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Archive for the ‘Osho “Rajneesh”’ Category


boomarangEverything that you or I do comes back to us in this Lifetime. One way or the other. You are kind to people. Kindness pervades your Life. You let down someone. And someone lets you down in return. You touch a Life with love, compassion and care. And people touch your Life the same way.

Osho, the Master, tells us this other story that highlights the same learning. There once lived a very skilled blacksmith in ancient Rome. His name and fame had spread to far-off nations. His creations were selling like hot-cakes, in far-off marketplaces. Gradually, an enormous amount of wealth began to gather at his doorsteps. One day, Rome was suddenly invaded. The invaders demolished Rome, and captured the top hundred citizens. Amongst the top hundred citizens, the blacksmith was one. All of them were handcuffed and chained, and were taken and left on a faraway hill to die or await their execution. Among the 100 prisoners, 99 were crying. Only the blacksmith seemed to be calm and composed. He knew that the moment the soldiers abandon him in the hill, he would easily unlock the handcuff and the chains. He had that skill. So, the moment the soldiers abandoned him and left the first thing he did was to look at the handcuffs and chains that imprisoned him. He was shocked with what he saw. With his handcuffed hands he started beating his chest and began to wail in remorse. What did he see in the handcuff and the chains? A very strange thing which he had never imagined he would ever see in his Life! He had a habit to emboss his signature on whatever he created. And that is what he saw on those chains and handcuff, his own signature. They were his creations, which had got sold in some far-off marketplace, and eventually had come back to him through the invaders. Now, for the first time he became nervous and paranoid. He knew it was impossible for him to unlock himself, because he had never created anything weak. He was well acquainted with his creations. He had always designed and created the strongest and the best objects. Obviously, he had never imagined or dreamt that that the handcuff and the chains he had created, would one day imprison him. Osho teaches us the moral of this story thus: “No man ever foresees the fact that the chain and handcuff he has been creating, will be the very chain and handcuff of which he’ll be ultimately held captive. No man ever dreams that that the cobwebs he has been weaving are the very webs that he will eventually get entangled in, in his Life.”

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Osho on Buddha’s enlightenment
43-The-Enlightenment

Buddha tried for six years continuously to know what the divine is, and it cannot be said that he left anything undone. He did everything that is humanly possible, even some things which seem humanly impossible. He did everything. Whatever was known up to his day he practiced. Whatever methods were taught to him, he became a master of them.

He went to all the gurus that existed in his time, to everyone. And whatever they could teach, he learned, he practiced. And then he said, “Anything more, Sir?” And the guru said, “Now you can go, because all that I could give you I have given, and I cannot say, as I say in other cases, that you have not practiced. You have practiced. This is all that I can give.” Buddha said, “I have not known the divine yet.”

With each guru this happened. Then he left all the gurus. Then he invented his own methods. Continuously, for six years, he was in a struggle of life and death. He did everything that could be done. Then, at last, he was so tired of doing, so deadly tired, that one day when he was taking his evening bath in the Niranjana River near Bodhgaya, he felt so weak and so tired that he could not come out of the river. He just clung to a root of a tree and a thought came to his mind, “I have become so weak, I cannot even cross this small river. How will I be alive to cross the whole ocean of the world? I have done everything, and I have not found the divine. I have only tired my body.”

He felt that he was on the verge of death. At that very moment he felt that he had done everything, and now there was nothing to do. He relaxed, and new energy came upon him because of his relaxation. All that was suppressed through those six years flowered. He came out of the river, he felt just like a feather, a bird’s feather — weightless. He relaxed under a Bodhi tree.

It was a bright fullmoon night. Someone came — a girl, a shudra girl named Sujata. The name shows that the girl must have been a shudra because to have the name Sujata means she has not come from a higher caste. Sujata means wellborn. She had promised the Bodhi tree to pay it some homage daily, so she has come with some sweets.

Buddha is there — tired, pale, bloodless, but relaxed, absolutely unburdened — and it is a fullmoon night with nobody around. The girl, Sujata, felt that the deity of the tree had come to receive her homage. Had it been another day, Buddha could have refused. He would not rest in the night, he would not eat any food. But today he was totally relaxed. He took the food, and he slept. This was the first night after six years that he really slept.

He was relaxed with nothing to do. Then there was no worry. There was no tomorrow even, because tomorrow exists only because one has to do something. If one has not to do anything, then there is no tomorrow. Then the moment is enough.

