Osho,
When the Communist Party tells a lie, we know it is a lie. When the pope tells a lie, we know it is a lie and we say that he is telling a lie. But when you tell a lie, we always say it is a “device.” I would like to know why you tell us so many lies-devices. Whether I connect with you as a master or as a friend, it is still for me a question of trust. Osho, my hand, and my whole being, is trembling as I write you my first question since I became your sannyasin. Please make it clear for me once again. I love you.
The first thing that has to be noted is that you are a new sannyasin; you are not acquainted with my ways or the ways of other masters. But your question is significant, and I would like to go deep into it from all possible aspects.
A stone on the path can either be a stopping stone, hindering the path, or it can be a stepping stone, helping you to go higher on the path. The stone is the same, but how you use it all depends on your use.
Gautam Buddha has defined truth as “that which works” – a strange definition, but immensely profound.
The question is not whether something is a lie or not; the question is whether the lie is an arrow pointing toward the truth or away from it. What is the direction of the arrow? For the seeker, the lie that becomes an arrow pointing toward the truth is as valuable as truth itself. And sometimes the reverse can happen: a truth may not lead you to the ultimate truth; it may lead you toward more darkness, more mortality. Then it is not worth choosing.
The Communist Party has nothing to do with devices; it has nothing to do with truth either. Its domain is that of facts, hence it is very easy to say what is factual and what is not factual. But the world the master deals with is not the world of facts.
You have to understand the difference between the fact and the truth: fact belongs to the material world; truth belongs to the transcendental. What is fact today may not be fact tomorrow. You are young today, it is a fact; but tomorrow you will be old, and the fact will no longer be a fact. The truth is always the same – today, tomorrow, for the whole eternity.
It is easy to find out if somebody is saying something against the factual reality; the lie is so apparent and so meaningless. But about the transcendental world, all words are lies. So it is not a question that I lie once in a while – the moment you utter a word about the ultimate you have uttered a lie.

Lao Tzu never wrote in his whole life, not even a single letter. And he was known, it was felt by many, that he had found the treasure and he was not saying anything about it – what a miser! Even the emperor called him and told him, “This is not right. You should say what you have found because it radiates from your being; you come close and we can feel the coolness, the silence, the beauty. You are pregnant with something that is not of this world. Say it, write it, so that those who are groping in the dark can find the way.”
Lao Tzu simply said, “Do you think I have not thought about it? I have been crying and weeping; I have shed tears in the darkness of the night when nobody could see that I was crying and weeping, because I know it. But simultaneously I also know that the moment I say anything about it, it will be a betrayal. It cannot be confined in words; no explanation is possible for this experience. So please just excuse me, I am utterly helpless. When I look at people I feel to say something, but when I go in and look at my own being, the luminosity of it, I see my utter helplessness – how am I going to pour this luminosity into words? This living truth cannot be forced into dead words, and I am not going to commit this crime.”
His whole life he remained silent.
A few disciples still followed him, came close to him. Although he had not spoken, they heard it. This is the mystery – they heard it like silent music, they heard it like a fragrance arising, they heard it in the beauty and the depth of the eyes of Lao Tzu. But this was possible only for very few people.

