Let my name be traveler

Maneesha, these anecdotes belong to another dimension which the world has completely forgotten.

It is a totally different language, a different understanding, a different kind of opening of the mysteries of existence. In these simple anecdotes you will see the world that we have lost, and the world that we want to create again. This is the man who has reached to the ultimate peaks of consciousness at a time far away in the past, and this is the man who is needed again so that this whole stupidity of the world - its politicians, its priests - can all be dissolved and the world can again dance with joy and rejoice in love.

I am fortunate to have the right assembly; otherwise these anecdotes will not be of any meaning - because you are also searching for the same door, you are all one in this search, dissolved into a deep silence. Only this silence can understand, because out of this silence these anecdotes have arisen - this silence is their source. The clouds are the witness; the bamboos are the witness; you in your silence are the witnesses. These are your stories. So don't think that you are reading some fiction. It is simply a hint to show you the way into your own being.

A man is utterly useless, his life has no meaning, his love is futile, if he himself is not aware who is residing in. Of course, the body is not you, nor the mind; there is something else which is witnessing both the mind and the body. To provoke that witness is the whole art of any master, and these anecdotes are about great masters.

WHEN HE WAS A MONK, MYOSHU CALLED ON MASTER EMYO, AT SAIJO, where his monastery was, AND ASKED, "WHAT IS AN ENTRY FOR THE STUDENT?"

That is a wrong question to ask a master. The master does not waste his time for any students. His life is the last; he will not be back again. His time is more precious than anybody else's time. Those who are blind will be born again, those who are unconscious will enter another womb - existence is very merciful, it gives you infinite chances to become a buddha - but for those who become awakened, there is no need for another life, there is no need to enter into another body. They can float just like a white cloud.

Remember Basho: A cloud over the lotus ...

And the silence ...

This dance of rain around you, and your heart rejoicing ... the silence, the coolness.

You are not students; a student is interested only in accumulating information. Remember these two words: information and transformation. The student is seeking more information, collecting more knowledge. The world gives great respect to the scholarly.

The disciple has taken an absolutely contrary direction; he does not want to know, he wants to be. He does not want to gather knowledge; he wants eyes that can see and ears that can hear - he wants absolute sensitivity. In other words, he wants his whole being to become a flame of awareness. In that flame all that is rubbish will be burned and you will come out twenty-four carat gold. That is your very nature in its utter purity.

Myoshu asked a wrong question from the very beginning: "WHAT IS AN ENTRY FOR THE STUDENT?" There is no entry for any student. There is no possibility of a meeting between a master and a student. The master will be speaking from the heights of the Himalayas and the student will be roaming somewhere around M.G. Road. The difference is even bigger, because the language of the heights is totally different.

EMYO SAID .... Look, this is how the language is different. This is not the answer to the question as far as modern education, logic, or intellect is concerned, but Zen is not at all worried about your logic, your Aristotles.

EMYO SAID, "COME HERE! - don't ask stupid questions - COME HERE! Here is the door. Don't ask for any entry; the doors are always open - in fact, there are no doors."

I have told you about the Sufi mystic woman, Rabiya al-Adabiya. She is a rare woman, in the sense that very few women have reached to that height. She belongs to the category of buddhas. Naturally, she was thought to be a little outlandish, a little eccentric, a little insane.

She used to pass by on the road and she saw, every day, a Sufi who later became a great master - Hassan - praying outside the mosque near the steps. One day, Rabiya stood for a while to see what this man was doing there. And she heard that Hassan was saying, "God, how long do I have to wait - when will you open the door?"

Rabiya hit Hassan on the head and said, "You idiot! The door is always open; in fact, there is no door - just enter! Don't waste time here sitting on the road ... and people have started thinking that you are a great saint. Just go in!"

The woman and her authority were such that Hassan closed his eyes and stopped his prayer; he went in. Rabiya tapped on his back, and said, "This is the right way; just go in. I cannot stand here, I have something else to do."

By the evening, Hassan came to Rabiya to touch her feet, saying, "If you had not told me that there is no gate, there is no door, I would have remained for centuries praying, 'Open the door!'"

Emyo has not replied to the question relevantly, but existentially he has replied. It is only for those who can put the mind aside. He said, "COME HERE!"

THE MOMENT MYOSHU APPROACHED HIM ....

Myoshu did not understand the meaning of 'coming here'. He thought the master wanted him to come closer. The master was using the word 'here' for 'this moment' - "Just be here!" But he thought, "Perhaps he is asking me to come closer."

THE MOMENT MYOSHU APPROACHED HIM, EMYO GRABBED THE MONK AND PUSHED HIM AWAY, SAYING, "THERE IS NO ENTRY FOR YOU HERE!"

