Tomorrow you may have to celebrate alone

Osho on Celebrating The Urgency

Our beloved Master, I can’t remember when you last paused to look at your watch to decide whether to speak further or not. Does that mean we have been juicier to be with lately?

Osho signature rainbow

Maneesha, it means many things. It certainly means that my assembly of buddhas has become juicier, it has become more alert, less judgmental, more experimental. It also means that when you are all so deeply involved, I don’t have to look at my watch. When I see somebody disturbed, fidgeting, feeling that it is too late, only then have I looked at my watch. I haven’t looked at it for years.

Sometimes it doesn’t show the time at all, there is nothing to look at. One day Shunyo reminded me, “Your watch… it is seven and your watch is saying four.”

I said, “It does not matter.”

As my days are becoming fewer and fewer on this earth, nothing matters except one thing: that I should pour myself into you as much as possible. Tomorrow I may not be here, so I should complete the celebration today. Tomorrow you may have to celebrate alone.

The whole credit goes to Ronald Reagan. Poisoning me he has taken away from you at least twenty years of my life. I am fighting with the poison and it has been a good challenge for me, but for you it can be a loss any moment. I am just living on the fringe. So when I go to sleep I say good-bye to the world, because I don’t know for certain that tomorrow morning I will wake up. When I wake up I am amazed that there is one more day, one more celebration, one more day to laugh with my people, to be part of their silences, to have my heart beat with their hearts. Looking at the watch has become irrelevant.

I go on wearing the watch so that you don’t become afraid. Because if I don’t wear the watch, you can be certain that my time is up.

Now something really serious:

Magnus Marx wants to buy a talking parrot for his wife’s birthday. He hears that a rare Brazilian banana-parrot is being auctioned, so he goes to the salesroom to have a look at it.
The auctioneer puts the bird up on the stand in front of the crowded sales room.
“Twenty-five dollars,” bids Magnus.
“Thirty-five!” comes another bidder.
Magnus bids again, “Forty dollars!”
“Fifty!” cries the other bidder.
Ten minutes later, a sweating Magnus hands over two hundred dollars to the auctioneer.
“That’s a wonderful parrot you have bought, sir,” says the auctioneer as he pockets the money.
“I know he is beautiful,” agrees Magnus. “But there is just one thing I forgot to ask before — does this bird talk?”
“Talk?” repeats the auctioneer. “For the last ten minutes he has been bidding against you!”

Sluggo, the deaf-mute gangster, is discovered to be stealing money regularly from the local mafia godfather. Sluggo runs to the priest and begs in sign-language for protection.
Father Finger agrees to protect him, then arranges a meeting with the mafia godfather. The mafia chieftain, upon seeing Sluggo, becomes so enraged that he pulls out his pistol, puts it against Sluggo’s head and says to Father Finger, “Tell him that if he does not say where that million dollars is, I will finish him right here!”
“Did you say one million dollars?” asks Father Finger.
“Yeah, that’s right,” shouts the fuming ganglord, waving his gun madly. “Now tell him to talk, or die!”
Finger turns to Sluggo and signs him a message. The deaf-mute, trembling with fear, signs back to the priest that the money is hidden in a cardboard box in the basement of his apartment building.
“Really?” exclaims Father Finger aloud.
“Well?” roars the mafia godfather. “What the hell is he saying?”
“He says,” replies Father Finger quietly, “that you don’t have the balls to pull the trigger!”

Larry and Lottie Loveditch, the middle-aged suburban couple, are spending Saturday afternoon gardening.
Lottie looks tense and uneasy until suddenly she throws down her clippers, stomps over to her husband and kicks him hard on the bum.
“What is that for?” asks a puzzled Larry.
“That is for being a lousy lover!” screams Lottie.
Larry rubs his backside and goes back to digging the weeds. Five minutes later he drops his shovel, storms over to his wife and kicks her into the bushes.
“You monster!” screams Lottie. “What was the reason for that?”
“That,” replies Larry, “was for knowing the difference.”

Nivedano, give the beat…





Be silent,
close your eyes,
feel the body to be frozen.
No movement…
Just settle in,
deeper and deeper.
This is the only temple.
This silent space is the only buddha.
This is it! Remember.

To make it more clear, Nivedano…


Relax, let go,
just be a watcher. The body is there,
the mind is there,
you are simply aware of them.
This awareness is beyond life and death.
This awareness
is the meaning of the word `buddha’.
Drink as much of it as possible,
be drenched,
carry out this awareness around the clock
and your life will become a beautitude,
a great bliss,
an ecstasy, a revolution.



Come back…
Slowly, gracefully…
Carrying the experience with you.
Forgetfulness of this experience
is the only sin in the world,
and to live in awareness is the only virtue.
All else is commentary.
The simple truth is to be, and to be aware,
and you have come home.

Okay, Maneesha?
Yes, Beloved Master.

Can we celebrate the gathering of the buddhas?
Yes, Beloved Master!

Osho, The Miracle, Ch 8, Q 1

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