Buddha slept, and in the morning, at five o’clock, when the last star was withering away, he was out of the sleep. He saw the last star disappearing, with no mind, because when you have nothing to do there is no mind. The mind is just a faculty for doing something, a technical faculty. No mind, nothing to do, no effort on his part, indifferent to whether he was alive or dead, he just opened his eyes, and he began to dance. He had come to that knowing to which he could not come through so many efforts.

Whenever someone would ask him how he achieved, he would say, “The more I tried to achieve, the more I was at a loss. I could not achieve. So how can I say I have achieved? The more I tried, the more I was involved. I could not achieve. The mind was trying to transcend itself, which was impossible. It is just like trying to be a father to yourself, just trying to give birth to yourself.”

So Buddha would say, “I cannot say I achieved. I can only say I tried so much that I was annihilated. I tried so much that any effort became absurd. And the moment came when I was not trying, when the mind was not, when I was not thinking. Then there was no future because there was no past. Both were always together. Past is behind, future is in front; they are always conjoined. If one drops, the other drops simultaneously. Then there was no future, no past, no mind. I was mindless, I was I-less. Then something happened, and I cannot say that this something happened in that moment. I can only say that this was always happening, only I was not aware. It was always happening, only I was closed. So I cannot say I have achieved something.”

Buddha said, “I can only say I have lost something — the ego, the mind — I have not achieved anything at all. Now I know that all that I have was always there. It was in every layer, it was in every stone, in every flower, but now I recognize it was always so. Only I was blind. So I have lost my blindness; I have not achieved anything, I have lost something.”

If you begin with the divine, then you begin to achieve. If you begin with yourself, then you begin to lose. Things will begin to disappear, and ultimately you will disappear. And when you are not, the divine is — with all its grace, with all its love, with all its compassion, but only when you are not. Your nonexistence is the categorical condition. For no one can it be relaxed. It is categorical, it is the absolute. You are the barrier. Fall down, and then you know. And only when you know, you know. You cannot understand it, I cannot explain it to you. I cannot make you understand it. So whatever I am saying, I am not saying anything metaphysical. I am only trying to show you that you must begin with yourself.

If you begin with yourself, you will end with the divine, because that is your other part, the other pole. But begin from this bank. Do not begin from the other, where you are not. You cannot begin from there. Begin from where you are, and the more you will go deep, the less you will be.

The more you will know yourself, the less a self you will be. And once you have come to total understanding about yourself, you will be annihilated, you will go into nonexistence, you will be totally negative — not. And in that not, in that total negation, you will know the grace which is always falling, which is always raining down from eternity. You will know the love which is always around you. It has always been, but you have not paid any attention to it. Be annihilated, and you will be aware of it.

From “I Am the Gate” By Osho

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Story by Rabindranath Tagore
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There is a great temple with a hundred priests to look after it. One night the chief priest went to bed and dreamed that God has sent word that he will visit their temple the next day. He did not believe it, because it is difficult to come across people who are more disbelieving than the priests. He did not believe his dream for another reason, too. People who trade in religion never come to believe in religion. They only exploit religion, which never becomes their faith, their truth.

No one in the world is more faithless than one who turns faith into a means of exploitation. So the chief priest could not believe that God would really this temple. The priest had never believed in such things, although he had been a priest for long years. He had worshipped God for long and he knew that God had never visited his temple even once. Each day he had offered food to God, and he knew that he had in reality offered it to himself. He had also prayed to God every day, but he knew well that his prayers were lost in the empty sky, because there was no one to hear them.

So he thought that the message was not true, it was just a dream, and a dream rarely turns into a reality. But then he was afraid, too, lest the dream should come true. At times what we call a dream turns into a reality and a reality as we know it proves to be a dream. Sometimes what we think to be a dream really becomes a reality. So the chief priest ultimately decided to inform his close colleagues about his last night’s dream. He said to the other priests, ”Although it seems to be a joke, yet I should tell you about it.

Last night I dreamed that God said that he would visit us today.” The other priests laughed and they said, ”Are you mad that you believe in dreams? However, don’t tell others about it; otherwise they will take you to be crazy.” But the head priest said, ”In case he should come, we should be prepared for it. There is no harm if he does not turn up, but if at all he comes, we will not be found wanting.” So the whole temple and its premises were scrubbed, washed and cleaned thoroughly. It was decorated with flowers and flags and festoons.

Lamps were lit and incense burned. Perfumes were sprayed and every kind of preparation made. The priests tired themselves out in the course of the day, but God did not turn up. Every now and then they looked up the road, they were disappointed, and they said, ”Dream is a dream after all; God is not going to come. We were fools to believe so. It was good that we did not inform the people of the town; otherwise they would have simply laughed at us.” By evening the priests gave up all hope, and they said, ”Let us now eat the sumptuous food cooked for God.

