No grades of enlightenment

Maneesha has asked:

Our beloved Master,

Dogen seems to be saying that the more profoundly enlightenment touches one’s being, the more potent is the enlightenment. Is it true that there are no grades of enlightenment – that one is either enlightened or not – but that enlightenment, like wine, becomes more and more mature?

Maneesha, your understanding is right. There are no grades of enlightenment – either you are enlightened or not enlightened. But certainly, as enlightenment deepens, matures, reaches to your very roots… It is just the right symbol: like wine, the older it is the better.

There are wine collectors… You can find fifty-year-old wine, one-hundred-year-old wine – they are all wines. Fresh wine just produced from the garden is also wine. But a hundred-year-old wine has attained a certain quality of intensity, a density, which is lacking in the new arrivals. There are experts in the world who can tell exactly, just by taking a sip, how old is the wine.

It happened in a pub that a man said to the bartender, “Here is one hundred dollars. If you are ready to gamble with me, I will taste any wine you want me to taste and I will tell you its exact year.” It was unbelievable, because wine testing is a very fine art. The offer was accepted. Each time he tells the right year when the wine was made, the bartender will pay him one hundred dollars.

He went on tasting and telling the exact year. It was so amazing, all the drinkers and drunkards who were there sitting on different benches gathered around; even those who were completely drunk became awake, “What is happening?” And the man was amazing.

Then suddenly a man from the back said, “I also want to join in the contest because I have got a wine. If you can tell me…”

So he brought a full cup. The man tasted it, spat it out, and he said, “You idiot. This is human urine!”

But the man said, “Whose? I know it is human urine – but whose? Unless you can tell me whose, you are not a great taster.”

Enlightenment certainly has no grades, but as time passes it deepens, sharpens, matures, becomes more and more rich.

Before we enter into our daily meditation… The bamboos are so silent, just waiting for your laughter. And remember one thing, when you laugh, don’t just laugh for conformity.

Secondly, when you laugh, laugh totally, without any considerations. Don’t hold anything back. Learn to laugh from Sardar Gurudayal Singh, who is a laugh unto himself – a real joke. He is the only man in the whole world I have come across who laughs before the joke. There are people who laugh in the middle of the joke because they suddenly realize what is going to happen. But from the very beginning, when I have not even started… that is the real and authentic man of laughter. And I know… he has his disciples. He is a very respected, old sannyasin. People sit around him just to have a good laugh.

Joe Speak-Easy, the successful lawyer, is married to a woman who nags him constantly. She nags him about his appearance, about how much he drinks, about how little he loves her – about almost everything. So Joe starts staying later at his office to avoid her.

One day, after weeks of defending a client called William Wright who is on trial for murder, Joe comes home very depressed. He has lost the case, and Wright is to be executed that night unless the governor pardons him.

As Joe enters the house, his wife begins, “Where have you been? It’s after ten o’clock.”

“Ah, nag, nag, nag,” he says in disgust, and goes to pour himself a drink.

“The minute you come home,” snaps his wife, “you start drinking. Not even a hello for me!”

“Ah, nag, nag, nag,” sighs Joe. Then he goes upstairs for a bath, telling his wife that he is expecting a phone call from the governor.

While he is in the bath, the call comes – Wright has been pardoned. Joe’s wife decides to tell him the good news herself. As she enters the bathroom Joe is standing naked, bending over the tub.

“Hey, Joe,” says his wife. “They are not hanging Wright tonight.”

Joe snaps back, “Ah, nag, nag, nag!”

 

Old Zeb, the back-woods Virginia farmer, has been screwing one of his favorite pigs for years. Suddenly, Zeb is hit by pangs of guilt and conscience that torture him so much he decides to go and tell the priest about it in confession. Father Fungus is shocked and he really does not know how to handle this one.

“Well,” says the priest to old Zeb, “tell me, is the pig male or female?”

“She’s female, of course,” snorts Zeb. “What do you think I am – some kind of a pervert?”

