Integrating this awareness into your daily life is to develop the bipolar vision. Looking at the opposites together does not mean that the truth lies somewhere in-between but that both extremes are equally true depending on the context.
Developing the bipolar vision is to recognize that there are no neat, clear-cut, easy answers in life. Here are some everyday paradoxes. Enjoy them!

1. I am a dynamic go-getter pursuing my goals with full force. At the same time, I am fully contented and happy with the way things are.
2. I am an insignificant creature in this huge universe. At the same time, I am the centre of the universe.
3. I am the wave. At the same time, I am the ocean.
4. I am equally comfortable being a prince and a pauper. I enjoy my possessions and when I lose them, I don’t feel sorry at all.
5. If I get the job, it’s fine. If I don’t, it is fine too.
6. If the train arrives on time, it’s fine. If it doesn’t, it is fine too.
7. Nothing is random and arbitrary. Nor is it fixed and predetermined.
8. While it’s important to have self-confidence, it’s equally important to have self-doubt.
9. Life is tough. It’s a breeze too.
10. While discipline is important for growth, too much discipline can kill my creativity.
11. When I add condiments to a dish, the taste improves. But if I overdo it, the taste deteriorates.
12. When I sharpen a knife too much, it becomes blunt.
13. Finally, the unipolar vision is one kind of vision and the bipolar vision is another kind of vision. Both are okay.

There is a tendency to criticize the two brothers for their inability to work together. The general perception is that they were not being good brothers and they did injustice to their deceased father who had built the industrial conglomerate from scratch.

But that is only a conditioned response.

Both Mukesh and Anil are highly individualistic and creative persons. Since they did not share great vibes, they could not probably give full vent to their creativity when they worked together.

After the split, both are doing things their own way. They are more deeply involved with what they do. Now they are free to use their creative potential to the full. They are at liberty to do what they want.

Earlier, there was one centre of growth. Now there are two. Since both of them want to do better than the other, they are sure to grow at a pace faster than it would have been possible if they had held together.

By going their separate ways, they have done a world of good to themselves, to each other, to the stake-holders of their companies and to the Indian economy as a whole. United, they would have withered. Divided, they bloom.

When a bad marriage ends, it is time to rejoice!

The 360º mind does not have any preconceived notions—not even the preconceived notion that there should not be any preconceived notions. The 360º mind is open, flexible and uncontrived. It is without blocks and always change-ready.

BREAKING FREE
A spiritual seeker felt suffocated in the world. Wanting to break free, he renounced the world. As a reward, he was taken to heaven. It was nice and cozy up there but, after a while, he was tired of the good things. So he renounced the heaven. As a bigger reward, he was taken to God. He liked being with God, but a time came when he had had enough of God’s company. So, he renounced even God.

Now there was nothing more to renounce. Yet the freedom that he had been seeking was nowhere in sight. After some uncertainty, he had a flash of insight and he renounced renouncing. And he was back into the world from where he had sought freedom in the first place. Free from being free, he had come full circle.

WHITE BELT
When a novice starts learning the martial arts, he wears a white belt, symbolic of innocence. After months of practice, the white belt gets dirty and turns brown, symbolic of the first degree of attainment. After more practice, the belt gets soiled and eventually turns black, symbolic of full attainment.

If the practitioner does not stop learning even after full attainment, the black belt starts getting frayed, turning almost white, symbolic of return to innocence. The frayed white belt represents technical competence of an experienced martial artist, combined with the innocence and receptivity of a beginner. It signifies going beyond technique and embracing no-technique—coming full circle.

PICASSO’S CHILD
Once Picasso said: “I used to draw like Raphael. But it has taken me a lifetime to draw like a child.”

Picasso was a competent artist when he drew like Raphael. He became a great artist only when he awakened the child in him and started drawing without any pre-determined technique.

The same is true of every art. For example, the contribution of technique in the work of a competent musician is 100 per cent. But the contribution of technique in the work of a great musician is only 10 per cent or so—the remaining 90 per cent being contributed by the child in the musician. Only when you transcend technique, you become great in your field. You come full circle.

