The True Sage 08

Eighth Discourse from the series of 10 discourses - The True Sage by Osho.
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The first question:
I seem to be neither totally in the world nor the watcher on the hill. How to be some place? I feel like I am in between everything I do.
Then exactly that is the place you should be.
You go on creating problems. Wherever you are, be there. There is no need to be a watcher on the hills. There should be no “should.” Once the should enters life you are already poisoned. There should be no goal. There should be no right and wrong. That’s the only sin: to think in terms of division, values, condemnation, appreciation.
Wherever you are, nothing is wrong. In between the watcher on the hills and a man in the world, that’s exactly where you should be. And I say wherever you are, if you can accept it immediately, then and there you have become the watcher on the hills. Even in hell, if you accept it, the hell disappears because it can remain only through your rejection. Hell disappears and heaven appears. Whatsoever you accept becomes heavenly and whatsoever you reject becomes hell.
It is said that a saint cannot be thrown into hell because he knows the alchemy of how to transform it. You have heard that sinners go to hell and saints to heaven, but you have heard the wrong thing. Just the other way around is the case. Wherever sinners go they create hell and wherever saints go there is heaven. Saints are not sent to heaven; there is nobody to send and manage all this. There is nobody; but wherever they go, this is the way they are: they create their heaven, they carry their heaven with them, within them. And sinners? – you can send them to heaven, they will create hell; they cannot do otherwise.
So what is the definition of a saint, or a sinner? My definition is: a saint is one who has come to know the alchemical secret of transforming everything into heaven, and a sinner is one who does not know the secret of transforming things into beautiful existences. Rather, on the contrary he goes on making things ugly. Whatsoever you are will be reflected around you, so don’t try to be anything else and don’t try to be in some other place.
That is the disease called man: always to become somebody, to be some place. Always to reject that which is and hanker for that which is not – this is the disease called man.
Be alert! Do you see it?
It is a simple fact to be seen. I am not theorizing about it, I am not a theoretician. I am simply indicating a bare naked fact, that if you can live in this moment wherever you are and forget about the future – goals, the idea of becoming something else – immediately the whole world around you is transformed. You have become a transforming force.
Acceptance, deep, total acceptance, is what religion is all about.
A wants to become B, B wants to become C; then the fever of becoming is created. And you are not a becoming, you are a being; you are already that which you can be, which you ever can be. You are already that, nothing more can be done about you. You are a finished product.
That is the meaning I give to the story that God created the world: when the perfect creates, the creation is perfect. When God creates, how can you improve upon it? Just think of the whole absurdity, the whole idea is absurd. You are trying to improve upon God. You cannot improve. You can be miserable, that’s all, and you can suffer unnecessarily. You will suffer diseases which are just in your imagination and nowhere else.
“God creates” means that out of perfection comes perfection. You are perfect; nothing else is needed.
Look right now, this very moment within yourself; have a direct insight. What is needed? Everything is simply perfect and beautiful, not even a cloud. I cannot see – just look within yourself – even a cloud in your inner space. Everything is full of light. But sooner or later the mind will say to be something else, to be somewhere else, to become. The mind doesn’t allow you to be. The mind is becoming and your soul is being.
That’s why buddhas go on saying, “Unless you drop all desiring you will not attain.” Desiring means becoming, desiring means to be something else. Desiring means not to accept the case as you are, not to be in a total yes mood, whatsoever the situation is. To say yes to life is to be religious, to say no to life is to be irreligious. Whenever you desire something, you are saying no, you are saying that something better is possible.
The trees are happy and the birds are happy and the clouds are happy because they have no becoming. They are simply whatsoever they are. The rosebush is not trying to become a lotus – no. The rosebush is absolutely happy to be a rosebush. You cannot persuade the rosebush; howsoever you advertise about the lotus, you will not be able to corrupt the mind of the rosebush to become a lotus. The rosebush will simply laugh because a rosebush is a rosebush is a rosebush; it is simply settled and centered in its being.
That’s why the whole of nature is without any fever: calm and quiet and tranquil and settled. Only the human mind is in chaos because everybody is hankering to be somebody else.
This is what you have been doing for a thousand and one lives, and if you don’t awake now, when are you thinking to awake? You are already ripe to awake. Just start from this very moment to live and enjoy and delight, and drop desiring.
Whatsoever you are enjoying, delight in your being, and then suddenly time disappears because time exists only with desiring. Future exists because you desire. Then you will be like birds – listen to them. Then you will be like trees – look: the freshness, the greenery, the flowers. Please be where you are.
I am not here to create a new desire in you. I am simply here to make you aware of the whole absurdity of desiring. Desiring is sansar. Understanding the futility of desire is to become enlightened. One who has found out: “I am already that which I always wanted to be,” is a buddha. You are all buddhas, howsoever fast asleep and snoring; that makes no difference.
Let me be your alarm. Open your eyes; you have slept long enough. It is time to awake, the morning is knocking at the door.

