The Hidden Splendor 27

TwentySeventh Discourse from the series of 27 discourses - The Hidden Splendor by Osho.
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Last night while lying in bed and allowing my mind to wander down creative corridors, I experienced what I can only describe as a mental somersault, and I looked, for the first time, inside. I will not attempt to describe how it felt, but I can say it was more ecstatic than anything I could imagine. I felt doors that were stuck tight, dissolve, and in my trembling and astonished innocence I was aware of your compassionate presence cushioning me. Oh my precious and beloved master, what was this treasure I discovered? Is this what you call meditation, and will it be easy to find again?
It has been a beautiful first glimpse of meditation. But the first glimpse should not be desired; otherwise you will destroy it. Just as it has happened on its own – you were not attempting to achieve it – allow it to come and go; don’t be greedy. That is one of the great obstacles on the path of those who are in search of themselves. A glimpse happens, it is ecstatic, and the old mind immediately grabs it and starts thinking in its old pattern: how to get it again?
The mind is not going to get any experience of meditation. And the greedier the mind becomes, the less is the possibility of that relaxed state in which meditation blossoms. So one most important thing to be remembered is: forget all about it. It has come on its own; it will come on its own. It cannot be made a goal. Our mind turns everything into a goal; its whole training is for achieving: if you have achieved this much, you should achieve it again and you should achieve more.
But the very desire of achieving is a disturbance, is a tension, is an anxiety. It happens to almost everybody when for the first time the sky opens inside. You were not asking for it; you were doing something else. But you were relaxed, calm, and quiet. You were ready, but you were not demanding anything from existence. Existence never yields to any of our demands. It is the demanding mind that has created all our misery.
Once you have tasted something that you have never tasted before, it seems absolutely natural to ask for it again and again. But you have to understand that meditation is something not of your doing. It is not your act. It is something that happens to you in a certain space. That space is not of desire, not of demand, but of absolute relaxation and trust in nature. If it has given you one glimpse, it will give you many glimpses of a deeper nature, of a higher quality. Right now you may not be able even to imagine them, because unless you experience something, you cannot imagine it, you cannot dream about it. This is the very beginning of the journey on the path, but a very beautiful opening. If you don’t come in the way, many more experiences will follow.
So the only thing to avoid is yourself coming in the way. Remember always that it is a happening, so when you are not anxious to get it, only then is it possible. Your anxiety, your tension, your greed, make your mind very confused and do not allow the relaxed space where flowers of meditation blossom. You say, “Last night while lying in bed and allowing my mind to wander down creative corridors, I experienced what I can only describe as a mental somersault. And I looked for the first time inside.” It all happened naturally. It was not preplanned. You were not looking for it.
“I will not attempt to describe how I felt…” Even if you do attempt, you cannot describe it. The experience of your inner being, howsoever small, is basically indescribable. There are no words, no concepts into which you can put it rationally. It is an experience where language has never entered, where mind has never entered. It is not a mental experience; otherwise there would be no difficulty to describe it. Anything that can be described is of the mind, and anything that cannot be described is of real authentic value; it is spiritual.
“I will not attempt to describe how I felt, but I can say it was more ecstatic than anything that I could imagine. I felt doors that were stuck tight, dissolve, and in my trembling and astonished innocence…” Remember these words. It was happening in your “trembling and astonished innocence.” “I was aware of your compassionate presence cushioning me. Oh my precious and beloved master, what was this treasure I discovered?” You are again asking for a description, for an explanation. And you know perfectly well that even in ordinary life there are many things which cannot be described, but only experienced.
You taste something – is there any way to describe it? Is there any way to give an explanation about it? And it is an ordinary thing. You have tasted something, you have smelled a fragrance, you have heard music. You experienced it; it thrilled you. You can say what happened to you, but you cannot say what it was exactly. You know perfectly well what it is, but there exists no language. Language is created by people for mundane affairs.
For the sacred there is only silence.