It has ever been so: what we offer to God is consumed by us in the end. No one is going to turn up. We were crazy enough to believe in a dream. The irony is that we knowingly made fools of ourselves. If others go mad, they can be excused, because they don’t know. But we know God never comes. Where is God? There is this idol in the temple; it is all there is to it. And it is our business, our profession to worship him.” And then they ate well and went to bed early as they were tired. When it was midnight a chariot pulled up at the gate of the temple, and its sound was heard.

One of the sleeping priests heard it and thought that it was God’s chariot. He shouted to others, ”Listen friends and wake up. It seems he, whom we expected all day, has arrived at long last. The noise of the chariot is heard.” The other priests snubbed him saying, ”Shut up, you crazy one. We have had enough of madness all through the day, now that it is night let us sleep well. It is not the sound of a chariot, but the rumblings of the clouds in the skies.” So they explained the thing away and returned to their beds. Then the chariot halted at the gate, and someone climbed the steps of the temple and knocked at its door.

And again one of the priests woke up from sleep and shouted to his associates, ”It seems the guest has arrived whom we awaited the whole day long. He is knocking at the door.” The other priests berated him as they had done with the first. They said, ”Are you not crazy? Won’t you allow us to sleep? It is just the dash of winds against the door and not a knock of a caller.” So they again rationalized and went back to their beds. The next morning they woke up and walked to the gates of the temple.

And they were astounded to see a few footprints on the steps of the temple. Surely enough someone had climbed them during the night. And then they noticed some marks of a chariot’s wheels on the road, and there was now no doubt at all that a chariot had arrived at the gate in the night. And strangely enough the footprints on the steps were absolutely uncommon and unknown. Now the priests burst into tears and fell down and began to roll on the ground where the chariot had halted. And soon the whole village was at the temple’s gates.

Everybody in the crowd asked with bewilderment, ”What is the matter?” The priests said, ”Don’t ask what the matter is. God knocked at the door of our temple last night, but we rationalized everything. We are now damned. He knocked at the door and we thought that it was the flapping sound of the winds. His chariot came, and we thought that it was the rumble of thunder in the sky. The truth is that we did not understand anything. We only explained them away, because we wanted to enjoy our sleep.”

God knocks at every door. His grace visits every home. But our doors are shut. And even when we hear a knock we immediately rationalize it and explain it away. In the old days they said that ”A guest is God”. There is a slight mistake in this maxim. The truth is that God is the guest. God is waiting as a guest at our doorsteps, but the door is closed. His grace is equally available to all. Therefore don’t ask whether one attains through his grace; one attains through his grace alone. And as far as our efforts are concerned, they are a help in opening the door, in removing the hurdles from the way. When he comes, he comes on his own accord.
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Friends and enemies are the images of ourselves we see in others. I have observed that it’s my mind which creates all my enemies and so is about my friends. Old Indian spiritual books like Upanishadas tell that a good man can see the reflection of GOD in even his bitter enemy.

During the 1857 Indian independence revolution a sannyasin (saint or monk) was killed by a british soldier by mistake. A silent naked sannyasin was passing by the cantonment of an English battalion. The soldiers caught hold of him and asked him, ”Who are you?” But as he was in silence he did not reply. Because of his keeping quiet they became suspicious of him and one soldier pierced his chest with a spear. The sannyasin had taken the vow of speaking only once at the time of death: he had been silent for the last thirty years.
When the spear pierced his chest and the blood gushed out, then he spoke only one sentence of the Upanishads: tattvamasi, shvetketu – means “you are also that, Shvetketu”.

People gathered round him and asked him, ”What do you mean?”

He said,”I mean that the divine can come in any guise; he will not be able to deceive me. Today he has come with the spear in his hand. The spear has pierced my chest but I can see that inside the soldier it is only him. He cannot deceive me.” The blood was oozing out of his chest, but the
sannyasin was dancing because he could see godliness in his murderer

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Peace_of_Mind_by_badcherry

It happened in Upanishadic days that one young boy, Svetaketu, was sent by his father to a gurukul, to a family of an enlightened master, to learn. He learned everything that could be learned, he memorized all the Vedas and all the science available in those days. He became proficient in them, he became a great scholar; his fame started spreading all over the country. Then there was nothing else to be taught, so the master said, ”You have known all that can be taught. Now you can go back.”

