The whiskers of the pebble

Maneesha, Zen is so strange as far as intellectual understanding is concerned. It looks almost absurd. That is one of the reasons why it has not grown into a vast tree around the world, but has remained a small stream of only those who can see beyond the mind, who can feel it, even though it is illogical, irrational.

Once Picasso was sitting in his garden with a beautiful rosebush; many roses had blossomed on it.

A friend asked him, "What is the meaning of the roses?"

Picasso said, "There is no meaning in anything at all, but there is immense significance in even the smallest piece of grass."

You have to understand these two words, 'meaning' and 'significance'. In the dictionary they have the same meaning, but in existence, in life, in truth, they are from different sources. Meaning is of the mind and significance is of the no-mind. Meaning is utilitarian, the bicycle has a meaning; but a roseflower? - it is utterly meaningless.

But does the bicycle have any significance? The roseflower has immense significance, a great grandeur; just look at the flower and its beauty and its impossibility. Out of earth comes such a phenomenal, beautiful, fragrant rose for nobody in particular, but it spreads its fragrance to the whole universe. It is for anybody who is receptive.

The concern of philosophy is meaning, and the concern of Zen is significance. Meaning has always to be rational, significance has no such bondage. What is the meaning of love? It has immense beauty, it has great joy, it is a blessing - but don't ask the meaning.

Since the days of Gautam Buddha it has been asked again and again by Buddhist monks, "What is the meaning of Buddhism?"

Just by their question they have missed. A wrong question cannot provoke a right answer.

Keeping this in your view, meditate on these small anecdotes.

A MONK ASKED BOKUSHU, "WHAT IS THE INNER MEANING OF THE TEACHINGS OF BUDDHISM?"

Now nobody would say that his question is irrelevant; but in the world of Zen it is absolutely irrelevant, because in the first place there is no teaching in Buddhism. In fact there is no such thing as Buddhism, there is only the explosion of buddhahood. It is not an 'ism' like communism, it is not an 'ism' like fascism, it is not a philosophy, propounded by hundreds of philosophers around the world.

Buddha is a unique phenomenon. He has no teaching, just a few hints so that you can find yourself.

He does not give any definitions, because to define is to limit. To define is to make a certain system of judgement - those who come within this area are right and those who do not come within this area are automatically wrong.

Buddhahood is an experience without limits. It can happen to the young, to the old, to the white, to the black, to man, to woman. It can happen to anyone who is ready to take a jump from outside into his own self. But reaching into yourself you do not find meaning. You certainly find a tremendous ecstasy, you are drowned in peace and silence, you feel as if thousands of flowers are showering over you; it is majestic, it is a splendor, it is a miracle, it is mystery, but it is not meaning.

Meaning is for the ordinary things of the world, significance is for the inner. The inner is not a commodity, it has no price. You cannot sell it, you cannot purchase it; nobody can give it to you and nobody can take it away from you. Its status is unique in the whole universe. Everything goes on changing continuously, just like a cyclone, but your being remains the center of the cyclone without ever changing; it remains just the same.

It is a search into your own inwardness ... but the question is not asked by only one monk ...

Do you hear that the cuckoos have come again? Do you see the significance of their innocent songs? There is no meaning, you cannot translate it; but it is coming from the very being of the cuckoos, out of some great joy, out of some great abundance, and they want to share it with the universe.

A buddha also speaks, but in the same way as the cuckoos are singing, in the same way as the roses share their fragrance to the air, or the bamboos chatter amongst themselves - they don't have words, but as the wind passes through them they say something without saying it, "We also are here."

There is no Buddhism as a philosophy, but there is an experience of Buddha which is available to all. It is not a teaching, it is an experience. You cannot teach a blind man what light is, nor can you teach a deaf man what music is. To know the light you need eyes and to experience music you need the receptivity of a musical ear.

BOKUSHU SAID, "I WON'T ANSWER."

Bokushu belongs among the great masters of Zen. Without hesitating a moment he said, "I WON'T ANSWER."

In fact he is answering by making this statement. He is saying, "It is not answerable; you can have it, but it cannot be explained to you by somebody else."

