Wanderers in the sky of freedom

These small anecdotes are the most precious treasure. No other language, no other religion has reached to such a subtle understanding - that a small story, utterly naked, undecorated, can become a pointer to the ultimate truth.

Zen anecdotes are not something to read. As far as reading is concerned, they are worthless. They are something to be lived; that is the only way to understand them. Intellect is absolutely not needed.

What is needed is innocence; what is needed is not knowledge, but humbleness, a humbleness that knows, "I know nothing."

With this understanding that you know nothing, these small dialogues among Zen masters become tremendously meaningful, but you have to listen not with your ears, but with your heart; not with your mind but with your silent being. Something very important is being imparted. Be attentive.

ONCE, HAKUGAN SAID TO YAKUSAN, WHO WAS READING A SCRIPTURE, "YOU SHOULD STOP FOOLING PEOPLE."

There is nothing more courageous than Zen. There have been Zen masters who have burned holy scriptures, there have been Zen monks who have burned even Gautam Buddha's wooden statues because the night was too cold.

Hakugan is saying to Yakusan, "YOU SHOULD STOP FOOLING PEOPLE."

All your so-called knowledgeable intellectuals, pundits, rabbis, all are fooling people; because to let people get involved in scriptures is to take them away from themselves. You are not going to find yourself in the scripture. You have to come inwards, leaving all scriptures, philosophies and religions outside, howsoever true they appear to be, howsoever rational or reasonable is their logic. Logic cannot quench your thirst, and its source is not the same as the source of love.

Logic arises out of your mind, love arises out of your heart. But the love that arises out of the heart is just like Poona air - polluted, utterly polluted. Poona is the world's fourth most polluted city. Mind's love is just a word, the heart's love has a little life, but it is very crippled. Fortunately you don't end at the heart, the road goes a little deeper.

There is another kind of love; just to make the distinction we will call it compassion. It is love without the desire to possess, love without the desire to power, love that wants simply to share its bliss, its grace, its joy, and asks nothing in return.

You can understand these anecdotes only out of your love. So while I am reading, listen to the very center of your being ... and I have been teaching you nothing else but getting into the center. From now onwards I would like you, even while I am reading, not just to be a listener, but a meditator. In absolute silence these flowers of eternity bloom.

Yakusan was puzzled, because the scriptures were holy scriptures. And Hakugan, who himself was known to be a great master, was saying to stop fooling people, "Throw away these scriptures. All your knowledge, reduced to reality, is nothing; because you don't know on your own, you are simply living on a borrowed theology, philosophy, religion. You can talk like a buddha, you can quote exactly every word of the Buddha, but if you are not a buddha yourself, you are fooling people."

It reminds me of the last day of Gautam Buddha's life on this earth. It was a full-moon night. It is a strange coincidence; he was born on a full-moon night, he became enlightened on a full-moon night and he died on a full-moon night. What a beautiful, symmetrical, harmonious life, where end and beginning and middle are all the same.

He died, but he had thousands of disciples, and the problem was that he had left nothing in writing.

The disciples were concerned about the coming centuries, that people would never know the great height that Gautam Buddha reached, the depth of consciousness that he touched. Every word that he uttered in forty-two years had to be recorded for the coming centuries.

But it was a problem. For forty-two years he had been speaking, and the only man who had been continuously present was Ananda. Other disciples sometimes were with him; sometimes they would go away to preach, and sometimes they would stay with Buddha, particularly in the rainy season, when moving around was difficult. But nobody remained with Gautam Buddha all the time, except for Ananda. And Ananda's memory was unbelievable, but the trouble was that he was not enlightened himself.

Three hundred disciples who were enlightened gathered together in an assembly hall, but everybody said, "A few things I have heard, but I cannot say about his whole teaching, I have not been with him for all the time he was teaching." Those three hundred people were enlightened, and they said, "We can say what our experience is, but if you want Gautam Buddha's words you will have to let in Ananda, who is sitting outside the hall, on the steps." He had not been allowed in, because he was not yet enlightened.

