Commentaries on Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet. Vol. 2 The Messiah Chapter 20: Don't judge the ocean by its foam

BELOVED OSHO,

THE MIST THAT DRIFTS AWAY AT DAWN, LEAVING BUT DEW IN THE FIELDS, SHALL RISE AND GATHER INTO A CLOUD AND THEN FALL DOWN IN RAIN.

AND NOT UNLIKE THE MIST HAVE I BEEN.

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT I HAVE WALKED IN YOUR STREETS, AND MY SPIRIT HAS ENTERED YOUR HOUSES,

AND YOUR HEART-BEATS WERE IN MY HEART, AND YOUR BREATH WAS UPON MY FACE, AND I KNEW YOU ALL.

AY, I KNEW YOUR JOY AND YOUR PAIN, AND IN YOUR SLEEP YOUR DREAMS WERE MY DREAMS.

AND OFTENTIMES I WAS AMONG YOU A LAKE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

I MIRRORED THE SUMMITS IN YOU AND THE BENDING SLOPES, AND EVEN THE PASSING FLOCKS OF YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR DESIRES.

AND TO MY SILENCE CAME THE LAUGHTER OF YOUR CHILDREN IN STREAMS, AND THE LONGING OF YOUR YOUTHS IN RIVERS.

AND WHEN THEY REACHED MY DEPTH THE STREAMS AND THE RIVERS CEASED NOT YET TO SING.

BUT SWEETER STILL THAN LAUGHTER AND GREATER THAN LONGING CAME TO ME.

IT WAS THE BOUNDLESS IN YOU;

THE VAST MAN IN WHOM YOU ARE ALL BUT CELLS AND SINEWS;

HE IN WHOSE CHANT ALL YOUR SINGING IS BUT A SOUNDLESS THROBBING.

IT IS IN THE VAST MAN THAT YOU ARE VAST,

AND IN BEHOLDING HIM THAT I BEHELD YOU AND LOVED YOU.

FOR WHAT DISTANCES CAN LOVE REACH THAT ARE NOT IN THAT VAST SPHERE?

WHAT VISIONS, WHAT EXPECTATIONS AND WHAT PRESUMPTIONS CAN OUTSOAR THAT FLIGHT?

LIKE A GIANT OAK TREE COVERED WITH APPLE BLOSSOMS IS THE VAST MAN IN YOU.

HIS MIGHT BINDS YOU TO THE EARTH, HIS FRAGRANCE LIFTS YOU INTO SPACE, AND IN HIS DURABILITY YOU ARE DEATHLESS.

YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT, EVEN LIKE A CHAIN, YOU ARE AS WEAK AS YOUR WEAKEST LINK.

THIS IS BUT HALF THE TRUTH. YOU ARE ALSO AS STRONG AS YOUR STRONGEST LINK.

TO MEASURE YOU BY YOUR SMALLEST DEED IS TO RECKON THE POWER OF OCEAN BY THE FRAILTY OF ITS FOAM.

TO JUDGE YOU BY YOUR FAILURES IS TO CAST BLAME UPON THE SEASONS FOR THEIR INCONSTANCY.

AY, YOU ARE LIKE AN OCEAN.

AND THOUGH HEAVY-GROUNDED SHIPS AWAIT THE TIDE UPON YOUR SHORES, YET, EVEN LIKE AN OCEAN, YOU CANNOT HASTEN YOUR TIDES.

AND LIKE THE SEASONS YOU ARE ALSO,

AND THOUGH IN YOUR WINTER YOU DENY YOUR SPRING,

YET SPRING, REPOSING WITHIN YOU, SMILES IN HER DROWSINESS AND IS NOT OFFENDED.

THINK NOT I SAY THESE THINGS IN ORDER THAT YOU MAY SAY THE ONE TO THE OTHER, "HE PRAISED US WELL. HE SAW BUT THE GOOD IN US."

I ONLY SPEAK TO YOU IN WORDS OF THAT WHICH YOU YOURSELVES KNOW IN THOUGHT.

AND WHAT IS WORD KNOWLEDGE BUT A SHADOW OF WORDLESS KNOWLEDGE?

YOUR THOUGHTS AND MY WORDS ARE WAVES FROM A SEALED MEMORY THAT KEEPS RECORDS OF OUR YESTERDAYS,

AND OF THE ANCIENT DAYS WHEN THE EARTH KNEW NOT US NOR HERSELF,

AND OF NIGHTS WHEN EARTH WAS UPWROUGHT WITH CONFUSION.

Almustafa, before parting from his people, makes many significant statements. It is almost as if a man is dying, and his last words contain his whole life's experience. He has not much time, but still time enough to say a few words which will be remembered with the sadness and with the glory and the beauty of his departure.