"I WON'T ANSWER," also means, "I am no more, who is going to answer?" It also means, "You are not receptive, what is the point of answering?" And fundamentally it is a life experience, not a question-and-answer philosophical discourse.

The monk was surprised, obviously. A great master, known to thousands, worshipped by many, says that he won't answer a simple question.

"WHY NOT?" ASKED THE MONK.

"BECAUSE," SAID BOKUSHU, "YOU THINK AND THINK AND THEN COME AND ASK ME."

He is saying, "Think about your question, think about my not answering, and perhaps you may have a certain insight." Something may open for the monk through thinking on this - that a great master who is supposed to be enlightened is not willing to answer a simple question. There may be something wrong in the question or there may be something in the experience of Buddhism that cannot be put into words. Or perhaps the man who experiences himself disappears into nothingness, into silence.

He cannot answer. All answers are wrong. "Just go and think and think and then come and ask me."

THE MONK FURTHER ASKED, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF BODHIDHARMA COMING FROM THE WEST?"

These are traditional questions in Zen.

Bodhidharma founded Zen in China; he went there from India, fourteen hundred years ago. In Zen it has been asked by the newcomers again and again, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF BODHIDHARMA COMING FROM THE WEST?" And now particularly it refers to Bokushu's saying, "I WON'T ANSWER."

If a man of enlightenment cannot answer a simple question, what is the point of Bodhidharma traveling to China from faraway India? The journey took three years - what is the point if it cannot be explained, if it cannot be taught? Why did Bodhidharma take such trouble?

BOKUSHU SAID, "ARE WE NOT TEACHER AND LEARNER? WHY DON'T YOU COME NEARER?"

To be nearer to a master simply means: drop your defenses. We all have defenses, we are all afraid of being vulnerable. Rather than answering his question, he made a different approach possible for him: "We are teacher and learner. We both belong to the same dimension. I may be a little ahead of you, but I am ready to share. Why don't you come a little nearer?"

Gautam Buddha used to say to newcomers, to new inquirers, "Just sit down by my side. When the right time comes, I will ask for your question. You can ask anything, but let the right time come."

And sometimes it took years ... a man would be sitting there in silence, every day from morning till evening. All this time, Buddha's grace is falling as a shower on the silent disciple. The master becomes almost a breeze, continuously blowing away all the dust that has gathered on the mirror of the disciple.

The day that all thoughts have ceased, when the disciple is just a silence and nothing else, when there are no ripples on the lake of his consciousness, the right time, the ripe time, has come. Only now can something which is not visible be transferred. In these silent moments, without saying anything, a flame passes to another flame. Have you ever thought about it? One candle is aflame, and you bring another candle, unlit, close to it. There comes a moment when suddenly the flame jumps to the unlit candle.

Asking the learner to come closer is asking him to bring closer the unlit candle which has every potentiality. The master's flame has just to trigger the hidden splendor of the disciple. A certain closeness is needed, a certain trust, a certain love, a certain intimacy. The student can remain far away from the teacher, but this is the difference between a student and a disciple. The student does not drop his barriers; he has come to collect some knowledge, to accumulate a few more concepts.

He is a scholar, he is trying to know through his mind; but the mind can only borrow knowledge, it cannot know on its own. And any knowledge that is borrowed is no more knowledge.

The moment you borrow it, it has lost its life, it is no more alive. It will not bring a transformation to your being. And knowledge that does not bring a transformation to your being is not worth calling knowledge. A teacher can teach the student, the distance does not matter; but the master is not a teacher. The master is the source of a certain energy, and you have to come closer to share in the energy. You have to enter in the fire of the master and become a fire also.

Suddenly you will discover that you have every capacity, every potentiality, to become a buddha.

Why bother about Buddhism when you can become a buddha yourself? What is the point, if your eyes are closed, of asking people what light is, when you can open your eyes and see the light of the sun? And do you think anybody can explain to you what light is if your eyes are closed? There is no way. You have to open your eyes.

