He was coming, with his wife, from the temple across the way. They were both silent, deeply stirred by the chants and the worship. You happened to be walking behind them and you caught the feeling of their reverence, the strength of their determination to lead a religious life. But it would soon pass away as they were drawn into their responsibility to their children, who came rushing towards them. He had some kind of profession, was probably capable, for he had a large house. The weight of existence would drown him and although he would go to the temple often, the battle would go on.

The word is not the thing; the image, the symbol is not the real Reality, truth, is not a word. To put it into words wipes it away and illusion takes its place. The intellect may reject the whole structure of ideology, belief and all the trappings and power that go with them, but reason can justify any belief, any ideation. Reason is the order of thought and thought is the response of the outer. Because it is the outer, thought puts together the inner. No man can ever live only with the outer, and the inner becomes a necessity. This division is the ground on which the battle of «me» and "not me" takes place. The outer is the god of religions and ideologies;

внутреннее пытается соответствовать этим образам, и это порождает конфликт.

Не существует ни внешнего, ни внутреннего, есть только целое. Переживающий есть переживаемое. Фрагментация — это безумие. Целостность — не просто слово; она существует, когда разделение на внешнее и внутреннее абсолютно исчезает. Мыслящий есть мысль.

Когда вы идёте один, без единой мысли, просто наблюдая без наблюдающего, вы вдруг осознаёте священное, то, что мысль никогда не сможет постичь. Вы останавливаетесь, глядите на деревья, на птиц и на прохожего; это не иллюзия, не то, чем ум сам себя обманывает. Это — в ваших глазах, во всём вашем существе. Цвет бабочки — это бабочка.

Краски заката блекли, и прежде чем небо совсем потемнело, показался робкий молодой месяц и скрылся за холмом.

7 октября 1973

Это был один из тех горных дождей, которые длятся три или четыре дня, принося с собой похолодание. Земля пропиталась водой, стала вязкой, и все горные тропинки были скользкими; маленькие ручейки сбегали по крутым склонам, и работа на террасных полях приостановилась. Деревья и чайные плантации поникли от сырости; уже более недели не показывалось солнце, и стало совсем прохладно. Горы с гигантскими остроконечными вершинами, покрытые снегами, были расположены к северу. Флаги возле храмов стали тяжёлыми от дождя; колыхающиеся от слабого ветра, они утратили свою прелесть, свои весёлые краски. Гремел гром, сверкали молнии, и грохот перекатывался из долины в долину; густой туман скрывал яркие вспышки света.

На следующее утро небо было прозрачно-голубое, ласковое, и величественные горные пики, безмолвные и

the inner tries to conform to those images and conflict ensues.

There is neither the outer nor the inner but only the whole. The experiencer is the experienced. Fragmentation is insanity. This wholeness is not merely a word; it is when the division as the outer and inner utterly ceases. The thinker is the thought.

Suddenly, as you were walking along, without a single thought but only observing without the observer, you became aware of a sacredness that thought has never been able to conceive. You stop, you observe the trees, the birds and the passer-by; it is not an illusion or something with which the mind deludes itself. It is there in your eyes, in your whole being. The colour of the butterfly is the butterfly.

The colours which the sun had left were fading, and before dark the shy new moon showed itself before it disappeared behind the hill.

7 TH OCTOBER 1973

It was one of those mountain rains that lasts three or four days, bringing with it cooler weather. The earth was sodden and heavy and all the mountain paths were slippery; small streams were running down the steep slopes and labour in the terraced fields had stopped. The trees and the tea plantations were weary of the dampness; there had been no sun for over a week and it was getting quite chilly. The mountains lay to the north, with their snow and gigantic peaks. The flags around the temples were heavy with rain; they had lost their delight, their gay colours fluttering in the breeze. There was thunder and lightning and the sound was carried from valley to valley; a thick fog hid the sharp flashes of light.

The next morning there was the clear blue, tender sky, and the great peaks, still and