And Ananda himself was not ready to say a single word unless he became enlightened, because he didn't want to defile or misinterpret. He knew he was full of human frailties. "So you will just have to wait, I will do my best. I could have become enlightened before you, because I came in the very early days, but unfortunately I took Gautam Buddha for granted. Another misfortune was that I was a cousin-brother, elder to him, so I never deep down felt ... I touched his feet, but I knew that I was his elder brother. I listened to him, but I knew that in ordinary life he would have to listen to me, as I was elder to him.

"Forty-two years passed and I was constantly with him, day in, day out, and I missed him. I remember every word that he uttered, because I knew that nobody was constantly around him, and one day it would be needed. I have to write it down, but now I have only tears - you will have to wait."

The three hundred enlightened ones waited for twenty-four hours while Ananda sat on the steps of the assembly hall with tears. He forgot to eat, he forgot to drink, he forgot the whole world. And after forty-two years of continuous insistence on being in, for the first time he tried it. He had heard it and heard it and heard it so much that it had become almost a commonplace, he would know when Gautam Buddha was going to say, "Go in."

But now Gautam Buddha was not there and he had to go in, otherwise the whole teaching would be lost. He was the only container. And within twenty-four hours he became enlightened. It was a tremendously concentrated effort. He sat down on the steps with this determination: "Either I become enlightened, or you will have to burn my corpse. I am not going to move from here."

With such totality and intensity one cannot avoid being enlightened. And as he became enlightened, the tears changed their quality. His whole being became radiant and the three hundred enlightened disciples started dancing; they opened the door and received Ananda. They said, "Without you the world will never know what kind of a man Gautam Buddha was."

Because of this, all the scriptures are the memories of Ananda. Every Buddhist scripture begins, "I have heard ...." It is such a humble beginning; Ananda could not say anything more, because at the time he heard it he was not enlightened. Now he knows that what he heard was right, but at the time it was only heard, it was not experienced.

You are here. I would not like you to be in the position of Ananda. I would like you to be in a position to say, "Yes, it is so" - not that you have heard, but you have experienced.

The scriptures are dead, and the scholars who devote their lives to reading the scriptures and interpretations not only waste their own lives, they befool millions of people. They go on teaching, not knowing what they are teaching. They are like blind people teaching about light, blind people talking about the beauties of the full moon, blind people talking about the roses and their colorfulness. And because everybody else is blind, nobody prevents them.

It was a rare occasion when fortunately an enlightened person, Hakugan, just passed by when Yakusan was reading a scripture. Just passing by he said, "YOU SHOULD STOP FOOLING PEOPLE."

AS HE ROLLED UP THE TEXT, YAKUSAN ASKED, "WHAT TIME OF DAY IS IT?" HAKUGAN REPLIED ...

These are the subtleties, the delicacies of the world of Zen. It was a test question. Yakusan was a great scholar, and he could not leave Hakugan without checking if Hakugan was enlightened himself or if he was just humiliating him by saying, "YOU SHOULD STOP FOOLING PEOPLE."

He asked, "WHAT TIME OF DAY IS IT?"

A simple question, you will think; but it is not a simple question because those who know meditation, know that the mind disappears and with the mind, time disappears. Time is a projection of mind.

Without your mind there is no time. There is eternity, there is this moment, but you can't say what this moment is.

If Hakugan was also just a scholar, he would have been caught in the question. But he was a master.

He replied, "JUST NOON." This moment it is just noon.

YAKUSAN THEN SAID, "THERE IS STILL THIS PATTERN."

He is referring to the pattern of past, present and future; he is saying to Hakugan that his saying "Just noon," implies that there has been a morning and there will be an evening - that there is still time.

That's why he says, "THERE IS STILL THIS PATTERN, this division - morning, noon, evening, afternoon, night and day. Your mind is full of divisions. When there is no mind there is no division."

Hakugan replied that he didn't have anything, "I DON'T EVEN HAVE NOTHING," TO WHICH YAKUSAN SAID, "YOU ARE TOO BRILLIANT."

In any other context, it may seem that Yakusan is appreciating him by saying, "YOU ARE TOO BRILLIANT," but that is not appreciation in Zen, it is a very sophisticated condemnation: "You are still a great intellectual, don't pretend to be a master."

HAKUGAN COMMENTED, "I AM JUST THUS.

WHAT ABOUT YOU?"

He did not contradict him. On the contrary he simply accepted it: "This is my reality, I am just this, an ignorant man. I do not claim to be enlightened, I don't claim anything, I don't know even nothing.

