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Chapter title: Most people return unopened
19 May 1987 am in Chuang Tzu Auditorium Archive
code:
8705190
ShortTitle:
GOLDEN15
Audio:
Yes Video:
Yes Length:
79
mins Question 1
BELOVED OSHO,
IT FEELS SO HOPELESS. I FEEL ASHAMED TO HAVE BEEN A SANNYASIN
FOR TEN YEARS AND STILL BE IN THIS STATE. I HESITATE TO ASK FOR
YOUR HELP, BECAUSE EVEN YOUR WORDS BECOME MECHANICAL
IN ME
AFTER A FEW REPETITIONS. WOULD YOU PLEASE COMMENT?
Prem Indivar, it is not yet hopeless enough. Just make it a little more hopeless. There comes a point in hopelessness where you stop hoping.
Hopelessness is still deep down nothing but hope. Let the hope fail completely and totally, and a dramatic experience arises out of that space when you don't have any hope -
- because hope is another name of desire, another name of expectation, another name of ambition. And before you can realize yourself, all desires, all expectations, all ambitions must have failed you, must have left you alone. Hoping nothing, desiring nothing, expecting nothing -- where will you be? There is no way to go out.
Hope is a way of going out, desire is a way of going away, ambition is a way to avoid going in. On the path, to be utterly hopeless, so hopeless that you stop hoping... suddenly you are in -- without taking a single step.
Hope is a kind of opium; it keeps you intoxicated. To tolerate the miserable present, your eyes remain fixed on a faraway star: your hope. Millions of people live without finding themselves -- not because of any sin that Adam and Eve committed, or that they committed in some of their past lives. The sin is that people go on looking in the future and the present goes on passing by. And the present is the only reality; the future is a dream, and howsoever sweet, dreams never come true.
Self-realization is not a dream. It is a realization in the present moment of your own being. So don't be worried; you are on the right path, Prem Indivar -- becoming hopeless.
Go on more and more, exhaust hopelessness. Come to the optimum hopelessness. Then hope disappears automatically.
And when there is no hope, you are. When there is no hope, the present is.
An old spinster died, and her two old friends went to a stone mason to have a gravestone made. "And what message would you like to have on the stone?" asked the mason.
"Well," said one of the old maids, "It's quite simple really. We would likèShe came a virgin, she lived a virgin, and she died a virgin.'"
The mason replied, "You know, you ladies could save a lot of money by just saying,
`Returned unopened.'"
Most of the people return unopened, and nobody is responsible except themselves.
You are asking, "It feels so hopeless.…" Not yet; otherwise even this question would not have arisen. There is still hope. You say, "I feel ashamed to have been a sannyasin for ten years, and still be in this state." That is your ego feeling hurt; otherwise you would feel humble, not ashamed. What is there to be ashamed of?
Life is not a small thing. It is so vast, and we are so small. The ocean is so big, and we have to swim in it just with our own small hands. Only those people who never start swimming and go on standing on the bank looking at others, should feel ashamed. One who has started swimming... ten years is nothing much, even ten lives are short.
One should be so patient. It is your impatience that is feeling ashamed; it is your ego that is feeling ashamed. You should feel humble -- humble before the vastness of existence, humble before the mysteries of life... just humble, a nobody. And in that humbleness, the ocean becomes small and your hands become bigger.
You say, "I hesitate to ask for your help "
You go on saying things which you don't mean. If you really hesitate, then why are you asking? In fact, hesitation is your question. You should ask a little more so that you can open up, so that you can become more exposed. Don't go on hiding yourself. What is the hesitation in asking? And you go on rationalizing everything within yourself; you have rationalized your hesitation.
Everybody hesitates to ask, and the reason and the rationalization are two different things. The reason for feeling hesitation is that one does not want to show one's ignorance, and every question shows your ignorance. One hopes that some other stupid person is going to ask the question, just wait... because the human reality is one, and human problems are one, and the search for oneself is one. So some day somebody is going to ask the question that you cannot gather courage to ask yourself.
But I want you to remember that even in asking there is something valuable. In asking, you are exposing your ignorance; in asking, you are accepting that you don't know; in asking, you are dropping your so-called knowledgeability.
To ask a question is more important than the question itself. The question may be anything -- XYZ -- but the very asking is significant. It brings you closer to me, and it brings you closer to all other sannyasins, the fellow travelers. You don't remain closed, afraid that somebody may know that you know not. Exposing yourself -- that you are ignorant -- all fear disappears. You become more human, and you become more intimate with everyone who is a fellow traveler, because the same is his situation. That is the reason why one hesitates.
But rationalizations are a totally different thing. You rationalize that, "I hesitate to ask for your help because even your words become mechanical in me after a few repetitions."
What is the need of repeating them? One repeats a thing because one wants to make it mechanical. In your mind, there is a robot part; if you repeat a certain thing, the robot part takes it over. Then you don't have to think about it; the robot part goes on doing it. You are unburdened of thinking, you are unburdened of responsibility. And the robot part is very efficient; it is mechanical. It has its use, and it has its misuse.
When you are working in the ordinary world, the day to day world, if you have to remember every day where your house is, who your wife is... if you have to search every day in the crowd looking into every face -- who is your wife? -- it will become a little difficult. The robot part takes over. It knows the way home; you need not think on every turn whether to go right or to go left. You go on listening to the radio, and your hands will go on turning the steering wheel exactly to your own porch.
