Listening last night to Devageet’s question in The Razor’s Edge, discourse 13, where he tells Osho that he feels he is hanging onto a window frame, by his fingernails, in the sky, nothing below him, while Osho is leaning out the window leading the music. And Devageet wants to dance, or at least to clap along…
In reply, Osho tells a Sufi story of falling over a cliff in a dark forest, and holding onto the roots of a tree all night; then – finally slipping – and finding there was only a fall of six inches.
It is a death meeting, for a few moments only, then your loud laughter… The function of the master is to take away everything you are clinging to: money, power, prestige… And when you are trusting so far, he takes away the idea of the Master, I hear.
Perhaps, in Osho’s final grand game, Jayesh, Amrito and others are part of that taking away.
Yes, taking away pictures, mala, ashram, the marble teertha, all the ways that ancient India uses to worship their attachments and avoid their encounter with death.
Perhaps there is now no time left to start from ABC. The kindergarten phase is over. Worship is not enough.
Sannyas is not to end up as a cult of worship.
We are in the last nightmare, the death encounter we put off so long.
The final dream, of Master, is also dying.
Osho is not Buddha, waiting by the gate to usher in every last lost stray.
He will more likely blow the gate off its hinges!
Knowingly, Osho gave his Dream to a businessman, and one who, like myself, like others, enjoys drinking alcohol as a way to relax the constant inner clamour.
It is they – Jayesh, Amrito, etc – who are engineering the final act of Osho’s total disappearance from this world.
Perhaps they are as yet acting unknowingly.
That phrase, ‘I leave you my dream’, immediately feels to me an unlikely way for Osho to describe his life: dreaming?
All his efforts are to dispel dreams in us, to awaken us, to share his clarity of no-mind. Those last years with him were pure Zen.
Perhaps for Jayesh, hearing ‘I leave you my dream’ means to be in charge, a CEO.
And for Amrito, ‘Your tears are not the way’ (his beautiful smile and the mechanical rooster crowing at 7pm as he told us the story) – perhaps that was what he needed to hear.
We all saw the video, these are the Master’s last devices.
Perhaps the cuckoos throwing all the other chicks out of the nest was also needed.
We have each made our own version of Osho we can live with. But he can be relentless.
We are all players in this last device, which plays out in each of our hearts.
Note that no enlightened one wants to comment or get involved.
Osho’s words detailing the changes he wanted to be implemented after his leaving, are clear and not in dispute.
Where has all the money gone from OIF sales? And possible land sales?
The matter can be settled simply by dry accounting examination, so money is not the dispute.
I think it is really that most of us are avoiding seeing, we are settling for security, with or without money, power, fame.
Now, our own Sannyas war?
What are we fighting for?
Don’t ask me I don’t give a damn!
Our own Mahabharata?
Friends on both sides, facing the same death moment, our own.
How can we find the courage to let go of our perfect Master…?
He said he never wanted to be a Master,
but, seeing our situation…
he arranged this gift.
How can it be a matter for the courts to decide? Doesn’t only money win?
You are asking immense wisdom from a judge.
You can’t afford that much truth.
There is no Master.
Ready or not –
there never was.
Featured image by Felipe Souza on unsplash.com
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