Nothing needs to be thrown out of your system—everything must be transformed and absorbed. The mind itself is not ugly; it is your use of the mind that becomes distorted. Change the way you use it. The problem is not the mind—it is your unconsciousness. The chariot is golden and magnificent, but the charioteer is drunk and asleep. And when he ends up in a ditch, he blames the chariot, curses the horses, and even the chariot-maker—never once realizing that the fault lies in him. If the chariot crashes, it is only natural—the responsibility is entirely his.
So it’s not a matter of destroying the mind or throwing it out. The mind is a magnificent mechanism—the most beautiful instrument in existence. But the tragedy is that you have become its servant. You are the master, yet the master sleeps while the servant rules. And that reversal has created all the chaos.
There’s an old story:
A king once felt immense gratitude toward a loyal bodyguard who had saved his life multiple times. The king said, “Ask for anything you wish—today, I will fulfill it.”
The servant replied, “You have already given me too much. I am blessed just to serve you.”
But the king insisted. Finally, the servant said, “Very well. Let me be king for just twenty-four hours, and you be my guard.”
Though hesitant, the king agreed. For a day, their roles were reversed. But the very first order from the new ‘king’ was shocking: he commanded that the former king be executed.
The stunned king protested, “What are you doing?”
The servant snapped, “Silence! I am king now, and this is my wish.”
The king was killed, and the servant remained king forever.
This is exactly what has happened in you. The servant—your mind—has found a cunning way to dethrone the master. And you, the consciousness, are left serving a mechanism that was meant to serve you.
The mind is powerful, complex, and astonishing in its capacity. But the tragedy is not the mind itself—it is your forgetfulness of who the real master is. You have been repeating the same ancient mistake. You’ve allowed the tool to rule over the craftsman.
This is why meditation exists—not to fight the mind, not to suppress it, not to throw it out—but to rise above it. Meditation is the art of becoming the master once again, of remembering: “I am not the mind.” And that realization is not rejection—it is liberation.
To reject the mind is not to transcend it. Repression only pushes it deeper into the unconscious, where it becomes even more powerful and more dangerous. That which you reject never leaves you; it simply hides in darkness. Better to face the enemy than to turn your back on it.
And I have never told you to reject the mind. I say: recognize its brilliance. Humanity has yet to create anything as complex, intelligent, and limitless as the human mind. Even the most advanced computers pale in comparison. A single human brain can hold the contents of all the world’s libraries—its potential is vast. But it is a machine. It is not you.
To identify with it is a mistake. To let it guide your life is a tragedy. But to become its master is wisdom. As a servant, the mind is of infinite value. As a master, it is a disaster.
So don’t reject it. Rejection weakens you. Transcendence empowers you.
I am not against the mind—I am for going beyond it. And you cannot go beyond what you fight. If you turn the mind into an enemy, you will remain entangled. Use it as a bridge. Let understanding be the path. In understanding the mind, you begin to rise above it. And from that height, the mind becomes your tool—not your tyrant.
The choice is yours: you can make the mind your obstacle, or your stepping-stone. If you approach it with awareness, acceptance, and insight, transcendence will happen on its own. You will become a witness.
And the witness is always the master.
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