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  1. When you accidentally delete anything , you can bring it back by pressing ctrl + z , immediately.
  2. @John Iverson Ordinarily what we call time is not real time. It is chronological time. So remember that time can be divided, classified, in three ways. One is "chronological," another is "psychological," and the third is "real." The chronological time is clock time. It is utilitarian; it is not real. It is just a belief agreed upon by the society. We have agreed to divide the day into twenty-four hours. It is very arbitrary that the earth moves in one complete circle on its axis in twenty-four hours; we have decided to divide it into twenty-four. Then we have decided to divide each hour into sixty minutes. There is no intrinsic necessity to divide it that way. Some other civilization may divide it in a different way. We can divide the hour into a hundred minutes and nobody is going to prevent us. Then each minute we have divided into sixty seconds. That too is arbitrary, just utilitarian. It is clock time. It is needed; otherwise society will fall apart. Clock time will stop immediately if man is not there; so it is man-created, a social by-product. A primitive man has no use for a watch. If you present him a watch, he will be simply puzzled, for what? What is he going to do with it? A civilized man cannot live without a watch. Deep down from chronological, just underneath it, is another time which is not real, but more real than the chronological time; that is psychological time. There is a clock, biological clock, within you. After each twenty-eight days, the menstruation comes. The body functions like an inner clock, a-biological clock. If you watch, then you will see the hunger comes at a certain time every day. If you are well and healthy, then needs fall into a certain pattern, and that pattern is repeated. It is only broken when you are not well; otherwise the body moves on smoothly, runs in a smooth pattern. And if you are aware of that pattern, you will be more alive than the man who lives by the dock. You are closer to reality. The chronological time is fixed, it has to be fixed, because it is a social necessity; but the psychological time is fluid, it is not so solid, because each person has his own psychology, his Own mind. Have you watched? When you are happy, time goes fast. Your clock will not go fast; the clock has nothing to do with you. It moves at its own pace -- in sixty seconds it moves one minute, in sixty minutes it moves one hour. It will continue; whether you are happy or unhappy doesn't matter. If you are unhappy your mind will be in a different time; if you are happy your mind will be in a different time. If suddenly your beloved comes, unexpectedly knocks at the door, time will almost stop. Hours will pass -- you may not be doing anything, just holding hands and sitting and looking at the moon -- hours will pass, and it will look as if only minutes have passed. Time goes very, very fast when you are happy. When you are unhappy -- somebody has died, somebody you loved, death has happened -- then time goes very, very, very slowly. Psychological time is personal, and each has his own. If you are happy, your sense of time slows down. If you are unhappy time lengthens. If you are deep in meditation time stops. In fact in the East we have been measuring states of mind through time. If time stops completely, then the state is of bliss. If time slows down very much, then the state of misery. In Christianity it is said that hell is eternal. Chronological time corresponds to the body, psychological time to the mind, real time to your being. Chronological time is the extroverted mind, psychological time is the introverted mind, and real time is no-mind. No, time -- real time -- is not a process. It is a simultaneity. Future, past, present are not three separate things; so there is no need to join them. It is eternal now, it is eternity. It is not that time is passing by, by your side. Because we cannot see the total time -- our eyes are confined, limited; we are looking out of small slits -- that's why it seems you can see only one moment at a time. It is your limitation, not a division of time. Because you cannot see the whole time as it is -- because you are not whole yet -- that's why. If you bring your samadhi consciousness to the process of time -- to the moment which is, to the moment that is gone, to the moment that is to come -- if you bring your samadhi, suddenly, the knowledge of ultimate reality, because the moment you look with samadhi the distinction between present, future, and past disappears. They dissolve. The distinction is false. Suddenly you become aware of eternity. Then time is a simultaneity. ~ OSHO
  3. @Hero in progress AND KNOW THAT I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS, YES, TO THE END OF TIME He was perfectly right. He is with you until the end of the world, but ARE YOU WITH HIM? – that is the point. The sun is there, and it is there always, but if you are sitting with closed eyes, what does it matter whether the sun is there or not? You can sit inside your room with all the windows and doors closed, with a blindfold on your eyes – you will be living in darkness. When Jesus says ’AND KNOW THAT I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD’ he is simply saying: Whenever you want you can partake of me. I am available. He is available. If you ask, it shall be given; if you knock, the door shall be opened unto you; if you seek, you will find. If you are ready to partake, the Master will pour his whole being into you. But it is not a kind of responsibility. He is not a missionary. He is not after you! He is not bent upon redeeming you. That’s why I say he has no responsibility. He is responsive. Whenever you are ready to take, you will always find him ready to give. But there is no anxiety in his mind. If you decide to be ignorant, it is perfectly your freedom. If you decide to remain in the world, if you decide to remain in the imprisonment, that’s perfectly your choice. It is not his ambition to free you. Nobody can free you against your own will; only you can free yourself. Yes, you can partake of all kinds of help that a Master makes available... Even while he was alive he was not burdened by any responsibility. But the disciple’s mind always creates such kinds of bondages. The disciple would like the Master to be responsible so that the Master becomes answerable, so that the disciple can claim. ’If I am not redeemed yet you are responsible!’ This is a trick of the disciple to protect himself and to throw the responsibility on the Master’s head. And then you can go on living the way you want to live, because what else can you do? You have accepted Jesus as your Master, now it is HIS responsibility. Millions of Christians are thinking in their minds that they can do all kinds of things, whatsoever they want, and finally Jesus is going to redeem them. On the Day of Judgement he will he standing there, and he will call to all his Christians ’These are my children. Come and stand behind me.’ And all the Christians will be standing behind Christ, and will enter into heaven with flying flags. And all others will go into hell... obviously. Those who are not with Christ – they will go to hell. And that is the idea of everybody. The Mohammedan thinks the same: that only those who are Mohammedans will be saved – the prophet will come and save them. These are stupid ideas. If you go on living the way you are living, nobody can save you – no Jesus, no Mohammed. You will have to change your quality of life, you will have to change your vision, and then you are saved. You can learn the art of changing your vision from Jesus, from Mohammed, from Krishna, from Buddha; from any source you can learn how to change your vision. But you will have to learn the art and you will have to practise the art. Nobody else is going to transform you – nobody can do that. And that is beautiful that nobody can do it. If it were possible for somebody to transform your being, then you would have been a thing, not a person. Then you wouldn’t have any soul. That is the difference: A thing can be made. You can make furniture out of wood, you can make a statue out of stone, but you cannot make a soul out of a man. You cannot create enlightenment out of a man. If somebody from the outside can do it, that will be very very insulting; it will be below human dignity. And what kind of freedom will it be which has been created by somebody else? If that some-body else changes his mind, then he can create your slavery again. It won’t be much of a freedom. Freedom is freedom only when you have attained it! So the first thing to be understood is: Learn from Jesus. But remember, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE for your life, nobody else is responsible. And don’t go on befooling and kidding yourself. Don’t go on believing in such beautiful dreams and consolations. Osho~I Say Unto You, Vol 1
  4. Self-realization is reaching to your center. Many religions have believed that self-realization is the end—for example, Jainism—you have come to your ultimate truth. It is not true. Self-realization is only a dewdrop which has become aware, alert, contented, fulfilled. It is almost impossible to fall back from self-realization—but I am saying almost impossible, not absolutely impossible, because the self can deceive you; it can bring your ego back. The self and the ego are very similar. The self is the natural thing and the ego is the synthetic, so it happens sometimes that a self-realized man becomes a pious egoist. His egoism is not going to harm anyone, but it certainly prevents him from dropping into the ocean and disappearing completely. Enlightenment is the dewdrop slipping from the lotus leaf into the vast, infinite ocean. Once the dewdrop has fallen into the ocean, now there is no way even to find it. The question of turning back does not arise. Enlightenment, hence, is the ultimate truth. What begins as flowering moves on the path of awakening, reaches to self-realization. Then one quantum leap more—disappearing into the eternal, into the infinite. You are no more, only existence is. From enlightenment, falling is simply impossible. You are gone—and gone forever; not even a shadow or a trace of you is left behind. Up to self-realization the possibility remains—it becomes less and less, but it remains. You can start being egoistic about your self-realization: “I have known, I am a realized person. I am a saint, I have encountered God’—but that “I” is there, howsoever pious. Even its shadow is dangerous; it can pull you back. -OSHO From The Hidden Splendor, chapter 16
  5. @Toby Life is not serious at all. It is just a nonserious play - with nothing to be achieved, with nowhere to reach. It is just a play, with no end. Serious is always end-oriented. It means that you are living in order to achieve something, and life will be meaningless if you don't achieve it. This is seriousness: the means lies in the end, not in The here and now. The end must be achieved. If you achieve it, then it is okay. If you don't achieve it, then everything ii lost. You are serious because you have made some condition for your life. You have identified the meaning of your life by some condition that has to be fulfilled. If you are serious, then you cannot flow. Then you are frozen inside; then you become just a dead stone. Then there are resistances around you. You cannot melt, you cannot change as life changes. A serious person can never be innocent, and one who is innocent can never be serious. They are contradictory; they cannot exist together. A child is never serious, but he is very intense. In everything he does, he is intense. If he is playing he is intense; if he is angry he is intense. But an old man is never intense. He is serious. He will turn even play into work because his play becomes a fight, a struggle; a competition. Their is either defeat or victory. All kinds of nonsense will emerge, it will not be just a play. Intensity is something else. It is not seriousness, it is something altogether different. Osho ~ The Eternal Quest Meditation has to be a joyous activity, it has to be a song. One has not to do it as a duty, one has to enjoy it as fun, as play. If you do meditation as a duty you will miss the whole point. Then it cannot happen to you. It can happen only in a very light mood, in a very non-serious mood. Seriousness is heavy, and anything heavy drags you downwards. You have to be as light as a small child playing on the beach, collecting seashells, colored stones, running here and there, almost part of the wind and the sea and the sand and the sun. When that lightness is there you have wings, you can fly upwards. And meditation means an upward movement of your energies. Osho, The Imprisoned Splendor I don't want you to be serious. I am so against seriousness – it is a spiritual sickness. Laughter is spiritual health, and laughter is very unburdening. While you laugh, you can put your mind aside very easily. For a man who cannot laugh the doors of the buddha are closed. To me, laughter is one of the greatest values. No religion has ever thought about it. Religions have always been insisting on seriousness, and because of their insistence the whole world is psychologically sick. Osho, The Language of Existence, Talk #5
  6. @Snick Real art means something that helps you to be meditative. Gurdjieff used to call real art objective art - that helps you to meditate. The Taj Mahal is real art.
