simply play some instrument, sing a song – which has nothing to do with God, heaven and hell; which has nothing to do with theology, with any creed or cult.
But Kabir playing on his ektara – the simplest musical instrument…. Ektara means only one string. It has only one string, not the complexity of a sitar. But with his ektara he would create an atmosphere where many would be transported to another world.
Meera used to sing – and I don’t think in the whole world any woman has sung such beautiful songs. People would be listening and they would forget themselves. It happened that when she was wandering around India, she came to a place, Vrindavan, where Krishna had lived. In Vrindavan there is the main temple of Krishna. There are hundreds of temples, but in the main temple, the most ancient, his priest has to be absolutely celibate – so much so that no woman can enter the temple. And the priest never goes out, so he never comes to see a woman.
When Meera reached Vrindavan, she went singing, dancing, to the great temple. The watchman was so overwhelmed that he forgot his work – his work was to prevent women from going in – and Meera entered. The priest was worshipping. He could not believe that a woman had come into the temple – for thousands of years no woman had entered the temple. But he waited till Meera stopped singing; he himself was overwhelmed. The song was so beautiful, so touching – reaching to your very innermost being, because it was coming from the innermost core of Meera. It was not something composed by the mind. It was the overflowing love of no-mind. It was meditation flowing in song, in dance.
Afterwards, as he woke up – it was as if he had fallen asleep – he said to Meera, “This is not good; what you have done is unforgivable. This was to the credit of the temple, that for thousands of years no woman had entered.”
And do you know what Meera said to the priest? She laughed, and she said, “I have always thought that Krishna is the only man; all others are women, beloveds of the lord. Do you consider yourself also a man? Then you have been wasting your whole life! Have you not yet become so loving towards Krishna that you can forget this macho attitude?” And since that day the temple has not prevented any woman. Meera opened the door.
The priest could not answer. She was saying something out of her innermost being – that existence is our beloved, we are all loving the same existence; and the more you love, the more feminine you become, feminine in the sense that you become more graceful, more beautiful, more rounded.