It is not a death; he is going back home. But he has to say a few things which were not possible to say before -- not that he was not prepared, but there was nobody to listen to them. Hearing that he is going, the whole city of Orphalese has gathered.

The words that are spoken at the time of departure become seeds in your being, almost without your knowing, because you cannot go on playing games of postponment. The ship is ready to leave, the people may never see Almustafa again -- who knows about the future, what it contains? This man has been amongst them for twelve years; they have ignored him, laughed at him, neglected him. They are feeling deep down sad and sorry, because they had an opportunity, a spring that has come to them, but they were not open.

Today, because the spring is going away, they have become suddenly aware. And remember, even when the spring goes away, it does not go suddenly. It lingers a little bit. A few flowers disappear, then a few more flowers disappear, and then all flowers are gone. Those who were not aware when there were flowers all around suddenly become aware that perhaps it may not be possible to see the same flowers and the same fragrance again. In this awareness their hearts are open.

His statements are simple -- but truth is always simple. If you are ready to listen it is the most simple thing in the world. If you are not ready to listen, it is the most complex thing in the world; your mind makes it complex, interprets it, makes meanings out of it which are not there and in this way misses the whole point. But when a man is dying or departing, and soon the winds will take the ship far away, beyond the horizon.... They feel now a gap which cannot be replaced. Although Almustafa will be gone, his words will go on ringing in their ears and in their hearts.

THE MIST THAT DRIFTS AWAY AT DAWN LEAVING BUT DEW IN THE FIELDS, SHALL RISE AND GATHER INTO A CLOUD AND THEN FALL DOWN IN RAIN.

He is saying, "Don't be worried and don't be sad. The mist that gathers on the leaves of trees and on the ground in the night starts evaporating when the sun rises; it rises again, just to become a raincloud. So if you have missed this time, don't miss the next time. When the rain comes through all your hypocrisies, in your utter nudity dance with the rain and the sun and the wind. And you will understand more than is contained in any scripture, or in all the scriptures. You will understand that you are part of a dancing existence."

AND NOT UNLIKE THE MIST HAVE I BEEN.

"Though I am going now, soon I will be raining again. If you have missed me this time there is no need to be sorry. Be alert when I rain again, so that you don't hide yourself from me, but open your heart."

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT I HAVE WALKED IN YOUR STREETS, AND MY SPIRIT HAS ENTERED YOUR HOUSES.

AND YOUR HEART-BEATS WERE IN MY HEART, AND YOUR BREATH WAS UPON MY FACE, AND I KNEW YOU ALL.

The man of understanding, the man who is awake understands those who are asleep. But those who are asleep of course cannot understand the man who is awake. It is natural.

"I walked in the deep night in your streets, I have entered into your houses, I have loved you so much that your heartbeat has become my heartbeat and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all...."

Next time, let my heartbeat become your heartbeat; next time, let your spirit enter into my temple; next time, let my breath reach to your face. Just as I have known you all, next time you all have to know me; then the circle will be complete.

AY, I KNEW YOUR JOY AND YOUR PAIN, AND IN YOUR SLEEP YOUR DREAMS WERE MY DREAMS.

All that I am leaving within you is my dreams -- deep down in your unconscious. At the right time they will start sprouting and becoming actualities.

AND OFTENTIMES I WAS AMONG YOU A LAKE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

But you were too egoistic, you never looked down; otherwise you would have seen your face in the mirror of the lake. But this should not be so again. If your sadness for my departure is sincere, next time, however high your mountain is, it will be reflected in the mirror of the lake. I will come again, I will surround you as a lake again. Don't remain egoistic -- not to bend down, not to look in the lake -- because I cannot give you anything except a reflection of your real face, of your original face. Once you have seen your original face reflected in me, you will start searching for it within yourself.

I MIRRORED THE SUMMITS IN YOU AND THE BENDING SLOPES, AND EVEN THE PASSING FLOCKS OF YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR DESIRES....

But you were not aware.

AND TO MY SILENCE CAME THE LAUGHTER OF YOUR CHILDREN IN STREAMS, AND THE LONGING OF YOUR YOUTHS IN RIVERS.

AND WHEN THEY REACHED MY DEPTH THE STREAMS AND THE RIVERS CEASED NOT YET TO SING.

In many ways your streams have reached me, but still you remained untransformed -- because those streams were the laughter of your children in the streets, playing, and the longing of your youths were as rivers.

And when they reached my depth the streams and the rivers ceased not yet to sing.... They are still singing in me. I am taking the laughter, the innocence of your children, the flowers of your youth with me. Next time, let it not be one-way-traffic; you also allow me to sing within you, to dance within you, to become your being.