Bokushu was saying, "Don't be bothered about these things - the meaning of Buddhism, or why Bodhidharma came from the West. It is not your problem. Why don't you come a little closer, a little nearer?" In that closeness your questions will melt away on their own because the closer you come, the more your darkness disappears. The closer you come the more your ego disappears. As you come closer you start seeing your original face reflected in the master's heart. It is a heart-to-heart silent message.

THE MONK WENT NEARER AND THEN BOKUSHU SAID, "WHEN I CALL A MAN ONE FROM EAST OF SETSU, ONE FROM WEST OF SETSU IS INCLUDED. WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THAT?"

The disciple may have come a little closer, but half way, partially. One can come closer only if one is total, east and west together. The disciple must have been partly holding back and partly coming closer just because the master had asked. But no master is satisfied with any partial involvement.

Every master down the ages has asked his disciples to come with their fullness, with their totality, not leaving anything behind, not holding anything back. Just come with totality and all your questions will disappear of their own accord.

THE MONK THEN ASKED, "WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF THE MEANING OF SOKEI?" - (WHICH WAS WHERE ENO LIVED).

Eno was Bokushu's master. Now Bokushu has become a master in his own right. The monk's answer is sarcastic, skeptical. When he says, "WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF THE MEANING OF SOKEI?" he is asking "What were you doing at Sokei? You don't know what the meaning of Buddhism is, you don't know what was the cause of Bodhidharma coming to China. If you don't know anything, what have you been doing with your master Eno in Sokei?"

BOKUSHU SAID, "WHEN YOU MEET A SWORDSMAN IN THE STREET, GIVE HIM A SWORD. IF HE IS NOT A POET, DON'T SHOW HIM YOUR POEM."

He is saying, "I am giving you what you are capable of. I will not give you a poem if you are not a poet. I am not blind to your potentiality. If I see that you can become a great swordsman, I will present you with a sword, I will not bother you with any poetry."

It seems that the inquirer could not get the point. Zen is not like any philosophical school of the world where you can ask questions and you can be answered. Your questions are intellectual, the answers are intellectual. But the questioner does not know exactly what he is asking. He is unconscious, but he can be forgiven. The teacher does not know what he is answering because he also is unconscious. He is simply transferring borrowed knowledge that he has gathered from other teachers. One blind man is trying to explain to another blind man what is the meaning of light. Zen is not interested in philosophy at all, it is anti-philosophy.

ONCE UMMON EXCLAIMED, "BUDDHISM IS JUST TERRIFIC! THE TONGUE IS SO SHORT."

THEN HE ADDED, "SO LONG." HE THEN SAID, "WHEN WE HAVE FINISHED CUTTING WITH A GREAT AXE, WE RUB OUR HANDS TOGETHER."

It looks like a puzzle but it is not a puzzle. What he is saying is: "BUDDHISM IS JUST TERRIFIC!"

- it is an experience beyond words, beyond explanations, beyond human capacities. Our tongues are so short that they cannot utter the great experience. Our words are so small that they cannot contain the infinity, the eternity, the immortality of the experience. And the experience is so long!

Our tongues are so short, our hands are so small, and the moon is so far away.

HE THEN SAID, "WHEN WE HAVE FINISHED CUTTING WITH A GREAT AXE, WE RUB OUR HANDS TOGETHER."

First let us try to finish cutting all the weeds that are dividing us - weeds are symbols in Zen of thoughts. Cut out all your thoughts and when I don't have any thoughts and you don't have any thoughts, then there is nothing to be said. But then we can share. We can rub our hands together in deep love, in gratitude. Something can be said with the hand that words cannot utter.

Have you ever thought about it? If you touch some people's hands, they are cold; they don't want to share anything. Somebody else's hands are very warm; they want to share their energy with you.

Somebody's hands feel almost dead as if you are holding the dead branch of a tree. And somebody else's hands are so alive, so radiant, as if they are dancing with joy.

When the master and the disciple have both finished with all the weeds, all that they can do is sit together, holding each other's hands, sharing the pure energy of their love, their intimacy, their joy.