Those who can understand without words don’t need any devices. You are not one of them. You will need words. You are not so innocent, so open, so available, that you can hear silence. That silence can become a sermon.
Yes, there are people for whom stones are sermons; they don’t need words. But those rare people have become fewer and fewer in the world. The world has become more and more knowledgeable. People have forgotten that there are other ways of communication; now they know only one way of communication and that is the words. And in the words, the truth cannot be expressed. Then the only possible way is to tell you lies which point toward the truth.
Slowly, slowly, the moment you see the truth you will understand the compassion of the person who was ready even to lie for you. Lao Tzu was not so compassionate as I am. Lao Tzu was more concerned about the purity of truth; I am more concerned about the evolution of your being. Without your evolution, the truth will disappear from the world. But if you need a few devices I don’t hesitate at all. I am ready to tell you anything that can help to bring you even a single step closer.
In the end, when Lao Tzu was going to leave China and go into the Himalayas to die there, the emperor gave orders all over the country that wherever he crosses the boundaries he should be caught, and forced – unless he writes his experience he cannot be allowed to go out of the country.
He was caught. The man who caught him had always loved him. With tears in his eyes, he said, “I have to follow the orders. This is my cottage; for miles there is no other house. This is the boundary – I will not let you go. You can rest in my cottage and write down your experience.”
Lao Tzu had to write it down. In three days he completed his only book – just a small book, only a few pages. The first sentence is: “The truth cannot be said; the moment you say it, it becomes a lie. So reading my book, please remember it. I am writing it under compulsion. I will try my best, but even then it remains only a beautiful lie.” He was completely unaware that in the hands of an articulate master even lies can become stepping stones.
He was a mystic, but not a master. He had come to know, but he was unable to lead others to know it.
A man comes to me asking, “Is enlightenment possible in this life? Is it so easy? – because I have heard saints saying that it is so difficult that hundreds of lives are needed.”
What do you want me to say to this man? – that hundreds of lives are needed? Then perhaps in thousands of lives also he will not be able to get it. I say to this man, “Enlightenment is possible right now. It is not a question of lives, not even of days, not even of hours. If you are ready, this very moment…” This gives him courage. Although he knows that it is not possible this very moment – but perhaps tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, at least in this life.
I say to the man, “It is the easiest thing in the world because it is your self-nature. It is not something to be achieved; it is something to be remembered. You have simply forgotten it. So don’t be worried.” In a sense I am lying. I know that perhaps it will not be possible in this life, but it is a “perhaps.” Perhaps if I can give him enough encouragement, if I can give him enough inspiration, if I can give him enough challenge, it may be possible.
I am ready to lie, because I am not going to lose anything by lying but he may get something. There is no harm. I am lying for his benefit. I am not lying to cheat him, because I will not be benefited by it. I am not lying to exploit him. I am simply making it clear to him that time is not important but your intensity, your longing, is important. If your longing is dull, if you don’t have any intensity, if you are lousy, then perhaps it will take hundreds of lives. But if you are ready to risk, risk your life, then this very moment can become an opening.
Life is not arithmetic; it is a mystery. You cannot calculate and you cannot predict. Anything is possible – why not hope for the best? Why not create the situation for the best? If it has happened to me, one thing has become absolutely certain: that it can happen to you. I don’t put myself on any holy pedestal. I am not holier than you, I am not higher than you, I am not a prophet, I am not a savior, I am not a messenger of God. I am not the only begotten son of God; I am just a simple, ordinary man like you. And if it is possible for me, it is possible for you; the difference is only that you believe that it is very difficult. Your belief makes it difficult – that too is a lie. And when there is no other way except lying, why not make it easy?
I say, “It is the easiest thing in the world.” It is a lie, but it is a better lie. It is compassionate.
That’s why when communists tell a lie, it is a lie, and when a master tells a lie, it is not a lie, it is a device. It is a device to help you in some way, to bring you closer to the truth. There is no direct way; hence, indirect ways are needed. A device is only an indirect way.
I have been telling the story often:

A man’s house is on fire and his small children, very small children, are playing inside. They are very excited, they don’t know… They have never seen any house on fire, they are not afraid, they are absolutely innocent, and they are dancing and enjoying because they have never seen such flames.
The whole village has gathered around the house and people are shouting to the children from outside, “Come out, you will get burned!” But there is so much shouting that nobody hears, and those children are so enchanted with the flames dancing all around the house, and they are just in the middle, dancing and enjoying and giggling. It is such a great excitement to them.
Just then their father, who had gone to the city, comes back. And people gather around him and they say, “We are sorry, we cannot bring your children out. We have tried hard, we have been shouting, but they don’t listen.”
The father goes around the house. Just near a window there is still no fire. He calls to the children, he says, “Listen, I have brought all the toys that you asked for. Just come out and get your toys.”
And they all jump out of the window and they start asking, “Where are the toys?”
He says, “Just come out. I have left them there in the crowd.” And when they reach there he says, “Just forgive me, I lied. I had to bring you out, and there was no way and no time to explain to you that you will be burned to death. This is fire; this is not entertainment. I have forgotten to bring your toys; I will bring them tomorrow, certainly. Forgive me for lying, but without lying it was impossible to save your lives – only your toys could bring you out of the burning house.”

