This story is beautiful. The Zen master Hakuin is one of the rare flowerings. A warrior came to him, a samurai, a great soldier, and he asked "Is there any hell, is there any heaven? If there is hell and heaven, where are the gates? Where do I enter from? How can I avoid hell and choose heaven?" He was a simple warrior. Warriors are always simple.

 

It is difficult to find a businessman who is simple. A businessman is always cunning, clever; otherwise he cannot be a businessman. A warrior is always simple; otherwise he cannot be a warrior. A warrior knows only two things, life and death -- nothing much. His life is always at stake, he is always gambling; He is a simple man. That's why businessmen could not create a single Mahavir, a single Buddha. Even Brahmins could not create a Ram, a Buddha, a Mahavir. Brahmins are also cunning, cunning in a different way. They are also businessmen -- of a different world, of the other. They deal in business not of this world, but of the other world. Their priesthood is a business; their religion is mathematics, arithmetic. They are also clever, more clever than businessmen. The businessman is limited to his world, their cunningness goes beyond. They always think of the other world, of the rewards they are going to get there. Their rituals, their whole mind is concerned with how to achieve more pleasures in the other world. They are concerned with pleasure: they are businessmen. Even Brahmins could not create a Buddha. This is strange. All the twenty-four Jaina tirthankaras were kshatriyas, warriors. Buddha was a warrior; Rama and Krishna were warriors. They were simple people, with no cunning in their minds, with no arithmetic. They knew only two things -- life and death.

 

This simple warrior came to Hakuin to ask where is heaven and where is hell. He had not come to learn any doctrine. He wanted to know where the gate was so he could avoid hell and enter heaven. And Hakuin replied in a way only a warrior could understand. If a brahmin had been there, scriptures would have been needed; he would have quoted the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Bible, the Koran, then a Brahmin would have understood. All that exists for a brahmin is in the scriptures; scriptures are the world. A brahmin lives in the word, in the verbal. If a businessman had been there, he would not have understood the answer, the response Hakuin gave, the way he acted with this warrior. A businessman always asks "What is the price of your heaven? What is the cost? How can I attain it? What should I do? How virtuous should I be? What are the coins? What should I do so heaven can be attained?" He always asks for the price.

 

I have heard one beautiful story -- it happened in the beginning when God created the world. God came to earth to ask different races about the ten commandments, the ten rules of life. The Jews have given so much significance to those ten rules -- Christians also, Mohammedans also. All these religions are Jewish, the source is the Jew, and the Jew is the perfect businessman.

 

So God came to ask, he came to the Hindus and asked, "Would you like to have ten commandments?" The Hindus said, "What is the first? We must have a sample. We don't know what these ten commandments are." God said, "Thou shalt not kill."

 

The Hindus said, "It will be difficult. Life is complex, killing is involved. It is a great cosmic play: there is birth, death, fighting, competition. If all the competition is taken away the whole thing will become flat, dull. We don't like these commandments -- they will destroy the whole game."

 

Then he went to the Mohammedans and said, "Thou shalt not commit adultery." He also gave them one example -- they had also asked for a sample. The Mohammedans said, "This will be difficult... life will lose all beauty. At least four wives are needed. You call it adultery, but this is all that life can give, all that a virtuous man should have. Who knows of the other world? This is the world; you have given it to us to enjoy and now you have come with these ten commandments. This is contradictory."

 

God went around and around. Then he came to Moses, leader of the Jews. Moses never asked for a sample, and God was afraid: if Moses said no, nobody was left; Moses was the last hope. When God asked Moses -- the moment God said, "I have ten commandments" -- what did Moses reply? He said, "How much do they cost?" This is how a businessman thinks: the first thing he wants to know is the cost.

 

God said, "They cost nothing." And Moses said, "Then I will have ten. If they cost nothing, there is no problem." That's how the ten commandments were born.

 

But this samurai was not a Jew; he was not a businessman, he was a warrior. He had come with a simple question. He was not interested in scriptures, not in cost, not in any verbal answer. He was interested in reality. And what did Hakuin do? He said, "Who are you?" And the warrior replied, "I am a samurai." It is a thing of much pride to be a samurai in Japan. It means being a perfect warrior, a man who will not hesitate a single moment to give his life. For him, life and death are just a game.