  7. The ultimate in the journey is the point when there is no experience left—neither silence, nor blissfulness, nor nothingness. There is nothing as an object for you, but only your subjectivity. The mirror is empty; it is not reflecting anything. It is you. Even great travelers of the inner world have got stuck in beautiful experiences, and have become identified with those experiences, thinking, “I have found myself.” They have stopped before reaching the final stage where all experiences disappear. Enlightenment is not an experience. It is the state where you are left absolutely alone, nothing to know. No object, howsoever beautiful, is present. Only in that moment does your consciousness, unobstructed by any object, take a turn and move back to the source. It becomes self-realization, it becomes enlightenment. I must remind you about the word “object.” Every object means a hindrance—the very meaning of the word is “hindrance,” objection. So the objects can be outside you, in the material world; the objects can be inside you, in your psychological world; the objects can be in your heart, feelings, emotions, sentiments, moods. The objects can be even in your spiritual world. And they are so ecstatic that one cannot imagine there can be more. Many mystics of the world have stopped at ecstasy. It is a beautiful spot, a scenic spot, but they have not arrived home yet. When you come to a point when all experiences are absent, when there is no object, then consciousness without obstruction moves in a circle—in existence everything moves in a circle, if not obstructed—it comes from the same source of your being, goes around. Finding no obstacle to it—no experience, no object—it moves back, and the subject itself becomes the object. That’s what J. Krishnamurti, for his whole life, continued to say: that when the observer becomes the observed, know that you have arrived. Before that, there are thousands of things in the way. The body gives its own experiences, which have become known as the experiences of the centers of kundalini; seven centers become seven lotus flowers. Each is bigger than the other and higher, and the fragrance is intoxicating. The mind gives you great spaces, unlimited, infinite. But remember the fundamental maxim that still, the home has not come. Enjoy the journey and enjoy all the scenes that come on the journey—the trees, the mountains, the flowers, the rivers, the sun and the moon and the stars—but don’t stop anywhere unless your very subjectivity becomes its own object. When the observer is the observed, when the knower is the known, when the seer is the seen, the home has arrived. This home is the real temple we have been searching for, for lives together, but we always go astray. We become satisfied with beautiful experiences. A courageous seeker has to leave all those beautiful experiences behind, and go on moving. When all experiences are exhausted and only he himself remains in his aloneness… no ecstasy is bigger than that, no blissfulness is more blissful, no truth is truer. You have entered what I call godliness; you have become a god. -Osho From The Hidden Splendor, Chapter ten
  8. I was wrong. Money can be beautiful — if it is not possessed, if you don't become obsessed with it. It can be beautiful. @Snick There are people who cling to money, there are people who renounce it, both are wrong.
  9. I was also rich and unhappy so I left everything behind. Now when I claim that now I am very happy , everybody laugh at me !
  10. Osho Dynamic meditation, is a jet-speed method for inner transformation.
  11. @Snick Question: THE GOSPELS PROVIDE NO TECHNIQUES FOR DEVELOPING A LOVING HEART — because there are none. THE GOSPELS ARE ALSO TOO DIFFICULT FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE. Answer: There, Nirvan, you are absolutely wrong. The Gospels are difficult only for intellectuals, not for ordinary people. Jesus moved with ordinary people; he was very against intellectuals. He was all for the ordinary people. His whole disciplehood came from the very ordinary people, because the ordinary people have more pure a heart, naturally. The intellectuals lose their heart, they become hung-up in the head. They THINK about love, but they cannot love. Even sometimes when they say that they are in love, they only THINK that they are in love. Love is not possible through the head. It is as impossible as somebody trying to see through the ears, or to listen through the eyes. You cannot listen through the eyes, and you cannot see through the ears, because they are not meant for it. Intelligence is not meant for love. For that a different faculty exists in you — the heart. The intellectual is trained for the head; the school, the college, the university — they all train for the head. The more and more clever, intelligent, calculating you become, the more and more difficult it becomes to love. That’s why Jesus moved with ordinary people, because ordinary people are extraordinarily loving people. The so-called extraordinary intellectuals are very ordinary lovers. So how can it be that you say THE GOSPELS ARE ALSO TOO DIFFICULT FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE…? No, sir, they are not. If they are difficult for you, that simply shows that you are difficult for them, that you are too much in the head. From the head the Gospels cannot be approached. Through tears, yes. Through logic, no. Through dancing, yes. Through singing, yes. Through chanting, yes. But through argumentation, no. You must be approaching in a wrong way. You must be bringing your head into the Gospels. They are very simple phenomena — like flowers, like rivers. Jesus lived with ordinary peoPle. He is the past Master of how to relate to ordinary people. Buddha lived with extraordinary people — great scholars, great intelligent people, poets, philoso-phers; his atmosphere was that of intelligence. Jesus walked with the fisherman, with the woodcutter, with the shoemaker. These Gospels are those dialogues. They were between Jesus and very ordinary people. In fact, he himself was very ordinary. He was not the son of a king… a carpenter’s son. He cannot speak anything that cannot be understood by ordinary people. But I understand your problem. It is difficult for you. Then it is not for you. Don’t be unnecessarily worried about it. Then look for something that is for you. There are a thousand and one doors; the door is irrelevant. The real question is to get into God; by what door you enter will not make any difference. Enter — that is significant. So let Buddha be your door. PERHAPS THIS IS WHY THE CHRISTIAN MESSAGE HAS ALWAYS SEEMED LESS PRACTICAL THAN, SAY, BUDDHA’S. It depends. If you are a very very intellectual person, Buddha’s approach will look very practical and Jesus’ approach will look impractical. If you are a loving person, Buddha’s will look impractical and Jesus’ will look very practical. It depends. It depends more on you how it looks. If something suits you, it is practical for you. If something does not suit you, it is impractical. And there is no need to remain hooked with the impractical. OSHO
  12. @Dino D @Rali was the only member who claimed that he is fully enlightened , but he was banned today on this forum. You know that enlightened persons are sometimes very naughty.