KABIR’S COMPLAINT
Kabir never accepted any gift from his disciples. But his son Kamal never refused anything that his disciples brought to him. This made Kabir unhappy.

One day, he reproached his son: “I do not accept any gift because gifts mean nothing to me. But it pains me to know that you grab all that your disciples bring to you.”

Kamal said: “Father, if gifts mean nothing to you, why are you bothered whether I accept them or reject them?” Here, Kabir had a 180¬∫ mind, and Kamal a 360¬∫ one.

THE VIRTUOUS KING
When Boddhidharma visited China in the sixth century, he was invited to the King’s court. The king was proud of his spirituality and the good deeds he had done for his people. He narrated what all he had done to promote religion and then asked Boddhidharma’s opinion about the merit he earned.

Boddhidharma’s reply was blunt: “No merit.”

Obviously, being virtuous was not a great virtue in Boddhidharma’s scheme of things. The king had a 180¬∫ mind. Boddhidharma had a 360¬∫ mind. You can’t be spiritual as long as you wear the badge of spirituality. Taking off the badge is coming full circle.

NOTHING GREAT
Once there was a conference of religions to which all faiths sent their representatives. Every representative stated forcefully that his religion was great. When it was the turn of Zen’s representative, he stated truthfully: “There is nothing great in Zen.”

A member of the audience with a deep understanding of Zen got up and said: “Your saying that there is nothing great in Zen actually makes Zen sound as something great. So you should not have said there is nothing great in Zen.”

The Zen representative had a 180º mind. The member of the audience had a 360º mind.

A GOB OF SPIT
For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He was 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is what he writes in the opening page:

“I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am (author’s italic). Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God. This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty, what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off-key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse.”

Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he had not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He could write the book he did precisely because there were “no more books to be written.”

With the transition from “I thought that I was an artist” to “I am”, he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing to “singing”‚Äînot to mention the funny things he did to God and the like in the process.

THE MUMBAI SCHOOL
Do you have free will? If you believe you do, then you have a 180º mind. The alternative seems to be the view that there is no free will.

A well-meaning, emerging school of thought in Mumbai, India, has been hammering into people’s minds that free will is an illusion and without God’s will you can’t make the slightest move. This viewpoint is also indicative of a 180¬∫ mind.

Insisting that it is all God’s will is as much a concept as insisting that you have free will. When something happens, it just happens. Sometimes it seems that you made it happen. Some other times it seems that it happened by itself or God (or the totality) made it happen. How you view the happening is more a question of perspective than of fact. Which means that ‚Äòyour will‚Äô and God’s will are both labels. Taking off the labels is to come full circle.

THE MIRROR EFFECT
Certain things in the world appeal to you. Certain other things don’t. You have your considered opinions about different issues. You may believe there is a benign power somewhere that cares for you. You may believe it’s a chaotic world without any rhyme or reason.

How you perceive the world not only tells about the world, but it is also a reflection of how your mind works. Seeing your own mind in how the world appears to you is to come full circle.

ONE THING
When you strive for enlightenment, it’s a 180¬∫ vision. When enlightenment happens, it’s nothing like what you believed it to be. Then enlightenment and unenlightenment don’t seem to be two things.

Saying that they are two things and saying that they are one thing also don’t appear to be two things. With that realization, you come full circle.
ALL SAID AND DONE
The core of this piece does not lie in what has been stated but in what has not been stated. When you see that, you’ll come full circle.

With that hint, this piece too comes full circle.

Actually, these do-gooders are like Procrustes, the robber who kidnapped strangers and forced them to fit perfectly into a bed by either cutting off or stretching their legs. Values and laws are like the Procrustean bed. With pre-determined notions of good and bad, right and wrong, many societies are nothing but police networks. If you don’t fit the system, you are locked up in jail.