BUT SWEETER STILL THAN LAUGHTER AND GREATER THAN LONGING CAME TO ME.

Just your presence -- although you were asleep -- was sweeter and greater than any laughter. It does not matter that you were asleep and you ignored me; it was just natural, I am not offended. I have felt more compassionate and more loving towards you -- who are bound to be kings but are living like beggars. Just looking at yourself in my mirror, you would have found your kingdom: the kingdom of God.

IT WAS THE BOUNDLESS IN YOU;

THE VAST MAN IN WHOM YOU ARE ALL BUT CELLS AND SINEWS;

HE IN WHOSE CHANT ALL YOUR SINGING IS BUT A SOUNDLESS THROBBING.

It was the boundless in you... it does not matter that you did not recognize me. I am worried about you, that you have not recognized the boundless in you. And that is your true self, your true reality. Without knowing it, all your knowing is rubbish.

The vast man in whom you are all but cells and sinews.... His vast man is nothing but the universal spirit, or in other words God. In that vast universal spirit you are not different from each other; you are part of one whole. It is only your sleep that gives you the idea that you are separate.

The moment you are awake, suddenly an immense revolution happens. You are in the trees and the trees are in you; you are in the ocean and the ocean is in you; you are in the clouds and the clouds are in you.

That is the great ecstasy of all the mystics: to find themselves the organic unity of the whole existence. But whether you know it or not, it is the reality. You have not to create it, you have not to find it, you have just to be awake, and it is yours -- so simple is the method.

A man was brought to Gautam Buddha. He was a philosopher and a logician, but he was blind. The whole village had failed to convince him that there is such a thing as light. His arguments were very sharp. He said, "If there is light bring it before me -- I want to touch it and feel it, or beat it like a drum -- I want to hear the sound of light; or give it to me to eat, I want to taste what it is; or at least I can smell...."

Of course nobody was able... nobody has ever been able to touch the light, to taste the light, to hear the light, to smell the light. Light can only be seen. But the blind logician used to laugh. He said, "All this idea of light is for nothing but to prove me blind. You are all blind, and this light is nothing but your imagination."

The village was at a loss. Light is everywhere, all around, but how to prove it? That man went on destroying all their proofs. In fact, there is no proof for light -- except your eyes. And there is no proof for God -- except your own being. The logicians who have been proving God are as foolish as those villagers. God has not to be proved but experienced, the way light is experienced. So all that is needed is eyes, not arguments.

When Buddha came to the village, all the villagers came with the blind man. They thought, "We are villagers, we have not been able to prove light, but the greatest man of our times -- or perhaps of all times -- is present; he will certainly be able to help this blind man."

But Buddha was not so unintelligent as to provide proofs for light. He said, "You have brought him to the wrong man. He does not need a philosopher, he needs a physician. I have got a physician with me, my personal physician; you take him to him. Light is not the question; the question is, if he can get his eyes cured he will not need any other argument."

It took six months for the physician to cure his eyes. And when he saw light, he said, "My God, I have been proving all those poor villagers wrong, and I was providing all kinds of arguments which appeared to me perfectly right. But light is not to be proved or disproved by an argument: either you see it, or you don't see it."

Buddha had moved to another village in these six months. He went to the other village, dancing... because a man who is blind misses almost all that is beautiful -- the flowers, the colors, the sunrays passing through the trees, the greenery -- he misses almost eighty percent of life; that's why you feel so much compassion towards a blind man.

You don't feel so much compassion towards a deaf man -- he is also missing a sense. And you don't bother at all if somebody cannot smell -- there are people who don't have the capacity to smell -- neither are you worried about a man who cannot taste. But whenever you see a blind man, a strange compassion arises in you. You may not be aware, but the fact is that the blind man is living only twenty percent of his life. Eighty percent of life comes through the eyes.

He was dancing in the sun, he touched the Buddha's feet and he told him, "If you had not met me I would have never seen the light, because they were always taking me to great philosophers, scholars, quoting scriptures, but that did not help. You were the first man who simply refused to tell anything about light. Now I know at that time I had felt a little shocked, `People say the Buddha is very compassionate, but it does not seem to be true. He has refused even to talk with me.' But now I know your compassion. Only a physician was needed, medicine was needed, so that my eyes are cured. Once my eyes are cured, I can see: light is."

The same is the situation about God or godliness -- it cannot be proved by arguments. Atheists have always been the winners as far as arguments are concerned; no theist has been able to answer all their questions, and whatever arguments they have produced have been destroyed by atheists very easily. The reason is that God is the ultimate light, and for it you need clarity of vision, you need eyes moving inwards. Either you know God or you don't know -- there is no in between, no space to stand in between.