 

He said, "I am a samurai, I am a leader of samurais. Even the emperor pays respect to me."

 

Hakuin laughed and said, " You, a samurai? You look like a beggar."

 

The samurai's pride was hurt, his ego hammered. He forgot what he had come for. He took out his sword and was just about to kill Hakuin. He forgot that he had come to this master to ask where is the gate of heaven, to ask where is the gate of hell. Then Hakuin laughed and said, "This is the gate of hell. With this sword, this anger, this ego, here opens the gate." This is what a warrior can understand. Immediately he understood: This is the gate. He put his sword back in its sheath. And Hakuin said, "Here opens the gate of heaven."

 

Hell and heaven are within you, both gates are within you. When you are behaving unconsciously there is the gate of hell; when you become alert and conscious, there is the gate of heaven.

 

What happened to this samurai? When he was just about to kill Hakuin, was he conscious? Was he conscious of what he was about to do? Was he conscious of what he had come for? All consciousness had disappeared. When the ego takes over, you cannot be alert. Ego is the drug, the intoxicant that makes you completely unconscious. You act but the act comes from the unconscious, not from your consciousness. And whenever any act comes from the unconscious, the door of hell is open. Whatsoever you do, if you are not aware of what you are doing the gate of hell opens. Immediately the samurai became alert. Suddenly, when Hakuin said, "This is the gate,

 

you have already opened it --" the very situation must have created alertness.

 

Just imagine what would have happened if you had been the warrior, if you had been the samurai, sword in hand, just about to kill. A single moment more and Hakuin's head would have been severed; a single moment more and it would have been separated from the body. And Hakuin said, "This is the gate of hell." This is not a philosophical answer; no master answers in a philosophical way. Philosophy exists only for mediocre, unenlightened minds. The master responds but the response is not verbal, it is total. That this man may have killed him is not the point. "If you kill me and it makes you alert, it is worth it" -- Hakuin played the game. If a single moment had been lost this man would have killed him. But at the right moment Hakuin said, "This is the gate."

 

You may not have heard about samurais. Say you are about to kill a samurai: your sword is in your hand, it is just about to touch his neck. He is standing before you, unprotected, without any weapon. Samurais have a particular sound, a mantra. He will just say a single word so loudly that all your energy will go. You will become as if dead, a statue. He may simply say, "Hey!" You will become static, your hand will not move. That sound will hammer the heart, which controls everything. Your hand will become static, your mind will be shocked; all activity will disappear. You cannot kill a samurai, even if he is without weapons. A sound becomes a protection. If you have a gun, your hands cannot move or you will miss the aim. It is just a sound, a sound that has to be made in a particular way, so that it goes deep into your heart and changes your activity completely, changes the pattern of your activity.

 

When Hakuin said, "This is the gate," the samurai must have remained static. In that static state, when all activity ceases, you become alert. Some activity is needed... otherwise your unconscious would break and you would become conscious. Zen says if a person can sit for six hours without doing anything he will become enlightened. Just for six hours... but six hours is really too long; I say six minutes is enough. Even six seconds will do if you can be absolutely without activity. When you are not occupied, you cannot be unconscious; when you are unoccupied your whole energy becomes consciousness. A tremendous release occurs.

 

Your energy is engaged in occupation. Your mind is thinking, your body is working, you are occupied. Your whole energy is moving in activity, is being dissipated into the world. When you think, you are dissipating energy; each thought takes energy, needs energy. You are continuously thinking and dissipating energy for nothing -- just dissipating energy. Activity needs energy, and your infinite source of energy is continuously being dissipated. You are leaking from everywhere. That's why you feel so weak, so frustrated, so impotent. This impotence feels like helplessness; you are omnipotent and you feel impotent. You have all the sources of infinite energy within you, you are related to the cosmic source, but you feel impotent because you are continuously dissipating energy. If thought stops even for a single moment and activity is no more, if you have become like a statue, unmoving within or without, if there is no movement, either of body or of mind, then tremendous energy is released. Where will it go now there is no activity? It cannot go without. You become a pillar of energy, a flame of energy. Everything becomes conscious inside, everything is lighted; your whole being is filled with light.