It was Lao Tzu who pointed out centuries ago that an abundance of laws produce an abundance of thieves. The increase in crime then ensures that policemen and judges get their salaries and perks. Just as laws are responsible for crimes, economists are responsible for the poverty in the world. Then these very economists are needed to alleviate the very same poverty that they created in the first instance.

Similarly, psychiatrists are the main cause of mental disorder among people. Parents who are keen to correct their children only end up passing their own anxiety to them. The children, in turn, display the same anxiety to correct things around them. Writers of self-help books, with their emphasis on methods, have robbed people of their natural instincts. Fairly intelligent people have read themselves stupid without benefiting from self-help literature.

In their zeal to correct people, moralists and self-help teachers are like the monkey who, wanting to save the fish from drowning, offers to carry it up the tree. The fish is perfectly happy being in the water but the monkey forces his own values on it! A moralist is indignant and intolerant and wants goodness to prevail at all costs, mostly at the cost of goodness itself.

But goodness can’t be enforced. When we teach goodness through moral imperatives, we are being harsh. Then we are not teaching goodness but harshness. Goodness after all is a direct outcome of love and compassion. A compassionate person is never indignant. He has no intention to set the world right. He lives his life based on compassion and has a way of touching others and transforming them without even their being aware of it.

It would seem that moralists are as much a threat as criminals. But years of evolution have given us just the right ratio of each type of person we need. It is in the nature of the things that there are just enough moralists and just enough criminals at a given time. So too there are just enough healers and just enough sick, just enough doers and just enough lazy people, just enough creative people and just enough idiots, and so on.

So do-gooders do have their place in society. Which means it’s ok to have laws. But then it’s ok if the criminal breaks them, if the policeman arrests him, if the judge gives him sentence and if the suffering criminal curses the society for its irrational laws.

With that kind of overview we are not likely to get upset at the seeming excesses of either the moralist or the criminally-inclined. The overview can do us a lot more good actually. We will have less of resentment, less of anger. We will not find fault with everything habitually. Why, we might as well develop love and compassion too which the moralist wants to enforce at all costs!

An unknown Taoist said a long time ago: It is true that this society is going to the dogs but the only way to stop it from doing so is not to stop it from doing so! Things always sort themselves out in ways that we can’t even begin to fathom.

Finally, it is ok if some of you do-gooders are indignant at the tone of this piece. It is ok too if I am indignant at your sense of indignation. Cheers!

Once there was a breathtakingly beautiful garden with soft green grass, a lovely hedge, fragrant flowers and luscious fruit trees. No wonder the garden was the favourite haunt of Panna Lal and all the other children living in the neighbourhood.

They spent most of their time in the idyllic setting, exploring the secrets of the garden. They played a variety of games to the chirping of birds and the rustle of the wind.

As Panna Lal grew up, his visits to the garden became less frequent. He got busy with other things. There was always something or the other that required his attention.

As more time passed, he hardly came to the garden to play. The garden now lay deserted. It didn’t take long for the weeds to grow and the flowers to die. The fruit trees fell. The grass too withered away.

The once beautiful garden was now reduced to a few ugly bushes and small patches of grass here and there. Finally someone dumped some debris into the garden.

Panna Lal’s romance with the garden was now over. However, there were a few spots which somehow remained uncovered by the debris so that some grass and a flower or two still bloom there on occasion.

PRINCE OF SHANGRI-LA

The garden in question is Panna Lal’s mind. It was in full bloom when he was a child. It was a mind that was open, receptive, awake, responsive, intuitive, flexible, playful, joyous, liberated and without any blocks.

It was the mind that he was born with. It was his Shangri-la. He played here to his heart’s content until he was about five years old.

He lived in the moment. He had no past to brood upon and no anxiety about the future. Life for him was here and now. He used his senses fully. Whatever he did, he was fully into it.

He was hungry for novelty. He was full of wonder and curiosity. His life was punctuated by the excitement of discovery. He was blown away by the newness of things.

