Dialogues

You speak about the dissolution of the self. But without a self, who acts? Who makes decisions? Who gets out of bed in the morning?

That is a very good question. Let us look at it carefully. You say "who acts" — but who is asking this question? Is it not the self that is most afraid of its own ending? The self asks: if I end, what happens? And in that very asking, it is trying to ensure its own continuity. I am not saying the self should be dissolved as a project, something you work toward. I am asking: can you look at the self — at the "me" with its fears, its desires, its opinions — and see it clearly? Not to destroy it, but to understand it. When you understand something completely, it changes.

But isn't some sense of self necessary? Without identity, aren't we just drifting?

You are assuming that without the self there is chaos. But look: the self, as it is, is itself a source of chaos — of conflict, of comparison, of the constant effort to become something other than what it is. I am not asking you to drift. I am asking whether the thing that claims to give you direction is actually doing so, or whether it is simply perpetuating its own confusion. This is something you have to observe in yourself — not accept from me.

You have been speaking for fifty years. Thousands of people follow what you say. Aren't you yourself an authority?

I hope not. The moment you accept what I am saying as authority, you have stopped listening. I am asking you to question everything I say — including this. If I become an authority for you, I have done you harm. I am not trying to give you a new set of beliefs to replace the old ones. I am trying to help you see how beliefs are formed, how they function, what they do to the mind. That is a very different thing.

But we need some authority, surely — in law, in education, in medicine. Are you against all authority?

Of course not. The surgeon who has spent years studying the body — I defer to that knowledge. That is practical authority, based on verified understanding. What I am questioning is a different kind: the authority of the guru, the scripture, the tradition, when it comes to the inner life. In that domain, another's authority cannot help you. You must look for yourself. No one's experience of truth can substitute for your own.

My marriage is in difficulty. We love each other, but there is so much conflict. What do we do?

When you say there is conflict, what do you mean? That you disagree? That one of you wants something the other cannot give? Look at it carefully. In most relationships, two images meet — not two people. You have an image of your wife, built up over years, and she has an image of you. When those images conflict, it feels like the people are in conflict. But the images are not the people. The question is whether it is possible to meet the actual person — fresh, without the accumulated resentment and expectation — in each moment. This is enormously difficult.

Are you saying that love requires being free of attachment?

I am not saying anything should be free of anything. I am asking you to look at what attachment actually is. When you are attached to someone, you are attached to an image, to a source of comfort and security. That attachment, when threatened, produces fear, jealousy, possessiveness. Is that love? I am not saying it is wrong. I am asking you to see clearly what it is.

I am afraid of dying. Not in the abstract — I lie awake at night afraid of actually ceasing to exist. What do you say to that?

First: don't dismiss it. Don't try to overcome it with an idea about reincarnation or heaven or the continuity of consciousness. Stay with the fear itself for a moment. What is actually happening when you lie awake? Thought is projecting a future state — non-existence — and the "I" that is projecting it is afraid of that state. But the "I" that is afraid is itself a construct of thought. So thought is creating the thing that fears its own ending. Can you see that?

I'm not sure I follow. Are you saying the fear isn't real?

The feeling is real. The physical sensation — the tightening, the sleeplessness — that is real. But what generates it is thought: the image of a future in which you do not exist. The question is: can you meet that image without running from it? Without immediately seeking comfort in a belief? Can you simply watch the fear — not the idea of the fear, but the actual sensation — and stay with it? When you do that, something shifts. I cannot tell you what. It is different for each person.