  13. @Snick Whatsoever you have known up to now as love has nothing to do with love. It is a misuse of the word. 'Love' has been very much misused. There are only a few words which have been misused like 'love'. 'God' is another, 'peace' is another. But 'love' is at the top of the list. Everybody talks about love and nobody knows what it is. People sing about it, people write poetry about it, and they don't know what love is. My own observation is this; that whenever a person writes a poem about love, know well he has missed. He has not known what love is. Otherwise, who bothers to write poetry about love? If you can love, you will love rather than write poetry about it. I have looked into poets and I have never seen that any poet knows what love is. Only mystics know. Love has nothing to do with all those things that have become associated with love. And how you misuse the word! You can go into Vrindavan and you can see people talking, and somebody says, 'I love ice-cream!' Somebody loves a Cadillac car, and somebody loves his dog, and somebody loves his cat, and somebody loves his woman.... And people go on using the word 'love' for anything. Love knows no object, love is not addressed. Love is only of God. When you love your woman, if you really love her, you will see the woman has disappeared and god is standing there. If you love the tree, you will suddenly see the tree has disappeared and God is very green in it, blooming. Love is only of God. Love is never of the part, love is only of the whole. Love is almost synonymous with prayer. But we have not known love. And from the very childhood, we have been distorted. The mother says to the child, 'Love me, I am your mother' - as if just by being a mother you can force love. The father says, 'Love me, I'm your father' - as if love is a logic: 'Because I am your father you have to love me.' And the child does not know what to do. How to love just by the declaration that somebody is your father? And the child starts feeling guilty if he does not love. So he pretends, he shows love. Not knowing what it is, he smiles. He says, 'I love you mommy, I love you daddy,' and daddy is very happy. People are very happy with empty words. And mommy is very happy because the child is smiling, and she feels very good that somebody at least finally loves her; at least her own child loves her. Nobody has loved her.... And the child is simply becoming a politician: he is learning the ways of deception. Sooner or later he will become so efficient in it that he will go on pretending his whole life and talking about love. And he will say a hundred times in the day to his wife, 'I love you, I love you,' and these are content-less words. There is nothing behind them, they are empty. But they help, because people live only with words. People don't know the reality, they have lost all contact. Dale Carnegie says to his followers: Even if you don't love your wife, at least three, four times in the day, say 'I love you,' and it helps. There is no need to mean anything, but just say it; even saying helps. People know only words, they don't know reality. Once a child has learned how to pretend love, he will never know love - because love is not something that you can do. It happens; it is not a doing on your part. Love is something bigger than you, vaster than you. You cannot manage and manipulate it. Remember this, and remain open. Don't pretend. When it comes, feel grateful; when it disappears, wait again. But don't pretend. If you don't pretend, one day you will see love has arisen, the flower has opened. And whenever love opens in your heart, the fragrance goes to the feet of God. it may take any route: it may go through your child, through your wife, through your husband, through your friend, through a tree, through a rock. It may go through anything, via anything - but it always reaches God. Love is something addressed to the whole. Wait for it. And love is the secret key to open all the locks and all the blocks. And a block is nothing but a lock in your being. Love is the secret key; it opens all the locks. The master key.... Osho ~The Path of Love
  14. I am reminded of the fateful day of twenty-first March, 1953. For many lives I had been working—working upon myself, struggling, doing whatsoever can be done—and nothing was happening. Now I understand why nothing was happening. The very effort was the barrier, the very ladder was preventing, the very urge to seek was the obstacle. Not that one can reach without seeking. Seeking is needed, but then comes a point when seeking has to be dropped. The boat is needed to cross the river but then comes a moment when you have to get out of the boat and forget all about it and leave it behind. Effort is needed, without effort nothing is possible. And also only with effort, nothing is possible. Just before twenty-first March, 1953, seven days before, I stopped working on myself. A moment comes when you see the whole futility of effort. You have done all that you can do and nothing is happening. You have done all that is humanly possible. Then what else can you do? In sheer helplessness one drops all search. And the day the search stopped, the day I was not seeking for something, the day I was not expecting something to happen, it started happening. A new energy arose—out of nowhere. It was not coming from any source. It was coming from nowhere and everywhere. It was in the trees and in the rocks and the sky and the sun and the air—it was everywhere. And I was seeking so hard, and I was thinking it is very far away. And it was so near and so close. Just because I was seeking I had become incapable of seeing the near. Seeking is always for the far, seeking is always for the distant—and it was not distant. I had become far-sighted, I had lost the near-sightedness. The eyes had become focussed on the far away, the horizon, and they had lost the quality to see that which is just close, surrounding you. The day effort ceased, I also ceased. Because you cannot exist without effort, and you cannot exist without desire, and you cannot exist without striving. The phenomenon of the ego, of the self, is not a thing, it is a process. It is not a substance sitting there inside you; you have to create it each moment. It is like pedalling bicycle. If you pedal it goes on and on, if you don't pedal it stops. It may go a little because of the past momentum, but the moment you stop pedalling, in fact the bicycle starts stopping. It has no more energy, no more power to go anywhere. It is going to fall and collapse. The ego exists because we go on pedalling desire, because we go on striving