A man came to Zen Master Rinzai, who was sitting on the beach. The man said, “I have been looking for you, and for many days I have been thinking to come to you. I want to know the essential, the very essence, of all your religious teaching – in short, because I am not a man of philosophical bent. What is it that you are teaching?”
Rinzai looked at him and remained silent. A moment passed. The man felt a little strange. He asked, “Have you heard me or not?”
Rinzai said, “I have heard you, but have you heard me or not?”
The man said, “My god, you have not said a single word.”
Rinzai said, “I was sitting silent. That is the essential part of my teaching. I thought that rather than talking about it, it would be better to show it to you. Because in words, things get distorted; in words, you start interpreting them according to your own prejudices.”
The man said, “It is beyond me. Please give some words that I can remember.”
Rinzai said, “If you insist, I will commit the crime of forcing something into words which is not ready, which is absolutely unwilling to be put into words.”
He wrote with his finger in the sand where he was sitting: meditation.
The man said, “I have come from very far away and you are making me more puzzled. First you remained silent; now you simply write ‘meditation.’ That does not make any sense to me. What is meditation?”
Rinzai said, “What is meditation? What is a roseflower? A roseflower is a roseflower. You can see it dancing in the wind and in the rain and in the sun. You can enjoy its dance, you can enjoy its fragrance, its beauty, but what is a roseflower? Don’t ask such stupid questions.”
He said, “But I have come from so far, with great expectations. Just a little more, so that I can understand what meditation is.”
So Rinzai wrote with capital letters: MEDITATION.
The man asked, “Does it make any difference whether you write in small letters or you write in capital letters?”
Rinzai said, “You are only concerned with your difficulty. You are not concerned with my difficulty. Even writing it as “meditation,” I am committing a crime against meditation itself because it is an experience, not an explanation.
“It is the flower of silence. It cannot be contained in words. Even the word meditation is just utilitarian. People ask and feel annoyed if they are not answered, so we answer, but all our answers are wrong.
“The moment we transform the experience into an explanation, something goes wrong. It is a wordless state of being. If you really want to know it, sit with me; be with me for a few days. Perhaps my silence may affect you, because it is contagious.”

Don’t ask what treasure you have discovered. You have discovered only the door; you have not even entered the temple yet. But you are on the right path and you are moving in the right direction. If you don’t allow greed, if you don’t start expecting it to happen every day, according to your desires, you will discover the treasure too. It is inside you.
“Is this what you call meditation?” Just the beginning. Meditation is when mind is no more at all. Meditation is a state of no-mind. Your mind has not dissolved; it was watching, standing by the corner. And it is your mind that is inquiring about what has happened. It is not the business of the mind. Mind is meant for outward things, for objective reality. In science it is perfectly in its right place, but in religion, in your interiority, in your subjectivity it has no place at all.
“…and will it be easy to find it again?” It all depends on you. If you don’t try to find it again, it will be very easy. If you try to find it again, you will make it more and more difficult. The more you try, the less of a possibility there is.
The American idea of “try, and try, try again” will not help. It is good for the outside world; for the inside world, don’t try. Just wait, and wait with patience. If it happens, feel grateful. If it does not happen, don’t feel sad.

I have heard about a Sufi mystic, Bayazid, who used to say after each prayer, raising his hands toward the sky, “Father, you are so generous. You take care of me so carefully, as if I am the only one to be taken care of.” His disciples were very tired of listening to it every day, morning, evening.
Once it happened that for three days… Bayazid obviously was a rebel; no mystic can be otherwise. I have not heard that a mystic can be orthodox, traditional. A mystic is naturally rebellious. His religion is rebellion, rebellion against all kinds of lies that tradition goes on giving from one generation to another generation. And Bayazid had annoyed the orthodox, the so-called religious, the priests, all the vested interests who want man to remain enslaved to the past. For three days they had been passing through villages where no food was given to them, doors were closed in their faces, even water was not given and it was a desert, with no shelter. They were sleeping cold nights on the sand.
And still after every prayer he was saying, “How can you manage? You have to look after such a vast universe, but you take so much care. I cannot ever return it; I don’t have anything to give to you.”
The disciples finally freaked out! They said, “It is enough. Before it was okay, but for three days no food, no water… We are dying! Cold nights in the desert, hot days in the desert, and still you are telling God, ‘You are taking care of us’?”
Bayazid said, “He knows what is needed and when it is needed. These three days of hunger and thirst and the cold nights and the hot days must have been absolutely necessary for us. He always takes care.”