What are you going to say to this father? – that he is a liar, that he should feel ashamed that he lies to his own children? Or can you see his compassion, his love? And who has told you that lies are always bad? In this story they are not; they proved to be life-saving devices.
If I tell you things which are beyond your mind right now, perhaps you may get scared.
Do you know Buddhism disappeared from India just in five hundred years. The greatest man in the history of religion, and his religion could not survive for even five hundred years; after five hundred years his religion disappeared. Something was basically wrong in his approach – not that he had not realized the truth; he had realized the truth, but he was telling things to people which he should not have told them. He was telling the truth, but the people were not ready to hear the truth, they wanted a sweet lie. He should have told a sweet lie in such a way that they could swallow the bitter truth with it too. Every truth has to be sugarcoated; otherwise you cannot swallow it.
Buddha said to people, “When you come to your innermost point you will disappear, anatta – no self, no being, no soul. You will be just a zero, and the zero will be melting into the universal zero.” Very close to the ultimate truth, but told in a very crude way.
Now, who wants to become a zero? People have come to find eternal bliss. They are already tired, miserable, in deep anguish, suffering all kinds of insanity, and they have come to the master and the master says, “The only medicine is that you become a zero” – in other words: the disease can be cured only if the patient is killed. Translated exactly, that is what it means. Naturally the disease will disappear when the patient is killed, but you had come to be cured, not to be killed.
The religion disappeared within five centuries. It has intrinsic reasons, and the basic reason is that people did not find it tasteful, alluring, attractive. It was naked and true, but who wants naked truth?
I have to talk about bliss, about benediction, about thousands of lotuses blossoming in you. Then you think that it is worth it. Just sitting silently for one hour every day, if thousands of lotuses open inside, thousands of suns rise, then it is worth it to find one hour in twenty-four hours.
But the truth is: no lotuses, no suns – just pure nothingness. That’s what Gautam Buddha was telling people.
Because of his influence people followed him, but then he died. He had left great disciples; somehow the stream continued, but it became smaller and smaller. And within five hundred years it disappeared completely because nobody new was even interested in it. Nobody wanted to become just a zero and disappear; then it is better to be miserable, but at least you are, and you have some hope that some day you may get out of your misery. You are poor, but some day you may be rich. Today it is not good, but tomorrow is there. Don’t lose heart; tomorrow may bring good news to you. But this man is saying, “Renounce the world, renounce all pleasures of the world” – for what? To become a zero!
The people who had followed Buddha had not followed because of what he was saying, but because of what he was. When he disappeared only his sayings remained, and nobody was ready even to hear about it.
If you put zero on one side and hell on another side, people would rather go to hell; at least there they can find some restaurant, some disco. Something is bound to be there, because all the nice people have been going to hell. Only dry bones, so-called saints with no juice at all are going into heaven. All juicy people – poets, painters, sculptors, dancers, actors, musicians – they are all going to hell.
So if you have a choice between zero and hell, anybody who has any intelligence will choose hell willingly. But zero? From hell there is a possibility to get out one day, even to reach to heaven. But from zero, nothing is left, not even a xerox copy – gone, gone, gone forever.
I have been trying to help you move toward truth by using all kinds of devices, methods, meditations, stories, words, theories, arguments. They themselves are not true, but they indicate toward the truth. When my finger is pointing toward the moon that does not mean that my finger is the moon. It simply means: look at the moon, not at the finger – the finger is not the moon. If you cling to the finger then you will say, “You have been lying, this is not the moon.”
But I myself am saying that anything that has been said or can be said is just an indication, a finger pointing. Look at the pointed at, the unknowable, the mysterious – move…
Even if I have to tell you things which are not going to happen, if they can lead you toward that which needs to happen… They are lies but not just lies; they are devices. And they are out of compassion; they are just to help you. So whatever you want, whatever you desire, whatever you long for, I use it because I know that once you have started moving in the right direction you will stop longing for anything that is a hindrance. In the beginning it may have been a help. As you go closer to the truth, you yourself will see that now it is a hindrance. You will drop it.