If one has to think about everything, life will become too clumsy. Once in a while, it happens with a few people, who don't have a very strong robot part -- and these are the people who are very intelligent -- that their whole energy moves into intelligence, and their robot part is left starving.
Thomas Alva Edison is one of the cases to be considered. He was leaving and going to an institute to deliver a lecture on some new scientific project he was working on. Saying goodbye to his wife, he kissed her and waved to his maid. His chauffeur could not believe his eyes -- because he had kissed the maid, and he was waving to the wife. His robot part was very, very small; his whole life energy was devoted to scientific investigations where a robot part is not needed.
One day, he was sitting and working on some calculations, and his wife came with the breakfast. Seeing him so much involved, she left the breakfast by his side, thinking that when he sees it, he will understand why she has not disturbed him. Meanwhile, one of his friends came. Seeing him so much absorbed, he also felt not to disturb him. Having nothing else to do, he ate the breakfast, and left the empty dishes by his side. When Edison looked up and saw his friend, he looked at the empty plate and said, "You came a little late. I have finished my breakfast. We could have shared it."
The friend said, "Don't be worried."
You say that everything becomes mechanical in you after a few repetitions. But why repeat? The repetition is a method to make a thing mechanical. Always do something fresh, something new, if you do not want to get caught in repetitions. But in ordinary life, repetitions are perfectly good.
As you enter into the world of higher consciousness, repetitions are dangerous. There you need always a fresh mind, an innocent mind, which knows nothing and responds to a situation not out of the mechanical, robot part of your mind, but from the very living source of your life.
Here we are not concerned about the mundane world. Our concern is to raise the consciousness.
Don't repeat, don't imitate. Remember one thing: you have to respond always in a fresh way. The situation may be old, but you are not to be old. You have to remain young and fresh. Just try new responses. They will not be as efficient as mechanical responses, but efficiency is not a great value in spiritual life...
freshness is.
A rabbi and a minister were sitting together on a plane. The stewardess came up to them and asked, "Would you care for a cocktail?"
"Sure," said the rabbi. "Please bring a Manhattan." "Fine, sir," said the stewardess. "And you Reverend?"
"Young lady," he said, "before I touch strong drink, I would just as soon commit adultery."
"I've missed," said the rabbi." "As long as there is a choice, I will have what he's having."
People are imitative and imitation is bound to be unintelligent. They want to do exactly the things which others are doing. That destroys their freshness. Do things in your own style; live your life according to your own light. And even if the same situation arises, be alert to find a new response.
It is only a question of a little alertness, and once you have started enjoying... and it is really a great joy to respond to old situations always in a new way, because that newness keeps you young, keeps you conscious, keeps you non- mechanical, keeps you alive.
Don't be repetitive. But when I am saying don't be repetitive, I don't mean in the ordinary life, in the marketplace; there, repetition is the rule. But in the inner world, the freshness of your response is the law.
Question 2 BELOVED OSHO,
I HAVE NOTICED THAT WHEN YOU LEAVE THE DISCOURSE AND PASS
THROUGH THE DOOR, YOU OFTEN LOOK TO YOUR LEFT. ARE YOU SIMPLY
SAYING "HELLO" TO THE GHOST?
I have to. That room, Anando's room, has so many ghosts. I had not told Anando when she came into the room for the first time -- but how long can you hide a fact? The ghosts started declaring themselves. In the middle of the night, they would wake her. They would knock -- she would jump out of her bed. And she was afraid to tell anybody what was the matter. Finally she gathered courage and asked me, "What is the matter?
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, somebody knocks, and if I don't jump up, he tries to pull my leg."
I said, "Nothing to be worried about. It is a very nice assembly of ghosts." I keep them in Anando's room just so they can also listen to the discourse -- in fact, it is their room.
They are not ghosts, they are the hosts -- Anando is the guest. But she was very much afraid I said, "You don't be afraid. Start introducing yourself to them."
She said, "But what will others think?"
I said, "Nobody is there in the middle of the night."
She said, "That's right." So she introduced herself: "I'm a nice Australian girl and I don't want any trouble." And now she has even started making a bed in the bathroom, in the bathtub, with cozy blankets and many clothes for the ghosts, so they can rest there.
I have to pass that room just because of those fellows. Just a "hello" is needed. And now it has become known to a few people. Milarepa is asking, "Why, when you enter the room, do you look to the left and say, `Hello'?" Mukta has even approached Anando to say, "I enjoy the company of ghosts. I would like to invite them for tea -- just to be friendly with them."
But Anando is very much afraid. She has to talk to them every night. I have asked her whether they answer. She said, "They never answer."
I said, "They will not answer because they don't exist. You have to create them; it is a very creative dimension."
Nirupa became interested, because everybody wants to know mysterious things. She stayed with Anando, and she also heard the knocks. She said, "My God,
they are!" But in fact, all those knocks are made by Milarepa. It is by arrangement with me, just to keep a place in the commune for nice ghosts.
You can create ghosts very easily. Anything else is very difficult because it needs some material. Ghosts are absolutely immaterial. It just needs a good imagination, and Anando has a good imagination. And it is a good exercise to talk to the ghosts, because you can be more truthful than you can be with human beings -- it is a good meditation. You can tell them secrets which you cannot tell to anybody else, because they are not going to spread rumors. You can trust them; they are your own creation.