It looks hard, but it was out of pure love that the master pushed him away, because he was not calling him to be physically close to him; he was calling him to be spiritually present here; and he misunderstood completely. For such a student there is no entry.

AS MYOSHU GOT UP, THE FEELING OF DOUBT SUDDENLY AROSE; AND DAY AND NIGHT HE COULD NOT PUT IT OFF. EMYO KNEW SECRETLY THAT MYOSHU WAS A VESSEL OF DHARMA ....

The master, in the very first encounter, knows whether you can be a vehicle, whether you can be a messenger, whether you can become a message yourself - is there the potentiality or not? He has pushed him just because he knows that he has the potential. But if he has the potential, he will have to prove it; he will have to pass through the fire test.

Emyo knew that this inquirer was a vessel of dharma, that he could become a flame - you would think for this reason he should have accepted him, he should have welcomed him. But because of this, he drove him out of the temple on the pretext that he had broken the rules. The rules every master decides, they are arbitrary; they are just a test of whether a person is worthy of the master's showering his love and trust on him.

MYOSHU FELT NO RESENTMENT - that is an absolute sign that he was the right person; otherwise anybody would have felt resentment. If you are pushed and thrown out of the temple and told that you cannot enter there, it is ordinary human consciousness to feel resentful. But Myoshu felt no remorse, no resentment. On the contrary, in the very push of the master he understood that this was the place where he had to remain. Whatever might happen, whatever the consequences, he was not going to leave this place. If not in the temple, he would live somewhere outside and wait for the right moment. Perhaps he was not yet ripe.

This is the difference between a student and a disciple. The student would have felt resentment, anger; he would have left in anger, never to return. The disciple does not make the master responsible but understands that perhaps he is immature; he has come before his time.

MYOSHU FELT NO RESENTMENT, BUT UNKNOWN TO ANYONE ELSE, BORROWED A ROOM NEAR THE MONASTERY AND HID THERE. FOR SIX YEARS HE WAS NEVER FORGIVEN, AND JUST SAT FACING A WALL DAY AND NIGHT. HIS MEDITATION WORK BECAME INCREASINGLY REFINED, UNTIL HE GOT TO THE POINT OF FORGETTING TO SLEEP OR EAT.

ONE DAY AS HE STOOD BESIDE A COWPEN, HE SUDDENLY HAD AN INSIGHT; HE IMMEDIATELY WENT TO THE ABBOT'S QUARTERS WITH FULL CEREMONY.

Dancing, he entered the temple.

EMYO SHOUTED AT HIM, "WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO COME INSIDE THE TEMPLE?"

MYOSHU SAID, "HERE, AN ENTRY IS WIDE OPEN."

Six years it took him to understand the word 'here'. Such inquiry, such devotion, has simply disappeared. Today's man is very poor compared to people like Myoshu. In six years of continuous meditation, he had blossomed into a flower. He himself had become the authority.

Dancingly, with ceremony, he entered the temple. The master EMYO SHOUTED AT HIM, "WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO COME INSIDE THE TEMPLE?"

MYOSHU SAID, "HERE," - and this is the same thing that six years before Emyo had said to him:

"Come here!" - "HERE, AN ENTRY IS WIDE OPEN."

EMYO LAUGHED AND SAID, "A THIEF HAS BROKEN DOWN MY DOOR!" A very loving statement.

It is said that unless a disciple is as courageous as a thief, he cannot enter into the heart of the master - it is almost stealing.

EMYO LAUGHED AND SAID, "A THIEF HAS BROKEN DOWN MY DOOR!" - this was the beauty of those old days - AND THE MASTER BOWED down to this miracle; that Myoshu has understood the meaning of 'being here' and has also understood that there is no entry, no door.

THEREAFTER, MYOSHU SERVED AS EMYO'S PERSONAL ATTENDANT, GOING DEEPER INTO THE MYSTERY EVERY DAY.

LATE IN LIFE MYOSHU BEGAN TO TEACH, AND BEFORE LONG HIS FAME SPREAD FAR AND WIDE, AND THERE WERE NEVER LESS THAN A THOUSAND PEOPLE SURROUNDING HIS TEACHING SEAT.

ONE DAY, WHEN HE HAD A SLIGHT ILLNESS HE BEAT THE DRUM TO CALL THE COMMUNITY.

WHEN EVERYONE HAD ASSEMBLED, THE MASTER SAID, "MY TEACHING IS COME TO AN END, I AM MAKING A BEQUEST TO YOU." THEN HE RAISED HIS STAFF, SHOUTED ONCE, "KWATZ!" AND DIED STANDING.