The second question:
When I encounter you, you are always total compassion and loving warmth. Why do we never encounter you in total anger like Gurdjieff or the Zen masters. After all, the way we carry on here, we surely deserve it sometimes.
Of course you deserve it, but that is not my way of working, that is not the way I am.
I don’t function according to you, I function according to me. I don’t do a single thing because of you, because then it will be unnatural, then it will be pretension and then I will be going out of my self-nature.
You deserve it, I know, but nothing can be done: I am helpless. You may deserve anger, but I will go on giving my love. This much I know, that the only way to make you alert and aware is to remain in my self-nature, so that it becomes a constant remembrance for you to fall into your self-nature.
I would like you to be centered in yourself so nothing disturbs, nothing distracts; whatsoever happens around you remains like a dream and you remain rooted in your being. That can be done in only one way: I should remain absolutely rooted in myself. I should not be distracted by you, whatsoever you do should not be a consideration. Whatsoever my self-nature can do spontaneously is the only consideration.
This much I know: if my love cannot transform you, my anger will not be able to because love is a greater force than any anger. If my compassion cannot help you, nothing can help; and the more you become alert, you will feel it so. You can bear my anger easily – you are already conditioned for it – but you cannot bear compassion. It hits you hard, and deeper.
So maybe Gurdjieff worked in his own way, it may have been spontaneous to him; people are different and unique. Or he was working in conditions which were very strange. He was working with Western minds, in a Western climate, and he was the first to bring Eastern methods to them. It was difficult: it has to be translated to their understanding.
Zen masters hit their students – beat, throw them out of their houses and windows, jump on them sometimes. But one thing you should remember: they are not angry; that too is part of their compassion. They are not angry at all because if they are angry then the whole point is lost. Then how can you transform the other? You are also in the same boat. Then you have come down. No, that will not be helpful.
That too is compassion, but it is possible only in Japan. In no other country is it possible because a certain tradition is needed. For almost one thousand years this has been a tradition. So when a Zen master jumps and beats his disciple, the disciple understands the language.
If I beat you, you will not understand it. You will be simply angry and you will go away and report to the police. That is not going to help anybody. You won’t understand it.
In Japan it is understood: when a Zen master beats the disciple, he accepts it in deep gratitude. In fact, you may be surprised that once a Zen master beats his disciple, that disciple becomes the chief disciple. He has attained to something, that’s why the master was so loving and compassionate toward him, that’s why the master blessed him with a beating.
Zen disciples deep down hanker for the day when the master will beat them. They wait, they pray for it, they compete with each other. But that is possible only because a long tradition exists – a strange tradition, but when it goes deep-rooted into the unconscious of a country, race, it functions. But that’s not my way.
I know that there is no other medicine than love. Other medicines cannot be so deep-reaching. If love fails, then nothing can succeed.
So I know that you deserve – please don’t deserve it!

The third question:
Even while repeating your jokes to others, we ourselves burst into loud laughter. But you tell us the funniest of stories, and while the audience roars, not even a faint smile crosses your face. What is the secret?
The secret is simple: I know how to tell a joke, and you don’t know.

