In Satsang We Come to That Simplicity

One being, one supreme reality, one Absolute. But the good news is that the end of it, which is liberation, can be attained here and now. Here and now means no need for any duration; no time has to pass. Just here, you are free. It is independent even of your acceptance or non-acceptance. Because many believe when I say like this, "You are free," they feel like, "When will I actually believe this?" you see. And if you have to believe it, then you're getting yourself in trouble again. You will just become a spiritual or play the role of a spiritual ego. It's not a question of belief; it's a question of insight. What do you know now? Now, just now. Everything that you need to know is already known just now. There is nothing you can add to this. Empty of conceptual knowledge, the truth is completely apparent.

I was watching a TV show the other day and in that, a beautiful scene was there actually where the actor, no, he was saying that he saw a bird in the desert. And in the desert in the morning, there was a frost, you see. And the frost was melting and the bird just drank the water from the frost, whereas a man would have said, "How? Why? See, how can there be frost in the desert?" you see. So this is the human condition. The bird in its simplicity just drank the water. Asking "Why? Why is there frost in the desert?"—it's a beautiful story actually. And you hear the lives of the sages and you see the lives of the sages, they are mostly like this.

Yesterday, Ma was sharing about a Yogi that mostly you would get in the car with him and you would ask him—so she would ask him, "Where are we going, Bhagavan?" He would say, "I don't know." And the driver would start driving, then he would say, "Okay, Father wants us to go left. Father wants us to go..." like very much like this bird. Not deciding, no asking why, how, when; not being dependent on these things. It can still play out that way. It can still play out that way in its own naturalness. Is it so? "What should we have for lunch tomorrow?" is there, but it doesn't have the psychological gravity to cause you suffering. If you hear bitter gourd or something, it is just what it is. If a patch of grass suddenly appeared in the center of the hall, if you were a hungry cow, you would just eat it. But the human condition is we will ask, "Why? What does it mean?"

So in Satsang, we come to that simplicity. I'm saying to you: freedom is right now. Finish. Now, if you leave yourself unharassed with all the "But what does it mean? Is it true? Am I free? Is it finally done? It can't be that simple"—this is the human condition. That's why many times I have to ask, "What do you really want? What does freedom mean for you?" And then our ideas of—if we are at least speaking with honesty—then our ideas of some specialness or something changing, something... and what are we after? That which always is. But something should change as a result, as a result of that discovery, is it? Nobody says, "I want to live like a cow." A bird at least sounds a little more better, flies above, you see.

I say, "You are free." That could be the end of the conversation, you see. But the bird says, "But, but is it true?" Of course it is true. "But I don't feel free." It has nothing to do with your feeling. Whatever you may be feeling is contained in your freedom. You are free to experience whatever you are feeling. Then you may say—come to the real problem, you see—you may say that, "But I thought that freedom was the absence of a certain feeling and the presence of another." And then I could say that, but that doesn't sound like freedom. If it has to be a certain way, then how is that freedom? Then it is by definition, you see, only that way, only bliss is allowed. How is that freedom?