The first question:
The other night after darshan I dreamt that you sang “I’m a Stranger in Paradise” to me. It was incredible, and you were really good at it! Do you ever sing and dance, beyond the metaphorical use of the words? You are so full of grace. Would you do it now?
I am doing it every moment…yes, even now. And not in a metaphorical sense but in as realistic a sense as possible. Singing or dancing to me mean much more than you understand by those words. Your meaning is very limited; my meaning is vast. It is not metaphorical but certainly vast, unbounded.
In fact, once you become aware of your own being you cannot do anything else but sing, dance, celebrate. Before that your singing is not much of a singing, your laughter is not much of a laughter. In fact it is just its opposite.
Once Friedrich Nietzsche was asked, “Why do you go on smiling and laughing about very small things which do not seem worth laughing at?”
Nietzsche became very serious and said, “I laugh just out of fear. I laugh because if I don’t laugh I am afraid I may start crying and weeping.”
And he is saying something tremendously important. It is true about you – about everyone who has not become a Buddha, a Christ, a Krishna. You laugh just to cover up your wounds, you sing so that you can forget your tears, and you celebrate because your life is so miserable. The more miserable you are, the more occasions you seek to celebrate, because that is the only distraction from your misery.
My laughter, my song, my dance are bound to be basically different from yours. I laugh because there is only laughter in my heart – my laughter is not a cover-up. And I sing because there is nothing else to do – my breathing is my singing. It is not something that I am doing, it is something that is happening of its own accord. Even if I want to stop, it cannot be stopped. In fact, there is nobody to do it and nobody to stop it either.
But I will tell you a joke:
Every day a man came into the bar with a box tucked underneath his arm, asked for a shot of whiskey, drank it and went away.
One day the barman, after observing this customer for some time, decided to ask him what he had inside his box in exchange for a free drink.
He opened the box, and inside appeared a little flea, singing, accompanied by a little roach playing the piano. The bartender was amazed.