The fourth question:
The closer I feel to you, the more you seem to disappear. It is like coming near a river: the river is there and yet it is not there. Where are you, Osho?
“The closer I feel to you, the more you seem to disappear.” Exactly that’s how it will happen because my whole effort is to help you to disappear. The closer you come to me, the more you will find that I am disappearing. That’s just a hint, a guide, that you should follow me in disappearing. So if you want to disappear, only then come closer to me.
That’s why there are many who are clever. They don’t come very close, that is dangerous. That is coming close to a fire, that is coming close to death.
In the old Indian scriptures the master is called death. The master is a death and also a resurrection. But he is first a death and then a resurrection. You have to die in him and then you are reborn, but the death is the beginning. So when you come close to me, you are bound to feel, “I am disappearing.” Take the hint and follow me in disappearing because you can meet me only when neither I am nor you are, when both are not there: the meeting, the union.
“The closer I feel to you, the more you seem to disappear.” You are on the right path, don’t be afraid. Come closer.
When Rama Priya comes to see me, she sits far away and I have to tell her, “Come closer.” Two inches she moves, then I say, “Come still closer.” Two inches again, then I say, “Come still closer.”
She is certainly aware that to come close is to die. She comes close but it is natural she hesitates. She comes close laughing, enjoying – but also afraid and hesitating.
I am calling you to come close and I will not leave you until you disappear. I will go on haunting you in your days, in your nights, in your thoughts, in your dreams. Wherever you are, once you have been in contact with me – only once – then I will haunt you. Then you will never be peaceful until you die.
“It is like coming near a river: the river is there and yet it is not there.” Yes! I am there and yet I am not there. If you are far away from me, I am there; if you come close, I am not there. If you come deep within me, you will not find anybody there: just a nobodyness, a nothingness, a deep emptiness.
You ask, “Where are you, Osho?” Nowhere. The where has disappeared, the when has disappeared. The time and space are no longer relevant.
Remember, if you want to be all, you cannot afford to be somebody. If you want to be everywhere, you have to be nowhere. If you want to become the eternity, then you cannot be in any point of time. If you want to be a god, you have to lose all. That is the greatest gamble ever: one loses one’s self, stakes one’s totality but one is never at a loss. One loses one’s self but the whole is attained.
Jesus says to his disciples, “If you cling to yourself, you will lose yourself; if you lose, you will attain. Whosoever clings to life will die and whosoever is ready to die, goes beyond death, becomes deathless.”
I am nowhere and I am calling you from my nowhereness to come and become a nowhere yourself. I am nowhen and I am calling you from my nowhenness, timelessness, that you also drop. It is tremendously beautiful to disappear, it is tremendously ecstatic. It is the greatest bliss ever not to be.
Shakespeare says, “To be or not to be.” That’s what mind always says. I would like to change it: To be and not to be – not “or”; to be and not to be, together. That’s how I am, right now.
If you look at me from far away, it is a form: to be. If you come closer, the form becomes fuzzy: you are entering not to be. To be is only my outside and not to be is my inside; to be is only my body, not to be is my soul. That’s why Buddha says that the soul is a no-soul, anatta. It is a not-self. You cannot say, “It is.” Better to say, “It is not.”
To be and not to be, together, is to be the true sage. Don’t choose between to be or not to be. Both are available together – take them both without any choice. Then you will be in the world and you will not be in the world, then you will be in the mind and you will not be in the mind. Then you will be in the body and you will not be in the body. Then you will be in time and space and yet you will not be in any time, in any space – and that’s the only way to be free. To be and not to be, together, is to attain to total freedom – nirvana, moksha or whatsoever name you want to give it, you can give.

