Life is dangerous; death is very cozy, very comfortable. Lying down in your grave, what danger is there? There is no problem, no anxiety. You can’t go bankrupt, your wife cannot leave you, you cannot die anymore. You are so safe in death! Life is not safe – anything is possible. Life is full of accidents. Some madman may cut off your head…!
I have heard:
A great psychoanalyst was reading, sitting in his garden underneath a tree, and his only daughter, just eight, nine years old was playing with one of her friends on the lawn. Suddenly she hit her friend on the head with a stick so hard that blood started coming out of her head. The psychoanalyst rushed over, but before he could say anything his daughter turned towards him and asked, “Daddy, now tell me why I did this!”
She must have been hearing again and again that her father goes on finding reasons for every act, unconscious reasons and this and that, so now she asks, “Now tell me why I have done this.”
Life can do anything and you cannot even ask why: you have to accept it. There is nobody to answer. Hence the fear, Yogananda. You say, “I am more afraid of living than of dying.”
Everybody is more afraid of living; that’s why people are dead. People die nearabout the age of thirty. Of course, they are not put into their graves at that time; they go to their graves nearabout seventy, eighty. The fifty years between their death and their entry into the grave are just a drag. It is a miracle to see dead people walking, talking, doing all kinds of things. It certainly is a miracle!
Love life. That’s why to me life is the only religion, the only god. Live life in its totality. And the beauty is that if you live life in its totality there is no death. The body is bound to die one day, but you are not the body. If you have lived your life totally, if you have loved your life totally, you will have come across the eternal in you. That is the meeting with God. That is the encounter with truth that transcends time. And to know it is to know bliss; to know it is to know all that is worth knowing.
The third question:
Do you call this place a pub? A pub! I have been hanging around this pub for two years and I still can’t get the right beer!
Perce walked in to where the Last Supper was being held, sat down at the table and said to the waiter, “Give me a scotch and soda!”
“I am sorry, sir,” said the waiter, “all we are serving is wine.”
“Okay, give me a nice steak with a baked potato and salad.”