Without the Italians the world would not be the same

Discourses Selected Discourses

Osho, Why and how did god create the Italians?

Osho Discourse (38)


Are you in love with some Italian guy? Otherwise why this question? And this is really a great question! When I read your question I had to consult the Akashic records because neither the Bible says anything about it nor the Koran nor the Vedas! And really it is something very important. The keeper of the Akashic records is Master Kuthumi, well known to the Theosophists as Master K.H. He is the keeper – I had to ask his permission. “Let me see just a little thing, because I don’t know the answer: Why and how did God create the Italians?”

He was also puzzled. He said, “Nobody has ever asked this, neither Blavatsky nor Annie Besant. Who is this Sanjayo? Seems to be very esoteric!”

I said, “My sannyasins are very esoteric, very metaphysical! They ask such questions that if they were to ask any other saint, either the saint would escape or they would be thrown out! But they can ask me each and every thing.”

I had to look hard enough, then I came across a little passage. It says: “In the beginning there was darkness and spaghetti. And God loved spaghetti. One day, in the darkness, he was eating spaghetti and an idea occurred to him. He took a little spaghetti in one hand and a little spaghetti in the other and clapped both hands together and said, ‘Wop!’ and the first Italian appeared.” That’s why they are called wops.

The only question remains – please don’t put it to me – who made the spaghetti in the beginning? I could not find the answer even in the Akashic records. And when I asked Kuthumi again and again, he said, “Shut up! Such questions are not written and such answers are not given. And God can do anything, he can do any miracle. Why can he not make spaghetti?”

I said, “That seems to be difficult. Without an Italian there in the first place who will make spaghetti?”

And you ask, “Why…”

In the Akashic records it says: The day God created Italy was a day of grace. Even God stopped to contemplate his work with great satisfaction.

“I outdid myself! What a wonder! Look at that beautiful scenery! It is a blessed country!” said God to himself.

And then, to balance things, God created the Italians.

One thing is certain: without the Italians the world would have never been so beautiful, would have never been so interesting. Italians have contributed much. Another thing is absolutely certain: without the Italians there would have been no commune here – impossible. I am dispensable, but Deeksha is not! Even if I am not here you can sit in silence, but without Deeksha how long can you sit in silence?

The lady was taking the census in a middle class Italian neighborhood. As she rang the bell, a naked man opened the door. She was a very professional type, so she made believe she had not noticed. But the guy explained himself.

“I hope you understand me — I belong to a nudist club.”

“There is no problem,” said the lady, “I just need some information, sir. Are you married?”

“Yes, for the third time.”

“Do you have sons?”

“Yes,” said the naked man. “I have seven from my first wife, twelve from the second and fifteen from the third.”

“Well,” said the lady, “it seems you are not a nudist, you just have no time to dress!”

Italians really have contributed great things to the world!

A very shy painter met a beautiful Italian woman in a bar and asked if she would pose for him. She agreed if he would pay her one hundred dollars.

So the painter borrowed money from all his friends and set up the appointment. Once they were together he said, “Miss, what I would really like to do is to paint your portrait with bare breasts.”

She agreed for the price of two hundred dollars. So he sold everything he could and finally raised the money.

When she came to his studio and posed with her breasts exposed, he became so excited that he couldn’t resist asking her to pose entirely in the nude. She agreed, but asked for four hundred dollars.

Desperate, he sold his favorite paintings and even his art supplies in order to raise the enormous sum of money.

Finally she arrived at the studio and removed all of her clothes. The painter became so excited, he said. “Oh! The passion! I am dying with desire for you! What I really want is to make love with you! Say how much… how much?”

“Ai!” she exclaimed. “The same price as for everyone else – ten dollars.”

Maria has six sons, all dark-haired. The seventh, however, is born redheaded.

Giovanni is furious.

“I know you have betrayed me!” he shouts in anger. “Confess that this is not my son!”

“I swear, Giovanni, he is your son. I swear it – I swear it!”

But Giovanni, in a blind rage, shoots her. Before dying, the woman asks him to come close and whispers, “I have to confess something to you, Giovanni. He is your son – it’s the others that are not yours!”


Roberto left for America with the promise of sending for Maria once he had settled. Before leaving they made a fidelity pact with each other.

Two years later Roberto sent for Maria. On her arrival day he said to her, “Wow, you look lovely!”

“And you, Roberto, you are so handsome!” said Maria.

Soon they were sharing confidences of the past two years.

“Do you know, Maria,” said Roberto, “these two years have been a great sacrifice, but I have been faithful to our pact. Every time I went with a woman I would remember our vow and would get up from on top of her. What about you? Did you fulfill our pact?”

And Maria answered, “You know, Roberto, to get out from underneath is much harder!”

Four men are in a bar talking about their professions.

The first, a German, says, “I’m a coke-sacker at the coal yard. I fill sacks with coke.”

The second, a Frenchman, says, “I’m a sock-tucker at the clothing warehouse. I tuck socks into packages.”

The third, a Dutchman, says, “I’m a cork-soaker at the barrel factory. I soak the corks so they’ll make a good fit.”

The fourth, an Italian, says, “I’m the real thing.”

Without the Italians the world would not be the same; they are the most earthly people. And I love the earthly people; they are the most rooted in the earth. They are not abstract people, like Indians; they are not metaphysicians. That is their beauty.

And my work here is to create a synthesis of the sky people and the earth people. I would like my sannyasins to be as earthly as the Italians and as unearthly as the Indians, because unless your roots go deep in the earth your branches cannot reach to the stars. The deeper the roots go into the earth, the higher is the reach of your branches. Then you can whisper with the stars.

Up to now there has been a split. The earthly people have been condemned by the religious people as materialists and the materialists have been condemned by the spiritualist as hocus-pocus. Both are true in a way, but both are half. And a half-truth is far more dangerous than a lie because it looks like a truth.

The whole truth is that a real, authentic man, the whole man, will contain contradictions. He will be vast enough to contain contradictions. He will be a man and a woman together. He will be earthly and unearthly together. He will be materialist and spiritualist together, with no conflict. Unless this synthesis happens the world is going to remain schizophrenic.

My sannyasins are not to be unearthly, they are not only to be earthly either; they have to be both. I am giving them the hardest task ever: they have to be materialists and spiritualists, spiritualists and materialists. They have to drop the whole division of this world and that, of this shore and that, of this and that. They have to make a bridge between the two. And once that bridge is made, man will be whole for the first time. And a whole man is holy. Neither the spiritualist is holy nor is the worldly man holy because both are not yet whole. They are unholy because they are half, and any person who is half is bound to suffer. He cannot rejoice, he cannot celebrate, he cannot know what a blessing life is.

You have to know that even dust is divine, that your body is a temple. You have to become Zorba the Buddha!

Osho, Tao: The Golden Gate, Vol 1, Ch 4, Q 4

Comments are closed.