The fifth question:
If a being is enlightened, how can he die?
He never dies because he is already dead. You die because you cling to life. Then the life has to be taken away, then you have to die. An enlightened being never dies because he does not cling to life; he has voluntarily given it up. He’s already dead. It appears to you that he also dies like you. That is only appearance, and don’t be deceived by the appearance. A Buddha dies of course, a Mahavira dies. Baal Shem will die, Moses will die, everybody will die – and they die just like you on the surface. But that is only the surface.
Watch an ordinary man dying: he makes every effort not to die, he clings to life to the very last. He cries and weeps, and tears of anguish, and fear and trembling. A horror surrounds him, terror-struck. Then watch an enlightened man dying. It is one of the rarest experiences to watch an enlightened person die. He dies as if he is the bridegroom going to meet his bride. He dies as if he is going on a faraway, beautiful journey for which he has always been waiting and planning. He dies as if the training period in this world is finished: he is accepted, he has become mature. Now he is going home from the school. He dies, but death is not there, God is there.
The face of death for an enlightened man is the face of God. The face of God for an unenlightened man is the face of death. When you know what life is, God awaits you near the door you call death. When you don’t know what life is, you are simply afraid, so much afraid that before the door actually opens, you are almost unconscious. You miss.
You have missed it many, many times. You have been dying many times and missing it. There is only one way not to miss it, and that is: die before death. That’s what I call meditation: voluntarily dying before death so that you know the flavor of it. It is so beautiful, so blissful, that you will dance when death comes, you will sing when death comes. You will wait in deep silence and gratitude and trust, you will open your heart to it. You will not be taken away, you will ride on the wave – not as a defeated man, but victorious.
The enlightened being never dies. He has died already and known that there is no death. Death is a lie. It exists because you cling to life.
Feel the difference. A miserly man when he gives even one paise to a beggar, clings to it; he thinks a thousand and one times whether to give or not. He argues not to give. He rationalizes that these beggars are just cheats, he rationalizes that to give anything to a beggar is to help beggary grow – a thousand and one arguments not to give. Even if he has to give, he gives reluctantly. That’s how an ordinary man dies: reluctantly, clinging, trying to find any excuse to linger a little longer, more.
Then, a man who loves and brings a gift to give is a totally different thing. The physical part looks the same. It may not be of any value, it may be just a flower plucked by the side of the road, an ordinary flower, a grass flower – but he comes and presents it. Or it may be a Kohinoor, it makes no difference; but when he gives he gives with totality. He is happy that his gift has been accepted, he feels grateful that his gift has not been rejected. He thanks the receiver. He has been dreaming about it, fantasizing about it, for the moment when he will give it. It is totally different.
The fact of giving is the same, the physical fact: the same hands, something to be transferred. If you ask a scientist, he will not be able to make any distinction, he will not be able to feel any difference. Whether you give reluctantly or you give lovingly are both physical facts, and similar, but deep down you know they are absolutely different. Not a bit of similarity exists between them.
When you give reluctantly, you really don’t give; when you give lovingly, only then do you give. When you give reluctantly, it has been taken away from you, snatched away: you feel robbed. When you give it lovingly, something flowers within you: somebody accepted your sharing, accepted your gift; you have been blessed.
Death for an unenlightened man is a struggle: he surrenders, but after fighting in every way possible. That’s why he feels defeated. For an enlightened being, it is a let-go; he was waiting and waiting, waiting for when the ship would come and he would be going. He learned whatsoever this life was to give. Now he is ready; he does not even look backward once – no, not even once. When the ship arrives, he simply enters and forgets everything about the world that he is leaving because he is going to a greater world, a greater beinghood – to existence itself.

The sixth question:
Looking at myself and others here, is it possible there have been others like us – Buddha's disciples? Were they amazed and did they find themselves laughing at how greedy, cunning, inept they appeared, at how absolutely unlike what they thought a sannyasin to be – or do we take the cake?
Man has always been the same. Buddha’s disciples or Mahavira’s disciples – man has always been the same: the same misery, the same ecstasy; the same greed, the same renunciation; the same clinging to material things, and the same freedom of the sky, of open space. Man has always been the same. Only outer things change.
Houses are different, roads are different, transportation is different – bullock carts disappearing, space-buses appearing. Everything on the outside is different, but the inside, the essential man is always the same. The disease is the same, the health is the same.
I’m reminded of one hadith, one of Mohammed’s sayings.

A man came to Mohammed and asked, “Who was the first to be created in the world?”
Mohammed said, “Adam.”
The man said, “And before Adam?”
Mohammed said again, “Adam.”
The man said, “And before that?”
Mohammed said, “If you ask me to the very end of time, I will go on repeating, ‘Adam, Adam, Adam,’ so please stop.”
The man was puzzled, and Mohammed was not willing to explain more.