Slowly, slowly, Anando will make it a meditation -- it is becoming one by and by. I am giving her as much encouragement as possible. There is nothing to be afraid of, because ghosts don't exist anywhere -- Anando's room included. But to have a good company of ghosts, and to talk with them, can be transformed into a meditation, as if you are talking to your own different selves.
Every man has many selves. He can make each self a ghost, and then it is easy to talk to them. And just one step more -- talk from your side and answer from his side. Between this conversation, between you and the non-existential ghost, you will find treasures hidden within yourself, secrets and mysteries of which you were not aware before.
So Anando's room is a special room. When you walk through it, never forget to say hello to the ghosts.
Goldstein applies for membership in the Communist Party, and he is requested to answer a few questions.
"Who was Karl Marx?"
"I don't know," replies Goldstein. "Lenin?"
"Sorry, I don't know him either." "What about Leonid Brezhnev?" "Never heard of him."
"Are you playing games with me?" asked the official. "Not at all," says Goldstein. "Do you know Herschel Salzberg?"
"No," says the official.
"What about Yankl Horovitch?" "Never heard of him."
"Sammy Davidovitch?" "No."
"Well," says Goldstein, "I guess that's the way it goes. You have got your friends, I have got mine."
People think Anando lives alone -- she has such a beautiful congregation! Right now I am telling her to have some conversations, and soon you will see her addressing the congregation. There will be nobody, but she will enjoy her own revelations. And one thing is good about ghosts: you can say anything to them, in any language; right or wrong, it does not matter.
Ghosts are almost like God. People are praying all over the world every morning, every evening, to a god. And it is not that their prayer is absolutely useless -- although there is no God. If they are praying with tears in their eyes and love in their hearts, and a feeling of gratitude surrounding them, whether God exists or not is not the point. The prayer changes the person. It gives him a new experience. God was just an excuse.
So are the ghosts of Anando's room an excuse for her to stand up and address the congregation. I think tonight she's going to do it, and enjoy it, and tell those poor fellows... because they are so old. Somebody may have died thousands of years before.
Just visualize a few skeletons sitting around you -- it is an exercise in visualization -- and then start addressing them, "Brothers and sisters " And you
will not be surprised that they applaud, they laugh, at exactly the right moments.
Milarepa has another question. He is afraid that Anando's ghosts are just underneath his room, and someday they may start moving around the house. You
need not be afraid, Milarepa, because I have asked a few ghosts... they are afraid of you! So you remain courageous. Even if you feel some ghost has entered, behave as if nobody has entered.
Go on playing on your guitar a little louder. Ghosts don't particularly like the contemporary music because they are not contemporary -- they are very classical people.
Two Italians were watching a jet fly overhead. "Hey, that's-a the pope up-a there," declared one. "How you know-a that?" asked the other.
"That's-a easy" replies the first. "The airplane-a, said TWA on it. That means Top Wop Aboard."
Milarepa, you can write on your door TWA: Top Wap Aboard. And don't be afraid of the ghosts. I am always here. If some ghost plays tricks on you, you can just inform me, because I have such an intimacy with everything in life -- ghosts and gods, trees and rivers, mountains and clouds -- that I will prevent them... Don't Disturb the Musician!
You are allowed to be present in the court of Anando. She is my legal secretary, and if you want to learn about law, she can teach you things. I don't think that any ghost is interested in things like law -- so technical. But they are interested in Anando. She is very juicy!
Question 3 BELOVED OSHO,
WHEN I SAW YOU THE OTHER MORNING, YOU SEEMED SO TOTALLY
FRESH, SO NEW, SO RADIANT -- DEEPER, AND HIGHER, AND VASTER THAN
EVER BEFORE. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU IN THESE DAYS OF SILENCE?
Anand Suresh, there are many things that have not been told by the mystics to people, just so that they don't freak out. One of the things is the moment you become aware, conscious, reaches which were unknown to you before become available. Your contact with the body becomes loose, particularly after enlightenment.
The general understanding is that you will be more healthy. You are in an inner sense more healthy, but as far as your body is concerned, you become more fragile. So whenever I have a great opportunity of being sick, I use it -- just resting under my blankets, being utterly silent. I love to be sick, to tell you the truth, because then I can sleep twenty hours, at least. It is sleep to the outside people; but to me it is a deep meditation.
So, because both my arms and their joints are in bad shape, I cannot even participate in your rejoicing and in your music. I have been resting completely. And whatever I do, I do totally. That may have given you the idea that I looked "totally fresh, new, radiant --
deeper and higher and vaster than ever before."
I am always the same. But as you become more and more centered inward, even to look outside is a strain on the eyes, even to speak a word is a strain because effort has to be made. Otherwise the silence cannot be translated in any way and conveyed to you.
So whenever I get some chance.… For example, when I was in American jails for twelve days, all I did was sleep for twenty hours, waking up twice to take a bath and to eat something, and then go to sleep again. When I came out of the jail, the jailer said, "You are my first experience of someone... from when you entered, till now when you are coming out, I can compare: You are looking so radiant, so fresh."
I said to him, "Jail life suits me!" He said, "What?"
I said, "Yes, because there is no disturbance."
Each of your presidents, your prime ministers, your senate members should be given a chance every year, at least for twelve days, to be in jail. They will all feel
nourished.
They just have to know the art: take it easily. Easy is right.