A man who understands life automatically understands death. A man who lives life to its totality knows that the moment when death knocks on the door, he will be prepared for the new journey.

Having his staff in his hand, standing, he died. Perhaps he is the only one who has died that way, signifying that he is going on another journey.

Basho wrote:

LET MY NAME BE TRAVELER; FIRST RAINS.

The first rains have come. Forget my name because all our names are nothing but writings on the sand. The first rains have come and the names will disappear.

Basho says, "Let my name just be traveler." More than that is getting identified with the vehicle on which you are traveling. You may be in a car, you may be in a bullock cart, you may be in a bus, a train or an aeroplane. It does not matter what the vehicle is - you are the traveler. A thousand times you have changed at many junctions. In many forms you have appeared in the world - sometimes as a tree and sometimes as a rose bush and sometimes as an eagle.

The Eastern clarity arising out of enlightenment does not believe in evolution in the sense that it is understood by Charles Darwin. It gives equality to all that is living in existence. You are not superior to the rose bush. But there are idiots, like the Shankaracharya of Puri, who think that brahmins are superior. It is not only a question of humanity, who is superior and who is inferior.

Just the other day I received a letter from another idiot. I attract idiots. They never come here but they at least go on writing letters; they do not dare to come here. He has written to me ... he is a swami of the old Hindu tradition. He belongs to the same temple as the Shankaracharya of Puri, and used to be his secretary; he is very well-educated, is a postgraduate and has a D. Litt., but it makes no difference.

He writes to me, "Your proposition that men and women are equal is not according to the scriptures."

Who bothers about your scriptures? Not even in my dreams have I mentioned your scriptures. All that I want is that they should all be burned.

He says, according to the scriptures, that women are earth, and the earth has forty qualities; and that the man has a hundred and eighty qualities. And of course, because it is written in the scriptures, in his eyes there is no question of any discussion. But for me it means that if this is so, then it is better that the Shankaracharya of Puri commits suicide to bring rains in Hyderabad - because he has a hundred and eighty qualities. The poor woman has only forty qualities - she is just the earth. So why kill a woman, just a little pile of earth, and put it on the funeral pyre?

That's what the harijans of Hyderabad have done; they have burned an effigy of Puri's Shankaracharya. But the rains have not come. Burning effigies or photographs won't help - catch the real old goat.

And I say that even then the clouds won't listen. Here, they come to listen uninvited. They know that here there are people who will love their dance, their song. It is to be noted that in the past every season was absolutely fixed. At a particular date the rains would come, and at a particular date summer would start, and at a particular date winter would start. In India there are only three seasons; it is an equal division - four months for each. And it has been so for thousands of years without any change.

Certainly, the people who lived on this land had a certain synchronicity with nature. They used to dance and sing when the first rains came. Just as the peacocks dance in colorful clothes, human beings used to dance when the first rains came, to welcome them - they were their nourishment.

Without them, there was no life. The people used to greet every season; all the festivals in India were devoted to seasons - it was a totally different mathematics.

Basho is saying rightly, "Let me be remembered just as a traveler. I stayed in your caravanserai overnight. Thank you - but don't remember my name." These people, who had no desire to be remembered, belong to a different consciousness.

Buson, another Zen poet, writes:

A FLASH OF LIGHTNING!

THE SOUND OF THE DEW DRIPPING DOWN THE BAMBOOS.

Life is not confined to you.

It is not your monopoly.

A FLASH OF LIGHTNING!

THE SOUND OF THE DEW .... You can hear right now the sound of the dew dripping down the bamboos. All this is one life: to see it is to have authentic eyes, to feel it is to have the real heart.

My effort here is to bring this synchronicity between you and the lightning and the dewdrops and the bamboos. This whole existence throbs with one heart; there is no question of inferior or superior.

Charles Darwin would not have understood it. Nothing is evolving; there are only travelers moving from one caravanserai to another, just enjoying the eternal pilgrimage.

Maneesha has asked, WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO SERVE? ARE WE SERVING YOU? OR IS IT NOT THAT THE MASTER IN FACT SERVES THE DISCIPLES - AS JESUS SYMBOLIZED BY WASHING HIS DISCIPLES' FEET BEFORE HE DIED, AND AS YOU BATHE US IN YOUR PRESENCE BEFORE WE DIE AND RESURRECT EACH NIGHT?

Maneesha, it will be difficult to understand the word 'serve'. The disciple serves in the sense that he throws away all his defenses, that his master's life becomes his own - he takes care of the master, he cooks his food. But the West has no understanding about serving the master. The West knows only one thing, and that is paying the teacher. Money is the only thing the student gives to the teacher.