This has remained a mystery, why Mohammed insisted, “Adam, Adam, Adam.” This is the explanation that I am saying to you: man has always been there; from the very beginning you have been there and there was never a time when you were not. Man is one of the most essential existences in existence. That’s why Mohammed says, “There is no before to it, man has always been there.”
It will be difficult for you to understand it because the whole mind, the modern mind, has been taught to believe in evolution. Yes evolution has been there, but not in the deeper core of man. There is something in man which has remained the same. The outside has been changing and changing and changing.
Man is like the wheel of a bullock cart: the wheel moves, goes on changing, but the wheel moves on an axle which remains static, which doesn’t change. The wheel can move only because something unmoving supports it. Everything has been changing: the society, the culture, the civilization – but something deep in man remains the same. That depth is what Mohammed calls “Adam.”
Man, essential man, is the same, and remember always, the same in both ways. If you go back and look deep into the disciples of Buddha, you will see the same problems. Go and look in Buddhist scriptures, the same problems: the same greed, the same anger, the same hatred, the same possessiveness, the same competition – how to overtake the other, the same ambition, the same ego.
Why? I say because if you look at the discipline that Buddha gave to his disciples, then you immediately know. He says, “Don’t be angry, don’t be greedy, don’t be violent.” If the disciples were already nonviolent, then Buddha would look like a fool. “Why are you teaching, ‘Don’t be violent’?” The disciples must have been violent. Buddha says, “Don’t be possessive.” The disciples must have been possessive. “Don’t be greedy.” The disciples must have been greedy.
There exists not a single scripture in the world which does not teach the same things, the same ten commandments everywhere. That shows man has remained the same because the same discipline is needed for you, and the same discipline will be needed always.
Man can exist only in two ways. There is no evolution. Either you exist as an ignorant man, unaware, in deep sleep – then greed, anger, ambition, ego, will follow you. Or you become awake, and this is a jump. Then the second category of man arises, then love, compassion follow you; then there is no greed, no anger.
The ignorant man has the same characteristic today as he has had always, and the enlightened man has the same characteristic as he has had always. These are the only two ways of being: either be sleepy and miss the opportunity that is available, or be awake and delight in it and celebrate.
So never think that in past ages, in golden ages, people were different from you. They were not, though your priests go on saying so. That’s why they call it the “Golden Age.”
There has never been any Golden Age, there will never be any Golden Age. There have been golden people, but there has never been a Golden Age.
Buddha was respected tremendously. That shows that other people were fast asleep because only people who are asleep respect a buddha. If everybody was a buddha, who would have bothered? Buddha has been remembered for twenty-five centuries – that shows that buddhahood was rare in those days also; otherwise, who bothers? If a buddha was available in every village, in every town, in every time, every nook and corner, then who would have bothered to remember Gautam Siddhartha? He would have been forgotten by now. But it was such a rare flower that centuries passed empty, no buddha happening. That’s why we carry on and on in deep reverence: the name, the respect, the gratitude we feel.
Man has always been the same. The greatest scriptures of the world always talk about the lowest characteristics of man. They have to.
I was reading…

There is a Chinese book thought to be the oldest, the ancientmost: almost ten thousand years old. The book is a very small book, only a few pages of it are left, and those few pages are written on human skin. But the teaching is the same: don’t be greedy, don’t steal, don’t be violent. Ten thousand years have passed and the teaching remains relevant because man remains the same.
In Babylon, a stone has been discovered with a script on it. It took almost fifty years to decode it. But if you read it, you will not be able to say that it can be seven thousand years old. It looks as if it is this morning’s editorial in some newspaper.
It says, “In the golden old days everything was beautiful.” Seven thousand years before, it says, “In the good olden days, everything was beautiful. Now everything has become chaotic and the new generation is completely destroyed, immoral.”
Seven thousand years earlier, and the new generation is immoral.
“Nobody respects his elders. The father is no longer respected, the mother no longer respected. The family is being destroyed, the very foundation of society is shaking.”

Can you think that this is seven thousand years before? This looks just like the editorial of this morning’s Pune Herald.
Man is the same. There is no evolution. Man can pass through a transmutation, but there is no evolution. Either you are asleep or you are awake: this is the only transformation. But there is no evolution. A sleepy man has always been the same; those who are awakened have always been the same.
So don’t condemn yourself too much. Don’t say, “This age is in deep crisis.” It has always been so. Don’t say, “In the past everything was beautiful.” This has always been the idea of people, “In the past…” That past never existed, and don’t think that in the future everything will be good. That too has always been an idea.
If anything is possible, it is herenow. The jump is individual; society remains the same. The jump is absolutely individual. If you want to take the jump, become awake: take the jump and don’t wait for a golden age to come. There has never been a golden age. Of course, a few golden people have existed – they exist still now.