When Edmund Hillary went to Everest he had a group of at least thirty people and tons of luggage, food, materials, tents, emergency equipment, cameras, all kind of things – but he reached to the top. As he went higher and higher he had to leave things behind because each thing became heavier. As air becomes thinner, things become heavier; one has to sort out what is non-essential and drop it on the way. Coming back, you can pick it up again.
Finally when he reached very close, just a few feet more, the last thing he dropped was his coat. Even the coat was feeling too heavy. Breathing was difficult. Just a few feet before he had left his camera that he brought just to take pictures. He gave it to Tensing, his associate, saying, “You keep it and you take the pictures, I cannot carry it anymore. It has become so heavy, and breathing is so difficult.” Just standing on Everest, he had nothing. He was just alone.

Almost exactly the same happens in the journey of truth. You start with much luggage; you have to. If I tell you to drop all luggage right now you will say, “Then I am not going.” So I say, “You just collect as much junk as you can” – because I know you will go on dropping it by yourself. I don’t need to tell you.
As you move higher, you will start dropping the junk. Even if I say, “You are dropping such valuable things – keep them!” you will say, “Now it is impossible; either the things can go on, or I can go on. Both cannot go on together, they will kill me.” And they were valuable things at one moment; now they are dangerous to life.
And, finally, you will be alone. All words, all devices, all methods have been left because they all became burdensome. But in the beginning it is better not to say it; it is better to give you as much burden as possible so you enjoy the journey. At least in the beginning, you are going great. The journey itself transforms you, takes all the lies, and finally just the pure truth remains.
That’s the function of a device.