They can dance together, they can sing together; or they can simply sit silently together, immersed in the ocean of silence, just as you are immersed here in a deep silence. The whole sky has descended over you with all its silence.

Zen speaks a different language. Hence it has been misunderstood.

A MONK ASKED NAN-YIN, "WHAT IS THE GREAT MEANING OF BUDDHISM?"

NAN-YIN REPLIED, "THE ORIGIN OF A MYRIAD DISEASES."

Only a very great master can say this, and only a very great disciple can understand it - the origin of millions of diseases. And this is said by Nan-yin, a great master who worships every morning and evening the statue of Buddha. But he is not talking about Buddha, he is talking about Buddhism.

Those who have taken the experiences of Buddha and turned them into great philosophical schools have created so many diseases.

THE MONK SAID, "PLEASE CURE ME!"

NAN-YIN SAID, "THE WORLD-DOCTOR FOLDS HIS ARMS."

Nobody else can cure you. You have the capacity to hold on to diseases or not. Just drop them - because the diseases of the intellect are not the same as the diseases of the body. Your mind can be totally emptied of all thoughts, of all prejudices, for or against anything. You can be in such a silent and innocent state ... then there will be no disease at all. You will have gained your wholeness and your health, you will have gained your own being which is never sick. Never ask anybody else to cure you; you will be creating a new bondage. Just try to understand that something is a disease and it will be up to you to hold on to it or not. The disease is not holding on to you.

Every evening we are sitting in meditation. What are we doing? In our first part, we are throwing off all our diseases. That's why I say that nobody should sit silently. Otherwise, so many people are throwing away their garbage that your mind may start collecting it. Don't listen, just defeat everybody around you. Throw out all your thoughts. The empty mind is the empty boat and you can go in this boat to the further shore. The mind full of thoughts is so heavy, so sick, so divided, that it cannot go anywhere.

A MONK ASKED YAKUSAN, "DID THE ESSENCE OF BUDDHISM EXIST BEFORE BODHIDHARMA CAME?"

"IT DID," SAID YAKUSAN.

"THEN WHY DID HE COME, IF IT ALREADY EXISTED?" ASKED THE MONK.

"HE CAME," SAID YAKUSAN, "JUST BECAUSE IT WAS HERE ALREADY."

In these discourses you will find that the disciples, the inquirers, are always rational, reasonable, logical. But the masters are never logical. You must have noticed that in each dialogue the master is absolutely absurd.

Bodhidharma went to China, according to the legend, to bring the experience and fragrance of Buddha to China. The questioner is perfectly logical in asking, "DID THE ESSENCE OF BUDDHISM EXIST BEFORE BODHIDHARMA CAME?" But he does not understand what he is asking. Such is our unconsciousness. He is asking, "Did the essence ...?" The essence was there, but the essence was unmanifest. Unless a Bodhidharma hits, the essence will remain dormant. So his question looks absolutely logical:

"DID THE ESSENCE OF BUDDHISM EXIST BEFORE BODHIDHARMA CAME?"

And the master's answer does not look right, when he says, "IT DID." Because the inquirer immediately jumps: "Then why did he come? If the essence already existed, what was the need for Bodhidharma to come?" But he does not understand the difference between essence and its manifestation.

Yakusan said, "He came just because the essence was already here." He did not go anywhere else.

He came here, seeing that the essence is here, and just a little triggering is needed. The laughter is in you, just a little tickling is needed. Tickling should not produce laughter; there is no causal relationship between tickling and laughter. But it happens ... you are sitting very silently, absolutely serious, and somebody starts tickling you. And suddenly all your seriousness is gone and at first you laugh because you have been tickled, but then you laugh because there is no reason for you to be laughing.

The Zen poet Shiki has written:

SUCH SILENCE; SNOW-TRACING WINGS OF MANDARIN DUCKS.

The Zen poets have created a totally different category of poetry called haiku. It does not have many words as other poems have many words. A haiku is a very small piece, but very existential. You don't have to read it, you have to see it.

SUCH SILENCE ... now don't listen to the words 'such silence', but feel it, experience it.