The seventh question:
Many people are in silence now. Do you recommend this? What is the purpose? Can it be helpful?
I don’t recommend, but they understand. I don’t recommend anything in particular except understanding. If you understand, you will love silence.
I don’t say, “Be silent,” because then it will become suppressive. If you understand me, if you look at me, you will see silence there. You will have a deep desire arising in you to be silent because in deep silence all that is beautiful and true becomes available.
You are in a constant chattering, inner talk continues. You are talking with people or you are talking with yourself; You are talking the whole day. Even in the night you are talking, in dreams you are talking. This continuous talking functions as a barrier and you cannot see through it. It is like a fog that surrounds you densely. Your intelligence is destroyed because of this constant talk.
I don’t recommend anything because then it becomes a discipline, then because I say, “You have to be silent,” you force silence.
A forced silence is already ugly, a forced silence will not give you the right taste of it – no. Just understand, try to understand me, feel me – and then you would like to be silent. And when you would like to be silent, only then can it be beautiful. When it arises from your own heart, with a deep understanding, by and by you become silent. In fact, then you don’t become silent, you by and by drop the talk, the inner talk, the outer occupation. Then silence is not the thing. You just understand that all the talking is nonsense. Why go on talking? For what? There is nothing to say and you go on saying.
In the Chinese language there is an ideogram which means two things together. Chinese language is really something totally different from any other language because only pictures exist, no alphabet, and each picture means many things.
One ideogram, pi, means two things. One meaning is “to explain,” the other meaning is “in vain.” To explain is to explain in vain. Isn’t it marvelous? There is nothing to explain, nothing to say really.
Just watch what you go on talking about the whole day. Ninety-nine percent would have been avoided easily. I don’t say a hundred percent because I know a few things, just day-to-day things, one has to – but then talking will become telegraphic: you need not go, round about, round about. Many times “yes” and “no” will do, and many times even that will not be needed, just a nodding of the head will do. And many times even that is not needed because the other is not worried what you think about something – he is simply unloading himself. You can just watch and there is no need to listen.
If you become aware, the outer talk, the inner talk, by and by disappears. Not that you start practicing silence – no. Just the outer-inner talk becomes absolutely absurd, futile. You drop it and silence is reclaimed. When the words disappear, silence arises. It is not to be achieved directly; it is an indirect result of understanding.
Yes, many people understand. I hope you will also understand. I wish that you will understand. But with me, remember always I don’t recommend anything because too many things have been recommended to you and they have become ugly.
I don’t give you a discipline, I don’t give you an outer mode for your life. I only give you an inner light. In that inner light you have to find your discipline. I make you aware of certain things. Take the hint and don’t wait for direct recommendations because then you will be a loser. I am not going to give you any direct discipline because direct discipline is needed only by very stupid minds. I hope that you behave more intelligently, more responsively, become more responsible.
Do you see the difference? If I say, “Be silent,” you will have to follow it. It will be forced, as if a flower has been forced and opened, it has not opened by itself. A flower opens by itself. Let your silence become a flower, opening by itself on its own accord.

