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This life, in a way, is too short. It would be nice if you could make all your mistakes, get it all together, show up somewhere, and say, “Okay, I’ve figured it out, and I’m ready.”
But it doesn’t work like that. We’re given some time, but we don’t know how much. In the beginning, we just want to be happy. That’s all we know. We don’t know about responsibilities. We don’t know about right and wrong. We don’t know about being human. But we know that we have the thirst to be happy—whatever that means.
Good things happen; bad things happen. As a child, the level of optimism is at an all-time high. Whatever happened yesterday happened, but today is today. No memories are kept, no blame. Whatever we did in that state was not pre-planned. We call this innocence, and to each one of us, this state of being is very beautiful.
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And then we go through the period of learning—the grinding, pounding of information into our heads. The alphabet—A, B, Cs. You don’t know why A is A. It just is. You don’t know why one is one. It just is. And you are tested on it.
This keeps on going; you are being prepped for this world. What does that mean? It means that you have given up on your ideas, and you are now ready, willing, and able to take on the ideas that the world will give you, including how you believe in God. This is defined as responsibility. I call it “the giant leap of faith.”
And then an amazing thing happens. It doesn’t happen to everybody; it happens to some people. They meet someone who says, “No giant leap of faith necessary. You don’t have to jump. Just feel—feel your own thirst.”
“What?” They find this idea to be novel, but they see in it their own innocence.
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“The happiness, the joy, that you want in your life is within you, and the thirst for that feeling has to be within you, too.”
Then they ask, “Could something really be so simple?”
Yes, it could. Because you need to hear, you have ears. Because you need to breathe, you have a nose. You need to be able to see, and eyes have been provided for you. If you need this fulfillment—not want, but need—the thirst for it has been provided for you as well.
Find the thirst. That is the first chapter—recognizing, understanding your own innocence. And not by concept, thought, ideas, or prompting from someone else. The need for fulfillment is embedded within—not in your logic, but in the innocence of the heart. That’s where you will find it. And that’s where you have to begin. If we are thirsty and go looking for water, we won’t get distracted: “Did you see that bird? Did you see that rock? Oh, look at that contrail in the sky.” No. Water, water, only water. It is a need, a passion.
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A human being’s true passion is to be fulfilled. And that passion has survived all our discoveries, turmoil, successes, failures, disasters, catastrophes. However fragile it may seem, it has survived. As human beings have become busier and busier with weapons of destruction, going to the moon, mapping the earth, inventions, discoveries—you might have thought this would have been forgotten. Languages have been forgotten; customs that survived for thousands of years have been forgotten. But somehow, the quest to be fulfilled has survived.
Why am I telling you this? It is a bigger need than you realize. It’s huge. And you get to try every day, consciously, to be fulfilled, to be happy. There is no rewind button.
When I have come home to this moment called now, I feel my heart dancing with gratitude. Perhaps tears come, but they are of joy, not sorrow. Every fiber in my being rejoices to be alive. I have no quest for tomorrow, or even the moment yet to come. And that’s good, because it is a moment that I could live in forever.
Prem Rawat