Bubbling over with energy and enthusiasm, he made a game out of everything. Playfulness came naturally to him.

He had a vivid imagination. He thought in pictures. Every time he listened to a story, he had a movie running in his head. He had the ability to evoke entire worlds in his mind.

His mind easily moved from ‘what is’ to ‘what can be’, switching from the realm of the known to the realm of the unknown. He was given to fantasizing a lot. The disease called disbelief had not yet infected him.

His perceptions were uncoloured by any previous experience. He had not yet imbibed too many rules. He had no ‘shoulds’. He was not hampered by how things should be done. His inner censor had not yet come into being.

His mind had no barriers, no pre-judgments and no hang-ups. He had no fear of looking a fool. He was completely unselfconscious.

His creativity was at its peak.

He didn’t ponder too much before taking up a task. He just did it. He trusted his impulses and acted upon them. His actions were natural, effortless, spontaneous and free-flowing.

Life was beautiful and it was great to be alive. Panna Lal was the prince of his Shangri-la.

Then Panna Lal entered school and experienced the world. In due course, he moved on to college and accumulated more knowledge. Finally he started working and gained more experience.

In the process of acquiring knowledge and adapting himself to his environment, he gradually lost the wondrous, ‘unlearnt’ state of mind that he once had.

His Shangri-la got covered with debris.

He developed a sense of certainty just about everything and lost his sense of wonder and curiosity. He absorbed a whole lot of rules and fixed ways of doing things. He began to see the world through the filter of his assumptions.

Now he didn’t see things as they were but as he expected them to be. He forced his preconceptions into whatever he did, missing out on the newness of life.

His life became structured. He was ruled by the clock. He had fixed slots for all activities, be it reading, working, sleeping or eating. He had no open-ended time to do what he pleased.

The outcome of every activity became more important than the process. The pleasure of being into an activity was gone. The joy of discovery was gone.

As his bosses and family had high expectations from him, he was afraid of failing. Anxiety became his predominant emotion.

There was tremendous pressure on him to conform. A whole lot of ‘shoulds’ got incorporated in his life. He became self-conscious. His creativity was curbed.

Since he was evaluated constantly, he weighed the pros and cons of every action carefully before he took the first step. He became restrained.

As he became more and more ‘real’, his power of imagination diminished. He stopped dreaming. He forgot to play.

His experience and his learning became barriers to his joy and creativity – the debris that obliterated his Shangri-la.

LONGING FOR SHANGRI-LA

To all appearances, Panna Lal is doing well for himself. He has a good job, a beautiful apartment and a loving family.

But deep down in his heart, he has a nagging feeling that something is missing in his life. There is a vague longing to bloom, to be creative, to be playful, to let go of inhibitions, to connect, to experience joy and to have a sense of fulfilment.

Come to think of it, there is a kind of nostalgia in this longing. What Panna Lal longs for is actually the Shangri-la he lost in the process of growing up. So perhaps it is a longing to become a child again!

Of course, he can’t become a child at the physical level, but certainly he can be one at the psychological level. He can do so by removing the debris from his Shangri-la and nurturing it back to its original lushness.

Once he does that, he will be ready to play in his Shangri-la. He will be ready to bloom, to be creative, to be playful, to let go of inhibitions, to connect, to experience joy and to have a sense of fulfilment.

Come to think of it, there is a Panna Lal in all of us. Whether we are ‘successful’ or ‘not so successful’ in life, we all have an unexpressed longing to become children again and play in our Shangri-la.

The proposition of this book is that it is possible for us to be full-time children while we continue to do what we normally do as grown-ups. Far from being a hindrance, it will make us more efficient and effective in what we do.

When we have the openness of a child, we will have fresh perceptions. As a result, we will have new ideas that will bring us better solutions to problems. We will be more creative.

When we cultivate the enthusiasm of a child, we will pursue our goals with greater passion. As a result, we will have greater chances of being successful.

When we immerse ourselves into a task fully the way children do, we will do it better and faster.