In the Eastern context money has no place. Serving the master simply means making him as comfortable as possible; remaining close to him, alert, without bothering him, being just a shadow that does not make any sound. In this sense, the teacher cannot expect to be served. The teacher is a servant, he has to be paid. All the teachers in the world - they may be great professors in the universities - are just servants.

The master is served by the disciple's love, not his money; by the disciple's attentiveness, alertness, carefulness, by his watching continuously that the master is not in any difficulty. And the master certainly serves the disciples from his side - sharing his whole heart, opening the doors of all the mysteries. What he has found he gives without asking for any return. It is a mutual love affair. The master loves all - he is love. The disciple has to learn to love this pillar of love, who is radiating his love in all directions.

But don't bring Jesus into this discussion, because he was never a master. He claimed to be the son of God. All the masters in the East would simply laugh - son of God? In the first place, God does not exist. In the second place, where has this son come from? To the Eastern masters the very idea of God is a fiction, and fictions are not reproductive; they believe in birth control.

Jesus is simply a psychological case, suffering from what psychologists call megalomania - being too big, too great, and monopolizing the whole thing. The only begotten son - not even another sister!

In fact, if you look at the whole story that Christians have been following, God comes to be the uncle at the most, not the father; because it was the holy ghost who made the poor Virgin Mary pregnant.

And still you go on calling him 'holy' - he is a criminal. If he is holy, then many people would enjoy to be holy. It would be a very simple thing: no need to pray, no need to go to the church - just find a poor girl and make her pregnant and your name will be printed in every newspaper as 'Holy Ghost So-and-so'. What kind of holiness is this?

And stupidity upon stupidity ... Christians say that the holy ghost is not separate from God. So what is he - God's reproductive organ? As far as I can understand the story, the holy ghost is God's sexual machinery - and out of this adultery is born Jesus.

All this nonsense, Maneesha, you should not bring. He was not a master, nor did he have any disciples. Those twelve fellows that moved around him, whom Christians call apostles .... Just the other day a research by Christian missionaries came out in the market, which raises the question of whether Jesus was homosexual; otherwise, why was he surrounded only by twelve men? It raises a question, certainly. It seems to be a gay company.

Maneesha, I am going to take Jesus to task sometime, in detail. Don't bring the poor fellow in your questions while we are discussing very significant things.

Another research work from the Christians shows that Jesus never existed, that it is only a mythology. George Gurdjieff used to say that it was an ancient drama - this whole story of Jesus - and the drama slowly, slowly became a reality. There was no Jesus, according to George Gurdjieff.

And now that even Christian missionaries are being found to be suffering from AIDS, they are exposing Jesus, that he must have been homosexual. It is a strange idea, that the vow of celibacy does not include homosexuality in it, that celibacy simply means you should not be in a heterosexual relationship. It is now the Christian missionaries' archbishops who are saying openly that celibacy does not prohibit homosexuality. And homosexuality has become such a great force that even politicians are now afraid to say anything against it.

I myself have been for two years continually discussed by the Dutch parliament, whether they should allow me into Holland or not. I have not even told those idiots that I want to come to Holland. And the reason for their insisting that I cannot be allowed, is that I have spoken against homosexuality.

Can you believe that the whole parliament of Holland seems to be homosexual? Or perhaps they are afraid of a great majority of homosexual voters; otherwise, what is the problem? I had never thought that on the grounds of homosexuality, I should be prevented entry.

Homosexuality is now almost a religion. And homosexuals think that they are more progressive than heterosexuals because they have gone beyond nature, beyond biology. Great progressiveness! All kinds of bananas, but they are gathering more and more force.

Now they themselves are saying that if God himself is not celibate, why should Christian priests be asked to be celibate? It is relevant. It is true that God has broken his celibacy only once, but at least one chance should be given to every priest.

Don't bring such things, Maneesha. I am already condemned all over the world; I will be more condemned if you bring these things, because I am going to say exactly the truth.

She has asked another question:

No, Maneesha - absolutely no. Meditation simply means going beyond chemistry and physics, going beyond body and mind. It has nothing to do with chemicals. That idea has been perpetuated by very intelligent people like Aldous Huxley, who thought that by LSD, a chemical, you could attain to enlightenment.

And now in the world market, the underground market, there is a chemical available called 'ecstasy'.

You take it and for six hours at least, you will be in ecstasy. But these people are simply exploiting the great desire, the great longing, 'the great matter'.

Ecstasy is not a chemical - it is a deep understanding, an awareness; and awareness is not made of chemicals. Otherwise things would be very easy; you just go to the hospital, take an injection and become a buddha. Why unnecessarily harass me?