Osho,
I am a gambler whose heart is drawn toward you like a magnet; yet when I am physically close to you I feel like a teenager on my first date, not knowing quite how to be, afraid I will do, say or write the wrong thing. Is there some gamble I am afraid to make?
It is the greatest gamble of life. To be with me you are going to lose yourself sooner or later. That creates an unconscious fear.
Each love affair is dangerous, because one has to lose oneself. From a distance it is perfectly good. Lovers think of so many things in their minds that they are going to say when they meet their beloved, their lover. But when they meet, they suddenly become dumb. Just the closeness creates a change – the chattering mind is no longer chattering. And there is a fear. If love is authentic there is bound to be fear.
If love is not authentic, then there is no fear. Then you can say anything you like – just repeat dialogues from films you have seen and the novels and poetry you have read, and there is no risk because it is all phony.
Do you understand the word phony? It comes from “telephone”. Lovers on the telephone are great talkers. Hours will pass, and they are on the telephone. They become so articulate, because there is nobody around – the woman is so far away, the man is so far away, maybe miles. The word phony comes from telephone, because the telephone changes the whole situation. It is no longer authentic, it is false. Even your voice is not your voice; on the telephone it sounds like somebody else’s voice.
But face to face, if there is real love, silence descends and fear surrounds you – and the fear is of being dissolved into the other.
It is one of the most important things to understand: the more you are attracted to a person the more you are afraid of the person, because the attractiveness simply means it is irresistible. When you come close you will not be able to keep yourself separate, you will forget and take a jump and become one with the other. This is about the ordinary love.
When you come to a master things become even more difficult. To be with a master is to be ready to die; to die as you are, to be born again as you should be. You don’t know about what you are going to be after the death. You know what you are, and it is very natural to cling to it – because who knows whether you will be reborn or not? There is no guarantee, nobody has promised anything. And even if somebody promises something, if you are not here what is the point of the promise? Who is going to fight the case and sue the person in the court, that “This man has promised me that I will be reborn.” The dead cannot fight cases in the courts. To be with a master is the greatest gamble. You are putting everything at stake not knowing what is going to happen afterward, what the result of it is going to be.
The master says that you will be reborn, that you will be born in glory, that you will be born in your immortality, in your deathlessness. Hence trust becomes the foundation of religion – not belief, but trust. Belief is in theories, in philosophies. Trust is in individuals. If you trust, you can risk.
And trust is the rarest quality in the modern man. That’s why you don’t see many people who can be representatives of the divine, whose very presence can be the argument that there is something beyond the visible, beyond the tangible. There used to be many more people on the earth of that quality, but that quality has been destroyed. Religions have destroyed that quality. It will be a surprise to you, because that is the very foundation of a true religion. But a true religion can only be one without any name – it cannot be Hindu, it cannot be Mohammedan, it cannot be Christian. It can only be a quality of religiousness.
Now all religions are against religiousness, want to prevent religiousness. On that point the shankaracharyas, the popes, the ayatollahs are all in agreement. So they have created something similar to deceive humanity, and they have deceived for thousands of years. Instead of trust, they have handed you belief. Now belief is just a toy – you can play with it, it cannot transform you. Millions of Christians, for twenty centuries, have not been able to produce a single Christ – what can be more of a failure?
Twenty-five centuries, and all the Jainas have not been able to produce a single Mahavira. To where have these people disappeared? Now even their names seem to be suspicious, seem to be mythological. They don’t seem to be historical personalities because nothing similar exists in the world today.
The priests of all the religions are the enemies of religiousness. They have given belief to people: believe in God, believe in heaven and hell, believe in a thousand and one things. But they have taken your fundamental right, they have taken your guts away from you. They have made you all businessmen. Religiousness needs gamblers.
A businessman is always thinking of profit, how much he can gain out of a certain deal. The gambler is not thinking of profit. He is simply enjoying the moment when he stakes everything and waits for the unknown to happen. In that waiting, he tastes something of religiousness. But that is momentary; with a master it becomes a constant phenomenon. The closer you come, the more you are on the stake, the more you are on a funeral pyre.
The day you die, the disciple is born – and the fear of death is there. You have to risk in spite of the fear, otherwise you can never be a disciple. And without being a disciple one cannot enter into the world of religion.
Then you can go into a church, you can go into a temple, you can go into a mosque. You can repeat like parrots words written in scriptures – but with nothing of your own experience.
The master is a jumping board from where you can jump into the unknown. Nobody has ever come back again the same. Passing through the master, everybody has come with a resurrected individuality, with a new light in the eyes, and new grace in the being – new joy in your step, a new dance surrounding you.

Osho,
Though I love you so much, I seem to always find reasons not to come too close. Am I avoiding your physical presence?
I have just answered you.

Osho,
When I look inside I can see your face, when I smell inside I can smell you, when I feel inside I can feel your touch. When I heard your voice two weeks ago saying, “Come,” I could hardly believe it. But when I looked, you had this huge smile, so I am here. Can you please talk to us about the different ways of communication with you, or about communication between master and disciple?
There are only two ways: one is between the teacher and the student, and one is between the master and the disciple. The first I call communication, and the second I call communion.
I am speaking to you. It is possible just to be concerned with my words; then you are a student here, and as far as you are concerned I am only a teacher to you. You will become more knowledgeable, you will know more about and about, but your ignorance will remain the same.
If you listen to me, not only to the words but to the heart that is beating behind them, then there is communion. Then you may not become more knowledgeable but your ignorance will start disappearing into innocence. A moment comes between the master and the disciple when just looking in the eyes is enough, or just sitting, with the disciples allowing your presence, is enough. In the silence a synchronicity slowly starts happening – a music between heart and heart which is not heard but felt.
I don’t want students anymore. I have wasted enough time with them. My whole concern now is with the disciples. And for the disciple there is no other way than communion, a merger – two consciousnesses meeting and merging, losing their boundaries, overlapping.
Whatever I have experienced starts overflowing in you, waking you up, waking your deepest spiritual sleep so that the disciple one day is no longer a disciple; he has come home. He has become a master himself. It is not a question of knowledge, it is a question of being, how much being you have.
At a certain point your being starts merging with the universal being. There, the master’s work is finished; he can say good-bye to you. Now you have reached the point of no return. You cannot fall back; you can only go on and on to the ultimate.