SUCH SILENCE; SNOW-TRACING WINGS. Such high flight that it leaves traces OF MANDARIN DUCKS on the eternal snow of the mountains. Seeing this miracle, you fall into a deep, undisturbed peacefulness.

The haiku is not a song to be sung, it is a song to be experienced and seen. You have to visualize it.

Another poet:

HERE AMONG THE PLUM TWIGS, DRY, YET BLOOMING, THE ORIOLE'S SILENT SONG!

In fact haiku cannot be translated. These words are only approximate. Chinese and Japanese are non-alphabetical languages. They have a totally different world. For example: HERE AMONG THE PLUM TWIGS. You have to use the alphabet, ABC, but in Chinese or Japanese or Korean, it is not letters that are used. You will see pictures of plum twigs, you will see the picture for 'here'.

Everything is a picture. So when you read a Zen poem, remember that it is pictorial.

HERE AMONG THE PLUM TWIGS, DRY, YET BLOOMING, THE ORIOLE'S SILENT SONG!

Here it is possible, in this silence, to understand. This silence is not just a word. You are drowned in it. It is showering on you like rainfall. And suddenly in this silence, a cuckoo starts singing or crickets start their songs. It becomes a haiku.

Poetry has been lived for the first time in haiku. In other languages, poetry has been written but it has not been lived. And the difference is Gautam Buddha's experience, which opens a new dimension - the existential.

Particularly in this country, people are so concerned with words - scriptures, VEDAS, continuous commentaries upon commentaries. In the whole world, there have never been so many commentaries. Just on one book, the SHRIMAD BHAGAVADGITA, there are one thousand commentaries, and those are the famous ones, others may have been lost. But one thousand commentaries? It is as if people lived only words.

In Zen you have to drop the habit of bringing every experience into words. For example, the moment you see a beautiful rose, something inside you immediately puts it into language. Something inside you says, "What a beautiful rose." You cannot remain silent - "What a beautiful morning, what a beautiful sunset." Can't you remain without any words, just watching the sunset? Then you would become almost a part of it. Then it would not be something separate from you, it would be something very intimate and very close. To live poetry, to live music, are by-products of Gautam Buddha's experience.

Ikkyu wrote:

BUDDHISM IS THE SHAVED PART OF THE SAUCEPAN, THE WHISKERS OF THE PEBBLE, THE SOUND THAT ACCOMPANIES THE BAMBOOS IN THE PICTURE.

The bamboo is very much loved by the Zen poets for its tremendous quality of being hollow. Out of this hollowness of the bamboo, a flute can be made. The bamboo will not sing, but it can allow any song to pass through it.

In meditation you have to become hollow, just like a bamboo, so that the whole, the existence itself, can sing its song through you. You become simply a part, dancing, because the wind of the whole is passing through you. The energy of the whole has taken possession of you. You are possessed, you are no more, the whole is.

This moment, as the silence penetrates in you, you can understand the significance of it, because it is the same silence that Gautam Buddha experienced. It is the same silence that Chuang Tzu or Bodhidharma or Nansen .... The taste of the silence is the same. Time changes, the world goes on changing, but the experience of silence, the joy of it, remains the same. That is the only thing you can rely upon, the only thing that never dies. It is the only thing that you can call your very being.

Maneesha has asked:

Maneesha, it is the diamond thunderbolt. It is a sudden experience, with no preparation, no rehearsal, no discipline, no path. Suddenly you open your eyes as if a thunderbolt has hit you and the sleep of millions of years is broken. In that awakening you know the mystery of existence.

The diamond is the hardest thing in the world, and to call a thunderbolt 'the diamond thunderbolt' is to say that it comes to you suddenly like a spear, it passes through you, taking away all garbage and leaving behind a pure space.

Before we start today's meditation ... and remember: do it totally, because nobody knows about tomorrow. Never postpone for tomorrow. Don't say, "Let us wait and watch today and tomorrow we will do it." Tomorrow is absolutely uncertain. Only this moment is in your hands. Transform it into eternity or lose it.

Before we enter into the world of meditation, into the world of Zen, I would like our poor bamboos to have a few laughters. They wait every day.