to get something, because we go on jumping ahead of ourselves. That is the very phenomenon of the ego—the jump ahead of yourself, the jump in the future, the jump in the tomorrow. The jump in the non-existential creates the ego. Because it comes out of the non-existential it is like a mirage. It consists only of desire and nothing else. It consists only of thirst and nothing else. The ego is not in the present, it is in the future. If you are in the future, then ego seems to be very substantial. If you are in the present the ego is a mirage, it starts disappearing. The day I stopped seeking…and it is not right to say that I stopped seeking, better will be to say the day seeking stopped. Let me repeat it: the better way to say it is the day the seeking stopped. Because if I stop it then I am there again. Now stopping becomes my effort, now stopping becomes my desire, and desire goes on existing in a very subtle way. You cannot stop desire; you can only understand it. In the very understanding is the stopping of it. Remember, nobody can stop desiring, and the reality happens only when desire stops. So this is the dilemma. What to do? Desire is there and Buddhas go on saying desire has to be stopped, and they go on saying in the next breath that you cannot stop desire. So what to do? You put people in a dilemma. They are in desire, certainly. You say it has to be stopped—okay. And then you say it cannot be stopped. Then what is to be done? The desire has to be understood. You can understand it, you can just see the futility of it. A direct perception is needed, an immediate penetration is needed. Look into desire, just see what it is, and you will see the falsity of it, and you will see it is non-existential. And desire drops and something drops simultaneously within you. Desire and the ego exist in cooperation, they coordinate. The ego cannot exist without desire, the desire cannot exist without the ego. Desire is projected ego, ego is introjected desire. They are together, two aspects of one phenomenon. The day desiring stopped, I felt very hopeless and helpless. No hope because no future. Nothing to hope because all hoping has proved futile, it leads nowhere. You go in rounds. It goes on dangling in front of you, it goes on creating new mirages, it goes on calling you, 'Come on, run fast, you will reach.' But howsoever fast you run you never reach. That's why Buddha calls it a mirage. It is like the horizon that you see around the earth. It appears but it is not there. If you go it goes on running from you. The faster you run, the faster it moves away. The slower you go, the slower it moves away. But one thing is certain—the distance between you and the horizon remains absolutely the same. Not even a single inch can you reduce the distance between you and the horizon. You cannot reduce the distance between you and your hope. Hope is horizon. You try to bridge yourself with the horizon, with the hope, with a projected desire. The desire is a bridge, a dream bridge—because the horizon exists not, so you cannot make a bridge towards it, you can only dream about the bridge. You cannot be joined with the non-existential. The day the desire stopped, the day I looked and realized into it, it simply was futile. I was helpless and hopeless. But that very moment something started happening. The same started happening for which for many lives I was working and it was not happening. In your hopelessness is the only hope, and in your desirelessness is your only fulfillment, and in your tremendous helplessness suddenly the whole existence starts helping you. It is waiting. When it sees that you are working on your own, it does not interfere. It waits. It can wait infinitely because there is no hurry for it. It is eternity. The moment you are not on your own, the moment you drop, the moment you disappear, the whole existence rushes towards you, enters you. And for the first time things start happening. Seven days I lived in a very hopeless and helpless state, but at the same time something was arising. When I say hopeless I don't mean what you mean by the word hopeless. I simply mean there was no hope in me. Hope was absent. I am not saying that I was hopeless and sad. I was happy in fact, I was very tranquil, calm and collected and centered. Hopeless, but in a totally new meaning. There was no hope, so how could there be hopelessness. Both had disappeared. The hopelessness was absolute and total. Hope had disappeared and with it its counterpart, hopelessness, had also disappeared. It was a totally new experience—of being without hope. It was not a negative state. I have to use words—but it was not a negative state. It was absolutely positive. It was not just absence, a presence was felt. Something was overflowing in me, overflooding me. And when I say I was helpless, I don't mean the word in the dictionary-sense. I simply say I was selfless. That's what I mean when I say helpless. I have recognized the fact that I am not, so I cannot depend on myself, so I cannot stand on my own ground—there was no ground underneath. I was in an abyss…bottomless abyss. But there was no fear because there was nothing to protect. There was no fear because there was nobody to be afraid. Those seven days were of tremendous transformation, total transformation. And the last day the presence of a totally new energy, a new light and new delight, became so intense that it was almost unbearable—as if I was exploding, as if I was going mad with blissfulness. The new generation in the West has the right word for it—I was blissed out, stoned. It was impossible to make any sense out of it, what was happening. It was a very non-sense world—difficult to figure it out, difficult to manage in categories, difficult to use words, languages, explanations. All scriptures appeared dead and all the words that have been used for this experience looked very pale, anaemic. This was so alive. It was like a tidal wave of bliss. The whole day was strange, stunning, and it was a shattering experience. The past was disappearing, as if it had never belonged to me, as if I had read about it somewhere, as if I had dreamed about it, as if it was somebody else's story I have heard and somebody told it to me. I was becoming loose from my past, I was being uprooted from my history, I was losing my autobiography. I was becoming a non-being, what Buddha calls anatta. Boundaries were disappearing, distinctions were disappearing. Mind was disappearing; it was millions of miles away. It was difficult to catch hold of it, it was rushing farther and farther away, and there was no urge to keep it close. I was