Osho,
The mind is the sickness, the heart is a cure. Beyond that, your presence indicates silence, where words are no longer useful. I feel healthy with love, remembering you and meditation. Osho, could you say something about love, remembering you, and meditation in our daily lives?
They are not different. Just concentrate your whole energy on meditation. Become silent, watch your thoughts moving on the screen of the mind. Just by watching, they will disappear one day. Don’t be in a hurry. You cannot do anything except watch and wait.
Remember these two key words: watch and wait. Whenever the time is ripe, your watchfulness is perfect, thoughts will disappear – and their disappearance means the opening of the whole existence. This is what I call meditation.
In this moment there will be a very subtle remembrance of me, but don’t emphasize it. Let it come as a breeze and let it go. It should not be a hindrance, it should be only a simple gratefulness – just a whiff of fragrance for a moment, surrounding you and then disappearing into the cosmos.
As you become open to existence you will find for the first time what love is. It will not be addressed to anybody in particular; it will be unaddressed – to the stars, to the trees, to people, to animals, to the mountains, to the rivers, to the ocean, to everything that is. Your love will be showering on it. But you need not worry about it; these are by-products of meditation.
So don’t think of three things – meditation, remembrance of the master, and love. Just concentrate totally on meditation. When the meditation is complete there will come a moment when you will remember the master; it is bound to be so. And then there will be just an overflowing of love for no reason, just because you are so full, a raincloud. You will be a lovecloud wanting to shower.
The ordinary love is always toward someone, always addressed. And the addressed love is dangerous.
I am reminded of a beautiful story:

A Buddhist nun had a beautiful golden Buddha, a small, golden statue of Buddha. She was staying in a temple in China: perhaps it is the only temple in the whole world with so many statues. It is called the temple of ten thousand buddhas. Ten thousand statues of Buddha – the whole mountain has been carved, the whole mountain has become a temple.
But she was so much attached to her small golden Buddha that although there were beautiful statues of Buddha in different postures – sitting, walking, sleeping – she would worship her own golden Buddha every day in the morning. But there was a difficulty, and the difficulty was that she would burn incense. Her Buddha was very small, and you cannot depend on the winds. The winds would come and would take the smoke of the incense to other buddhas. And there were ten thousand buddhas – her own poor Buddha was so small that he was not getting any incense. She was really angry: “This is too bad. Other buddhas are getting it, and I am not burning it for them. This is simply fraud, and my poor Buddha is suffering.”
She thought of a device. She made a small bamboo, a hollow bamboo, and put it over the smoke of the incense and attached it to the nose of the small Buddha. And she was very happy because all the incense was going to the little Buddha, her own Buddha: “Who cares about buddhas? The question is my Buddha.”
But that created a new trouble: the face of the Buddha became black. She went to the priest of the temple and she said, “Help me. I am an old nun and I don’t know what to do now.”
He said, “But how did it happen?” She explained the whole thing. He said, “You are stupid. They are all buddhas, they are statues of the same person. You should not be so attached to your own small Buddha.”

This is what happens whenever love is addressed: it blackens the face of both persons, because both are addressing each other. So you can see lovers nagging, bitching…
Let the fragrance go, because all are one as far as life is concerned, all are one as far as existence is concerned. Nobody is “the other.”

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