What about you?"

YAKUSAN SAID, "I LIMP ALONG, UNGAINLY IN A HUNDRED WAYS, CLUMSY IN A THOUSAND; STILL I GO ON THIS WAY."

He is not ready to drop his scriptures, but he is not an egoist, he accepts himself.

"I LIMP ALONG, UNGAINLY IN A HUNDRED WAYS, CLUMSY IN A THOUSAND, STILL I GO ON THIS WAY."

ON ANOTHER OCCASION, YAKUSAN ASKED A MONK, "WHERE HAVE YOU COME FROM?"

"FROM THE SOUTHERN LAKE," REPLIED THE MONK.

"HAS THE LAKE OVERFLOWED ITS BANKS?"

ASKED YAKUSAN.

"NOT YET," ANSWERED THE MONK.

THEN YAKUSAN SAID, "SO MUCH RAIN AND THE LAKE NOT YET FULL?"

BUT THE MONK WAS SILENT.

What can he say? It is true, there is so much rain, but the lake is not overflowing.

These are symbolic statements. The master showers more than you can ever contain, but you are not even full; what to say about overflowing?

To be a disciple is a great opportunity to receive the rain that is showering continuously from the master's grace and experience. Unless you also start becoming an overflowing lake, you have not done the homework. You have wasted your time, you have wasted a valuable opportunity.

Yakusan is right when he says, "SO MUCH RAIN AND THE LAKE NOT YET FULL?"

The poor monk has no answer. But even in his silence there is great gratitude.

There are dialogues of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle; and in modern times Martin Buber revived the whole philosophy of Socrates, with the central point being the dialogue. But Martin Buber was not aware - and he could have been aware, because he was alive just a few years ago - that his dialogues remained the same as those of Socrates, twenty-five centuries earlier.

This is a different kind of dialogue; it has no apparent reason, but inside there is so much insight.

A poet has written:

MINDLESS CLOUDS LEAVE MOUNTAIN CAVES; WATER FILLS HOLES AND FLOWS OVER.

And another poem runs:

CLOUDS, NO-MINDED, GO OUT OF MOUNTAIN CAVES; BIRDS, TIRED OF FLYING, WANT TO RETURN HOME.

These are statements about you.

Clouds without any mind leaving the mountain caves; tired birds longing to return home, just for a rest.

The clouds don't have a guide, they don't have a timetable, they don't have a map; they are wanderers in the sky of freedom. A man of Zen is just like a cloud, just like a bird, with a tremendous desire to reach the ultimate home.

Maneesha has asked,

Maneesha, it is not a question of anything leaking out of you, it is really that you are all great lakes and you are ready and receptive, but it will take a little time for you to be full. So much rain is not enough for you; your consciousness is such a vast lake that even so much rain disappears into it.

So don't be sad. Rejoice in the rain, and the more you rejoice, the more it will come. The more you rejoice, the more the clouds feel welcome. Dance in the rain and the time will come - there is no need for any hurry - when you will be full, and not only full but overflowing. All that you need is waiting, a silent waiting, not even worrying about whether your lake will ever be filled. I say unto you, it will always be filled if you wait long enough.

The time of waiting depends on your intensity. If the intensity is too much, it can overflow this very moment; if the intensity is not so great, just lukewarm - just hoping that some day, perhaps in some life, you will also become a buddha ....

Your priests have been befooling you, because they have been telling you that buddhahood is not easy, you cannot become a buddha right now - it will take time, it takes lives to mature.

In fact the whole idea of reincarnation arose out of this. In the West nobody was thinking about enlightenment, this life was enough; to have a house, a car, a garden, children, a good position - what more do you want? One life, a good, respected, honored life, is enough; it is more than enough.

In fact after the age of thirty-five, if you are intelligent enough, you will start getting bored. Up to thirty-five, you are childish, you can have romances. And if by chance you are from California, even up to the age of seventy people are having romances, falling in love and falling out of love.

This strange phenomenon happens only in California. Falling in happens everywhere, but falling out happens only in California - there is a special quality to its climate. But anybody who falls in is bound to fall out, California or no California. Here, every day I see ... one day I am told that this is somebody's girlfriend, and another day the girlfriends have changed. The same boyfriends are here, the same girlfriends are here, but why not exchange?