Such a trust in existence will bring, whenever you are ready, whatever you need. So be grateful if it happens and be grateful if it does not happen. That is real gratefulness. But don’t start asking, “Will it be easy to find it again?” Have you found it in the first place, or has it found you? You have not found it, so how can you find it again?
It has found you. And it will find you again and again, but don’t lose your innocence in expectations, in desires. That is one of the very stupid things religious people go on doing.

Two Polacks rent a rowboat and go fishing on a lake. They are catching fish after fish, and have almost two dozen by the end of the afternoon.
One man asks the other, “Why don’t we come back to the very same place tomorrow?”
“Good idea,” his friend answers.
So the first man takes a piece of chalk, and draws an X on the bottom of the boat. “Don’t be stupid!” the friend says. “How do you know that we’ll get the same boat tomorrow?”

Just remain available and grateful – waiting with a throbbing heart, not with a desiring mind; waiting with an open heart, not with a closed mind – not with the idea, “It has to happen. Why is it not happening?” If you can remember this simple thing, it will happen more often, it will happen more deeply, it will happen in new forms, in new riches, in new colors, with new significance, with deeper meanings, with higher flights. But it will always happen – it will not be your doing.

This morning before discourse started, sitting on the marble, I felt as if we were one mouth singing, one heart beating, one breath breathing. I felt so much love in my being, as if we were all one being. I feel like giving a lot; I feel as if I am taking so much from everywhere, and my being wants to be useful for developing eternal love. I have the feeling we are holding each other's hands and starting to flower all together in the spring. Am I just a dreamer, beloved Osho?
Friedrich Nietzsche in one of his statements says, “The greatest calamity will fall on humanity the day all the dreamers disappear.” The whole evolution of man is because man has dreamed about it. What was a dream yesterday, today is a reality, and what is a dream today can become a reality tomorrow.
All the poets are dreamers, all the musicians are dreamers, all the mystics are dreamers. In fact, creativity is a by-product of dreaming. But these dreams are not the dreams that Sigmund Freud analyzes. So you have to make a distinction between the dream of a poet, the dream of a sculptor, the dream of an architect, the dream of a mystic, the dream of a dancer – and the dreams of a sick mind.
It is very unfortunate that Sigmund Freud never bothered about the great dreamers who are the foundation of the whole of human evolution. He came across only the psychologically sick people, and because his whole life’s experience was to analyze the dreams of psychopaths, the very word dreaming became condemned. The madman dreams, but his dream is going to be destructive of himself. The creative man also dreams, but his dream is going to enrich the world.