simply indifferent about it all. It was okay. There was no urge to remain continuous with the past. By the evening it became so difficult to bear it—it was hurting, it was painful. It was like when a woman goes into labour when a child is to be born, and the woman suffers tremendous pain—the birth pangs. I used to go to sleep in those days near about twelve or one in the night, but that day it was impossible to remain awake. My eyes were closing, it was difficult to keep them open. Something was very imminent, something was going to happen. It was difficult to say what it was—maybe it is going to be my death—but there was no fear. I was ready for it. Those seven days had been so beautiful that I was ready to die, nothing more was needed. They had been so tremendously blissful, I was so contented, that if death was coming, it was welcome. But something was going to happen—something like death, something very drastic, something which will be either a death or a new birth, a crucifixion or a resurrection—but something of tremendous import was around just by the corner. And it was impossible to keep my eyes open. I was drugged. I went to sleep near about eight. It was not like sleep. Now I can understand what Patanjali means when he says that sleep and samadhi are similar. Only with one difference—that in samadhi you are fully awake and asleep also. Asleep and awake together, the whole body relaxed, every cell of the body totally relaxed, all functioning relaxed, and yet a light of awareness burns within you…clear, smokeless. You remain alert and yet relaxed, loose but fully awake. The body is in the deepest sleep possible and your consciousness is at its peak. The peak of consciousness and the valley of the body meet. I went to sleep. It was a very strange sleep. The body was asleep, I was awake. It was so strange—as if one was torn apart into two directions, two dimensions; as if the polarity has become completely focused, as if I was both the polarities together…the positive and negative were meeting, sleep and awareness were meeting, death and life were meeting. That is the moment when you can say 'the creator and the creation meet.' It was weird. For the first time it shocks you to the very roots, it shakes your foundations. You can never be the same after that experience; it brings a new vision to your life, a new quality. Near about twelve my eyes suddenly opened—I had not opened them. The sleep was broken by something else. I felt a great presence around me in the room. It was a very small room. I felt a throbbing life all around me, a great vibration—almost like a hurricane, a great storm of light, joy, ecstasy. I was drowning in it. It was so tremendously real that everything became unreal. The walls of the room became unreal, the house became unreal, my own body became unreal. Everything was unreal because now there was for the first time reality. That's why when Buddha and Shankara say the world is maya, a mirage, it is difficult for us to understand. Because we know only this world, we don't have any comparison. This is the only reality we know. What are these people talking about—this is maya, illusion? This is the only reality. Unless you come to know the really real, their words cannot be understood, their words remain theoretical. They look like hypotheses. Maybe this man is propounding a philosophy—'The world is unreal'. When Berkley in the West said that the world is unreal, he was walking with one of his friends, a very logical man; the friend was almost a skeptic. He took a stone from the road and hit Berkley's feet hard. Berkley screamed, blood rushed out, and the skeptic said, 'Now, the world is unreal? You say the world is unreal?—then why did you scream? This stone is unreal?—then why did you scream? Then why are you holding your leg and why are you showing so much pain and anguish on your face. Stop this? It is all unreal. Now this type of man cannot understand what Buddha means when he says the world is a mirage. He does not mean that you can pass through the wall. He is not saying this—that you can eat stones and it will make no difference whether you eat bread or stones. He is not saying that. He is saying that there is a reality. Once you come to know it, this so-called reality simply pales out, simply becomes unreal. With a higher reality in vision the comparison arises, not otherwise. In the dream; the dream is real. You dream every night. Dream is one of the greatest activities that you go on doing. If you live sixty years, twenty years you will sleep and almost ten years you will dream. Ten years in a life—nothing else do you do so much. Ten years of continuous dreaming—just think about it. And every night…. And every morning you say it was unreal, and again in the night when you dream, dream becomes real. In a dream it is so difficult to remember that this is a dream. But in the morning it is so easy. What happens? You are the same person. In the dream there is only one reality. How to compare? How to say it is unreal? Compared to what? It is the only reality. Everything is as unreal as everything else so there is no comparison. In the morning when you open your eyes another reality is there. Now you can say it was all unreal. Compared to this reality, dream becomes unreal. There is an awakening—compared to that reality of that awakening, this whole reality becomes unreal. That night for the first time I understood the meaning of the word maya. Not that I had not known the word before, not that I was not aware of the meaning of the word. As you are aware, I was also aware of the meaning—but I had never understood it before. How can you understand without experience? That night another reality opened its door, another dimension became available. Suddenly it was there, the other reality, the separate reality, the really real, or whatsoever you want to call it—call it god, call it truth, call it dhamma, call it tao, or whatsoever you will. It was nameless. But it was there—so opaque, so transparent, and yet so solid one could have touched it. It was almost suffocating me in that room. It was too much and I was not yet capable of absorbing it. A deep urge arose in me to rush out of the room, to go under the sky—it was suffocating me. It was too much! It will kill me! If I had remained a few moments more, it would have suffocated me—it looked like that. I rushed out of the room, came out in the street. A great urge was there just to be under the sky with the stars, with the trees, with the earth…to be with nature. And immediately as I came out, the feeling of being suffocated disappeared. It was too small a place