(THERE IS A LOUD BELLY LAUGH FROM THE BACK OF THE HALL.) Look, Sardar Gurudayal Singh never laughs without a very great reason. He is getting old, but he is still romantic. I don't go out of my room, but I always inquire what Sardar Gurudayal Singh is doing.

And I am always informed that he has changed his girlfriend.

It is perfectly right to have new experiences, to have new territories to explore. But if you are intelligent, you soon become tired; it is the same geography - a little bit of cotton wool here, a little bit of cotton wool there, and you have been so stupid pinching cotton wool! Sooner or later one matures. And if you cannot mature here, you will not mature anywhere else, because this much opportunity is not allowed in the world. I am condemned for this opportunity.

Once you are bored with the world the time has come to wake up; the world is your sleep. It is your interest in the worldly things that keeps you from letting your lake be filled with buddhahood.

Now look at Avirbhava who is sitting just here. A few days ago she dropped the idea of shopping - she is the great shopper. Just every two or three weeks a great urge arises to go shopping, to Singapore, to Bangkok, to London; anywhere, you just say it and Avirbhava is really ready to go. But I hope she is getting mature and will drop all this nonsense, because what is shopping? - collecting junk.

I know that every one of you is collecting junk. I am continuously being forced to receive your junk, so I know what you are collecting. Without entering into your rooms, I know what you are collecting, because you will not give me anything that is not great in your estimation. Then I go on giving that junk to others. What else to do? Because one needs some space to sleep, to sit ....

Now look, Avirbhava's urge is starting to think of Bangkok. This Bangkok is a very dangerous place.

And you can get any kind of junk at a throw-away price and Avirbhava grabs everything. Whatever she can grab she grabs, and I am finally the victim.

I have never shopped in my life; I had no chance, no time, no space. But so many people are shopping for me. They even go on sending by post all the junk that they think is valuable.

But I hope that even Avirbhava will get out of this. If the urge arises, just go to your boutique. That boutique is just for this urge. It is not a shopping center, it is just to help you get rid of your shopping desire. Just wait a little.

And Maneesha, you are all going to become as enlightened as anyone has ever been. People could not conceive that in one small life they might be able to find time for meditation, because a wrong idea about meditation has been preached - that you have to take a certain time every day, repeat certain mantras; and then by the grace of God, if he is kind, but not by your effort, you may become self-realized. And for this, one small life is not enough. So people go to the temple, and you can see, they come out quickly.

In my village, just in front of my house was a beautiful sweet shop. The man was a little deaf and I used to enjoy his deafness, because you had to shout in his ear, and only then he would hear. So I would go and shout in his ear, "Uncle, aunt is calling you inside. "

And they were the only people in the whole house and it was a long house and he knew that to trust me was not right, because if he went in, I would take a few sweets without reason. But he was afraid of her also; she was a dangerous woman - if she called, you had to come. I would say, "Go, otherwise you will be in trouble. Just for a few sweets you cannot trust me? I will take care of your shop, you go in!"

And as he would go in, I would close the door, enjoy whatever I wanted and he was knocking from inside, "Open the door!"

Except for that shopping I have never done any other .... But he loved me, because I opened the door and I said to him, "Don't be worried, no customer has come. I have been sitting here just watching that no dog or no animal enters in the shop."

And he would say, "You are a very good boy."

The last time I went to the village - he had become very old, he is dead now - I went in and he said to me, "Your aunt is dead."

I said, "That is a great loss to me!"

He said, "What do you mean?"

I said, "Now I don't live here anymore; otherwise it would have been a great loss."

The old man had always been understanding, but he used to wonder how many sweets I would eat.

And when the wife said, "Again you have come in?" he said, "But you called."

She said, "This is too much, I have told you that if I want you I will come. Don't listen to anybody, it must be that boy."

I said, "Now that the old woman is dead, I cannot even say to you, 'Uncle, aunt is calling inside.'"

He had tears in his eyes and he said, "I have never told you, but I knew that you were stealing and I never believed that my wife was calling me, because she knows I am deaf; but just to give a chance to you I used to go inside."

I said, "You knew?"

