with God because we have there is a fixed concept, a prefabricated conclusion that we have already accepted; and we're just trying to squeeze this great phenomenon into some small container. But you can't lead a camel through the eye of a needle. Therefore, we need to look for other means. And the only way to find them is to go back to the easiest way, to check ourselves. The question here is not to try to become a "religious" person, not to show kindness to a neighbor, to donate as much money as possible to charitable causes. Although, of course, these things can be very good. The main thing here is that we should not take everything blindly, trying only to conveniently classify phenomena; we should try to see everything on the basis of our personal experience.
This brings us to the very important practice of meditation. The trouble here is that we usually find that books, teachings, lectures, and the like, are more concerned with proving their point than showing how such practice is done, and this is essential. We are not particularly interested here in spreading the Teaching, but are interested in using it and putting it into action. The world moves so fast that there is no time for proofs; everything we learn should be taken with us, boiled and eaten immediately. The whole point is that we need to see with our own eyes, not to accept any established tradition that supposedly has magical power hidden in it. There are no such magical means - nothing is able to transform us mechanically. However, we, with a mechanical mind, are always looking for something that will work if we just press a button. There is great attraction in the idea of ​​a short cut, and if there is any deep method that offers a quick way, we would rather follow it than undertake tedious wanderings and difficult exercises. Thus, here we see the true importance of asceticism: torturing oneself does not lead anywhere; however, some manual work, some physical effort is needed. If we go somewhere on foot, we know the way perfectly; and if we go there by train, by car or by plane, we will hardly notice the way at all: everything will turn out to be just a dream. Likewise, in order to see a continuous pattern of development, we you need to weave it with your own hands. This is one of the most important principles. This is where discipline becomes indispensable. We must discipline ourselves. Whether it is the practice of meditation or everyday life, there is a tendency to impatience both there and there. We start something, and we want to just try a little bit, and then give up the whole thing. We never have time to eat everything, digest it properly and see the consequences. Of course, you have to try everything yourself and find out whether it is a genuine thing, whether it is useful; however, before dropping it, one must wait a little, so as to at least get first-hand experience of the preliminary stage. This is absolutely necessary.
The Buddha also understood this need. That is why he sat on the bank of Nairanjana and meditated for several years, hardly moving from his place. He meditated in his own way and found that the only answer would be to return to the world. When he discovered the awakened state of mind, he realized that ascetic life and self-torture did not help; so he got up and went to ask for food. The first person he met near Boddhagaya was a wealthy woman who owned a large herd of cows. She brought him boiled condensed milk with honey; he drank, and the food tasted delicious to him. Not only that, he found that milk greatly increased his health and energy, and he was able to make great progress in his meditation practice. The same thing happened to the great Tibetan yogi Milarepa. The first time he went out to people and received well-cooked food, he found that the food gave him new strength, and now he can meditate properly.
The Buddha then looked around to find a comfortable place to sit, for he decided that the stone was too hard to sit on and too painful to sit on. Some farmer gave him an armful of kusha grass; The Buddha spread it out under a tree in Boddhagaya and sat down at that spot. He discovered that trying to achieve something by force does not work; in fact, he agreed for the first time that he really had nothing to achieve. He completely abandoned all ambition; he had a drink, he had a place to sit, and he made himself as comfortable as possible. That same night, he finally achieved sambodhi, the state of complete awakening. But this was not enough, he did not overcome all the obstacles. His hidden fears and temptations, his desires, the last fetters of the "I" - they all came to him in the form of Mara - the lord of evil. At first Mara sent his beautiful daughters to seduce him, but without success. Then his ferocious hordes surged in: that was the last tactic of the "I". However, the Buddha had already attained the state of maitri, loving-kindness. In other words, he was not just a compassionate person in the sense of looking at Mara as a fool - for Mara was his own projection, but he reached a state of non-resistance, non-violence, in which he identified himself with Mara. The scriptures state that each arrow of Mara turned into a rain of flowers that fell on the Buddha. In the end, the "I" obeyed; The Buddha reached the state of awakened mind. Perhaps we ourselves could have such an experience in the form of a brief glimpse of clarity and peace, an open mind; but, I repeat, this is not enough. We need to learn how to translate it into action, use it as a center from which we can go further. You should create such an environment around yourself when there is no need to say: "I am an awakened person." And if someone needs to repeat such words and somehow demonstrate this fact, then such a person is not awakened.
Then for almost seven weeks the Buddha wandered. In a way, he simply remained in seclusion; in general, it can be said that he was a very lonely person, for he remained the only one who saw something, who achieved something. He learned some answers to questions about how to behave in life, how to find the true meaning in the world of samsara, its essence. But he did not yet fully understand how to communicate his knowledge - and was almost inclined to say nothing. In one of the sutras there is a gatha, a short poem containing his own words: "Deep, boundless world - this is the teaching I found. But no one can understand it; therefore I will remain silent in the jungle." However, then true and supreme compassion triumphed, and he saw that he would be able to create the right environment. Until the very last minute, he continued to feel the desire to teach: since he had achieved something, he knew that he had to save the world, if such an expression could be used at all. But he had to drop that thought of saving everyone Living creatures. And at the very moment when he decided to leave the world and return to the jungle, a genuine impersonal compassion awakened in him. He no longer felt like a teacher, no longer thought that he needed to save people; whatever situation presented itself to him, he acted spontaneously in it.
He preached and taught for more than forty years and spent the rest of his life wandering from one end of India to the other. He did not ride elephants, horses or chariots, but went all over India just barefoot. I think that if one of us saw him or heard him speak, it would not seem like lectures familiar to us. It was just a conversation here. And it was not the words themselves that were important, but the general atmosphere created by the Buddha; not because he reached a high spiritual power and with its help dominated everyone around him: he simply spoke the truth, the real truth - in exactly the same way as any of us could speak it. Therefore, the teaching was assimilated even before he opened his mouth. That is why we read in the sutras that deities, asuras and people of all kinds from different parts of India attended his discourses; everyone saw him, met him - and everyone could understand him. They didn't have to ask questions; they received an answer automatically. It was an amazing example of communication. The Buddha never claimed to be an incarnation of God, or any divine being. He was just a simple man who went through some circumstances and reached the state of awakened mind. It is possible, at least in part, for each of us to have such an experience.
In this example, we see that one speech is not the only method of communication. Communication exists even before we have said anything; it is, if you even said only: "Hello!" or "How are you?" Communication somehow continues after we have finished talking. The whole conversation should be carried on very skillfully; in a conversation one must be truthful and not be self-centered. Then there is no concept of duality, then the