Here it may take years for you - every day you will become a buddha and every day you will fall down. I have to wake you up because I have to go to sleep myself. I can leave you all in a graveyard but that is dangerous. Somebody may really die and you may not know what to do then.

A few people die and their ghosts start moving around. I have to be present here, and I keep Sardar Gurudayal Singh alert and alive, so that no ghost - holy or unholy - can enter here. Poor Gurudayal Singh has to wait at the door to prevent ghosts. He is not to allow any ghost from outside to come in; nor is he to allow any ghost from inside to go out - "just go back into your own body!" A few try to enter into somebody else's body. So I have to wait until Nivedano gives me the signal that now every ghost is in its place.

Before you enter into your death ... because without entering into your death, you cannot recognize the contrast of being alive; you cannot see the flame unless you are surrounded with darkness. In the day you cannot see the stars - do you think they disappear? They are there, but because of the bright sun you cannot see them. The sun rays prevent you from seeing the stars.

And I have heard ... Nirvano was saying that I have started wearing sunglasses because a bright future is ahead.

Before that bright future comes, let us have a few laughs.

Paddy wakes up in hospital, after a day of unconsciousness, with his body wrapped in bandages.

He only vaguely remembers that he was in the pub with Sean, and they got into an argument. But the rest is blank.

After a few days, Paddy has recovered enough to stumble back to the pub. He finds Sean, sitting in his usual place at the bar. "What the hell happened?" asks Paddy. "I remember starting a fight with you, but the next thing I knew, I was in hospital!"

"Ah," says Sean. "That is called karate. It is Japanese."

Paddy nods in understanding, and staggers out of the pub.

After ten minutes, Sean finishes his drink and gets up to leave. He opens the door and takes one step out of the pub. The next thing he knows, he is in hospital, covered in bandages, with multiple fractures.

A few weeks later, he hobbles into the pub on crutches. Sure enough, Paddy is there, sitting at the bar. "What happened?" croaks Sean. "I took one step out of the pub, and the next thing I knew, I was in hospital!"

"Oh," says Paddy. "That was also Japanese. My Toyota!"

Paddy decides to take up boxing, and goes into training for weeks. But in the first round of the first prize-fight, he is knocked to the floor by a crushing blow.

The referee starts counting and Paddy starts to get up.

"Stay down until eight!" shouts his manager.

"Okay," mumbles Paddy, in a daze, "what time is it now?"

Jayajit Samosa, the Poona condom salesman, gets on the bus with fifteen kids trailing behind him.

The kids are all running around, jumping on the seats, taking people's things, asking for paise, and generally creating chaos.

Finally, old Grandma Brahmachapatti leans over and asks him, "Mr. Samosa, are all of these monsters yours?"

"Of course not," says Samosa, "I sell rubbers, and these are all complaints!"

Polly Pringle, the daughter of a very rich English family, is about to become twenty-one years old.

The day before her birthday, she is walking past the kitchen, when she hears the cook say, "Oh, fuck it!" Polly does not know what this means, so she decides to ask daddy.

"Daddy," says Polly, "I was just passing the kitchen when I heard the cook say, 'Fuck it.' What does it mean?" Daddy chokes on his cigar, hums and ha's for a minute, and then says, "It is an old English expression, darling. It means 'carving the turkey.'"

The next day, at Polly's twenty-first birthday party, following the family tradition, she gets up to make a speech. To finish up, hoping to impress everybody with her command of the language, Polly says, "And now, father will fuck the turkey!"

There is a deathly silence, until a little gentleman at the end of the table giggles and says, "By George, what a jolly good party. I think I will poke the pudding with my prick!"

Nivedano, this is the right time ...

(Drumbeat) (Gibberish) Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Be silent.

Close your eyes.

Feel your body frozen.

Just enter in.

There is no gate - it is an open space.

Deeper, deeper, without any fear.

It is your own space, your own territory.

You will not meet anyone on the way except yourself.

Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Relax. Let go. Die.

Forget the whole world and just be centered within.

This is the place from where all buddhas are born.

Drink it deeper.

Drink it totally.

Let yourself be soaked with consciousness.

Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Come back, but don't forget the experience.

Sit down like buddhas for at least a few minutes.

Just rejoice in this silence and the dance of the rain.

Carry this consciousness twenty-four hours, like an undercurrent, and your every act will have a grace, a new joy, a spontaneity, an overwhelming love.

You need not remain a dewdrop; your destiny is to be the ocean.

You need not remain in any body; your destiny is to be a buddha - just pure consciousness.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes Osho.

Can we celebrate all the buddhas with the rain?

Yes Osho.