God is the Guest There is a great temple with a hundred priests to look after it. One night the chief priest went to bed and dreamed that God has sent word that he will visit their temple the next day. He did not believe it, because it is difficult to come across people who are more disbelieving than the priests. He did not believe his dream for another reason, too. People who trade in religion never come to believe in religion. They only exploit religion, which never becomes their faith, their truth. No one in the world is more faithless than one who turns faith into a means of exploitation. So the chief priest could not believe that God would really this temple. The priest had never believed in such things, although he had been a priest for long years. He had worshipped God for long and he knew that God had never visited his temple even once. Each day he had offered food to God, and he knew that he had in reality offered it to himself. He had also prayed to God every day, but he knew well that his prayers were lost in the empty sky, because there was no one to hear them. So he thought that the message was not true, it was just a dream, and a dream rarely turns into a reality. But then he was afraid, too, lest the dream should come true. At times what we call a dream turns into a reality and a reality as we know it proves to be a dream. Sometimes what we think to be a dream really becomes a reality. So the chief priest ultimately decided to inform his close colleagues about his last night’s dream. He said to the other priests, ”Although it seems to be a joke, yet I should tell you about it. Last night I dreamed that God said that he would visit us today.” The other priests laughed and they said, ”Are you mad that you believe in dreams? However, don’t tell others about it; otherwise they will take you to be crazy.” But the head priest said, ”In case he should come, we should be prepared for it. There is no harm if he does not turn up, but if at all he comes, we will not be found wanting.” So the whole temple and its premises were scrubbed, washed and cleaned thoroughly. It was decorated with flowers and flags and festoons. Lamps were lit and incense burned. Perfumes were sprayed and every kind of preparation made. The priests tired themselves out in the course of the day, but God did not turn up. Every now and then they looked up the road, they were disappointed, and they said, ”Dream is a dream after all; God is not going to come. We were fools to believe so. It was good that we did not inform the people of the town; otherwise they would have simply laughed at us.” By evening the priests gave up all hope, and they said, ”Let us now eat the sumptuous food cooked for God. It has ever been so: what we offer to God is consumed by us in the end. No one is going to turn up. We were crazy enough to believe in a dream. The irony is that we knowingly made fools of ourselves. If others go mad, they can be excused, because they don’t know. But we know God never comes. Where is God? There is this idol in the temple; it is all there is to it. And it is our business, our profession to worship him.” And then they ate well and went to bed early as they were tired. When it was midnight a chariot pulled up at the gate of the temple, and its sound was heard. One of the sleeping priests heard it and thought that it was God’s chariot. He shouted to others, ”Listen friends and wake up. It seems he, whom we expected all day, has arrived at long last. The noise of the chariot is heard.” The other priests snubbed him saying, ”Shut up, you crazy one. We have had enough of madness all through the day, now that it is night let us sleep well. It is not the sound of a chariot, but the rumblings of the clouds in the skies.” So they explained the thing away and returned to their beds. Then the chariot halted at the gate, and someone climbed the steps of the temple and knocked at its door. And again one of the priests woke up from sleep and shouted to his associates, ”It seems the guest has arrived whom we awaited the whole day long. He is knocking at the door.” The other priests berated him as they had done with the first. They said, ”Are you not crazy? Won’t you allow us to sleep? It is just the dash of winds against the door and not a knock of a caller.” So they again rationalized and went back to their beds. The next morning they woke up and walked to the gates of the temple. And they were astounded to see a few footprints on the steps of the temple. Surely enough someone had climbed them during the night. And then they noticed some marks of a chariot’s wheels on the road, and there was now no doubt at all that a chariot had arrived at the gate in the night. And strangely enough the footprints on the steps were absolutely uncommon and unknown. Now the priests burst into tears and fell down and began to roll on the ground where the chariot had halted. And soon the whole village was at the temple’s gates. Everybody in the crowd asked with bewilderment, ”What