An English university professor, who has never been to Ireland before, steps out of the central railway station in Dublin. Seeing two Irishmen standing there, he decides to ask them for directions.

"Excuse me, my good fellows," he says walking up to Paddy and Sean, "do you think you could tell me the way to Trinity College?"

Paddy and Sean stare at the Englishman without saying a word. He decides that perhaps they are foreigners, and asks them in French.

Paddy and Sean say nothing. The professor tries German, but the response is the same. So he tries Spanish, Greek, Portuguese, Swedish, Finnish, Italian, Russian, Eskimo, Hindi, Latin, Yiddish and Sanskrit, but all to no avail. So he gives up and walks off.

Paddy turns to Sean and says, "Hey, did you hear that bloke? He spoke fourteen different languages."

"So what?" says Sean, "he still does not know where he is going."

Paddy's wife Maureen has had it. She goes to see her attorney, Abraham Babblebrain, and tells him she wants a divorce.

"Very well, Mrs O'Grady," says Babblebrain, "what are your grounds?"

"Grounds?" asks Maureen. "What are grounds?"

"You know," says Babblebrain, "your reason. You have to have a reason for getting a divorce."

"Reason?" says Maureen. "Really? What sort of reason?"

"Well," says Babblebrain patiently, "for example, one reason would be if your husband does not give you enough money."

"Pah," snorts Maureen, "give me money? I give him money."

"Okay," says Babblebrain, "what about cruelty then? Does he beat you?"

"Pah," snorts Maureen again, "beat me? I beat him."

"Ah," says the lawyer, "so what about infidelity? Is he faithful to you in love?"

"That's it!" cries Maureen. "That's how we get him. I know for a fact that he is not the father of our third child."

Pope the Polack is talking with a distressed young priest, Father Finger.

"Oh, beloved Polack," says Father Finger, "the more I listen to the confessions of all these good Catholic Christians, the more tragedy I see. And this tragedy has even infected those of us within the church."

"Really?" says the Pope. "Like what, my son?"

"Oh, Your Holiness," cries Father Finger, "I fear that even good Christians are gamblers, drunkards, sex maniacs and homosexuals. And not only that," continues the priest, "but it is happening even within the very Church itself."

"Just rubbish," exclaims Pope the Polack, "most good Christians that I know never swear, gamble, drink or rape inside the church."

"Baby, which do you prefer?" whispers Klunski to his girlfriend, Claudia. "Beautiful men or intelligent men?"

"Neither, darling," says Claudia, "you know I love only you."

Now, Nivedano, give the first beat and everybody goes totally crazy.

(Drumbeat) (Gibberish) Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Be silent, close your eyes, no movement.

Just go within; deeper, deeper.

Be a diamond thunderbolt.

Cut everything that is rubbish in you and reach to the clearance, the pure space of your being.

This moment is blessed because only this moment can blossom into a flower in you, because only this moment can bring you closer to existence's very heartbeat.

Don't be afraid and don't hold on to anything.

Just take the jump. It is your own inner being.

To make it deeper, Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Relax, let go, just be dead.

Leave the body out, leave the mind out and go beyond. This is your very being, and your being is the being of the universe.

Relax into it, rejoice in it, feel the tremendous silence. In such silence, this moment becomes eternity itself.

You can keep this experience of silence all through the day, like an undercurrent; then your every act will reflect your buddha nature.

Essentially, you are a buddha.

In the seed you are a buddha, but in the seed you are imprisoned.

Let the seed be broken, let it be shattered into the soil so that roses can start growing within you.

A man of consciousness becomes a garden of roses.

This is the significance of Gautam Buddha and this is the reason why Bodhidharma went to China.

This is the reason why you are here, searching, seeking for that which you already have.

But it is hidden deep and you have never dared to go deep into it.

The master can only help to take the fear away and push you deeper into your own being.

Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Come back and sit for a few moments like a buddha.

In this insane world you are very fortunate and blessed that you are learning a language that mankind has completely forgotten.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Osho.

Can we celebrate the gathering of thousands of buddhas here?

Yes, Osho.