The eighth question:
I feel the need for effort to stay in the present, and this effort makes it hard to relax completely. Letting go often seems to bring back the past or future. Could you explain about being alert without tension?
The idea to be in the present will not allow you to relax. In fact, if you relax, you will be in the present.
In the beginning, if you relax the past will rush toward you. You have suppressed many things, you have never allowed many things to come up before your consciousness, you have been avoiding facing many things. They will rush; when you relax, the doors are open. They always wanted to come before the consciousness but you never allowed; now you are not forcing them – they will rush. But this is going to be temporary.
You have also been suppressing many dreams about the future. They will also come; there will be chaos for the time being, for a while. You have to relax and watch the chaos. There should be no anxiety about it, it is natural.
It is as if a room has been closed for many days, then you open it and bad smells escape. If you keep it open, fresh air will be flowing and the bad smells will be gone.
Your unconscious has accumulated bad smells. It is like a closed house, and it has become a junkyard: whatsoever is wrong or you think is wrong, or people and priests and politicians say is wrong, you go on throwing into the junkyard. You are sitting on a volcano. When you relax, everything will bubble up, it will surface. Allow it; that has to be so. Don’t be worried.
So don’t try to be in the present. Rather, relax. The past and the future are both there, and they will go by themselves; you need not be worried, you simply watch. Don’t do a single thing because if you do something you will again repress. Don’t do a single thing, just watch as if the birds are flying in the sky and you are watching, lying down on the grass, the birds flying in the sky, the clouds moving slowly, lazily. Thoughts are also like clouds, desires are also like birds – be a watcher.
The problem arises because you become a doer. You say, “This idea should not be there.” Who are you to say that this cloud should not be there? Who are you? Why are you trying to manipulate? The clouds are moving in the sky, thoughts are moving in the inner sky – let them be. Just relax. Doze away – let them be. Whenever you want to see, see; if you don’t want to see, doze, but don’t do anything. Soon, the sky becomes clear. If you don’t do anything, many things start happening. The first thing is that all repressions that are released float away from you. Soon the day comes when the sky is absolutely clean and clear. Then you will be in the present.
You are trying from the wrong side. Don’t try to be in the present. Rather just be in a let-go. When you are in a let-go, don’t make any conditions, what should happen and what should not happen; otherwise you cannot be in a let-go. A let-go can only be unconditional. Simply relax; now whatsoever happens, happens; and if nothing happens, that too is good. A let-go is a let-go! Now you don’t have any idea what should happen. If the past rushes in, it rushes in. If the future comes in, it comes in. You are not even worried about being in the present because that will not allow you to be in a let-go. You simply relax.
But relaxation has become really almost impossible because you have so many conditions that this should not be, this should be, this thought is bad, that thought is good, this is from the Devil and this is from God. You are continuously choosing and manipulating and fighting and arranging. You cannot be in a let-go.
Drop all morality, drop all evaluation. Nothing is good, nothing is bad; everything is whatsoever it is. Relax. Suddenly one day the present arises in its deep radiance. Then there are no clouds and no thoughts and no desires. To be in the present is to enter the door of existence.

The ninth question:
I keep feeling myself authentic. Yet within the hour, I see the way I was as inauthentic, and then within the hour that fresh authenticity again looks false. When I laugh about this whole ridiculous situation, that really feels to be authentic – that laugh. But sooner or later I'm doubting that too. Is the whole concept of authenticity absurd?
No. The concept of authenticity is not absurd, but it is not a concept. The problem is not arising by authenticity, it is arising by comparison. In this moment you feel authentic; after an hour you think about it, then comparison arises. After an hour, the authenticity is no longer an authenticity, it is just a memory. The memory looks faint, the memory is already cloudy, hazy, and you compare this memory with the present moment. Of course that looks inauthentic and the present moment looks authentic. Then again after an hour, that present moment is no longer a present moment; again you compare. The problem is arising because of comparison.
Each moment is unique and incomparable. You cannot compare it. Forget about it – authentic, inauthentic, it is gone. Forget about it. There is no need to carry it and to compare.
The morning was beautiful but the afternoon is not the morning. If you carry the morning, then you become suspicious whether it was so beautiful or not because now it is afternoon and the reality of the morning has disappeared. Now it is only a faint memory, a remembrance of something which was. Was it really there? Now how can you decide? It is no longer real. Then you compare this with this afternoon; the afternoon is real, by the evening that too is gone. Then you compare the afternoon with the evening; now beautiful stars are arising and you think, “Was it real, or I just imagined it?”
The present is always real, the past is always a memory. Don’t compare the present with the past; otherwise the past will look inauthentic. The problem is not with authenticity, the problem is with comparison, and mind is a great effort to compare.
Mind goes on comparing. It goes on every moment comparing, and that’s how it goes on missing the glory. The absolute glory is missed because the mind goes on comparing.
You come across a rosebush and you see a rose – the mind immediately compares: you have seen bigger roses, this is nothing. But this rose is this rose, it has nothing to do with any other rose. There may be bigger roses, there may be more beautiful roses, but this rose has its own beauty, has its own reality, has its own authenticity, herenow. Why are you missing this by bringing a comparison in? Look at it: no other rose can give that which this rose can give. Watch it, delight in it, dance with it, sing a song near it, open your heart to it. Let it spread its fragrance toward your being, let it flow toward your heart and you flow toward it. Why bring in comparison? Once you learn this nonsense of comparison, you will miss all. Then another day there will be another rose and you will miss that too.
The ridiculousness is that you missed one rose, you will miss another, and you will think: “That rose was beautiful,” and when you were near that rose, you were thinking of other roses. You never looked at anything. A comparative, comparing, mind misses everything and goes on thinking that others that are no longer present to it were more beautiful.
Be true to the moment. When you have lived it, don’t carry it; there is no need. When you have crossed the river, don’t carry the boat on your head. Leave it there, now it is no longer needed; otherwise it will become a burden, and in the marketplace people will laugh at you.