He said, "You were deceiving me every day, and every day the same thing, 'Aunt is calling.' And finally after once or twice I was rebuffed by my wife, I would not go in, I would just stand behind the door, then let you do whatever you wanted. How much harm could you do? And then I would knock on the door. Do you think I was unaware of the fact? I also knew that you used to take some sweets in your pockets."

I used to have many pockets in my childhood; they were needed, but since then ....

I remember the old man, but other than his shop I have not entered into anybody's shop, I just became unfortunately enlightened.

Mad Melvin and his friend, Fruitcake, are sitting around the madhouse canteen eating peanut butter and ketchup sandwiches.

Suddenly, Mad Melvin leans over and whispers, "I am going to escape!"

"Really, how?" asks Fruitcake.

"I am going to run through the keyhole!" replies Melvin enthusiastically.

A few minutes later, Melvin returns rubbing a big, black-and-blue bump on his forehead.

"What happened?" asks Fruitcake.

"The guards were ready for me," says Melvin sadly. "They left the key in the lock!"

In the White House kitchen, Chef Eggbreath and his assistant, Beaver, are frying some onions.

With tears from the vapors streaming down their faces, Eggbreath says, "You know, God gave us this vegetable to make us cry."

"Yeah, I guess so," Beaver says, wiping his eyes.

Just then, President Ronald walks by the kitchen wearing only his underwear and a hat.

"And you know," continues the chef, pointing at the president, "God gave us that vegetable to make us laugh!"

It is early morning at the Funnydale Mental Institute, and Nurse Brassboobs is inspecting the ward to see that everyone is properly dressed. But when she comes to George, she notices that he has his right shoe on his left foot, and his left shoe on his right foot.

"Come on, George," she says sweetly. "You have got your shoes on the wrong feet, dear."

Half an hour later, she comes back and sees that George still has the same problem.

"George, dear," she says, "why have you not put your shoes on the right feet?"

"But I have tried!" cries George. "I have looked everywhere, but I just can't find my other feet!"

The new priest, Father Finger, is so nervous at his first Mass that he can hardly speak. Before his second appearance in the pulpit, he asks the more experienced Father Fungus how he can relax.

"It is easy," says Fungus. "Next time, just pour a little vodka into your water pitcher. After a few sips, everything should go smoothly."

The following Sunday, Father Finger pours a whole bottle of vodka into his water pitcher, and proceeds to drink and preach up a storm. He feels great.

However, returning to his room, he finds a note from Father Fungus:

One. Next time sip, don't gulp.

Two. There are ten commandments, not twelve.

Three. There are twelve apostles, not ten.

Four. We do not refer to the cross as "the big T."

Five. The recommended grace before meals is not "Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub - Yaa-hoo!"

Six. Do not refer to the last supper as "Good eats with J.C. and the boys."

Seven. David slew Goliath, he did not "kick the shit out of him."

Eight. The father, son and holy ghost, are not referred to as "Big daddy, junior and the spook."

Nine. You should always say "the Virgin Mary," not "Mary with the cherry."

Ten. Though the pope is a Polack, we do not refer to him as Pope the Polack, or as the Polack Poop.

Eleven. Last, but not least; next week there is a taffy-pulling contest at St. Peter's - not a peter- pulling contest at St. Taffy's!

Now, this is a good time, Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) (Gibberish) Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Be silent, close your eyes.

Feel the body absolutely frozen, no movement, just remain centered in.

This centering makes you a buddha, this centering is the very womb of all the buddhas.

Deeper and deeper and deeper, just like an arrow, a diamond thunderbolt, which pierces to the very core of your being; and you will know the space, the sky, the infinite eternity of your being.

To be a buddha is just to be a fully grown lotus, a lotus of consciousness.

This is a great moment.

Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Relax, let go.

Just be dead, but keep holding to the center.

This center is your eternity, it knows no death, it knows only a blissful dance that goes on and on.

The whole of your surroundings is celebrating you.

This is the most precious gift that existence can give to you.

Nivedano ...

(Drumbeat) Come back, sit for a few moments, rejoicing in your experience, collecting the memory so that it can become a flame, burning twenty-four hours in the darkest period of your life.

Even in death you will find it a flame dancing.

For the buddha, there is no death, there is only life and life and eternal dance.

Okay, Maneesha?

Yes, Osho.

Can we celebrate seven thousand buddhas together?

Yes, Osho.