An American from Texas is visiting France, and feeling thirsty, he stops at a house along the road. "Can you give me a drink of water?" asked the Texan.
"Of course," says the Frenchman. "What do you do?" asks the Texan.
"I raise a few chickens," says the Frenchman.
"Really," says the Texan. "I'm also a farmer. How much land do you have?"
"Well," says the Frenchman. "Out front it is fifty meters, as you can see, and in the back we have close to a hundred meters of property. And what about your place?"
"Well," says the Texan proudly. "On my ranch, I have breakfast, and I get into the car, and I drive and drive, and I don't reach the end of the ranch until dinnertime."
"Really," replied the Frenchman. "I once had a car like that." It all depends how you take it.
Margaret Thatcher, Francois Mitterand, and Ronald Reagan were lunching together.
Naturally, they talked about their respective heartaches.
Margaret Thatcher said, "I have thirteen undercover agents and one of them is a double agent, but I don't know which."
Mitterand spoke up, "I have thirteen mistresses and one of them is cheating on me, but I don't know which."
Reagan said, "I have thirteen cabinet ministers, and one of them is intelligent -- but I don't which."
Okay, Maneesha? Yes, Osho.
The Golden Future Chapter #16
Chapter title: Life is an eternal incarnation 19 May 1987 pm in Chuang Tzu Auditorium Archive
code:
8705195
ShortTitle:
GOLDEN16
Audio:
Yes Video:
Yes Length:
106
mins Question 1
BELOVED OSHO,
SOMETIMES IN DISCOURSE, I SUDDENLY COME TO CONSCIOUSNESS
AND
REALIZE THAT I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'VE BEEN, AND YET THE DISCOURSE
IS COMING TO A CLOSE. YOUR WORDS WERE COMING THROUGH, BUT I'M
NOT SURE IF I WAS AWAKE. IF I'M NOT CONSCIOUS, AM I ASLEEP? ARE
THESE THE ONLY TWO POSSIBILITIES? IS THERE SOME STAGE IN- BETWEEN? HOW TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE?
Mary Catherine, the question you have asked is the question everybody needs the answer for. Man is asleep, but it is no ordinary sleep; he is asleep with open eyes. His sleep is spiritual, not physical.
Just as in physical sleep your consciousness is filled with dreams, in spiritual sleep your consciousness is filled with thoughts, desires, feelings -- a thousand and one things.
It is not that you are unconscious in the sense of being in a coma; you are unconscious in the sense that your consciousness is covered with too much dust. It is exactly like a mirror: if covered with many layers of dust, it will lose the quality of reflecting, will lose the quality of being a mirror. But the mirror is there; all that is needed is to remove the dust. Your consciousness is there -- even while you are physically asleep your consciousness is there, but now more covered than when you are awake.
You are asking, "If I'm not conscious, am I asleep? Are these the only two possibilities?
Is there some stage in between? How to tell the difference?"
You are not unconscious in the sense a person falls into a coma; you are not conscious in the sense a Gautam Buddha is conscious. You are in between. A thick layer of thoughts does not allow you to be in the present. That's why, while you are listening to me, you are listening and yet the listening is very superficial
-- because deep down there are so many thoughts going on. You are listening but it is not reaching you, and as I stop speaking, suddenly you realize that you have been listening, certainly, but you have not understood it. It has not penetrated you; it has not become part of your being. Something has prevented it, like a China Wall. Those thoughts are transparent, but they are thicker than any China Wall can be.
You are neither asleep nor awake, you are in between -- awake as far as your day to day mechanical activities are concerned, and asleep as far as a clear consciousness is concerned. A pure consciousness, a deep innocence like an unclouded sky, is absent.
The pope was sitting with his cardinals signing papers and proclamations. The phone rang and his secretary answered. "Your holiness," she said. "It is about the abortion bill.
A reporter wants to talk to you."
"Don't bother me," the pope interrupted.
"But he wants to know what you are going to do about the bill." "Just pay it," the pope replied. "Pay it quick!"
In what position will you put the pope? Asleep or awake? He is in between; he has heard the word bill, but he has interpreted it in his own way. He has forgotten completely that the bill is about abortion, and certainly he has not been aborted, and he has not to pay any bill.
But this is the situation of us all. We hear what we want to hear; we hear only that which adjusts with our preconceived notions, prejudices.
You will be surprised to know... the scientific research is almost unbelievable: it says ninety-eight percent of what you hear is prevented from reaching to you -- ninety-eight percent! Only two percent reaches you. It has to pass through so many thoughts, conceptions, beliefs, conditionings, and they go on cutting it according to themselves. By the time it reaches you, it is something totally different than was said, than was heard. It is a long process of screening, and we are all screening. If something falls in tune with our mind -- that means with our past -- we hear it. But if it goes against it, we certainly hear the sound but we
miss the meaning.
To listen is a great art.
People only hear; very few people are able to listen.
One man had reached Gautam Buddha. He was a well-known philosopher of the day and he had defeated many philosophers in discussions about the ultimate, the truth, God. He had come to defeat Gautam Buddha too -- that would be the crowning victory. He had brought with him five hundred chosen disciples to see Gautam Buddha defeated.
But Gautam Buddha asked a very strange question. He asked, "Do you understand the meaning and the difference between hearing and listening?"
The man was at a loss. He had come to discuss great things, and this was a small matter.
And there was no difference... as far as language is concerned, dictionaries are concerned, hearing is listening. The man said, "There is no difference at all, and I had hoped you would not ask such an ordinary question."