 

Pope the Polack is sitting on the train next to Ronald Reagan on their way back to Washington from Killjews, Alabama. The pope strikes up a conversation with two big black guys, Rufus and Leroy, in the compartment.

“Hello, gentleman,” says the pope. “Where are you going?”

“D.C.” says Rufus.

“What did he say?” asks the slightly deaf president.

“He says they are going to Washington, D.C. – just like us,” says the pope. “Tell me,” the Polack continues, “what brings you all the way up to Washington?”

“We know a real far-out chick up there,” smiles Leroy.

“What did he say?” asks the hard-of-hearing Ronnie.

“He says they have a girlfriend up there,” shouts back the pope to the president. Then turning to the black guys, Pope the Polack says, “She must be quite a girl for you to go all this way to see her.”

“Man, I’ll say,” smiles Rufus.

“Sure,” says Leroy. “She’s a real cool bitch. She wears black boots with spurs, carries a whip and indulges in every delight known to man!”

“What did he say?” shouts the deaf president.

Pope the Polack turns to Ronnie and screams, “He says they know Nancy!”

 

Now… Nivedano…

(Drumbeat)

(Gibberish)

Nivedano…

(Drumbeat)

Be silent… close your eyes…
no movement of the body.
Gather your consciousness inwards.
Deeper… and deeper…
just like an arrow
cutting all the layers of garbage.

Enter into your center.
In this moment of silence,
in this moment of innocence,
you are no more your shadow.
You are yourself.

This being yourself is called
“the arising of the moon,”
or “arising of the buddha.”
Each one in his nature is the buddha…
the enlightened one, the awakened one.

Every man is just a seed…
he only needs to find the right soil
in which to disappear, disperse his personality,
his knowledge, his mind…

And suddenly the moon
is reflected in the lake.
And suddenly the pine on the hilltop
touching the moon.
And suddenly out of nowhere
arises your buddhahood.

Remember this – twenty-four hours –
not as a thought,
but as a heartache,
so that it becomes an undercurrent.
Whatever you are doing
becomes different because you are different.

Your touch has a grace now;
your smile has a sincerity;
your eyes become just silent lakes.
Your action reflects your heart,
your being, your joy, your dance.

There is no other god.
There is no other temple.
Except you – awakened to your full glory,
to your full splendor –
there is no religion.

To make this point more clear, Nivedano…

(Drumbeat)

Relax… let go…
just die…
to the body, to the mind,
to everything of this world.
What remains is just a pure sky,
utterly blissful, immensely ecstatic.

This is your forgotten language.
Only this kind of silence,
a deepening into yourself,
can connect you with existence.
And being connected with the existence,
the whole life becomes a festival,
a ceremony.

Not only life,
but death also, because there is no death.
There is only life
and life and life,
and higher peaks and deeper valleys.
From beginningless to endless existence,
you are spread.
Everything is somehow within you.

The sun rises within you
and the moon hangs within you,
and the stars are part of your inner sky.

Remember that the inner sky
is vaster than the outer.
Blessed are those
who have tasted this inner juice
of pure existence.

Nivedano…

(Drumbeat)

Come back…
but don’t leave the experience behind.
Sit down and collect the experience –
the joy of it, the benediction of it.
And remember not to forget.
It has to become a constant breathing,
a heartbeat.
Only then you will feel fulfilled.
Only then you will feel you are not meaningless.
Only then your life is a grandeur.
This grandeur is already there,
just you have to discover it.
Just a few layers of dust –
remove them.

We meditate every evening
simply so that you go on deepening
more and more,
so that the wine becomes older and older.
So that your buddhahood
becomes an absolute certainty.
It is not an argument,
it is an experience.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Beloved Master.

Can we celebrate the ten thousand buddhas and their gathering here?

Yes, Beloved Master.

Osho, Dogen, the Zen Master: A Search and a FulfillmentDogen, the Zen Master: A Search and a Fulfillment, Ch 5, Q 1