When we develop the keenness and sensitivity of a child’s mind, we will be more responsive to what needs doing in our life.

Living as full-time children will not only satisfy our inner longing to play in our Shangri-la, it is the only way to live optimally and have a fulfilling life.

The objective of this book is to explore that possibility and come home to our Shangri-la!

QUEST FOR SHANGRI-LA

In the true spirit of exploration, the book offers no prescriptions. It does not show Panna Lal the path to his Shangri-la. It enables him to create his own path!

The ideas in the book have been configured in such a way that they trigger something in him, opening his mind to newer realms with many eureka-like realizations along the way.

Come to think of it, what he finds here has always been there in some corner of his mind. The book only echoes his inner voice. Listening to that voice, Panna Lal will touch base with his Shangri-la.

Significantly, the book is not about making hard work of life. It is about letting go, effortlessness and spontaneity, the qualities he once possessed in such abundance.

Now Panna Lal can’t sculpt his new being as a full-time child by being tough with himself. He can do so only with a gentle and loving approach. The highest achievements happen in life by flowing with the flow and not by forcing things.

To that extent, the book is not a medicine but health itself. No spiritual snake oil is on sale here. If anything, it sells Panna Lal to Panna Lal.

As it ‘kids’ him on his way to his Shangri-la, he starts a whole new relationship with life, experiencing balance, ease, joy, awareness and vitality.

NO FORMULA

There is a parable about a wise man who is about to die. His disciples gather around him and request him to give his last message.

The wise man says, ‘Life is like a river.’

One of the disciples asks him how life is like a river. Instead of trying to prove his point and asserting that life is like a river, the wise man simply contradicts himself and says, ‘Life is not like a river.’

This book too does not make any strong assertions for the simple reason that there are no absolute truths, no single irrefutable philosophy to go by, no fixed answers and no formulas.

At best, the book offers gentle hints and no edicts of any sort. ‘Maybe’ and ‘perhaps’ are implied in whatever is written here.

If any assertion is made at all, it is motivated by the assumption that its opposite is tipping the balance a little too much.

For example, the emphasis on being open is relative to some rigidity of opinion that has crept into someone’s system. The emphasis on self-confidence is relative to someone’s overriding self-doubt.

The absence of any clear guidelines in the book might create the impression that it is a sceptic’s viewpoint. But then, a true sceptic is one who is also sceptical about his scepticism.

Come to think of it, the book is neither a sceptic’s viewpoint nor a ‘positive thinking’ guru’s recipe. It comes from genuine openness, transcending both extremes.

If the book comes from an open mind, it is important that it is read with an open mind too for the exploration to be fruitful.

Being open does not mean that Panna Lal has to believe what is said here. It also does not mean he has to disbelieve what is said here.

When he reads the book with the intention to believe it – or disbelieve it – his mind is already made up. To that extent, he is not being open.

An open mind is a mind without any preconceived notions, enabling Panna Lal to have fresh perceptions.

IT IS ABOUT US

In order not to clutter up the book with too many names, only a handful of names have been used for different characters that people the numerous anecdotes in the book.

Although the names are Indian, the characters they represent could be from any part of the globe, give or take a few cultural trappings.

The men are called Panna Lal, Hira Lal, Moti Lal or Jawahar Lal. The women are called Mishri Devi, Barfi Devi, Imarti Devi or Jalebi Devi.

Panna Lal may be a little boy in one anecdote and a venerable old man in another. Mishri Devi may be a traditional homemaker in one anecdote and a hip career woman in another.

If the names have been used randomly for diverse characters, this is intentional. The underlying point is that anyone of them could be anyone else. By that logic anyone of us could be anyone of them too.

Come to think of it, deep down we are all the same. Whatever differences we have are only on the surface.

We all want happiness and good health. We all want to avoid pain and disease. We all have our quirks, phobias and idiosyncrasies.

What binds us together is the adventure called life that we happen to be in the midst of right now.

