KAY. SO YOU EXPERIENCED THAT JOYFUL MELTING to some point and then you fear losing your darling self. But since you had that experience once or a number of times, wouldn’t it be encouraging or tempting to do it again, to overcome that fear and see further whatever it is? If this were an awkward or ugly experience, then certainly it wouldn’t attract, but if it was joyful, as you say—and it is—what makes you come out of it? Wouldn’t it attract you to go deeper into that? Wouldn’t that be a strong enough desire? Are the other desires that pull you out more fulfilling than that melting? Why then would we not be mad after that since it’s so joyful?
      If you had duties and obligations, then you might say: “I have to finish this and that…” but if you didn’t have much of duties or obligations, then wouldn’t you welcome this? When you get soaked into some kind of intoxication, nobody reminds you of your duties and obligations. It is only when you are on the normal, surface plane of existence that you are reminded of your duties, obligations and commitments. An example could be of an alcoholic. When he is drunk, nobody talks sense to him because they know he can’t talk sense either. So it is with the deep meditators, those who are deeply involved. Nobody reminds them of duties and commitments. They know he or she is lost, unaware of this five-sensual world.
      What makes you lose that heaven and come out into ordinary consciousness, especially when you don’t have strong desires?

We have seen examples in which a seeker has been doing some practices: deeply meditating or doing yogic exercises or chanting or getting into a high stage of consciousness, and the person was nearly going into ecstasy, and he or she had every chance to do that, to not come back, so to say. Some were afraid of ecstasy, though they were not thinking of that term, but that is the state they were entering. They wouldn’t allow themselves to get lost in that simply because they were afraid. People have that experience: fear of losing oneself or fear of the unknown, so they don’t allow themselves to smoothly and serenely drift into that experience. It needs ego-resignation and surrender.
      My question is, in spite of all this, since the experience was pleasant, why would fear enter in? If it was painful, I can see the point. I know quite a number here and even in the years when I was in the Himalayas—we used to do some sharing and some would say the same thing. They would have certain glimpses and experiences, and probably their third eye was opening or trying to open, and they would say that they were afraid; they didn’t know what was going to happen next. We have a fear complex of many things, not only spiritual experiences but in the world too: a new place, meeting a new person, or various other experiences. There are always unknown things and some do get afraid. Perhaps I am comparing with myself, which is not my intention, but if I were to have a pleasant experience, I would like to drift smoothly into that, especially when we know it is spiritual, a higher experience. It is not a case of evil spirits coming and jingling bones and skeletons or grabbing you. If that would happen, then you need an exorcist. But still I have difficulty understanding why the fear remains.