I am reminded of Michelangelo. He was passing through the market where all kinds of marble were available, and he saw a beautiful rock, so he inquired about it.
The owner said, “If you want that rock you can take it for free because it has just been lying around taking up space. And for twelve years, nobody has even inquired about it; I also don’t see that there is any potential in that rock.”
Michelangelo took the rock, worked on it for almost the whole year, and made perhaps the most beautiful statue that has ever existed. Just a few years ago, a madman destroyed it. It was in the Vatican; it was a statue of Jesus Christ after he was taken down from the cross, and is lying dead in his mother Mary’s lap.
I have seen only photographs of it, but it is so alive, as if Jesus is going to wake up any moment. And he has used the marble with such artfulness that you can feel both things – the strength of Jesus and the fragileness. And the tears are in the eyes of Jesus’ mother, Mary.
A madman, just a few years ago, hammered the rock that Michelangelo had made, and when he was asked why he had done it he said, “I also want to become famous. Michelangelo had to work one year; then he became famous. I had to work for five minutes only, and I destroyed the whole statue. And my name has gone around the world as a headline on all the papers.”
Both men worked on the same marble rock. One was a creator, another was a madman.
After a year, when Michelangelo had finished the work, he asked the shopkeeper to come to his home because he wanted to show him something.
He could not believe his eyes. He asked, “From where did you get this beautiful marble?”
Michelangelo said, “Don’t you recognize? It is the same ugly rock that waited in front of your shop for twelve years.” And I remember this incident, because the shopkeeper asked, “How did you manage to think that that ugly rock could be turned into such a beautiful statue?”
Michelangelo said, “I did not think about it. I have been dreaming of making this statue, and when I passed by the rock I suddenly saw Jesus, calling me, ‘I am encaged in the rock. Free me! Help me to get out of this rock.’ I saw exactly the same statue in the rock. So I have only done a small job: I have removed the unnecessary parts of the rock, and Jesus and Mary are free from their bondage.”

It would have been a great contribution if a man of the same caliber as Sigmund Freud, instead of analyzing the sick people and their dreams, had worked on the dreams of psychologically healthy, and not only healthy, but creative people. The analysis of their dreams will not show that all dreams are repressions. The analysis of their dreams will show that there are dreams which are born out of a more creative consciousness than ordinary people have.
So don’t be worried about being a dreamer. All the people who have gathered around me are dreamers. They are dreaming of a higher state of consciousness, they are dreaming of a possibility to find the eternal source of life. They are dreaming of God. And their dreams are not sick, their dreams are authentically healthy. The whole evolution of man and his consciousness depends on these dreamers. You say, “This morning before discourse, sitting on the marble, I felt as if we were one mouth singing, one heart beating, one breath breathing. I felt so much love in my being, as if we were all one being.
“I feel like giving a lot, I feel as if I am taking so much from everywhere, and my being wants to be useful for developing eternal love. I have the feeling we are holding each other’s hands and starting to flower all together in the spring.” It is not a dream. It is a dream that is becoming real, a dream that is transforming itself into reality. And it is not only you. Many people have written to me; in different ways they have felt it, and what they have felt is not their projection. It is our reality, it is our discovery.
The whole of existence is one organic unity. You are not only holding hands with each other, you are holding hands with the trees. You are not only breathing together, the whole universe is breathing together. The universe is in a deep harmony. Only man has forgotten the language of harmony, and our work here is to remind you. We are not creating harmony; harmony is your reality. It is just that you have forgotten about it. Perhaps it is so obvious that one tends to forget about it. Perhaps you are born in it; how can you think about it?

An ancient parable is that a fish who was of a philosophical bent of mind was asking other fish, “I have heard so much about the ocean; where is it?” And she is in the ocean! But she was born in the ocean, she has lived in the ocean; there has never been any separation. She has not seen ocean as a separate object from herself. An old fish caught hold of the young philosopher and told her, “This is the ocean we are in.”
But the young philosopher said, “You must be kidding. This is water and you are calling it the ocean. I will have to inquire more to wiser people around.”