And the whole humanity is trying to stand in between. They do not know God, yet they believe that God is; they are blind, yet they believe light is -- their belief is going to prevent the cure of their eyes. Hence I am against all beliefs; all belief-systems have been destructive and poisonous.

Never believe in anything. If people say, "God is," ask them the way to find Him, the way to see Him. If people say, "There is silence inside," ask them how to reach it. Don't argue about whether it exists or not, because in argument you will always win. But your winning is really a great failure.

Never believe in God; that is a hindrance in finding God. Seek, search... search for the eye that can see God; search for clarity and awareness that can dance with joy, finding that existence is intelligent. That's the meaning of God -- that existence is not an idiot, that existence is not without intelligence, that existence is not without consciousness. Even the mountains have their own consciousness, the trees have their own consciousness; you may have different forms of consciousness, that does not matter.

Once you have become aware of your consciousness, slowly slowly you will become sensitive to the whole ocean of consciousness that surrounds you. You will also dance! Unless a religion brings you to such an ecstasy that you can dance madly, you have not understood religion at all.

IT IS IN THE VAST MAN THAT YOU ARE VAST,

AND IN BEHOLDING HIM THAT I BEHELD YOU AND LOVED YOU.

He is using the word "vast man" so that he can avoid to use the word "God," because the word "God" has been misused by the priests for centuries to exploit people, to keep them blind. But the "vast man" is nothing but God. It is the whole infinitude of existence.

IT IS IN THE VAST MAN THAT YOU ARE VAST.... Otherwise you are always suffering with inferiority. Even the greatest man suffers from an inferiority complex; even your so-called powerful people are nothing but deep down hiding their inferiority. Life is multidimensional. You see that somebody is a poet, and suddenly you feel inferior -- you are not a poet. You see a warrior, and you feel inferior -- you are not a warrior. You see a musician.... And it is not only ordinary people; even the greatest of you, whose names are spread in your history books....

Napoleon Bonaparte was continuously feeling an inferiority complex. Now he was a great king, and he lost only one battle -- the last one. And that too he lost because of his inferiority complex; otherwise he went on winning all his life. But even while he was a victor, a great conqueror, his problem was that his height was only five feet five inches; even his bodyguards were taller. Those poor bodyguards... seeing them, immediately he would feel his wound.

One day he was trying to fix a photograph on the wall, but it was beyond his reach. His bodyguard said, "Wait sir, you need not trouble. I am higher than you, I can do it."

He said, "Higher? Change your word! You can say only `taller,' not `higher.'" He touched his painful nerve by saying, `I am higher than you.'

When he was a small child, six months old, taking a sunbath in the early morning, and his nurse had gone into the house, a wild cat jumped on him. She did no harm to the child -- she was really in a playful mood, and the child looked very beautiful. But she had no idea that she had created a great fear in the child. The nurse came running out, the wild cat escaped, but the fear that the wild cat created in him -- "I am even inferior to a cat" -- remained his life-long companion.

It was because of this fact that he lost his battle. Somehow the English general, Nelson, came to know that he was afraid of cats. He was not afraid of lions -- he could fight with the lion bare-handed. But the moment he saw a cat he started falling apart, he had a nervous breakdown. He again became a six-year-old child.

You will be surprised to know that Nelson came to fight Napoleon with seventy cats ahead of his army. And the moment Napoleon saw seventy cats -- one was enough, seventy was too much -- he lost his grip. He told to his general, "Now you arrange to fight; I have to retire, because now I cannot fight."

The general said, "But what is the problem?"

He said, "The problem? Those seventy cats."

And because he did not fight -- he went behind his ranks to avoid those cats -- he was defeated; otherwise Nelson had not the guts to defeat Napoleon. Nelson was no comparison to the great warrior Napoleon; but those cats were even bigger warriors.

In fact, psychoanalysts have come to the conclusion that the people who become interested in power -- either of money or of politics or of some other kind -- are the people who are suffering from an inferiority complex. They want to cover it up, and the only way to cover it up is to reach a powerful situation from where they can say to people, "I am not inferior to anybody," and they can convince themselves that they are not inferior to anybody. But they all suffer from inferiority.

Even a man like Adolf Hitler would not allow anybody to sleep in his room, because who knows -- in the night they may kill him. He had no friends, because a friend means somebody very close, and he was so afraid of somebody being so close that he can do harm, that he kept everybody as far away as possible; there was not a single man who would address him by his name -- no intimacy. He did not get married his whole life for the simple reason that a strange woman sleeping in the same room... who knows what her intentions are? Just a knife and he can be finished.