is the matter?” The priests said, ”Don’t ask what the matter is. God knocked at the door of our temple last night, but we rationalized everything. We are now damned. He knocked at the door and we thought that it was the flapping sound of the winds. His chariot came, and we thought that it was the rumble of thunder in the sky. The truth is that we did not understand anything. We only explained them away, because we wanted to enjoy our sleep.” God knocks at every door. His grace visits every home. But our doors are shut. And even when we hear a knock we immediately rationalize it and explain it away. In the old days they said that ”A guest is God”. There is a slight mistake in this maxim. The truth is that God is the guest. God is waiting as a guest at our doorsteps, but the door is closed. His grace is equally available to all. Therefore don’t ask whether one attains through his grace; one attains through his grace alone. And as far as our efforts are concerned, they are a help in opening the door, in removing the hurdles from the way. When he comes, he comes on his own accord. Source: "In Search of the Miraculous Volume 1" Mind's trap Osho : There is no need to fall into the mind’s trap. The mind can give neither knowledge nor existence; it can only give untruth. He who listens to the mind falls into falsity. In an old story, the gods were once so pleased by a man’s devotion that they gave him a magic conch shell that would fulfill any wish expressed to it. You say a palace and immediately a palace appears. You say a banquet fit for a king and there is a great feast laid out before you. The man was very happy as he began to enjoy all the good things in life. One day a priest who was passing through the town halted at this man’s palace for a night’s rest. He had heard about the magic shell and wanted to possess it. He too had a conch shell which he called Maha-shankha, great conch shell. He said to his host, ”Your shell is nothing compared to mine. I too practiced many austerities and the gods favored me with this Maha-shankha. You ask one thing of it, it gives two.” Now as is human nature, the man’s greed was awakened. He said, ”Show me the magic of your conch shell.” The priest took out the Maha-shankha and placing it before him said, ”Brother, make a palace.” The conch said, ”Why one? Why not two?” The host was impressed. He gave his conch to the priest and took his Maha-shankha in return. The priest then soon left. Almost immediately the man tried frantically to find him again, because the conch only spoke but did not perform. You say two and it will say,”Why not four?” You say four, it will say ”Why not eight?” This was all it could do. The mind is a Maha-shankha. Whatever God gives it says, ”Why only this much, why not more?” The mind is only a babble of words. It is all lies. It can produce nothing. But we are such that we have let go of God and cling to the mind. For the mind talks in a duplicity that sets fire to our greed. Just think, has the mind ever given you anything? Have you ever attained anything through the mind? Source: "The True Name, Vol 2 " - Osho
Mount Sumeru and the Great King One great emperor died with a great desire, because there is nothing greater than signing your signature on Mount Sumeru. It was the tradition of those times that the wife of a man who died would commit sati, and the kings used to have many wives, not just one. All the wives had to commit sati – sometimes a hundred women, sometimes five hundred women. Krishna had sixteen thousand women! So it was a massacre; whenever an emperor died, hundreds of living women .... When this emperor reached the gates of heaven with his hundreds of wives who had died with him on the funeral pyre, the gatekeeper said to him, ”You take these instruments and sign on Sumeru, but don’t take anybody else with you.” The emperor said, ”These are all my wives, and what is the point of signing on Sumeru if there is nobody even as a witness? I want all my wives to be with me to see it.” The gatekeeper laughed and he said, ”I have been here ... for generations we have been the gatekeepers. Before me, my father and before him, his father ... as long as existence, our family has been on this gate. And everyone on this gate has given the same advice that I’m giving to you. You will be thankful for it. If you insist, I will allow – but then don’t be offended.” The emperor could not understand, but perhaps the gatekeeper knows more about things ... He went alone and was simply amazed at the gatekeeper’s compassion. Because he could not find a small place anywhere on Mount Sumeru to make his signature. All over there were signatures and signatures and signatures. The meaning is clear: ”You are not the only one. Millions of emperors have passed before you.” He said to the gatekeeper, who was with him, ”This is very humiliating. I used to think I would be the only emperor who is going to sign. And this whole mountain, miles and miles ... there is no space