That also explains why the pronouns ‘you’ and ‘I’ have not been used in the book except in quotes.

The whole book revolves around the collective pronoun ‘we’. And we will soon recognize this ‘we’ to be our very own voice reaching out to us from the subterranean regions of our beings.

And if the names sound a little comic and conjure up images of clumsy figures bumbling their way through, this too is intentional.

The refinement and sophistication that we value so much are essentially projections, serving as a camouflage for our inherent clumsiness. Essentially, we are all comic figures bumbling our way through.

Seen in the right light, this clumsiness is at the same time the most graceful aspect of our being. So we might as well celebrate it.

Long live Panna Lal, Mishri Devi and all of us bumblers!

HOMECOMING

By their very nature, books are linear, with a beginning and an end. No loops or diversions are permitted.

But the ideas that books are supposed to convey are not linear. They don’t move straight ahead. They move in all directions. They also keep coming back to the point from where they started. They are cyclical.

An attempt has been made here to mitigate the linearity of the book by presenting the ideas in the form of wheels. There are a total of 5½ wheels in the book. Each of the 5½ wheels in turn has 5½ inner wheels.

As we spin our way around, any of the wheels can turn out to be our wheel of fortune, triggering our self-actualization, enhancing our creativity, releasing our passion and setting our life on a roll.

As there are wheels within wheels, it is more or less a rollercoaster ride. As apprentice full-time children, let’s fasten our seat belts and get ready for the goose bumps of being in our Shangri-la!

Happy homecoming!

–

The Fine Print of Life
How Panna Lal Found Happiness, Wisdom and Mishri Devi
By P.S. Wasu

ISBN 9788172237516
177 pages, Price Rs. 195
Published by HarperCollins Publishers India

In bookshops in India from mid-April, 2009

Order online for delivery in India now. Click here

For delivery in the rest of the world, please contact N.S. Krishna, Sales Director, HarperCollins India, at krishna@harpercollins-india.com.

THE PEAK EXPERIENCE
There is a story about a mountain that when you scale its peak, you’ll meet an old man who has the answers to all the questions. As you begin climbing, you look forward to meeting the old man as much as you want to make it to the top. Finally, reaching the summit is a great feeling. Time comes to a standstill as you drink in the view. Your heart expands. You are alive as never before. In that wonderful state, all questions disappear. The old man grins. You grin too. But no questions are asked. Because the meaning of life has already been glimpsed.

THE GREAT FLOW
Lucy was greatly bothered about the meaning of life. She approached a wise man for guidance. The wise man took her to a stream and filled a pitcher with stream water.

Wise man: (Pointing to the stream) What is that?
Lucy: A stream.
Wise man: (Pointing to the pitcher) What is this?
Lucy: A pitcherful of stream water.
Wise man: Why don’t you call it a stream?
Lucy: The water doesn’t flow in the pitcher. So it’s not a stream.
Wise man: How can it be a stream?
Lucy: When you let go of it.

As Lucy made the gesture of letting go, she understood what the wise man was driving at. Life is like a flowing stream and the meaning of life is only a pitcherful of water.

THE PERSIAN RUG
In somerset Maugham‚Äôs Of Human Bondage (1915), Cronshaw gifts an intricately woven Persian rug to Philip Carey, telling him that it might answer his question about the meaning of life. Philip can’t make out anything initially. Later the message of the Persian rug dawns upon him.

Just as the weaver makes patterns for the joy of doing so, a man too can look at his life as a pattern. There is as little need as use for a particular kind of pattern. It’s the uniqueness of the pattern that counts. Out of the manifold events of his life, his deeds, his feelings, and his thoughts, a man creates a design, regular, elaborate, complicated, or beautiful. Philip is thrilled by this new way of looking at things.