This man created the second world war, which killed six million people in all; a man who was so afraid of death killed six million people. On the surface you may not find any relationship between the two, but just go a little deeper, and you will find the relationship. By killing people he was proving to himself, "I am immortal. Everybody else dies...." Even though six million people were killed, his fear was not gone.

He married just three hours before he was going to take poison and die, because the enemies were winning. It is a strange story that no general of Adolf Hitler could say to him, "On a certain front we are losing." He would kill that general immediately -- shoot him. How can Adolf Hitler be defeated? That is impossible.

So Germany was losing on all fronts, but Adolf Hitler was told, "We are conquering, we are reaching to Moscow." In fact, Russian and American and British armies had reached Berlin where he was hiding in an underground cell. When bombs were falling on Berlin, his generals were reporting, "We are conquering all over the world; you are the greatest conqueror in the world." But how long can you hide the reality? Soon the bombs and their noise started reaching into his underground hiding place. Now there was no need for anybody to say anything. All is lost.

At that moment he asked for a priest and the woman who loved him and had always wanted to marry him, but he had been postponing. Now there is no time to postpone, and now there is no fear either -- he will never be asleep. The woman was brought, a priest was brought, and immediately a ceremony... and the bombs are falling just outside! Buildings are collapsing, Germany has surrendered. But the generals of Adolf Hitler have made a special radio station; from that radio station there was only one connection, and that was the radio which Adolf Hitler used to listen to. They were still declaring from that station, "We are winning."

He got married and the next thing after marriage, unprecedented -- and perhaps nobody will do it again -- was to take poison and tell the generals, "When we are dead, pour kerosene oil and petrol and burn our bodies. We don't want our bodies -- even our dead bodies -- to be in the hand of the enemies." That's why Adolf Hitler's body has not been found. But what kind of marriage? -- just after the ceremony, a second ceremony of taking poison and being burned. Great leaders of man... but nobody has gone into analyzing their heart. There is bound to be an inferiority complex.

A man who is free from an inferiority complex has no desire for power, has no desire to dominate others, has no desire to kill others, has no desire to enslave people; he is so contented in himself. Not that he feels superior -- he is neither inferior nor superior. He is simply himself. He does not compare; there is no need to compare... you are a painter -- that's perfectly good. You are a poet -- that's perfectly good. Life needs variety, and whatever I am, I am perfectly satisfied. Life needs me too; otherwise I would not have been here, existence never produces anything unnecessarily.

IT IS IN THE VAST MAN THAT YOU ARE VAST...

The moment you become aware of oneness with the universe you become vast. That is the only way to get rid of inferiority and superiority, because there is nobody else to compare with. Only you are: you are the whole. The musician is part of you, and the poet is part of you, and the dancer is part of you. The trees are your hands and the fragrance of the flowers is your fragrance. You have become one, absolutely one with the ocean of life.

AND IN BEHOLDING HIM THAT I BEHELD YOU AND LOVED YOU.

I have not loved you as separate individuals, I have loved you because I saw the infinite in you, and I have loved the infinite in you. It does not matter whether you are a thief, a murderer, a beggar or an emperor; I have seen the same vast existence expressing in different forms. Seeing the vastness of life and oneness of life, I have loved you. That love is not addressed to individuals; it is addressed to the whole unity. In fact, the man who knows, "I am one with the whole," is loving himself. In loving you, he is loving himself.

One of the great Jewish philosophers of this century, Martin Buber, has written a book, "I and Thou." His whole life he worked on a certain methodology called "Dialogue between I and Thou." His book is beautiful. He writes with grandeur; he is one of the best persons to use words -- but he knows nothing, because there is no I AND Thou. I IS Thou. If I were to write the book, the title would be, "I is Thou"; not "and." That "and" shows his ignorance -- he has not experienced; he has thought about it. There is no question of dialogue.

I have been condemned around the world because I don't allow dialogue, my words are monologue. The people who have been condemning me, that my words are a monologue, think that it is a criticism. I don't think it is so; it is a compliment. I am grateful to all those people who say that my discourses are a monologue. What else to do? -- because there is nobody else. You are me, I am you. Dialogue is impossible, only monologue is possible. I am speaking and I am hearing also. I am speaking from one body and I am listening from all your bodies -- dialogue is not possible. I am sorry to say something against Martin Buber, I love the man, but when the question of truth arises, one has to say it.

FOR WHAT DISTANCES CAN LOVE REACH THAT ARE NOT IN THAT VAST SPHERE?