Gautam Buddha said, "There is a great difference. And unless you understand the difference, there is no possibility of any dialogue. I will say something; you will hear something else. So if you really want to have a dialogue with me, sit by my side for two years. Don't speak a single word, just listen. Whatever I'm telling others, be unconcerned; I'm not telling you. So you need not be worried about whether it is true or untrue, whether you have to accept it or not. You are just a witness; your opinion is not required.
"After two years, you can have the dialogue, the discussion you have come for. And I would love to be defeated, so this is not to postpone defeat; it is just to make the dialogue possible."
At that very moment, Mahakashyap -- a great disciple of Gautam Buddha; perhaps the greatest -- laughed. He was sitting under a tree far away, and the philosopher thought,
"That man seems to be mad. Why is he laughing?"
Buddha said, "Mahakashyap, this is not mannerly; even for an enlightened man this is not right."
Mahakashyap said, "I don't care about right and wrong; I'm just feeling sorry for the poor philosopher."
And he turned to the philosopher and said to him, "If you want to have a discussion, have it right now; after two years, there will be just silence and no dialogue. This man is not trustworthy. He deceived me; I also came with the same idea as you, to defeat him, and he cheated me. He said, `Sit down for two years by my side, and listen. Learn first the art of listening. And because you are not concerned at all, your mind need not function.'
"And two years is a long time; the mind starts forgetting how to think, how to function.
The very presence of Gautam Buddha is so peaceful, so silent, that one starts rejoicing in the silence. And to listen to his words... which are not addressed to you, so you are not worried whether they agree with your prejudices, your philosophy, your religion -- with you -- or not. You are indifferent. You listen to him as if you are listening to the birds singing in the morning when the sun rises.
"And two years... the mind disappears. And although those words are not addressed to you, they start reaching to your heart. Because the mind is silent, the passage is open --
the door is open, the heart welcomes them. So if you want to ask anything, if you want to challenge this man, challenge now. I don't want to see another man cheated again."
Gautam Buddha said, "It is up to you; if you want to defeat me now, I declare my defeat.
There is no need to talk. Why waste time? You are victorious. But if you really want to have a dialogue with me, then I'm not asking much, just two years to learn the art of listening."
The man remained for two years, and even forgot completely that after two years he had to challenge Gautam Buddha for a debate. He forgot the whole calendar. Days passed, months passed, seasons came and went away, and after two years
he was enjoying the silence so much that he had no idea that two years had passed.
It has to be remembered that time is a very elastic thing. When you are in suffering, time becomes longer; suddenly all the watches and clocks of the world start moving slowly --
a great conspiracy against a poor man who is in suffering. Time moves so slowly that sometimes one feels as if it has stopped.
You are sitting by the side of someone you love who is dying, in the middle of the night; it seems time has stopped, that this night is not going to end, that your idea that all nights end was a fallacy... this night is not going to have a dawn, because time is not moving.
And when you are joyful -- when you meet a friend after many years, when you meet a beloved, a lover for whom you have waited long -- suddenly, again the conspiracy. All the clocks, all the watches, start moving faster; hours go like minutes, days go like hours, months go like weeks. Time is elastic: time is relative to your inner condition.
The man had enjoyed those two years of silence so deeply that he could not conceive that two years had passed. Suddenly, Buddha himself asked him, "Have you forgotten completely? Two years have passed; this is the day you had come two years ago. Now if you want to challenge me to a debate, I'm ready."
The man fell to the feet of Gautam Buddha.
And Mahakashyap laughed again, and said, "I had told you, but nobody listens to me. I have been sitting under this tree for almost twenty years, preventing people from falling into the trap of this man; but nobody listens to me. They fall into the trap, and each person gives me two occasions to laugh."
The man went, after touching Gautam Buddha's feet, to touch the feet of Mahakashyap too, saying, "I am grateful to you. I have learned the distinction between hearing and listening. Hearing had made me a great knowledgeable man, and listening has made me innocent, silent -- a peace that passeth understanding. I don't have any questions, and I don't have any answers; I am utterly silent. All questions have disappeared, all answers have disappeared. Can I also sit by your side under the tree?" he asked Mahakashyap.
Mahakashyap said, "No, I don't accept disciples; that is the business of Gautam Buddha --
you just go there. Don't crowd around my tree, because even here there is nothing to listen to, only once in a while a laughter when somebody comes and I see that he's falling into the trap. You have fallen into the trap; now be initiated, become a sannyasin."
Not only did the man become a sannyasin, his five hundred followers who were also sitting and listening for two years, had also become silent.
Mary Catherine, you are well-educated; perhaps too much -- well-read; perhaps too much. Your mind is so full of thoughts. Those thoughts are creating a state which is neither consciousness nor unconsciousness. Everything seems to be so full of noise in you that if I shout, perhaps my words may reach you -- but what about my whispers? And truth cannot be shouted, it can only be whispered. In fact, it can be said only in silence; even whispering is too much verbiage.
Put your educated mind aside. Here you have to be innocent, like small children playing on the beach making castles of sand, running after butterflies, collecting seashells, looking at everything with so much wonder that each and every thing in existence becomes a mystery.
Listening to me is only a beginning; then you have to listen to the trees, to the mountains, to the moon, to the faraway stars -- they all have messages for you. To the sunrises, to the sunsets... they all have been waiting for so long. Once you start listening, the whole existence starts speaking to you. Right now you only speak to yourself, and nobody listens.