The last question:
What is the most stupid thing Mulla Nasruddin ever did?
It is difficult because he is still alive!
One thing is certain, that he will not die before me. So don’t ask because nobody can predict. He is unpredictable, and he will do more and more stupid things. One grows through experience!
He is not going to die before me, I cannot afford. So I cannot say when I am gone, he will also be gone, then you can think about it. Much research will be needed because Mulla Nasruddin is not a person. He is the whole humanity: he is you, he is you all together, and whatsoever you can do, he can do more stupidly. He is perfect; whatsoever any human being can do, he can do – of course, more perfectly.
He is your stupidity, and if you can understand it you will laugh and you will weep also. You will laugh at the ridiculousness of it and you will weep. That ridiculousness is yours. When you laugh at Mulla Nasruddin, remember, you are laughing at yourself; he just brings whatsoever you are face to face so that it can be encountered.
Mulla Nasruddin is not new. He is an old Sufi device. There are stories which are almost a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years old around Mulla Nasruddin. He’s an old device. There have been many claims to whom Mulla Nasruddin belongs. Russians say he belongs to them. They have a stone on a grave and they prove that he belongs to them. Iranians say he belongs to them, Arabs say he belongs to them. In Bukhara, they have a place dedicated to Nasruddin’s memory.
He has been all over the world. In fact wherever there is stupidity, there is Mulla Nasruddin. He belongs to all, nobody can claim him. And I say that he is still alive. He may have died in one country but he has been resurrected in another. Many times I myself have seen him dying and the next day he knocks at my door. It is impossible: it seems he cannot die.
He is human stupidity, but if you look deep into the stupidity you will see wisdom also. In all his stupidities there is a germ of hidden wisdom.
Just the other day it happened…

He was sitting at his grocery store and I was by his side and a small, tiny woman came, fastidious, and she upturned the whole grocery store. For hours she bothered and bored Nasruddin. But somehow after hours of struggle he could satisfy her. She purchased and she was satisfied. And it was the rush hour.
Then the woman said, “Mulla, you may not know, but when I had come to your shop I had a very terrible headache, but now it is absolutely gone.”
Mulla Nasruddin said, “Dear madam, don’t be worried. Don’t be worried. It has not gone, it has come to me!”

He may look stupid but he is wise also. If you understand him, you will laugh and you will weep because you will see yourself and the whole humanity in it.
Don’t ask “What is the stupidest thing Mulla Nasruddin ever did?”
He is always doing one stupid thing greater than other stupid things. Each act is unique, incomparable. If you look into it, you will find, “This is the best,” but when the next act comes it is something absolutely new, something tremendously great.
Read about Mulla Nasruddin and try to understand him. Make it a meditation, it has been a Sufi meditation for centuries. Sufi teachers used to give Mulla Nasruddin jokes to their disciples to think and ponder and meditate over because whatsoever he says has meaning in it, whatsoever he does, he has meaning in it.
They are not ordinary jokes, remember. I don’t tell them to you just to make you laugh. No, they are not mere jokes, they are pointers. You should not just laugh and forget them, you should make them a part of your understanding. Then many times you will see within yourself Mulla Nasruddin arising – acting, behaving. Then you will be able to laugh. And if you can laugh at yourself, you have laughed for the first time!
Enough for today.

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