A fish comes to know about the ocean only when it is caught by a fisherman and drawn out of the ocean, thrown into the sand. Then, for the first time she understands that she has always lived in the ocean, that the ocean is her life and without it she cannot survive.
But with man there is a difficulty. You cannot be taken out of existence. Existence is infinite: there are no shores where you can stand aloof and see existence. Wherever you are, you will be part of existence. We are all breathing together. We are part of one orchestra. To understand it is a great experience – don’t call it dreaming; dreaming has a very wrong connotation because of Sigmund Freud. Otherwise it is one of the most beautiful words, very poetic.
You are experiencing a reality, because all the people who are here are here for the same purpose: just to be silent, just to be joyful, just to be. In their silence, they will feel they are joined with others. When you are thinking, you are separate from others because you are thinking different thoughts and the other person is thinking different thoughts. But if you are both silent, then all the walls between you disappear. Two silences cannot remain two. They become one.
All great values of life – love, silence, blissfulness, ecstasy, godliness – make you aware of an immense oneness. There is nobody other than you; we are all different expressions of one reality, different songs of one singer, different dances of one dancer, different paintings – but the painter is one.
But this has to be reminded to you again: don’t call it a dream, because by calling it a dream you do not understand that it is a reality. And reality is far more beautiful than any dream can be. Reality is more psychedelic, more colorful, more joyful, more dancing than you can ever imagine. But we are living so unconsciously.
Our first unconsciousness is that we think that we are separate. But I emphasize that no man is an island, we are all part of a vast continent. There is variety, but that does not make us separate. Variety makes life richer – a part of us is in the Himalayas, a part of us is in the stars, a part of us is in the roses. A part of us is in the bird on the wing, a part of us is in the green of the trees. We are spread all over. To experience it as reality will transform your whole approach toward life, will transform your every act, will transform your very being.
You will become full of love; you will become full of reverence for life. You will become for the first time, according to me, truly religious – not a Christian, not a Hindu, not a Mohammedan, but truly, purely religious.
The word religion is beautiful. It comes from a root which means bringing together those who have fallen apart in their ignorance; bringing them together, waking them up so that they can see they are not separate. Then you cannot hurt even a tree. Then your compassion and your love will be just spontaneous – not cultivated, not something of a discipline. If love is a discipline, it is false. If nonviolence is cultivated, it is false. If compassion is nurtured, it is false. But if they come spontaneously without any effort of your own, then they have a reality so deep, so exquisite.
In the name of religion, so much crime has been done in the past. More people have been killed by religious people than by anybody else. Certainly all these religions have been fake, pseudo. The authentic religion has to be born.

Once H. G. Wells was asked, when he had published his history of the world – a tremendous work – “What do you think about civilization?”
And H. G. Wells said, “It is a good idea, but somebody should do something about it to bring it into existence.”
Up to now we have not been civilized, not cultured, not religious. In the name of civilization, in the name of culture, in the name of religion we have been doing all kinds of barbarous acts – primitive, subhuman, animalistic. And sometimes we have passed even beyond the animals: no animals eats its own species, no animal is a cannibal, except man. And you will be thinking that only in Africa a few people eat human flesh. It is not so simple to throw the responsibility on small tribes in Africa.
Just a few days ago, in Palestine, people asked the government – because so many people are dying from hunger and starvation – “Can we eat human flesh?” Of course, of dead people – those who have died of starvation can at least help others to survive a little longer. And the government of Palestine has accepted the idea that it is better to eat human flesh than to die.
The population is growing so fast in the world that it is not just a guess that by the end of this century, millions of people will be eating human flesh. No animal goes that low. He will die hungry, but he will not eat any animal of his own species.
Man has fallen far away from reality. He has to be awakened to the truth that we are all one. And it is not a hypothesis; it is the experience of all the meditators, without exception, down the ages, that the whole of existence is one organic unity. So don’t mistake a beautiful experience as a dream because to call it a dream cancels its reality. Dreams have to be made real, not reality changed into dreams.

An old man of eighty-two went to a sperm bank to make a deposit.
“Are you sure,” asked the woman at the reception desk, “that you want to do this?”
“Yes,” answered the old man, “I feel it is my duty to give something of myself to the world.”
The woman handed him a jar and directed him to a room down the hall. When thirty minutes had passed and he did not return, the girl began to worry. She feared he might have had a heart attack or a stroke.
At that moment the old man came out of the room and approached the young woman. “Listen,” he said, “I tried it with one hand, then I tried it with two hands, then I got it up and beat it on the sink. Then I ran warm water on it, then cold water over it – and still I can’t get the lid off the jar!”

Don’t guess!

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