for a signature!” The gatekeeper said, ”Do one thing – another advice that we have been giving since my ancestors. Here is the instrument. Remove somebody’s name and put your name. And this is not new; this has been happening for centuries as far as I know, my father knew, my father’s father knew. You have to remove somebody’s name and create space for your signature.” The emperor said, ”But that takes all the joy out of it. Somebody will come and remove my name.” The gatekeeper said, ”That, of course, is going to happen. It is up to you.” This is the failure of success. Ultimate success brings ultimate failure. And this story may be not a fact; the Sumeru Mountain range does not exist anywhere, but all these three religions have accepted it for the simple reason to show you: Don’t run after the ego. Your ego can take you at the most to the Sumeru Mountains; and then you will see you have wasted your whole life, just to remove somebody’s name. What is the joy of being the greatest celebrity in the world? Source: "Zen: The Solitary Bird, Cuckoo of the Forest" Art of meditation Zen fakirs say: ”If you want to go to the house of God, you must learn the burglar’s art.” You need as much alertness as the thief uses. You also must transform your fear and enter like the thief, as if it is your own house. There is aZen story: There was a very well known thief who was considered number one in the hierarchy of thieves. He was so adept at his art that he had never been caught, yet everyone knew he was a thief. The news even reached the ears of the king who called him, and honored him for his wonderful efficiency and skill. As he became older his son said to him, ”Father, it is time for you to teach me your art, because who knows when death may come?’ The thief replied, ”If you wish to learn I shall teach you. Come with me tomorrow night.” The next night both father and son set out. The father broke through the wall as the son stood watching. His absorption in breaking in would have put any artist to shame. He was lost in his work as if he were lost in prayer. The son was awed by his father’s proficiency. He was a master thief, the guru of so many thieves. The son was trembling from head to foot, though it was a warm night. Fear arose again and again, chilling his spine. His eyes darted everywhere, watching all directions, but his father was lost in his work and didn’t lift his eyes even once. When they entered through the hole the son was trembling like a leaf; never had he felt so afraid in all his life, but the father moved about as though the place belonged to him. He took the son in, broke the locks, opened the lock of a huge wardrobe filled with clothes and jewels, and told the son to get inside. No sooner did the son enter but the father closed the cupboard, locked it, and taking the key with him, left the house shouting, ”Thief, thief!” and returned home. By then everyone had awakened. The son was caught in the worst dilemma of his life. What was he to do? He was worried about the footprints and the hole in the wall. At that moment the servant come right up to the wardrobe. The poor boy was at his wits end, his mind completely blank. At such a time the mind does not work, because it is full of stale knowledge and doesn’t know how to deal with fresh situations. He had never heard of such a thing arising in the whole history of thieving. His intellect became useless. At the moment the intellect became useless, the consciousness within was awakened.Suddenly, as this energy caught him, he began making a noise as if a rat was gnawing at the clothes inside the cupboard. He was shocked at himself; he had never done such a thing before. The woman servant brought a bunch of keys and opened it. He immediately puffed out the lamp she was holding and, giving her a push, ran out of the house through the hole in the wall. Some ten or twenty people gave chase. There was a great deal of noise, because the whole village was awake. The thief ran for his life – ran as he had never run before. He had no idea it was he who was running. Suddenly, as he reached a well, he picked up a big stone and threw it in the well – all this without the slightest idea of what he was doing. It seemed to him it was not he but someone else directing him. At the sound of the stone falling in the water the crowd gathered around the well, thinking the thief had fallen in. He stood behind the tree to rest a bit, then continued home muttering to himself. When he went in he found his father fast asleep with the blanket over his head. The son pulled off the cover and said, ”What are you doing?” The father continued snoring away. He shook him hard. ”What did you do to me? Did you want to see me killed?” The father opened his eyes for a minute and said, ”So you have returned? Good. I’ll hear the rest in the morning,” and appeared to fall back asleep. The son pleaded with him, ”Say something, father. Ask me what I went through or I shall not be able to sleep.” The father