Pursuit of Pleasure — Desire — Perversion
by Thought —Memory — Joy We said in the last chapter that joy was something
entirely different from pleasure, so let us find out what is involved in pleasure and
whether it is at all possible to live in a world that does not contain pleasure but a
tremendous sense of joy, of bliss. We are all engaged in the pursuit of pleasure
in some form or other—intellectual, sensuous or cultural pleasure, the pleasure of reforming,
telling others what to do, of modifying the evils of society, of doing good—the pleasure
of greater knowledge, greater physical satisfaction, greater experience, greater understanding
of life, all the clever, cunning things of the mind—and the ultimate pleasure is, of
course, to have God. Pleasure is the structure of society. From
childhood until death we are secretly, cunningly or obviously pursuing pleasure. So whatever
our form of pleasure is, I think we should be very clear about it because it is going
to guide and shape our lives. It is therefore important for each one of us to investigate
closely, hesitantly and delicately this question of pleasure, for to find pleasure, and then
nourish and sustain it, is a basic demand of life and without it existence becomes dull,
stupid, lonely and meaningless. You may ask why then should life not be guided
by pleasure? For the very simple reason that pleasure must bring pain, frustration, sorrow
and fear, and, out of fear, violence. If you want to live that way, live that way. Most
of the world does, anyway, but if you want to be free from sorrow you must understand
the whole structure of pleasure. To understand pleasure is not to deny it.
We are not condemning it or saying it is right or wrong, but if we pursue it, let us do so
with our eyes open, knowing that a mind that is all the time seeking pleasure must inevitably
find its shadow, pain. They cannot be separated, although we run after pleasure and try to
avoid pain. Now, why is the mind always demanding pleasure?
Why is it that we do noble and ignoble things with the undercurrent of pleasure? Why is
it we sacrifice and suffer on the thin thread of pleasure? What is pleasure and how does
it come into being? I wonder if any of you have asked yourself these questions and followed
the answers to the very end? Pleasure comes into being through four stages—perception,
sensation, contact and desire. I see a beautiful motor car, say; then I get a sensation, a
reaction, from looking at it; then I touch it or imagine touching it, and then there
is the desire to own and show myself off in it. Or I see a lovely cloud, or a mountain
clear against the sky, or a leaf that has just come in springtime, or a deep valley
full of loveliness and splendour, or a glorious sunset, or a beautiful face, intelligent,
alive, not self-conscious and therefore no longer beautiful. I look at these things with
intense delight and as I observe them there is no observer but only sheer beauty like
love. For a moment I am absent with all my problems, anxieties and miseries—there is
only that marvellous thing. I can look at it with joy and the next moment forget it,
or else the mind steps in, and then the problem begins; my mind thinks over what it has seen
and thinks how beautiful it was; I tell myself I should like to see it again many times.
Thought begins to compare, judge, and say, ‘I must have it again tomorrow’. The continuity
of an experience that has given delight for a second is sustained by thought.
It is the same with sexual desire or any other form of desire. There is nothing wrong with
desire. To react is perfectly normal. If you stick a pin in me I shall react unless I am
paralysed. But then thought steps in and chews over the delight and turns it into pleasure.
Thought wants to repeat the experience, and the more you repeat, the more mechanical it
becomes; the more you think about it, the more strength thought gives to pleasure. So
thought creates and sustains pleasure through desire, and gives it continuity, and therefore
the natural reaction of desire to any beautiful thing is perverted by thought. Thought turns
it into a memory and memory is then nourished by thinking about it over and over again.
Of course, memory has a place at a certain level. In everyday life we could not function
at all without it. In its own field it must be efficient but there is a state of mind
where it has very little place. A mind which is not crippled by memory has real freedom.
Have you ever noticed that when you respond to something totally, with all your heart,
there is very little memory? It is only when you do not respond to a challenge with your
whole being that there is a conflict, a struggle, and this brings confusion and pleasure or
pain. And the struggle breeds memory. That memory is added to all the time by other memories
and it is those memories which respond. Anything that is the result of memory is old and therefore
never free. There is no such thing as freedom of thought. It is sheer nonsense.
Thought is never new, for thought is the response of memory, experience, knowledge. Thought,
because it is old, makes this thing which you have looked at with delight and felt tremendously
for the moment, old. From the old you derive pleasure, never from the new. There is no
time in the new. So if you can look at all things without allowing
pleasure to creep in—at a face, a bird, the colour of a sari, the beauty of a sheet
of water shimmering in the sun, or anything that gives delight—if you can look at it
without wanting the experience to be repeated, then there will be no pain, no fear, and therefore
tremendous joy. It is the struggle to repeat and perpetuate
pleasure which turns it into pain. Watch it in yourself. The very demand for the repetition
of pleasure brings about pain, because it is not the same as it was yesterday. You struggle
to achieve the same delight, not only to your aesthetic sense but the same inward quality
of the mind, and you are hurt and disappointed because it is denied to you.
Have you observed what happens to you when you are denied a little pleasure? When you
don’t get what you want you become anxious, envious, hateful. Have you noticed when you
have been denied the pleasure of drinking or smoking or sex or whatever it is—have
you noticed what battles you go through? And all that is a form of fear, isn’t it?
You are afraid of not getting what you want or of losing what you have. When some particular
faith or ideology which you have held for years is shaken or torn away from you by logic
or life, aren’t you afraid of standing alone? That belief has for years given you satisfaction
and pleasure, and when it is taken away you are left stranded, empty, and the fear remains
until you find another form of pleasure, another belief.
It seems to me so simple and because it is so simple we refuse to see its simplicity.
We like to complicate everything. When your wife turns away from you, aren’t you jealous?
Aren’t you angry? Don’t you hate the man who has attracted her? And what is all that but
fear of losing something which has given you a great deal of pleasure, a companionship,
a certain quality of assurance and the satisfaction of possession?
So if you understand that where there is a search for pleasure there must be pain, live
that way if you want to, but don’t just slip into it. If you want to end pleasure, though,
which is to end pain, you must be totally attentive to the whole structure of pleasure—not
cut it out as monks and sannyasis do, never looking at a woman because they think it is
a sin and thereby destroying the vitality of their understanding—but seeing the whole
meaning and significance of pleasure. Then you will have tremendous joy in life. You
cannot think about joy. Joy is an immediate thing and by thinking about it, you turn it
into pleasure. Living in the present is the instant perception of beauty and the great
delight in it without seeking pleasure from it.