 

This must have happened to the warrior -- stopped, sword in hand with Hakuin just before him, with a master, an enlightened master, before him. The eyes of Hakuin were laughing, the face was smiling, and the gate of heaven opened. He understood: the sword went back into its sheath. While putting the sword back into the sheath he must have been totally silent, peaceful. The anger had disappeared, the energy moving in anger had become silence. If you suddenly awake in the middle of anger, you will feel a peace you have never felt before. Energy was moving and suddenly it stops. You will have silence, immediate silence. You will fall into your inner being and the fall will be so sudden, you will become aware. It is not a slow fall, it is so sudden that you cannot remain unaware. You can remain unaware only with routine things, with gradual things; you move so slowly you can't feel movement. This was sudden movement -- from activity to no-activity, from thought to no-thought, from mind to no-mind. As the sword was going back into its sheath, the warrior realized. And Hakuin said, "Here open the doors of heaven."

 

Silence is the door.

 

Inner peace is the door.

 

Non-violence is the door.

 

Love and compassion are the doors.

 

Heaven and hell are not geographical, they are psychological, they are your psychology. And this is not a question to be decided on the day of judgment. The human mind is so clever: in avoiding, in escaping, Christians, Mohammedans and Jews have created a concept of the last day when everybody is to be judged -- you will be taken out of your grave and judged. Those who have followed Jesus, who have been good, who have believed, will go to heaven; those who have misbehaved, who have not followed Jesus, who have not been to church, will be thrown into hell. Christian hell is one of the most ridiculous things. It is eternal, there is no end to it. This seems injustice, sheer injustice; whatsoever sin you have committed no punishment which is eternal can be just. Bertrand Russell somewhere has joked, "If I calculate all my sins, sins that I have committed and sins that I have not committed, only brooded over -- if even they are included -- the hardest judge can't send me to jail for more than four years. And Christianity sends you to hell forever." Bertrand Russell has written a book, Why I am not a Christian; this is one of his arguments. It is a beautiful argument because the whole thing seems to be ridiculous.

 

If, as Hindus say, you have committed millions of sins in millions of lives, it may look logical to send a person to hell for eternity. But Christians believe in only one life, a life of seventy years. How can you commit so much sin that you deserve eternal hell? If you commit sin continuously for seventy years, even then eternal hell doesn't look just. The whole thing seems to be revengeful: so God is throwing you into hell because of your sins, because you were disobedient, because you were rebellious, because you didn't listen to him. It seems to be revenge, but revenge can be unjust. Is it punishment? It seems ridiculous.

 

The human mind has created a last judgment day. Why? - why wait for the last day? The mind always postpones, pushes things ahead: the problem is not right here and now, it is a question of the last day, so we will see. The problem is not urgent, we will see what happens. There are ways and means... In the last moment you can follow Jesus, in the last moment you can surrender and say to God, "I was a sinner." You can confess and be forgiven. God is infinite compassion, God is love; he is going to forgive you.

 

Christians have evolved a technique of confession. You commit sin, and then you go to the priest and confess; confessed, you are relieved. If you confess honestly, you are ready to sin again; the past sin is forgiven. Once you know the trick, the key -- that you can commit a sin and be forgiven -- who is going to prevent you from committing more? So the same people keep on coming to the priest every Sunday and go on confessing. Sometimes the ego is such that people confess sins they never committed. The ego is such that if you start confessing, you may become so involved in it that you may start confessing sins you never committed. To be a greater sinner is so ego-filling -- the greater the sinner, the greater will be the forgiveness of the divine.