said, ”Now you are an expert; you don’t need to be taught. Anyway, say it if you must.” After the son recounted all that had happened the father answered, ”Enough! Now you know even the art that cannot be taught. After all you are my son! My blood flows in your veins. You know the secret. If a robber uses his intelligence he gets caught. You have to leave your intelligence behind, because each time it is a totally new experience, a new moment; each time you are entering a different person’s house and every house is new. The old experience never comes of use. Use your intelligence and you land yourself in trouble. Rely on your intuition and you succeed.”Zen masters always mention this story. They say the art ofmeditationis like house-breaking – you need as much awareness. Intelligence should be put aside and awareness should come into play. Where there is fear there is bound to beawareness. Where there is danger you become absolutely alert and all thoughts stop. Source: from "The True Name, Vol 2 "
Don’t Control Mind When you are controlling something you are in tension; you cannot be without tension, because that which is controlled is continuously trying to revolt against you, that which is enslaved wants freedom. Your mind sooner or later will explode with vengeance. A story I have loved ... In a village there was a man of a very angry and aggressive type, so violent that he had killed his wife, for something trivial. The whole village was afraid of the man because he knew no argument except violence. The day he killed his wife by throwing her into a well, a Jaina monk was passing by. A crowd had gathered, and the Jaina monk said, "This mind full of anger and violence will lead you to hell." The situation was such that the man said, "I also want to be as silent as you are, but what can I do? I don't know anything. When anger grips me I'm almost unconscious, and now I have killed my own beloved wife." The Jaina monk said, "The only way to still this mind, which is full of anger and violence and rage, is to renounce the world." Jainism is a religion of renunciation, and the ultimate renunciation is even of clothes. The Jaina monk lives naked, because he is not allowed to possess even clothes. The man was of a very arrogant type, and this became a challenge to him. Before the crowd he threw his clothes also into the well with the wife. The whole village could not believe it; even the Jaina monk became a little afraid, "Is he mad or something?" The man fell down at his feet and said, "You may have taken many decades to reach the stage of renunciation ... I renounce the world, I renounce everything. I am your disciple -- initiate me." His name was Shantinath, and shanti means 'peace'. It often happens ... if you see an ugly woman, most probably her name will be Sunderbhai, which means 'beautiful woman'. In India people have a strange way ... to the blind man they give the name Nayan Sukh. Nayan Sukh means 'one whose eyes give him great pleasure'. The Jaina monk said, "You have a beautiful name. I will not change it; I will keep it, but from this moment you have to remember that peace has to become your very vibration." The man disciplined himself, stilled his mind, fasted long, tortured himself, and soon became more famous than his master. Angry people, arrogant people, egoistic people can do things which peaceful people will take a little time to do. He became very famous, and thousands of people used to come just to touch his feet. After twenty years he was in the capital. A man from his village had come for some purpose, and he thought, "It will be good to go and see what transformation has happened to Shantinath. So many stories are heard -- that he has become a totally new man, that his old self is gone and a new, fresh being has arisen in him, that he really has become peace, silence, tranquility." So the man went with great respect. But when he saw Muni Shantinath, seeing his face, his eyes, he could not think that there had been any change. There was none of the grace which necessarily radiates from a mind which has become silent. Those eyes were still as egoistic -- in fact they had become more pointedly egoistic. The man's presence was even more ugly than it used to be. Still, the man went close. Shantinath recognized the man, who had been his neighbor -- but now it was beneath his dignity to recognize him. The man also saw that Shantinath had recognized him, but he was pretending that he did not. He thought, "That shows much." He went close by Shantinath and asked, "Can I ask you a question? What is your name?" Naturally, great anger arose in Shantinath because he knew that this man knew perfectly well what his name was. But still he kept himself in control, and he said, "My name is Muni Shantinath." The man said, "It is a beautiful name -- but my memory is very short, can you repeat it again? I have forgotten ... what name did you say?" ... This was too much. Muni Shantinath used to carry a staff. He took the