Thinking that everything had happened and there was nothing else – because whatsoever the master knew, he also knew, and the master had taught him everything – Svetaketu went back. Of course with great pride and ego, he came back to his father. When he was entering the village his father, Uddalak, looked out of the window at his son coming back from the university. He saw the way he was walking – very proudly, the way he was holding his head – in a very egoistic way, the way he was looking all around – very self-conscious that he knew.

The father became sad and depressed, because this is not the way of one who really knows, this is not the way of one who has come to know the supreme knowledge. The son entered the house. He was thinking that his father would be very happy – he had become one of the suprememost scholars of the country; he was known everywhere, respected everywhere – but he saw that the father was sad, so he asked, ”Why are you sad?”

The father said, ”Only one question I have to ask you. Have you learned that by learning which there is no need to learn anything any more? Have you known that by knowing which all suffering ceases? Have you been taught that which cannot be taught?”

The boy also became sad. He said, ”No. Whatsoever I know has been taught to me, and I can teach it to anybody who is ready to learn.”

The father said, ”Then you go back and ask your master that you be taught that which cannot be taught.”

The boy said, ”But that is absurd. If it cannot be taught, how can the master teach me?”

The father said, ”That is the art of the master: he can teach you that which cannot be taught. You go back.”

He went back. Bowing down to his master’s feet, he said, ”My father has sent me for an absolutely absurd thing. Now I don’t know where I am and what I am asking you. My father has told me to come back and return only when I have learned that which cannot be learned, when I have been taught that which cannot be taught. What is it? What is this? You never told me about it.”

The master said, ”Unless one inquires, it cannot be told; you never inquired about it. But now you

are starting a totally different journey. And remember, it cannot be taught, so it is very delicate; only indirectly will I help you. Do one thing: take all the animals of my gurukul – there were at least four hundred cows, bulls and other animals – and go to the deepest forest possible where nobody ever comes and moves. Live with these animals in silence. Don’t talk, because these animals cannot understand any language. So remain silent, and when just by reproduction these four hundred animals have become one thousand, then come back.”

It was going to be a long time – until four hundred animals had become one thousand. And he was to go without saying anything, without arguing, without asking, ”What are you telling me to do? Where will it lead?” He was to just live with animals and trees and rocks; not talking, and forgetting the human world completely. Because your mind is a human creation, if you live with human beings the mind is continuously fed. They say something, you say something – the mind goes on learning, it goes on revolving.

”So go,” the master said, ”to the hills, to the forest. Live alone. Don’t talk. And there is no use in thinking, because these animals won’t understand even your thinking. Drop all your scholarship here.”

Svetaketu followed. He went to the forest and lived with the animals for many years. For a few days thoughts remained there in the mind – the same thoughts repeating themselves again and again. Then it became boring.

If new thoughts are not felt, then you will become aware that the mind is just repetitive, just a mechanical repetition; it goes on in a rut. And there was no way to get new knowledge. With new knowledge the mind is always happy, because there is something again to grind, something again to work out; the mechanism goes on moving.

Svetaketu became aware. There were four hundred animals, birds, other wild animals, trees, rocks, rivers and streams, but no man and no possibility of any human communication. There was no use in being very egoistic, because these animals didn’t know what type of great scholar this Svetaketu was. They didn’t consider him at all; they didn’t look at him with respect, so by and by the pride disappeared, because it was futile and it even looked foolish to walk in a prideful way with the animals.

Even Svetaketu started feeling, ”If I remain egoistic these animals will laugh at me – so what am I doing?” Sitting under the trees, sleeping near the streams, by and by his mind became silent. The story is beautiful. The years passed and his mind became so silent that Svetaketu completely forgot when he had to return. He became so silent that even this idea was not there. The past dropped completely, and with the dropping of the past the future drops, because the future is nothing but a projection of the past – just the past reaching into the future.

So he forgot what the master had said, he forgot when he had to return. There was no when and where, he was just here and now. He lived in the moment just like the animals, he became a cow. The story says that when the animals became one thousand, they started feeling uncomfortable. They were waiting for Svetaketu to take them back to the ashram and he had forgotten, so one day the cows decided to speak to Svetaketu and they said,

”Now it is time enough, and we remember that the master had said that you must come back when the animals became one thousand, and you have completely forgotten. Now is the time and we must go back. We have become one thousand.”

So Svetaketu went back with the animals. The master looked from the door of his hut at Svetaketu coming with one thousand animals, and he said to his other disciples, ”Look, one thousand and one animals are coming.” Svetaketu had become such a silent being – no ego, no self-consciousness, just moving with the animals as one of them.