Once you are aware of your vastness, then love can reach any distance, then there are no distances for love. The farthest star -- which has not even been discovered by physicists yet -- your love will be reaching; where physics is bounded, love is not. Feeling one with the whole, your love has reached to the whole -- to the flowers and to the thorns, without any discrimination. And only a man of such infinitude of love we have called The Enlightened One, the Blessed One, the Awakened One.

WHAT VISIONS, WHAT EXPECTATIONS AND WHAT PRESUMPTIONS CAN OUTSOAR THAT FLIGHT?

The flight of love to the whole is the ultimate flight. Physicists say that light travels the fastest, that is the ultimate speed -- one hundred eighty-six miles per second. But I say unto you, love travels so fast that is does not take any time to reach from one planet to another planet.

When I look with eyes of love to you, do you think love takes time in traveling and reaching to you? Light may be, in the material world, the fastest phenomenon; but love is of the spirit, it does not take even any time. Moving from one star to another, the fastness is such that no time elapses. In fact, the moment you are aware of the wholeness, suddenly your love has become spread all over existence; there is no question of travel, it is already there. But physicists won't understand love and its speed.

LIKE A GIANT OAK TREE COVERED WITH APPLE BLOSSOMS IS THE VAST MAN IN YOU.

HIS MIGHT BINDS YOU TO THE EARTH, HIS FRAGRANCE LIFTS YOU INTO SPACE, AND IN HIS DURABILITY YOU ARE DEATHLESS.

It gives you everything for which you have been longing and longing for centuries, for thousands of births. It makes you immortal, because existence is immortal. To remain separate creates mortality; but to become one with it, you also become immortal.

... AND IN HIS DURABILITY YOU ARE DEATHLESS.

YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT, EVEN LIKE A CHAIN, YOU ARE AS WEAK AS YOUR WEAKEST LINK.

Almost in all the languages similar kinds of proverbs exist. But Kahlil Gibran is right,

THIS IS BUT HALF THE TRUTH. YOU ARE ALSO AS STRONG AS YOUR STRONGEST LINK.

You are the valley and you are the peak; you are the dark night and you are the full noontide. In you dualities meet -- not as enemies but as complementaries, not as oppositions or contradictions but in deep friendship, hand in hand, they dance within you.

The weakest part of you is connected with the strongest part in you; you are both. And it is good that you are both, because there are things which only the weakest part in you is capable of, and there are things which only the strongest part in you is capable of. And you need both; otherwise you will be monotonous, you will become a boredom unto yourself. You can become a delight unto yourself because you have all the possibilities, the whole spectrum of the rainbow, all the colors. In unity, in oneness the weaker is no more weaker, and the stronger is no more stronger -- they have melted into one.

TO MEASURE YOU BY YOUR SMALLEST DEED IS TO RECKON THE POWER OF OCEAN BY THE FRAILTY OF ITS FOAM.

The foam is very frail, momentary; it is there now, and after a moment it is gone. It is just air bubbles. But don't judge the ocean by the foam -- although the foam is also beautiful. On the high waves the foam comes running towards the shore; it looks as if the wave is crowned, crowned with the purest diamonds, pearls; it looks like the mountain peaks crowned with snow. But as it comes closer and closer to the shore, you know it is just foam -- don't judge the ocean by the foam.

All your actions are just foam, very frail. Somebody is angry -- that is just a momentary phenomenon, it has come and it will go; somebody is beautiful -- but it is foam.

One of my sannyasins in Germany is a topmost model, a very beautiful girl. I have given her the name Gayan. Gayan means the song. Just a few days ago she sent me one of her pictures. She works as a model, and the picture is certainly very beautiful; she has become more beautiful since she has been meditating, because all her silence is now radiating from her beautiful face. But sending me the picture she must have remembered one of my stories.

A king asked his advisors, "I need a very small advice, which contains all wisdom. I want to keep it under the diamond of my ring, and I will see it only as a last resort."

They worked hard, but they could not manage to find a small sentence which contains all wisdom. They went to a sage, a mystic, who lived in the mountains and asked him. Without thinking for a single moment he wrote a sentence, and he said, "Fold it -- you are not supposed to read it -- and give me the ring; I will fix it underneath the diamond. Tell the king he should not look at it out of curiosity, but only when he is in such despair that there seems to be no way out. Then he should open it, and this will give him the insight, the door, the exit out of his despair."

Many times the king was curious, his advisers were curious.... In one sentence, without thinking for a moment, the mystic had written the message, folded the paper, and put it under the diamond of the ring; but he had prohibited the king to open it out of curiosity. It was a promise, and the king managed not to open it.