Three Soviet citizens -- a Pole, a Czech, and a Jew -- were accused of spying and sentenced to death. Each was granted a last wish.
"I want my ashes scattered over the grave of Karl Marx," said the Pole. "I want my ashes scattered over the grave of Lenin," said the Czech.
"And I," said the Jew, "want my ashes scattered over the grave of Comrade Gorbachev."
"But that is impossible!" he was told. "Gorbachev is not dead yet."
"Fine," said the Jew, "I can wait." You should not wait.
Start from this moment to listen, to be silent, because the next moment is not certain.
Gorbachev may die, may not die. Tomorrow it may not be so easy as it is today, because in twenty-four hours you will have gathered more garbage in your head; so the sooner the better, because you cannot sit silently. If you don't start now, you will be doing something or other.…
Don't postpone it. Every postponement is suicidal -- particularly of those experiences which belong to the beyond.
Question 2 BELOVED OSHO,
IN WESTERN SOCIETY, AT LEAST, YOUTH IS CONSIDERED TO BE
EVERYTHING, AND TO A CERTAIN EXTENT, IT SEEMS THIS IS AS IT SHOULD
BE IF WE ARE TO CONTINUE GROWING IN EVERY DIMENSION OF LIFE. BUT
THE NATURAL COROLLARY OF THAT IS THAT AS ONE MOVES AWAY FROM
YOUTH, BIRTHDAYS ARE NO LONGER A CAUSE FOR CONGRATULATIONS, BUT ARE AN EMBARRASSING AND UNAVOIDABLE FACT OF LIFE. IT
BECOMES IMPOLITE TO ASK SOMEONE THEIR AGE; GRAY HAIR IS DYED, TEETH CAPPED OR REPLACED ENTIRELY, DEMORALIZED BREASTS AND
FACES HAVE TO BE LIFTED, TUMMIES MADE TAUT, AND VARICOSE VEINS
SUPPORTED -- BUT UNDER COVER. YOU CERTAINLY DON'T TAKE IT AS A COMPLIMENT IF SOMEONE TELLS YOU THAT YOU LOOK YOUR AGE. BUT
MY EXPERIENCE IS THAT AS I BECOME OLDER, EACH YEAR IS ONLY
BETTER AND BETTER; YET NOBODY TOLD ME THIS WOULD BE SO, AND
YOU NEVER HEAR PEOPLE SINGING THE PRAISES OF GROWING OLDER.
WOULD YOU, FOR THE BENEFIT OF YOUR MIDDLE-AGED SANNYASINS, SPEAK ON THE JOYS OF GROWING OLDER?
Maneesha, the question you have asked implies many things. First, the Western mind is conditioned by the idea that you have only one life -- seventy years, and youth will never come again. In the West, the spring comes only once; naturally, there is a deep desire to cling as long as possible, to pretend in every possible way that you are still young.
In the East, the older person was always valued, respected. He was more experienced, he had seen many, many seasons coming and going; he had lived through all kinds of experiences, good and bad. He had become seasoned; he was no more immature. He had a certain integrity that comes only with age. He was not childish, carrying his teddy bears; he was not young, still fooling around thinking that this was love.
He had passed through all these experiences, had seen that beauty fades; he has seen that everything comes to an end, that everything is moving towards the grave. From the very moment he left the cradle, there was only one way -- and it is from cradle to the grave.
You cannot go anywhere else; you cannot go astray even if you try. You will reach to the grave whatever you do.
The old man was respected, loved; he had attained a certain purity of the heart because he had lived through desires, and seen that every desire leads to frustration. Those desires are past memories. He had lived in all kinds of relationships, and had seen that every kind of relationship turns into hell. He had
passed through all the dark nights of the soul. He had attained a certain aloofness
-- the purity of an observer. He was no longer interested in participating in any football game. Just living his life, he had come to a transcendence; hence, he was respected, his wisdom was respected.
But in the East, the idea has been that life is not just a small piece of seventy years in which youth comes only once. The idea has been that just as in existence everything moves eternally -- the summer comes, the rains come, the winter comes, and the summer again; everything moves like a wheel -- life is not an exception.
Death is the end of one wheel and the beginning of another. Again you will be a child, and again you will be young, and again you will be old. It has been so since the beginning, and it is going to be so to the very end -- until you become so enlightened that you can jump out of the vicious circle and can enter into a totally different law. From individuality, you can jump into the universal. So there was no hurry, and there was no clinging.
The West is based on the Judaic tradition which believes only in one life. Christianity is only a branch of the Jews. Jesus was a Jew, born a Jew, lived a Jew, died a Jew; he never knew that he was a Christian. If you meet him somewhere and greet him with, `Hello, Jesus Christ', he will not recognize who you are addressing because he never knew that his name is Jesus and he never knew that he is Christ. His name was Joshua, a Hebrew name, and he was a messiah of God, not a Christ. Jesus Christ is a translation in Greek from Hebrew. Mohammedanism is also a by-product of the same tradition -- the Jews.
These three religions believe in one life. To believe in one life is very dangerous because it does not give you chances to make mistakes, it does not give you chances to have enough experience of anything; you are always in a hurry.
The whole Western mind has become the mind of a tourist who is carrying two, three cameras, and rushing to photograph everything because he only has a three-week visa.