To quote from the book: “His (Philip’s) life had seemed horrible when it was measured by its happiness, but now he seemed to gather strength that it might be measured by something else. Happiness mattered as little as pain. They came in, both of them, as all the other details of his life came in, to the elaboration of the design. He seemed for an instant to stand above the accidents of his existence, and he felt that they could not affect him again as they had done before. Whatever happened to him now would be more motive to add to the complexity of the pattern, and when the end approached he would rejoice in its completion. It would be a work of art, and it would be nonetheless beautiful because he alone knew of its existence, and with his death it would at once cease to be.”

JUST PLAY IT
A new monk in a monastery had just finished his breakfast. Finding the master alone, he approached him and asked: “What is the meaning of life?” The master said: “Have you had breakfast?” “Yes,” the monk replied. “Then go and wash your bowl,” said the master.

When a ball comes your way, you play it. Life is also a ball game. It’s about doing what needs to be done here and now. When you finish your breakfast, you wash your bowl. The bowl washed, there’s another ball to be played.

The unknowability of the next moment is intrinsic to the nature of life. You never know what is going to come your way. If you knew that, it would be no fun playing.

THE SILVER PLATTER
Speculating about the miracles that people look forward to all their lives, Henry Miller says in Tropic of Cancer (1934): “What if at the last moment, when the banquet table is set and the cymbals clash, there should appear suddenly, and without warning, a silver platter on which even the blind could see that there is nothing more, and nothing less, than two enormous lumps of shit.

“That, I believe would be more miraculous than anything which man has looked forward to. It would be miraculous because it would be undreamed of…

“Somehow the realization that nothing was to be hoped for had a salutary effect upon me. For weeks and months, for years, in fact, all my life I had been looking forward to something happening, some extrinsic event that would alter my life, and now suddenly, inspired by the hopelessness of everything, I felt relieved, felt as though a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders.”

It would be a mistake to look at the hopelessness of Miller as despair. For him, hopelessness is a positive factor. It consists of, to borrow from Ana√Øs Nin, “a wild extravagance, a mad gaiety, a verve, a gusto, at times almost a delirium.” His hopelessness is about savouring life as it unfolds instead of waiting for something to come your way on a silver platter. It is about abandoning the dream of a magical future and waking up to the magic of this moment.

BUDDHA NAGAR
Jason had heard that there was a place called Buddha Nagar where everyone was enlightened. He set out looking for this mythical town. After years of wandering, he came to a river. Across the river was Buddha Nagar.

Jason got onto a boat. The cool breeze felt so good. A wave of joy swept through him. At last, he had made it to Buddha Nagar. He congratulated himself on the success of his mission. His patience, his struggles had borne fruit. As he looked around with a sense of satisfaction, his eyes fastened onto a corpse floating away. He looked carefully. Why, it was his own corpse. In a single moment, all his achievements, his virtues, his spirituality, even his making it to Buddha Nagar were gone forever. What a loss!

In deep sorrow, Jason started crying, first slowly and then uncontrollably. Then through his tears, he looked at the corpse a second time only to find that his sorrow and sense of loss too had floated away. An all-enveloping peace descended on him. He was liberated from joy and sorrow. So, when you can see your own corpse, when you can see your judgments floating away, every place is Buddha Nagar. Then you come alive for the first time.

THE CHATTERBOX
Gautam Buddha is said to have been the greatest chatterbox of all times. For forty-nine years, he went from place to place and gave thousands of discourses. And yet there were moments when he was dumbstruck. He just wouldn’t open his mouth. This happened every time he was asked metaphysical questions‚Äîabout God, about the unknown, about the purpose of life. Buddha maintained that life was too short to bother about these questions. The closest he ever came to answering these was when he said, “When a poisoned arrow pierces your flesh, you don’t bother about where it has come from. You take it out and dress the wound.”

If you lived in Buddha’s time and were tired of his continuous chatter, you only had to ask him the meaning of life and the chatter would come to a stop.

ALL SAID AND DONE
Life is an imponderable puzzle, the mother of all koans. All other koans have, in fact, been derived from this one. Anything that can be stated about life can be contradicted‚Äîincluding this statement. So if you think you understand the meaning of life, you don’t.