 

It has been said by those studying Leo Tolstoy's autobiographical notes deeply, that many sins he says he committed he never committed at all. He is enjoying. Jean-Jacques Rousseau has written Confessions, his autobiography; the sins he confesses, he never committed. The same is possible with Mahatma Gandhi; in his autobiography the things he depicts himself as committing may be exaggerations. This is how the ego works: whatever you say you take to the extreme, then there is the beautiful feeling that you have confessed. Last judgment, confession are tricks of the mind. Heaven and hell are not at the end, they are here and now. Every moment the door opens; every moment you go on wavering between heaven and hell. It is a moment-to-moment question, it is urgent; in a single moment you can move from hell to heaven, from heaven to hell.

 

This is the meaning of the story. Not even a single moment had passed and Hakuin said, "This is the gate of hell. Now the gate of hell opens." And not a single moment had passed and he said, "Look, this is the gate of heaven." Heaven and hell are not very distant, they are neighbors; only a small fence divides them. You can jump that fence, even without a gate. You go on jumping from this to that. In the morning you may be in heaven; by evening you are in hell. This moment heaven, that moment hell. It is just an attitude, just a state of your mind, just how you are feeling. Many times, in a single life, you may visit hell, and many times you may visit heaven. In a single day also...

 

There is a beautiful story of a disciple of Mahavira. He was a great king, he renounced and became a disciple of Mahavira. He was very ascetic, austere, and did whatever Mahavira said to the very extreme. His name spread all over the country -- it was Prasannachandra. Even kings started coming to pay homage to him. One king, Bimbasar,

 

who had been a friend of Prasannachandra when he was also a king, came to the cave where he was standing naked under the sun, with his eyes closed. Bimbasar bowed down before Prasannachandra and thought, "When will the time come when I will also become so peaceful, so silent, blissful? This man has achieved!" Then he went to Mahavira, Prasannachandra's master -- he was near, somewhere in the same forest. He said to Mahavira, "Bhagwan, just before coming to you I went to Prasannachandra. He was standing with his eyes closed, so blissful, so heavenly. He has achieved. When will the moment come for me? I am not so fortunate -- I feel jealous. I have another question: If Prasannachandra had died that very moment when I was there, paying my respects to him, where would he reach? Which heaven would he attain?" Jainas say there are seven heavens and seven hells.

 

Mahavira said, "He will fall to the seventh hell." Bimbasar couldn't understand, he was puzzled and confused. He said, "What are you saying, the seventh hell? Prasannachandra was standing so silently, so peacefully, so meditatively; he was in such ecstasy. If he falls to the seventh hell what will happen to me? Are there more hells beyond the seventh? No, you must be joking, tell me the truth."

 

Mahavira said, "This is the truth. Just before you a few people had passed by; they also went to pay homage to Prasannachandra. They started gossiping around him; he heard, and the doors of hell opened. Those people were coming from his capital where he had been king. They said, "This fool has renounced all! The prime minister, to whom he has given the whole responsibility for running the kingdom, is a thief. He is looting, he is destroying. When Prasannachandra's son comes of age, when he comes to be king, there will be nothing left. And this fool is standing here with his eyes closed."

 

Prasannachandra heard this. Suddenly the door of hell opened. He forgot. He was also a samurai, a warrior, a kshatriya. He completely forgot that he had renounced, he forgot that there was no sword; he completely forgot that he was now a monk. The samurai who had gone to Hakuin had a sword. Prasannachandra had none, he was standing naked. He pulled out his sword -- the sword was not there, it was just an illusion -- and completely forgot that he was a sannyasin. The whole thing was so burdensome, so much anxiety was created by the news, that he pulled his sword out of the sheath and said, "I am alive! What does that prime minister think? I will go and cut off his head. I am still here!" Whenever he used to become angry in the old days he would always touch his crown, so he touched his crown. There was no crown, just a shaven head. Suddenly he remembered, "What am I doing? There is no sword; I am a sannyasin and have renounced all."

 

Mahavira said, "If he had died at the very moment he realized this he would have achieved the seventh heaven. Prasannachandra realized what he had been imagining. Just through imagination the door of hell was opened, now it had closed. If he had died at this moment, he would have achieved the seventh heaven."

