Discourses — 03 November 2013

Osho, I feel very worried seeing your state of health. You have been pouring out your soul as you reach out to the world, but instead of changing, people wanted to destroy you. Why do you still make such an effort?

The body is bound to be destroyed. If it is destroyed on the path of love, there is no greater blessing. The body is bound to become tired and tattered, but if through it, I am able to give birth to rays of bliss in some people’s lives, it is a blessing. It makes no difference whether, upon hearing me, people change or not. Along with the experience of truth, comes compassion as its shadow saying, “Whether someone is going to change or not, at least give the call. Let no blame rest with you – that you did not give the call. Let no one be able to say that you remained silent.”

I no longer need the body. My journey has come to a completion – and since a long time. I have known what there is to be known, I have attained what there is to be attained: now there is nothing beyond that. During the days that are left before this body takes leave on its own accord, if in the lives of even a few people some lamps can be lit, if in the lives of even a few people some smile can spread… And in a certain number of people’s lives the lamps have begun to light up, the smile has begun to spread, and the dancing bells on some people’s feet, and the flute at some people’s lips… Those who want to destroy me are unnecessarily feeling disturbed. I will leave by myself – who lives forever?

Osho

But the efforts of those who want to destroy me are perhaps part of the laws of nature and destiny. As an effort to destroy me grows, with that same intensity the inner beings of some people will awaken. If I create ten enemies, one friend will also be born. And I count friends – what is the need to be bothered with enemies?

And I have made enough friends in this world. Perhaps it has never happened before – because Buddha’s ceaseless effort was confined to the state of Bihar, Jesus’ to Judea. Socrates never even ventured out of the city of Athens. But I have given the call to the whole world. Thousands of people have heard that call. Tens of millions of enemies have been created, but I keep no count of enemies; I am keeping a count of my friends. And as the number of enemies has grown, in that same proportion the strength of friends, the courage of friends has also grown. Their determination to transform has strengthened. And seeing that so many people are willing to destroy me, many people have become willing to be destroyed for me. So there is no need to worry.

Not for one single moment has the idea ever crossed my mind that I might have taken a wrong step. In any case, this body ultimately falls away – and mostly it falls away when you are in your bed. Ninety-nine percent of people die in their beds. That is why I say to you: “Don’t sleep in the bed.” There is nothing in this world as dangerous as a bed – ninety-nine percent of people die there! In the middle of the night, silently get out and sleep on the floor. You may start in your bed so no one says anything, but later in the night, very silently get out, if you want to survive. Remember how many people have died in bed! It is very rare that someone dies on the cross – the numbers are negligible – but you have a great love for your bed, and a great animosity toward the cross!

The body will certainly go. It is meant to go. Whosoever has come here has only come in order to go. And because this body of mine is not going to come back again, and the one who is speaking through this breath is never going to speak through any breath again… Its resting point has come, its final destination has arrived: it is my last life and my last journey. In these final days, if I can bring the message to as many people as possible… No matter what tortures I may have to go through, nothing can be taken away from me. If someone takes away that which death will take away in any case, it has not been taken away from me. It has been taken away from death, I have nothing to do with it.

I am happy because I have been able to speak my heart to so many people. No one has ever been able to do this before in the world. And the number of people who love me – no one has ever been loved so much in his lifetime. And the number of people who hate me – no one has ever been hated so much in his lifetime either. This, too, I consider to be a blessing – because it is possible that those who hate me today may love me tomorrow. It is not very difficult for hate to transform into love. Perhaps hate is their way of arriving at the temple of love.

I remember a small incident.

There have been Hasidic mystics amongst the Jews.

The mystic who gave birth to the Hasidic tradition, Baalshem, wrote his first book. He sent his disciple with a copy of it as a gift to the highest rabbi, the highest religious head of the Jews. He told the disciple, “Take this book, give it personally into the hands of the chief rabbi, not to anybody else. And the reason I am sending you is so that you can watch the reaction of the rabbi very carefully: whatever he says, whatever emotions show on his face, take good note of it all. You must report every detail to me without making a mistake. And because you are my most alert disciple, I am sending you.”

Hasidism is a revolutionary tradition. The Jewish rabbi is an old and rotten thing of dead rites and rituals. In order to be a Hasid one has to pass through a revolution; in order to be a Jew it is enough to be born into a Jewish family.

So when the disciple arrived there, the chief rabbi and his wife were both having tea, sitting in their garden. He put Baalshem’s book into the hands of the rabbi. The rabbi took it and asked, “Whose book is it?”

And as the disciple said, “This is Baalshem’s first book, the first compilation of his words,” a fire came into the eyes of the rabbi, as if the face of a demon overtook his face. He threw the book away, onto the road outside his garden, and said, “How dare you enter this house? And how could you put that filthy book into my hands? Now I will have to take a shower.”

The disciple watched all this.

And the rabbi’s wife said, “Don’t be so angry. You have such a vast library. There is no harm if this book also remains lying there in some corner. And even if you had to throw the book away, you could have done so after the young man had gone.”

The disciple went back to Baalshem. Baalshem asked him, “What happened?”

The disciple said, “There is no possibility of the rabbi ever having a change of heart, but perhaps his wife may someday change.” And then he reported the whole story.

Baalshem started laughing. He said, “You are naive. You have no idea about human psychology. And if you don’t believe me, go back and see. The rabbi must have picked up the book by now and be reading it. And there is no chance of his wife being transformed. That woman doesn’t even have hate in her heart; love is a far away call. But the rabbi became excited, emotionally charged. My work is done. Just go back – the rabbi will be reading the book.”

The disciple went back and he was astonished at what he saw: the book had disappeared from the road. He peeped in. The rabbi was in the garden and was browsing through the book, and the rabbi’s wife was not there.

Hate is the inverted form of love. It is love doing a headstand. So the number of the people who love me is quite big, but the number of people who hate me is even bigger, and I am grateful to both, because with those who love me, there is no question that they will not dive into my love. But those who hate me – if not today then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then the day after – they will pick up that book from the road and read it. There is no way they can avoid me. By hating me, they have created a relationship with me. Although they have created it in anger, a relationship is relationship.

I can understand the state of your mind. I can understand your love. But I want to assure you that I am living only because of your love, otherwise for me there is simply no reason for living. When I see the light shining in your eyes, I think to myself, “A little bit longer, perhaps a few more will enter the tavern, perhaps a few more will be filled with remembrance to drink this wine.”

Don’t worry about my body. That is for existence to worry about. Only worry about one thing: that as long as I am here, make this gathering of drunkards grow as large as you can. Because if this gathering keeps on growing and growing, then I assure you that I will stay amongst you.

Osho, The Diamond Sword, Ch 8, Q 1

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