for such a big phenomenon. Even the sky is a small place for that big phenomenon. It is bigger than the sky. Even the sky is not the limit for it. But then I felt more at ease. I walked towards the nearest garden. It was a totally new walk, as if gravitation had disappeared. I was walking, or I was running, or I was simply flying; it was difficult to decide. There was no gravitation, I was feeling weightless—as if some energy was taking me. I was in the hands of some other energy. For the first time I was not alone, for the first time I was no more an individual, for the first time the drop has come and fallen into the ocean. Now the whole ocean was mine, I was the ocean. There was no limitation. A tremendous power arose as if I could do anything whatsoever. I was not there, only the power was there. I reached to the garden where I used to go every day. The garden was closed, closed for the night. It was too late, it was almost one o'clock in the night. The gardeners were fast asleep. I had to enter the garden like a thief, I had to climb the gate. But something was pulling me towards the garden. It was not within my capacity to prevent myself. I was just floating. That's what I mean when I say again and again 'float with the river, don't push the river'. I was relaxed, I was in a let-go. I was not there. it was there, call it god—god was there. I would like to call it it, because god is too human a word, and has become too dirty by too much use, has become too polluted by so many people. Christians, Hindus, Mohammedans, priests and politicians—they all have corrupted the beauty of the word. So let me call it it. It was there and I was just carried away…carried by a tidal wave. The moment I entered the garden everything became luminous, it was all over the place—the benediction, the blessedness. I could see the trees for the first time—their green, their life, their very sap running. The whole garden was asleep, the trees were asleep. But I could see the whole garden alive, even the small grass leaves were so beautiful. I looked around. One tree was tremendously luminous—the maulshree tree. It attracted me, it pulled me towards itself. I had not chosen it, god himself has chosen it. I went to the tree, I sat under the tree. As I sat there things started settling. The whole universe became a benediction. It is difficult to say how long I was in that state. When I went back home it was four o'clock in the morning, so I must have been there by clock time at least three hours—but it was infinity. It had nothing to do with clock time. It was timeless. Those three hours became the whole eternity, endless eternity. There was no time, there was no passage of time; it was the virgin reality—uncorrupted, untouchable, unmeasurable. And that day something happened that has continued—not as a continuity—but it has still continued as an undercurrent. Not as a permanency—each moment it has been happening again and again. It has been a miracle each moment. That night…and since that night I have never been in the body. I am hovering around it. I became tremendously powerful and at the same time very fragile. I became very strong, but that strength is not the strength of a Mohammed Ali. That strength is not the strength of a rock, that strength is the strength of a rose flower—so fragile in his strength…so fragile, so sensitive, so delicate. The rock will be there, the flower can go any moment, but still the flower is stronger than the rock because it is more alive. Or, the strength of a dewdrop on a leaf of grass just shining; in the morning sun—so beautiful, so precious, and yet can slip any moment. So incomparable in its grace, but a small breeze can come and the dewdrop can slip and be lost forever. Buddhas have a strength which is not of this world. Their strength is totally of love…Like a rose flower or a dewdrop. Their strength is very fragile, vulnerable. Their strength is the strength of life not of death. Their power is not of that which kills; their power is of that which creates. Their power is not of violence, aggression; their power is that of compassion. But I have never been in the body again, I am just hovering around the body. And that's why I say it has been a tremendous miracle. Each moment I am surprised I am still here, I should not be. I should have left any moment, still I am here. Every morning I open my eyes and I say, 'So, again I am still here?' Because it seems almost impossible. The miracle has been a continuity. Just the other day somebody asked a question—'Osho, you are getting so fragile and delicate and so sensitive to the smells of hair oils and shampoos that it seems we will not be able to see you unless we all go bald.' By the way, nothing is wrong with being bald—bald is beautiful. Just as 'black is beautiful', so 'bald is beautiful'. But that is true and you have to be careful about it. I am fragile, delicate and sensitive. That is my strength. If you throw a rock at a flower nothing will happen to the rock, the flower will be gone. But still you cannot say that the rock is more powerful than the flower. The flower will be gone because the flower was alive. And the rock—nothing will happen to it because it is dead. The flower will be gone because the flower has no strength to destroy. The flower will simply disappear and give way to the rock. The rock has a power to destroy because the rock is dead. Remember, since that day I have never been in the body really; just a delicate thread joins me with the body. And I am continuously surprised that somehow the whole must be willing me to be here, because I am no more here with my own strength, I am no more here on my own. It must be the will of the whole to keep me here, to allow me to linger a little more on this shore. Maybe the whole wants to share something with you through me. Since that day the world is unreal. Another world has been revealed. When I say the world is unreal I don't mean that these trees are unreal. These trees are absolutely real—but the way you see these trees is unreal. These trees are not unreal in themselves—they exist in god, they exist in absolute reality—but the way you see them you never see them; you are seeing something else, a mirage. You create your own dream around you and unless you become awake you will continue to dream. The world is unreal because the world that you know is the world of your dreams. When dreams drop and you simply encounter the world that is there, then the real world. There are not two things, god and the world. God is the world if you have eyes, clear eyes, without any dreams, without any dust of the dreams, without