And in three weeks, he has to cover the whole country -- all the great monuments. There is no time for him to see them directly; he will see them at home, at ease, in his album.
Whenever I remember the tourists, I see the old women rushing from one place
to another
-- from Ajanta to Ellora, from Taj Mahal to Kashmir -- in a hurry, because life is short.
It is only the Western mind which has created the proverb that time is money. In the East, things go slowly; there is no hurry -- one has the whole of eternity. We have been here and we will be here again, so what is the hurry? Enjoy everything with intensity and totality.
So, one thing: because of the idea of one single life, the West has become too concerned about being young, and then everything is done to remain young as long as possible, to prolong the process. That creates hypocrisy, and that destroys an authentic growth. It does not allow you to become really wise in your old age, because you hate old age; old age reminds you only of death, nothing else. Old age means the full stop is not far away; you have come to the terminus -- just one whistle more, and the train will stop.
I had an agreement with my grandfather. He loved his feet to be massaged, and I had told him, "Remember, when I say `comma,' that means be alert; the semi- colon is coming close. When I say `semi-colon,' get ready because the full stop is coming close. And once I say `full stop,' I mean it." So he was so much afraid of "comma" that when I would say,
"Comma," he would say, "It is okay, but let the semi-colon be a little longer. Don't make it short and quick!"
Old age simply reminds you, in the West, that a full stop is coming close -- prolong the semi-colon. And who are you trying to deceive? If you have recognized that youth is no longer there, you can go on deceiving the whole world. But you are not young, you are simply being ridiculous.
I have heard... two so-called young people got married -- so-called because both were pretending to be young; youth had gone down the drain a long, long time ago. They went for a honeymoon with suitcases, with the tags, "Just married." But both were afraid.
There was no joy on their faces, only the fear of exposure.
Immediately they entered the hotel room, and closed the doors; the man
immediately got into bed, under the blanket, and told the wife, "Put the light off while you are in the bathroom. I will wait in darkness; I like darkness."
The wife said, "Why do you like darkness? I cannot, because you are a stranger to me.
We just met on the beach; I don't know who you are, you don't know who I am. I want to keep the light on the whole night."
The man said, "I will not be able to sleep."
The woman said, "But at least until I come out of the bathroom, keep the light on."
And that struggle is always the beginning of every honeymoon, the fight.… Because the woman started insisting, "Why you are so stubborn that the light should be put out?"
The man said, "You are going to know anyway, so what is the point of fighting?" He threw the blanket away and showed that one of his legs was false.
He said, "I did not want you to know it." The woman said, "But it is good."
She threw off her wig, took out her teeth, and told the man, "My breasts are also false. So now there is no need to be afraid of the light."
He said, "Now there is no need to be afraid of anything. Now just come on, have a headache, and go to sleep; the honeymoon is over."
People are trying to remain young, but they don't know that the very fear of losing youth does not allow you to live it in its totality.
And secondly, the fear of losing youth does not allow you to accept old age with grace.
You miss both youth -- its joy, its intensity -- and you also miss the grace, and the wisdom, and the peace that old age brings. But the whole thing is based on a
false conception of life.
Unless the West changes the idea that there is only one life, this hypocrisy, this clinging, and this fear cannot be changed.
In fact, one life is not all; you have lived many times, and you will live many times more.
Hence, live each moment as totally as possible; there is no hurry to jump to another moment. Time is not money, time is inexhaustible; it is available to the poor as much as to the rich. The rich are not richer as far as time is concerned, and the poor are not poorer.
Life is an eternal incarnation.
What appears on the surface is very deep-rooted in the religions of the West. They are very miserly in giving you only seventy years. If you try to work it out, almost one third of your life will be lost in sleep, one third of your life will have to be wasted in earning food, clothes, housing. Whatever little is left has to be given to education, football matches, movies, stupid quarrels, fights. If you can save, in seventy years' time, seven minutes for yourself, I will count you a wise man.
But it is difficult to save even seven minutes in your whole life; so how can you find yourself? How can you know the mystery of your being, of your life? How can you understand that death is not an end?
Because you have missed experiencing life itself, you are going to miss the great experience of death, too; otherwise, there is nothing to be afraid of in death. It is a beautiful sleep, a dreamless sleep, a sleep that is needed for you to move into another body, silently and peacefully. It is a surgical phenomenon; it is almost like anesthesia.
Death is a friend, not a foe.
Once you understand death as a friend, and start living life without any fear that it is only a very small time span of seventy years -- if your perspective opens to the eternity of your life -- then everything will slow down; then there is no need to be speedy.
In everything, people are simply rushing. I have seen people taking their office bag, pushing things into it, kissing their wife, not seeing whether she is their wife or somebody else; and saying goodbye to their children. This is not the way of living! And where are you reaching with this speed?
I have heard about a young couple who had purchased a new car, and they were going full speed.
The wife was telling the husband again and again, "Where are we going?" Because women are still old-minded, "Where are we going?"
And the man said, "Stop bothering me, just enjoy the speed we are going with. The real question is not where we are going; the real question is with what great speed we are going?"
Speed has become more important than the destination, and speed has become more important because life is so short. You have to do so many things that unless you do everything with speed, you cannot manage. You cannot sit silently even for a few minutes -- it seems a wastage. In those few minutes you could have earned a few bucks.