staff in his hand he forgot everything -- twenty years of controlling the mind -- and he said, "Ask again and I will show you who I am. Have you forgotten? -- I killed my wife, I am the same man." Only then did he recognize what had happened ... in a single moment of unconsciousness he realized that twenty years have gone down the drain; he has not changed at all. But millions of people feel great silence in him ... Yes, he has become very controlled, he keeps himself repressed, and it has paid off. So much respect and he has no qualification for that respect -- so much honor, even kings come to touch his feet. Your so-called saints are nothing but controlled animals. The mind is nothing but a long heritage of all your animal past. You can control it, but the controlled mind is not the awakened mind. The process of controlling and repressing and disciplining is taught by all the religions, and because of their fallacious teaching humanity has not moved a single inch -- it remains barbarous. Any moment people start killing each other. It does not take a single moment to lose themselves; they forget completely that they are human beings, and something much more, something better is expected of them. There have been very few people who have been able to avoid this deception of controlling mind and believing that they have attained mindlessness. To attain mindlessness a totally different process is involved: I call it the ultimate alchemy. It consists only of a single element -- that of watchfulness. Source: " The Great Zen Master Ta Hui " The Musical Instrument An ancient story is.... In India there are very refined instruments of music; nowhere else in the world has such refinement happened. Just one single man -- who lives in the Himalayas and comes once in a while to the plains -- plays a special veena which used to exist in the past. And many musicians used to play it, but now only one person knows how to play it. It is called rudra veena. Rudra is another name of Shiva; Shiva used to play it. To play it needs such a long discipline, four or five hours' practice every day for years; then only can you bring those subtle notes out of it. The ancient story is that in one house there was a strange musical instrument which had been there for generations. Nobody knew what to do with it, and it was a nuisance. It had to be cleaned, dust would gather on it, and it was taking up space in the room. And sometimes in the middle of the night a rat would jump on it and create noise. Finally they decided, "It is useless for us; it is better to get rid of it." So they went out and threw it on the garbage pile by the side of the road. They had not even reached back home and they heard such sweet music... they had never even imagined. So they turned back -- a beggar was playing the instrument, and a crowd had gathered. The beggar knew, he was a musician, but a musician of such old and ancient instruments that even to find people who could understand it was difficult, so there was no possibility for him to earn anything. He had become a beggar so that he could continue discovering old, ancient instruments about which we have completely forgotten. And as he saw this instrument he could not believe it, because he had been in search of this instrument for years. There was utter silence in the crowd -- everybody who was passing on the road stopped. The people of the house came back, and when he stopped playing they said, "That instrument belongs to us." The beggar said, "Remember one thing: a musical instrument belongs to one who knows how to play it, there is no other kind of ownership. You have thrown it in the garbage. You have insulted an immensely valuable thing. "And what will you do with it? Again it will gather dust and you will have to clean it. Again rats will make noise in the night and disturb your sleep. This instrument can be played only if one knows how to play a few other instruments. They are the steps, and this is the end, and I have been searching for it. All other instruments I have found, but this, the final instrument, was missing. You cannot claim ownership of it. "If you can play it here, before the crowd, it is yours. Otherwise, it belongs to me." Music is not property; it is art, it is love. It is devotion, it is prayer. You cannot possess it. The same is my feeling about your being. You have it, but you don't possess it because you don't know how to play the instrument of your being. All that you know is the mind, which is only a vehicle; the heart, which is only a vehicle. But they are empty. Your thinking leads nowhere. Your heart remains at the point of lust, and never gets to know love. Search for your being and everything else will follow it on its own accord. You don't have to drop anything -- you cannot drop anything. They are your innermost qualities; they will radiate on their own. Your heart will be full of love; your mind will be full of intelligence. Okay, Vimal? Yes, Osho. Source: "The Hidden Splendor"