The master came to receive him; the master was dancing, ecstatic. He embraced Svetaketu and he said, ”Now there is nothing to say to you – you have already known. Why have you come? There is no need to come now, there is nothing to be taught. You have already known.”
Svetaketu said, ”Just to pay my respects, just to touch your feet, just to be grateful. It has happened, and you have taught me that which cannot be taught.”

This is what a master is to do: create a situation in which the thing happens. So only indirect effort can be made, indirect help, indirect guidance. And wherever direct guidance is given, wherever your mind is taught, it is not religion. It may be theology but not religion; it may be philosophy but not religion.

Source: from book “Vedanta: Seven Steps to Samadhi” by Osho

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Osho : An ancient Greek story:

A famous king had made a guesthouse for other kings when they used to visit. He made such a beautiful guesthouse, even better than the palace, and he made a golden bed which exactly fitted him: if he was five foot five inches, he had made the bed exactly five foot five.

Nobody had the courage to ask him, ”What are you doing? Somebody may come who is six feet, and he will not find it comfortable on this bed.” But it was well known that if you asked this king anything he answered with his sword, your head would be cut off. You could not ask anything; his word was the law!

So the craftsmen made the bed exactly to fit a man who is five foot five inches. But it is very difficult to find the same sized people …. The first emperor who came as a guest loved the guesthouse. He repented later on, but then it was too late. In the night four big wrestlers came in. Because he was six feet tall they had to push him
from both ends to fit the bed.

The king had ordered, ”Everybody has to fit the bed. If he is too long, cut him short, or push him in! If he is too short, make him longer! Don’t be worried whether he lives. Alive or dead – I have made a special bed of pure gold ….”

The emperor tried hard, but those four wrestlers first tried to push him in to fit to five foot five, and it was a difficult job. How to squash a man of six feet? They almost killed him. He said, ”What are you doing?”

They said, ”You have to fit with the bed.” But because they could not manage to push him shorter they had to cut off his head; then he fit the bed perfectly. And they told the king, ”The guest is in absolute rest.” Just two, three more people were caught by him, and then the story spread. But he killed three kings just by trying to make them fit according to the bed.

That is being done all over the world by all the religions. They want you to fit their ten commandments, they want to make you fit according to their scriptures. They don’t care about you; their bed is more important. It is made of twenty-four-carat gold. Now all those commandments, all those disciplines preached five thousand, ten thousand years ago, have become out of date. They need refinement. They also need to evolve as everything is evolving.

But no religion is ready to modify anything or refine anything or evolve anything. It has been given by God, and he knows better, so you have to follow things which don’t suit you. All the religions are old and everything has changed since then: only those scriptures are dead and cannot change. But their ideologies are poisonous, they will kill you. They are killing human beings – their very spirit is destroyed, their radiance has been taken away, their growth stifled.

Source: ” Yakusan: Straight to the Point of Enlightenment, Chapter 13 ” – Osho

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It was the street she used to pass every day on her way to the marketplace, because in the marketplace she would go every day and shout the truth that she had attained. And for many days she had been watching a mystic, a well-known mystic, Hassan, sitting before the door of the mosque and praying to God, “God, open the door! Please open the door! Let me in!”

Rabiya could not tolerate it that day. Hassan was crying, tears were rolling down, and he was shouting again and again, “Open the door! Let me in! Why don’t you listen? Why don’t you hear my prayers?”

Every day she had laughed, whenever she had heard Hassan she had laughed, but it was too much today. Tears…and Hassan was really crying, weeping, crying his heart out. She went, she shook Hassan, and said, “Stop all this nonsense! The door is open — in fact you are already in!”

Hassan looked at Rabiya, and that moment became a moment of revelation. Looking into the eyes of Rabiya, he bowed down, touched her feet, and said, “You came in time; otherwise I would have called my whole life! For years I have been doing this — where have you been before? And I know you pass this street every day. You must have seen me crying, praying.”

Rabiya said, “Yes, but truth can only be said at a certain moment, in a certain space, in a certain context. I was waiting for the right, ripe moment. Today it has arrived; hence I came close to you. Yesterday if I had told you, you would have felt irritated; you may have even become angry. You may have reacted antagonistically; you may have told me, ‘You have disturbed my prayer!’ — and it is not right to disturb anybody’s prayer.”

Even the king is not allowed to disturb the prayer of a beggar. Even if a criminal, a murderer, is praying in Mohammedan countries, the police have to wait till he finishes his prayer, only then can he be caught. Prayer should not be disturbed.

Rabiya said, “I had wanted to tell you this, that ‘Hassan, don’t be a fool, the door is open — in fact, you are already in!’ But I had to wait for the right moment.

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