A very wise old man was approached by his son. “Father,” said the son, “I want to get married.”
“No, my boy. You are not wise enough,” said the old man.
“When will I be wise enough?” asked the lad.
The old man said, “When you get rid of the idea that you want to get married, then you will be wise enough, and then you can get married.”
It seems paradoxical; it is true: when you are no longer occupied with sex, when it is no longer an obsession, a neurosis, you are wise enough to go into it – because then you can use all the possibilities that become available through it. Then it is not just fun; then it is not just passing time; then it is not just a search for oblivion. Then it becomes a creative act on your part. Then you are creating something out of this tremendous energy. It is God’s gift. Bauls call it lust if you remain confined in it. If you can go beyond it, it starts changing its form, it starts changing its quality.
The Bauls sing,
“Ploughman, are you out of your wits
not to take care of your own land?
A squadron of six birds is picking at the rice,
grown golden and ripe,
in the field of your limbs.
Farming the splendid measured land
of this human body,
you raise the crop,
the devotion to God.
But passions eat at it
“The fence of consciousness
is down to dust,
leaving open gaps.
Cattle clamber up
and feast on your harvest….
“Shame to you, my shameless heart,
what now can I say?
You have gathered a piece of glass
at the price of gold.
In spite of a pair of eyes
you miss the valuable jewels,
caring only for artificial stones.
Wandering blindfolded, you could not see
that the house overflowed
with the choicest rubies,
and diamonds, and gems of fire.
“Hugging a sickle in your waistband,
what do you search from field to field?
What is the use, my heart?
Will you not explore for once
the home of beauty…?”
Whatsoever you go on seeking in the mechanical ways of sexuality is not the search for beauty. It is not the search of love, it is not the search for God. At the most, it is a natural device, a biological device to drown yourself in forgetfulness. It is a natural arrangement in your body: you can drown yourself in it. It can become your alcohol, it can become your drug, it can become your acid.