Firstly, enlightenment is a celebration, a great festival. No festival is greater than this. The supreme moment of life has arrived. There will be dancing, there will be singing, a thanksgiving, an expression of gratitude. How one does this is another matter. Meera danced, Daya sang, Sahajo hummed, Chaitanya danced, Kabir composed verses, Buddha spoke. Sometimes it also happens that one remains silent…but in this silence there will be a beauty.
Haven’t you noticed the difference between the various types of silence? Sometimes a person becomes silent out of anger, so there is anger in his silence. He is silent, but he is not really silent; he is expressing his anger through silence. Sometimes a man is silent in his sadness. He is silent, but he is still saying something. Every fiber of his body is saying that he is sad. His face says it, his eyes say it, his gestures say it. When he sits he is sad, when he rises he is sad. The air that surrounds him is heavy and burdened. It is as if a thousand kilos were resting on his chest. Sometimes a person is silent because he has not got anything to say. There will be an emptiness in his silence, a vacuousness, a negativity. You will find that he is silent because his being is empty inside.
A pitcher doesn’t make a sound when it is completely empty, and it also doesn’t make a sound when it is completely full. But to be empty and to be full are two totally separate things. One person doesn’t speak because he has nothing to say – you will experience it negatively, something there is missing – and another person doesn’t speak because he has too much to say. How can he say it? There is too much to put into words so he will remain silent. Speech cannot contain what he wants to say, language is too weak. And because what he wants to say is so vast that it cannot be put into words, he remains silent. The pitcher is full, there is utter silence, but it is a very positive state. It is not a negative state. It is not an emptiness; no nothingness; a wholeness, a fullness reigns there. You will know that this man lacks nothing, that there is a divine richness around him.
This is what we mean by the word Ishwara, God. The presence of God can be felt in the presence of this person. He is abundantly full. He may be empty of himself, but he is full of the divine. And no one who is empty of himself is really empty. One is only empty when one is without the divine. The mystic, the sage has effaced himself and allowed God to enter; he has become the throne on which the divine is seated.
Sometimes such a person remains silent, but even in his silence there will be absolute poetry. If you listen carefully, you will hear a music in his silence. If you close your eyes and become silent, you will hear a sweet melody in his presence, you will feel the resonance of the soundless in his presence. There will be waves when he rises and sits down – waves from a faraway shore. If you taste him, you will find that there is a great nourishment in his presence, not a lack or an absence.