any haze of sleep; if you have clear eyes, clarity, perceptiveness, there is only god. Then somewhere god is a green tree, and somewhere else god is a shining star, and somewhere else god is a cuckoo, and somewhere else god is a flower, and somewhere else a child and somewhere else a river—then only god is. The moment you start seeing, only god is. But right now whatsoever you see is not the truth, it is a projected lie. That is the meaning of a mirage. And once you see, even for a single split moment, if you can see, if you can allow yourself to see, you will find immense benediction present all over, everywhere—in the clouds, in the sun, on the earth. This is a beautiful world. But I am not talking about your world, I am talking about my world. Your world is very ugly, your world is your world created by a self, your world is a projected world. You are using the real world as a screen and projecting your own ideas on it. When I say the world is real, the world is tremendously beautiful, the world is luminous with infinity, the world is light and delight, it is a celebration, I mean my world—or your world if you drop your dreams. When you drop your dreams you see the same world as any Buddha has ever seen. When you dream you dream privately. Have you watched it?—that dreams are private. You cannot share them even with your beloved. You cannot invite your wife to your dream—or your husband, or your friend. You cannot say, 'Now, please come tonight in my dream. I would like to see the dream together.' It is not possible. Dream is a private thing, hence it is illusory, it has no objective reality. God is a universal thing. Once you come out of your private dreams, it is there. It has been always there. Once your eyes are clear, a sudden illumination—suddenly you are overflooded with beauty, grandeur and grace. That is the goal, that is the destiny. Let me repeat. Without effort you will never reach it, with effort nobody has ever reached it. You will need great effort, and only then there comes a moment when effort becomes futile. But it becomes futile only when you have come to the very peak of it, never before it. When you have come to the very pinnacle of your effort—all that you can do you have done—then suddenly there is no need to do anything any more. You drop the effort. But nobody can drop it in the middle, it can be dropped only at the extreme end. So go to the extreme end if you want to drop it. Hence I go on insisting: make as much effort as you can, put your whole energy and total heart in it, so that one day you can see—now effort is not going to lead me anywhere. And that day it will not be you who will drop the effort, it drops on its own accord. And when it drops on its own accord, meditation happens. Meditation is not a result of your efforts, meditation is a happening. When your efforts drop, suddenly meditation is there…the benediction of it, the blessedness of it, the glory of it. It is there like a presence…luminous, surrounding you and surrounding everything. It fills the whole earth and the whole sky. That meditation cannot be created by human effort. Human effort is too limited. That blessedness is so infinite. You cannot manipulate it. It can happen only when you are in a tremendous surrender. When you are not there only then it can happen. When you are a no-self—no desire, not going anywhere—when you are just herenow, not doing anything in particular, just being, it happens. And it comes in waves and the waves become tidal. It comes like a storm, and takes you away into a totally new reality. But first you have to do all that you can do, and then you have to learn non-doing. The doing of the non-doing is the greatest doing, and the effort of effortlessness is the greatest effort. Your meditation that you create by chanting a mantra or by sitting quiet and still and forcing yourself, is a very mediocre meditation. It is created by you, it cannot be bigger than you. It is homemade, and the maker is always bigger than the made. You have made it by sitting, forcing in a yoga posture, chanting 'rama, rama, rama' or anything—'blah, blah, blah'—anything. You have forced the mind to become still. It is a forced stillness. It is not that quiet that comes when you are not there. It is not that silence which comes when you are almost non-existential. It is not that beautitude which descends on you like a dove. It is said when Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist in the Jordan River, god descended in him, or the holy ghost descended in him like a dove. Yes, that is exactly so. When you are not there peace descends in you…fluttering like a dove…reaches in your heart and abides there and abides there forever. You are your undoing, you are the barrier. Meditation is when the meditator is not. When the mind ceases with all its activities—seeing that they are futile—then the unknown penetrates you, overwhelms you. The mind must cease for god to be. Knowledge must cease for knowing to be. You must disappear, you must give way. You must become empty, then only you can be full. That night I became empty and became full. I became non-existential and became existence. That night I died and was reborn. But the one that was reborn has nothing to do with that which died, it is a discontinuous thing. On the surface it looks continuous but it is discontinuous. The one who died, died totally; nothing of him has remained. Believe me, nothing of him has remained, not even a shadow. It died totally, utterly. It is not that I am just a modified rup, transformed, modified form, transformed form of the old. No, there has been no continuity. That day of March twenty-first, the person who had lived for many many lives, for millennia, simply died. Another being, absolutely new, not connected at all with the old, started to exist. Religion just gives you a total death. Maybe that's why the whole day previous to that happening I was feeling some urgency like death, as if I am going to die—and I really died. I have known many other deaths but they were nothing compared to it, they were partial deaths. Sometimes the body died, sometimes a part of the mind died, sometimes a part of the ego died, but as far as the person was concerned, it remained. Renovated many times, decorated many times, changed a little bit here and there, but it remained, the continuity remained. That night the death was total. It was a date with death and god simultaneously.
  15. The emotions that are triggered by the outside are not pure, passion is not pure because it is triggered by the outside. Passion is a sort of fever, a sort of trembling of your being.