After just fifteen days, his country was invaded and he lost the battle. He was running alone on his horse to save his life in the mountains, and he reached a point which was a dead end. Below there was a valley, thousands of feet deep; to fall into it was to be scattered into pieces. And he could not turn back, because he could hear the hoofs and the sound of the enemy coming closer. Suddenly he remembered his ring. This is the situation -- he cannot go ahead, he cannot go back. It is a small narrow mountainous path and the enemy is very close, they are following; soon they will be here. Before they are here he has to read the message.

He opened the diamond, took out the message. It was a very simple message, just four words: "This too will pass." A great silence descended over him. "Everything passes."

He waited there, and strange as it may seem the sound of the enemy and their horses started receding; they had followed another path from the crossroad. He came back, collected his armies again, fought with the enemies, and took back his kingdom.

The day he took back his kingdom was a great day of celebration. The whole city was decorated, there were firecrackers, and flowers were showered on the king. He felt very egoistical that finally he has defeated a great enemy who has bigger armies, a bigger kingdom. But then he suddenly remembered, "This too will pass."

And just the remembrance that this too will pass... and his ego disappeared, his being became humble.

Gayan must have heard my story. On her beautiful picture -- in which she looks so innocent, just like a flower -- on the side she has written, "Osho, this too will pass."

Beauty is foam, but don't judge; ugliness is also foam -- don't judge; stealing is also foam -- don't judge. All your actions are nothing but foam, and the ocean is vast. Only people who don't understand life are continuously judging -- who is good, who is bad, who is evil, who is a saint. The man of understanding knows that the murderer, the sinner, are just part of the same existence as the saint, as the enlightened. Neither the enlightened is higher nor the murderer is lower; they both are doing their job. Whatever existence wants them to do, they are doing.

In a drama you don't judge. If somebody is a murderer and somebody is a great saint you know perfectly well that both are actors, and when they go behind the curtain they will be sitting on the same table, drinking tea -- the murderer and the saint. On stage the murderer seems to be condemned, evil, and the saint seems to be divine; but it is only foam. Real life is so vast that it cannot be judged by small actions.

The man of true understanding has no judgments; he simply loves. Whether you are a saint or a sinner is not his business; whatever you are, do it perfectly well, do it with totality and intensity; whatever existence wants you to do, allow -- don't come in between. To judge you...

TO MEASURE YOU BY YOUR SMALLEST DEED IS TO RECKON THE POWER OF OCEAN BY THE FRAILTY OF ITS FOAM.

TO JUDGE YOU BY YOUR FAILURES IS TO CAST BLAME UPON THE SEASONS FOR THEIR INCONSTANCY.

Sometimes spring comes earlier, sometimes a little late; sometimes rains come and sometimes they don't come, and sometimes they come so much that they create floods. But don't judge; they are not doing anything on their own accord. If existence brings the floods, if existence brings the spring a little late, then leave it to existence. Perhaps that is what is needed. Remember one thing -- existence is wiser than you, because it is the collective intelligence of all. A single man's intelligence cannot be more than the collective intelligence of the whole existence.

AY, YOU ARE LIKE AN OCEAN,

AND THOUGH HEAVY-GROUNDED SHIPS AWAIT THE TIDE UPON YOUR SHORES, YET, EVEN LIKE AN OCEAN, YOU CANNOT HASTEN YOUR TIDES.

What can you do? You are the ocean, but you cannot hasten your tides; they will come according to the collective intelligence of existence. That collective intelligence has been known as God.

AND LIKE THE SEASONS YOU ARE ALSO,

AND THOUGH IN YOUR WINTER YOU DENY YOUR SPRING...

Because the winter never comes to know the spring -- they never meet -- in your winter you deny your spring. In your day you deny your night, in your dreams you deny your day, in your day you deny your dreams -- because they never meet. But they both belong to you.

YET SPRING, REPOSING WITHIN YOU, SMILES IN HER DROWSINESS AND IS NOT OFFENDED.

Even in winter the spring is asleep within you. In its drowsiness it is waiting for its time to wake up, and it smiles at your denial -- but it is not offended.

THINK NOT I SAY THESE THINGS IN ORDER THAT YOU MAY SAY THE ONE TO THE OTHER, "HE PRAISED US WELL. HE SAW BUT THE GOOD IN US."

I ONLY SPEAK TO YOU IN WORDS OF THAT WHICH YOU YOURSELVES KNOW IN THOUGHT.

AND WHAT IS WORD KNOWLEDGE BUT A SHADOW OF WORDLESS KNOWLEDGE?