 

Hell and heaven are within you. The doors are very close: with the right hand you can open one, with the left hand you can open another. With just a change of your mind, your being is transformed -- from heaven to hell and from hell to heaven. This goes on continuously. What is the secret? The secret is whenever you are unconscious, whenever you act unconsciously, without awareness, you are in hell; whenever you are conscious, whenever you act with full awareness, you are in heaven. If this awareness becomes so integrated, so consolidated, that you never lose it, there is no hell for you; if unconsciousness becomes so consolidated, so integrated, that you never lose it, there is no heaven.Fortunately unconsciousness can never become so consolidated; a part always remains conscious.

 

When your whole being seems to be unconscious, even then a witnessing part always remains conscious. Even while asleep, a part is witnessing. That's why in the morning you sometimes say the sleep was beautiful. Sometimes you say the sleep was disturbed, nightmarish; sometimes you say, "I slept so deeply, so peacefully, it was such great happiness." Who knows this? You were asleep -- who knows that you were so happy? A part has witnessed; a part was continuously alert, knowing. Who knows that you were disturbed, uneasy, uncomfortable? You were asleep -- even in sleep a part of you knows. You cannot become completely unconscious. Once achieved, consciousness cannot be lost, you cannot reverse the process. You cannot be eternally in hell -- this Christian doctrine is absolutely false -- but you can be eternally in heaven. This is the Hindu doctrine: hell can only be temporary, it can be only for the time being; it is temporal. Heaven can be eternal.

 

To make a distinction between the momentary heaven and the eternal heaven Hindus have a different word -- MOKSHA. Hindus have three words; Christians, Mohammedans, Jews have only two words. Heaven and hell are the two words for Mohammedans, Christians and Jews. Hindus say naraka for hell, swarga for heaven, and moksha -- beyond both. A third word. Hindus say heaven is not worth achieving; it can be lost. When the state of heaven becomes permanent, when it cannot be lost, it is moksha, it is absolute freedom. Then bliss has become your nature then heaven and hell have disappeared. Then wherever you are, it will make no difference. This third state is the aim. But you cannot reach the third if you are flickering, if you are wavering between heaven and hell; then nothing can be consolidated, integrated. Then you live in a flux, there is no crystallization, your being is liquid. Sometimes it moves to heaven, sometimes, to hell. Crystallization means you become more and more conscious, you become more and more centered, more and more grounded. Less asleep, you become more aware, and a moment comes -- even when you are asleep, you are conscious.

 

Ananda used to sleep with Buddha in his room. A buddha is worth watching, even in his sleep, so Ananda used to watch sometimes. A buddha asleep is such a beautiful phenomenon: he looks like a small child, innocent, with no burden of the day.

 

You dream only because you carry a burden, only because the day is incomplete. You have left many things incompleted; they have to be completed in the dream. You looked at a woman, you desired her, but it was not possible. Society, the law, the state, morality, your own conscience, diverted your attention. You escaped from the woman but she will follow you in the dream; the act has to be completed. You must make love to this woman, if not in reality then in the dream; only then will you feel at ease. The incomplete act becomes a burden.

 

A buddha sleeps dreamlessly because nothing is incomplete. There is no desire, no passion. Nothing arises and nothing remains; things pass as if in front of a mirror. A woman passes and Buddha looks but no passion arises. The woman has passed, the mirror is vacant again; there is no trace, no mark of it. He is dreamless. Even a child is not dreamless, even a child has desires. Maybe the desire is not for a woman, it may be for a new toy or for something else, but even a child dreams. Even a cat, a dog dreams. Look at a cat and you will feel it is dreaming of rats. It is jumping, catching; it is sometimes frustrated and sometimes very happy if the rat is caught. Look at a dog sleeping. You can feel it is dreaming about flies, about bones, about fighting. Sometimes it is tense, sometimes relaxed. The sleep is disturbed.

 

To look at a buddha while he is asleep is very beautiful, so Ananda used to watch. Buddha would go to sleep, and Ananda would sit and look at him. He was such a silent pool of being. Nothing was incomplete, everything, every moment was complete and perfect. There was no dream, there were no traces left; his mind was a clean mirror. The stream of consciousness was never muddled, it was crystal clear. Ananda became puzzled because Buddha always slept in the same posture. He would remain the whole night in the same posture; he would not change, he would remain in the same posture. That posture has become very famous -- it is called the lying posture. You may have seen Buddha's pictures. There are many statues in Ceylon, China, Japan and India. If you go to Ajanta, there is a statue of Buddha lying down. That posture, how Buddha lay, has been reported by Ananda. Buddha slept in the same posture the whole night, not even changing sides.

