But these people never say these things to others. In sports many times mystic experiences happen; runners and joggers particularly have known many experiences. In the new commune there are going to be facilities for runners and joggers. I would like hundreds of sannyasins to run for miles every morning – just completely abandoned into running.
After half an hour or one hour, even if you are tired, tiredness disappears. It is strange, very strange, very illogical. You wanted to go to sleep, you were so tired, but you went for a six-mile run. After the second or third mile, suddenly all tiredness has disappeared and you are so full of energy – as you have never been. You are so weightless, airborne. And you start feeling that it is not you who are running now; some other energy has taken possession of you.
And the experience of unity with existence, and the experience of a deep, warm, orgasmic energy surrounding you…. It happens to surfers, it happens in many sports, even in wrestling. That’s why in Japan particularly, many martial arts were developed by meditators. It looks strange: why should meditators develop martial arts – judo, aikido, karate, and so many others? They were developed for a certain reason.
If you really go deep into them, the ego disappears and you enter into a new space – unknown to you, unexplored by you. And suddenly you are not functioning on your own but as if possessed by existence.
One thing I would like to emphasize: whenever such things happen, accept, don’t deny them; don’t start calling them imagination, projection, hallucination, deception. These are tricks of the mind. And I am not saying that there are not hallucinations – there are – and I am not saying there are not people who suffer from neurotic illusions – there are – but just because of them, just because there are false coins, don’t deny the real coins. In fact, false coins only prove that the real coins exist.
Remain available to the dimension of the strange, the mysterious, and that will help you tremendously. If you remain available, more and more experiences of this kind will start happening.
A man went into a bar and ordered a beer. After he had been served, he reached into his breast pocket and lifted out a perfectly formed little figure four inches tall. Then he produced a thimble. “A beer for my friend Paul, here, too,” he requested, “and go easy on the head.”
Is he for real?” asked the bartender.
“He is,” said the man.
“Can he talk?” persisted the barkeep.
“He can,” replied the man. “Paul,” he went on, “tell this guy about the time we were on that expedition and you called the witch doctor a black son-of-a-bitch.”