Kahlil Gibran is saying, "You also know what I am saying to you, maybe not so clearly...." Even what a Gautam Buddha says you know already, but you don't have the right words to express it. In your silent heart you will understand, "It seems that what he has said I have heard before, it seems I have known it before" -- of course not so clearly, not so strongly, just a faint, faraway echo....

And what is word knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge? If you are silent, you will immediately understand the master, the prophet, the savior -- or whatever name you give to him -- because he is giving words to your silence. He is bringing out your silence in articulate ways through his words, through his presence, through his gesture.

YOUR THOUGHTS AND MY WORDS ARE WAVES FROM A SEALED MEMORY THAT KEEPS RECORDS OF OUR YESTERDAYS,

AND OF THE ANCIENT DAYS WHEN THE EARTH KNEW NOT US NOR HERSELF,

AND OF NIGHTS WHEN EARTH WAS UPWROUGHT WITH CONFUSION.

"Whatever I am saying to you," says Almustafa, "you know it too, but you are not aware of it. You have forgotten it; otherwise we all know from the very beginning everything that is going to happen to you." You have known and dreamt from the very beginning of the heights that you are going to reach, but you are so much occupied in ordinary, trivial life that you go on forgetting the essential truth of your being.

The English word "sin" I like very much, not in the same meaning as Christians use it, but in its original meaning -- the original meaning is so beautiful. Sin in its original meaning means forgetfulness. Do you see the difference? The sinner is only one who has forgotten his truth -- nothing to be condemned, he just has to be reminded. When you use sin as a condemnation then it is not a question of reminding him, but of throwing him into hellfire. The priests seem to be the most cunning profession in the world; they destroy a beautiful word with such significance.

Forgetfulness is the truth of man. That's the only difference between him and the Awakened One -- the Awakened One has remembered. Hence Gautam Buddha continually uses a word, sammasati. It means "right remembrance." If forgetfulness is your sin, then -- right awareness -- remembering is your virtue. And then the whole religion takes a new color -- no hell, no paradise, no priests, but a simple understanding: what you have forgotten you can remember.

It happens sometimes that you say, "I remember it, it is just on my lips, but still I cannot say it; I know that I know it, but somewhere it is lost." It happens almost to everybody. You are trying to remember the name of a friend, and it is just on the tip of your tongue. You know it, you are perfectly certain you know it; you remember even the face of your friend, you remember your conversations with the friend, but somewhere his name has got blocked.

The more you try, the more difficult it becomes, because you become more tense, and in tenseness your mind becomes more and more narrow. Finally, just out of frustration, you drop the idea. You go into the garden and start watering your roses, and suddenly it is there, you have remembered the name -- and now you were not trying. Because you were not trying you became relaxed; the tension disappeared. The mind became broad; otherwise it was a very narrow street, and any small word may have been blocking the name from coming to the lips. Now the mind has become broad and relaxed; it has become a super-highway. Now the forgotten word suddenly comes to your lips.

The same is the situation about religion, about truth. The difference between the saint and the sinner is not great, perhaps just of one inch. The saint has remembered and the sinner is going to remember; given chance and opportunity he will remember it. Hence I say unto you that any saint who condemns sinners is not a saint at all, because he does not understand anything. Only a saint who is respectful of the sinner too is a real saint, because he knows, "The difference is not much. What has become aware in me is going to become aware in him, sooner or later. If today I am a saint, tomorrow he may be a saint."

Condemnation is impossible, judgment is impossible. All judgment is ugly, all condemnation is ugly. And your religious scriptures are full of condemnation, full of judgment.

Get rid of all that is ugly. Be more human, more loving, more compassionate, and perhaps you can create the atmosphere in which others can also remember it. This is my work here -- not to change you, not to mold you into a certain ideal, not to give you ten commandments, "You should do this and you should not do this." That is not my business; that is the business of a priest.

I am not a priest. I am just one amongst you. I have remembered, hence I know you also have the capacity to remember; one day I was also in the same situation -- I had forgotten myself. I know both the situations, the forgetfulness and the remembering; you know only one, the forgetfulness. So it is just a question of being a little more relaxed, a little more silent, of a little more alertness, a little more consciousness, and just in a single moment the sinner disappears and the saint arises. Forgetfulness is sin, and remembering is virtue.

My work is somehow to go on nagging you to remember. Even if you are annoyed, I know that when you remember you will feel sorry that you were annoyed. When you remember, I know you will feel grateful that a man you were annoyed with went on nagging you, unconcerned about your irritation, your annoyance; he went on and on and finally... the moment. The spring is everybody's birthright -- to remember and blossom.

Okay, Vimal?

Yes, Osho.

Kahlil-Gibrans-Prophet

THE MESSIAH, VOL 2

Chapter-20

Don't judge the ocean by its foam