 

So one day Ananda asked, "Bhagwan, everything is okay, but one thing puzzles me: you remain in the same posture the whole night. Are you asleep or not? If someone is asleep he will change his posture. Are you asleep or not? Even while you are asleep or appear to be asleep, it appears you are alert. It seems you know what the body is doing; you will not even change your posture unconsciously.

 

Buddha said, "Yes, when the mind is silent, not dreaming, only the body sleeps. Consciousness remains alert." Krishna has said to Arjuna in the Gita, "While you sleep the yogi remains alert." Even in the night his sleep is not sleepy. His sleep is only in the body, a rest in the body, a relaxation in the body; his consciousness is alert. In reality a yogi's consciousness needs no relaxation; it is always relaxed, There is no tension. Relaxation is needed because of tension. You are so tense the whole day, your consciousness has to be relaxed. A yogi's body relaxes because the body gets tired. His body is a mechanism; his consciousness is always alert, continually alert. It is a continuum of alertness.

 

When your consciousness becomes a continuum

 

there are no gaps in consciousness; when there is no darkness within you, your whole inner temple has become enlightened. The light has reached to every corner and no part of your inner house is in darkness. You are a mukta, a free man.

 

This is the meaning of a christ. You are Christ arisen, resurrected. Now there is no night for you, only the day exists; now the sun never sets. Heaven means consciousness, hell means unconsciousness: there is the possibility to move to either. When the possibility disappears there is no hell, no heaven -- there is a third; the ultimate opens the door. You become free, you become freedom. This is the goal.

 

Hakuin did well, but this could only have been done with a warrior. The warrior responded immediately -- he became angry, totally angry. If he had been a businessman, he would have smiled; anger would have been inside. He would not have been ready, immediately, to cut off Hakuin's head. Hakuin's response would have been useless. You do this also: when you are angry, you smile. You are so inauthentic and false, even in anger, you lie. Your love cannot be believed because even your anger is unbelievable. Your whole life is a continuous lie: whatsoever you do, you are not truthful. Angry, you are not truthful; you smile, you paint it on, you hide it -- you show something else. Then you cannot be made alert that this is the gate of hell.

 

This warrior was like a child -- he became totally angry. He became so angry he was going to kill this man he had come to as a disciple. He had come in search of a master and he was going to kill this man. He was total. This totalness helped. If you are total in your anger you will be total when the anger disappears; if you are false in your anger you cannot be real in your silence.

 

Hakuin said, "Look, you have opened the door of hell." Immediately the samurai realized. This can be realized only if you are total and truthful, otherwise it cannot be realized. You are such a deceiver you would have deceived Hakuin. You would have smiled. That means the door of hell would have been open but painted with the signboard of heaven. It would have looked from the outside as if it were heaven but inside it would have been hell. You would have divided and fragmented. No, it would not have been of much help. This warrior became so total in his anger, he lost all his consciousness. He became angry. He was not angry -- there was no one who was angry -- he simply became anger; his whole energy became anger, he was mad. At such a peak things can be realized. Then they become penetrative, then somebody can be made alert.

 

Hakuin said, "Look!" And the warrior could look. He was a truthful man. Then Hakuin said, "This is the gate of hell." and he could realize. When you are total, you can realize. Suddenly the anger disappeared. Because it was total, it disappeared; because it was total, it disappeared totally. If it had been fragmentary it could not have disappeared totally. It totally disappeared, totally. A deep silence was left behind. This is what I have been telling you continuously: Be total, be authentic, be true. If you are a sinner, be a true sinner; don't try to create a facade of being a saint. A true sinner is bound to become a true saint, sooner or later. Time is irrelevant. A true sinner is true, that is the point; sin is not the point.

