The relation between individuals and the societies they live in; people often say it’s like the relation between cells and the body that they’re a member of. The body is more than the individual cells, and a society is more than the individual members of it.
The society as a whole seems to have a dynamics which is not just that of the individuals within it. But I think this is a phenomenon that happens all through nature: collectives take on laws and properties which are not simply those of the parts that make them up.
I am not an individual. I’m the result of the collective. My greed is the common greed of mankind. My envy, and so on, so on, so on, is the common factor of all mankind—psychologically. So I don’t think in terms of the individual.
As long as I am not an individual, my whole thinking is different. My thinking is not individualistic. My thinking is the common ground on which we stand. If there is a change in one part of consciousness, it affects the whole—the group consciousness; collective consciousness.
I don’t think there is any other action but non-action. Because we’re always acting about that, trying to do something about it.
Can thought see itself? Be aware of itself? See its movement?
I am aware when anger arises. I can see the whole movement of it—or greed, violence, and so on. Why is it not possible for thought itself to be aware as it arises? If it is possible in one direction, why not thought itself?
I don’t have to answer. You answer it. I’m not the only guru here. We’re all gurus.
Thought has realized what it has done. It has built the most marvelous cathedrals, temples and mosques, and all the things in the mosques, in the temples, in the churches. Thought has realized it has created marvelous instruments of surgery. It has also realized the submarine, the torpedoes, the man-of-war, and so on. And also, it has realized thought is fear, thought is pleasure, thought is suffering. Thought itself has seen itself in action. Right? Of course. This is simple. One can see this. And thought says, “I am all that.” It may not express it verbally. Thought realizes: this is me. Not the man-of-war, fortunately. This is me. And so thought says to itself, “By Jove, I must be absolutely quiet; not interfere.” So that’s a tremendous revolution, isn’t it?
I wonder, sir, if we have realized—if I may most respectfully ask—if we realize the activity of thought; its immense contribution and its immense danger?
Thought has created the instruments of surgery—the most extraordinarily delicate instruments, right? And also thought has created the submarine. And also thought has created God: the thought that in me there is that marvelous state. Thought has also created misery, confusion, division between nations. Thought has been responsible for all this misery. I wonder if one realizes that. Not verbally—deeply, profoundly, in one’s guts.
Our minds are always occupied with something, right? Something or other. What happens if there is no occupation?
My concern is: why is my mind occupied? Is it because if it’s not occupied, it’s frightened? Because in occupation there is a certain sense of security? Suddenly take it away, I’m lost. So it’s frightened.
If the universe has no cause for existence, why should we have a cause?
