If you can fulfill the requirement of being silent, reflecting, witnessing, then you are strong, you are no longer weak. The man who lives in desires always feels weak because thousands of desires are pulling him in different directions. He is almost falling apart. Somehow he is keeping himself together, managing, dragging. He is tired, but he does not know what else to do. Everybody else is doing the same. People are running after desires. Nobody seems to be fulfilled, nobody seems to reach anywhere, but what else to do? When everybody is running, you start running. It is a crowd psychology.
To be a sannyasin, to be a seeker of truth, means getting out of the world of crowd psychology, the mob mentality. Unless you become aware that the crowd is dragging you with itself and you step out of the power of the crowd, you will never be able to know what truth is, you will never become a buddha. And to be a buddha is your birthright.
You are strong… but your desires go on making you weak. Once you have become silent you will be able to see it. A silent state of your being is so strong that you know you have come to the very end, you have come to fulfillment. One comes to fulfillment not by achieving something in the outside world but by reaching to one’s own innermost core: what Jesus calls the kingdom of God, what Buddha calls nirvana, what Mahavira calls moksha.
When you have reached to your innermost core suddenly you become aware that all that you have been desiring was useless and what you really needed, what was your real nourishment, has been waiting for you inside you. Your search has to be inner, not outer. You can become Alexander the Great, you can conquer the whole world, and yet you will die with empty hands. Don’t be bothered with all that nonsense. Be a Buddha, not an Alexander!
Buddha means one who has seen his truth and is contented, utterly contented with it. Free from passion and desire, you have stripped the thorns from the stem. This is your last body. If you can be free from passion and desire….
Passion is a state of fever, it is a hot state. We know only two states: either we are very hot – that is passion – or we are very cold – that is anti-passion. If you love, you become very hot; if you hate, you become very cold. And exactly in the middle is the point where you should stop. That point is neither hot nor cold. It is transcendental to both, it is cool. And when you are really cool, silent, peaceful, mysteries open their doors for you. A feverish man, in a passionate state, is almost blind.
Feinberg came home from a business trip and his wife coolly informed him that she had been unfaithful during his absence.
“Who was it?” shouted Feinberg, “that rotten Goldberg?”
“No,” his wife replied, “it was not Goldberg.”
“Was it that crooked partner of mine – that goniff, Levy?”
“No, not Levy.”
“I know who it was – it was that momzer, Shapiro!”
“No, it was not Shapiro, either.”
Feinberg glowered at his wife. “What is the matter?” he barked. “None of my friends are good enough for you?”