 

I have heard, a peddler was caught and brought to court. He was peddling without a license. He was a new man in town but knew that a license was needed. There were a few other persons standing before the magistrate -- three women had also been caught. They were prostitutes without licenses. This is really a wonderful world — spangover licenses, so the magistrate asked the first woman, "What do you say? Who are you and what are you doing?" The woman said, "I am a model." She was lying. The magistrate sentenced her to thirty days hard labor.

 

He asked the second woman. She said, "Somewhere something is wrong. I have been caught wrongly; I am an actress." The magistrate sent her for sixty days.

 

He looked at the third woman. The third woman said, "My lord, I am a prostitute." The magistrate could not believe that anybody could be so truthful, that anybody could confess so truly. He said, "Authenticity has become so rare that you have shocked me. I have never encountered anyone who is truthful. Go, I forgive you. I'll not give you any punishment."

 

Then came the number of the peddler. The magistrate asked, "What were you doing?"

 

He said, "To be frank, I am also a prostitute."

 

This is what is going on -- faces. False faces all over... deception. You are not even aware of how you deceive and who you are deceiving. There is no one to be deceived; you are deceiving yourself trying to escape, trying to hide.

 

That warrior was a true man; this untruthfulness was not there. He was ready to kill or to die; he became so inflamed he was a fire. The door was open. Your door is never completely open -- you sneak through the holes. Your heaven is also never open -- you enter from the back door. To be total is a basic thing for any seeker, for anyone in search of silence and truth.

 

When you are angry, be angry. Don't think of the consequences; let the consequences be there, suffer them, but don't deceive yourself. When entering hell, enter totally. Don't leave half your mind outside; go into it, pass through it, suffer it. Pain is going to be there but pain gives maturity; suffering is going to be there but you can transcend it if you understand. Only a total mind can understand. And when anger disappears, you will become so silent, so meditative. If you love, love totally; if you hate, hate totally. Don't be fragmentary; suffer the consequences. Because of consequences you try to deceive -- you are a peddler and you say you are a prostitute -- because of consequences, you are never angry, never hateful. Then you will miss heaven also. One who is incapable of opening the door of hell completely, will be incapable of opening, completely, the door of heaven. Go through hell. The path passes through there; heaven is achieved through hell.

 

This is the meaning of the anecdote. Hakuin first created hell for the warrior; hell must be created first. Hell is easy to create -- you are always ready, always knocking at the door. You are afraid but always ready; you are not courageous but always ready; you are not daring, but always ready. There is continuous turmoil inside. Hakuin could not have created heaven first; that is impossible, no one is ready. Heaven is very far away; hell is nearby, just around the corner. You move and you are in it.

 

I, also, cannot create heaven for you. That is why all my meditation techniques are designed to create hell first. People come to me and say, "Make us silent. Why do you insist on us going mad?" I cannot open the doors of heaven first and you cannot become silent. Be totally mad first. I create hell for you and you will have to pass through it. It is the nearest thing you can easily do. Heaven is very far away, and one who has not traveled through hell cannot reach heaven. My insistence is a very considered one. You can understand the story now. Hakuin said to the warrior, "You, a samurai? Your face looks like a beggar's." The samurai could not tolerate this, it was too much. A beggar? He would never beg, not even for his life. Immediately he was touched to his very core. A beggar? Impossible! The sword came out.

 

I am touching you, hitting you, hammering you in all my meditation techniques just to bring your hell out. But you are such cowards that even if you bring your hell out it will not be total. You play with it, you are not involved in it; you are fragmentary, you only become lukewarm. Lukewarm won't do. You have to be boiling, only then can you evaporate. The ego evaporates only at the boiling point, not before. You just become lukewarm. It is of no use, it is an unnecessary waste of heat; again, you will become cold. After meditation you will become cold, cold to the extreme. In your catharsis open the door of hell. I promise you, if you can open it I will open the other door immediately. It is always open; once you open the door of hell, it is near.

 

To say this much is enough: "Look, this is the gate of hell." Then the gate closes. And the other gate opens.

 

-Osho, "A Bird on the Wing, #3"