Just wasting time closing your eyes, and what is there inside you? If you really want to know, you can go to any hospital and see a skeleton. That is what is inside you. Why are you unnecessarily getting into trouble by looking in? Looking in, you will find a skeleton.
And once you have seen your skeleton, life will become more difficult; kissing your wife, you know perfectly well what is happening -- two skeletons. Somebody just needs to invent x-ray glasses, so people can put on x-ray glasses and see all around skeletons laughing. Most probably, he will not be alive to take his glasses off; so many skeletons laughing is enough to stop anybody's heartbeat.… "My God, this is the reality! And this is what all these mystics have been telling people, `Look inwards' -- avoid them!"
The West has no tradition of mysticism. It is extrovert: look outward, there is so much to see. But they are not aware that inside there is not only the skeleton; there is something more within the skeleton. That is your consciousness. By closing your eyes you will not come across the skeleton; you will come across your very life source.
The West needs a deep acquaintance with its own life source, then there will be no hurry.
One will enjoy when life brings youth, one will enjoy when life brings old age and one will enjoy when life brings death. You simply know one thing -- how to enjoy everything that you come across, how to transform it into a celebration.
I call the authentic religion the art of transforming everything into a celebration, into a song, into a dance.
An old man walked into a health clinic and told the doctor, "You have got to do something to lower my sex drive." The doctor took one look at the feeble old man and said, "Now, now sir, I have got the feeling that your sex drive is all in your head."
"That's what I mean sonny," the old man said. "I have got to lower it a little."
Even the old man is wanting to be a playboy. It shows one thing with certainty -- that he has not lived his youth with totality. He has missed his youth, and he is still thinking about it. Now he cannot do anything about it, but his whole mind is continuously thinking about the days he had in youth which have not been lived; at that time he was in a hurry.
If he had lived his youth, he would be free in his old age of all repressions, sexuality; there would be no need for him to drop his sexual instinct. It disappears, it evaporates in living. One just has to live uninhibited, without any interference from your religions, from your priests and it disappears; otherwise, when you are young you are in church, and when you are old, you are reading the playboy by hiding it in your HOLY BIBLE.
Every HOLY BIBLE is used only for one purpose, hiding magazines like playboy, so you are not caught by children -- it is embarrassing.
I have heard of three men, old men. One is seventy, the other is eighty and the third is ninety. They are all old friends, retired, who used to go for a walk and sit on a bench in the park, and have all kinds of gossips.
One day the youngest of the three, the seventy year old man, looked a little sad. The second one, the eighty year old, asked, "What is the matter? You are looking very sad."
He said, "I am feeling very guilty. It will help me to unburden myself if I tell you. It is an incident. A beautiful lady was taking a bath. She was a guest in our house, and I was looking through the keyhole and my mother caught hold of me."
Both the old friends laughed; they said, "You are an idiot. Everybody does such things in childhood."
He said, "It is not a question of childhood; it happened today."
The second man said, "Then it is really serious. But I will tell you something which has been happening to me for three days, and I am keeping it like a stone, a rock on my heart.
Continuously for three days my wife has refused to love me." The first man said, "That is really very bad."
But the third, the oldest laughed and he said, "First you ask him what does he mean by love?"
So he asked, and the second old man said, "Nothing much. Don't make me feel more embarrassed. It is a simple process. I hold my wife's hand and press it three times, then she goes to sleep and I go to sleep. But for three days, whenever I try to hold her hand, she says, `Not today, not today! Feel ashamed; you are old enough -- not today!' so for three days I have not loved.
The third old man said, "This is nothing. What has been happening to me I must confess, because you are young and it will help you in your future. Last night, as the night was passing and the morning was coming closer, I started to make preparations to make love to my wife and she said to me, `What are you trying to do you idiot?' I said, `What am I trying to do? I am simply trying to make love to you,' and she said, `This is the third time in the night; neither you sleep nor you allow me to sleep. Love, love, love.' So I think it seems I am losing my memory. Your problems are nothing; I have lost my memory."
If you listen to old people, you will be surprised; they are talking only of things which they should have lived, but the time has passed when it was possible to live them. At that time they were reading the Holy Bible and listening to the priest.
Those priests and those holy scriptures have corrupted people, because they have given them ideas against nature and they cannot allow them to live naturally.
If we need a new humanity, we will have to erase the whole past and start everything anew. And the first basic principle will be: allow everybody, help everybody, teach everybody to live according to his nature, not according to any ideals, and live totally and intensely without any fear. Then children will enjoy their childhood, the young people will enjoy their youth and the old people will have the grace that comes naturally, out of a whole life lived naturally.
Unless your old age is graceful and wise and full of light and joy, contentment, fulfillment, a blissfulness... in your very presence, unless flowers blossom and there is a fragrance of eternity, then it is certain that you have lived. If it is not happening that way, that means somewhere you have gone astray, somewhere you have listened to the priests, who are the corrupters, the criminals, somewhere you have gone against nature; and nature takes revenge. And its revenge is to destroy your old age and make it ugly -- ugly to others and ugly in your own eyes. Otherwise old age has a beauty which even youth cannot have.
Youth has a maturity, but it is unwise. It has too much foolishness in it; it is amateurish.
Old age has given the last touches to the paintings of his own life. And when one has given the last touches, one is ready to die joyously, dancingly. One is ready to welcome death.
Okay, Maneesha Yes, Osho.
The Golden Future Chapter #17
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