Upanishads, Talks on the Isha Upanishad. I Am That Chapter 11: No Mind At All, Question 2

The second question:

Question 2

OSHO,

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO HERE EXACTLY?

Govind Narayan,

IT IS A VERY DIFFICULT QUESTION to answer. In the first place I am not trying to do anything; the very word "trying" does not fit with me. If somebody asks you, "Are you trying to love this woman?" what you will say, Govind Narayan? TRYING TO love? Either love is or love is not. Trying to love simply means you don't love, hence you are trying. But what can you manage by trying? Empty gestures. You may say to the woman "I love you" thousand and one times in thousand and one ways, but deep down you will know that it is only an effort; your heart will not be with it.

I am not trying to do anything, I am just being myself Then whatsoever is happening is happening -- it is a happening. What is happening here, remember, it is not being done by me. You cannot make me responsible for whatsoever is happening here -- I am not responsible at all! It is happening, certainly, but neither I am doing anything nor my sannyasins are doing anything. But in this non-doing something transpires.

But Govind Narayan is not a sannyasin; he must be a casual visitor, hence the question has arisen to him. And he will not understand what I am saying, but he may understand this:

TU JISM KE KHUSHRANG LIBASON PAI HAI NAJAN

TU JISM KE KHUSHRANG

TU JISM KE KHUSHRANG LIBASON PAI HAI NAJAN

MAIN RUH KO MOHTAJE KAFAN DEKH RAHA HUIN

KYA PUCHHTE HO HAL MERE KAROBAR KA

AAINE BECHTA HUN MAIN ANDHON KE SHAHAR MAIN.

TU JISM KE KHUSHRANG LIBASON PAI HAI NAJAN

MAIN RUH KO MOHTAJE KAFAN DEKH RAHA HUIN

KYA PUCHHTE HO HAL MERE KAROBAR KA

AAINE BECHTA HUN MAIN ANDHON KE SHAHAR MAIN.

Roughly it can be translated:

Don't ask me, sir, what I am doing here.

You are proud of the dreamlike psychedelic colors

of the body and the mind,

but I can see death knocking at your doors.

You are lost in a dreamworld, and I can see

death approaching every moment closer and closer.

Don't ask me, sir, about my business here.

I sell mirrors in the city of the blind!

AAINE BECHTA HUN MAIN ANDHON KE SHAHAR MAIN.

I sell mirrors in the city of the blind!

And this is certainly a city of the blind! This whole earth is full of blind people -- blind because they cannot see death approaching, blind because they cannot see that life is evaporating every moment, blind because they cannot see the momentariness of all that they are accumulating, blind because they don't know from where they come, why they come, to where they are destined, blind because they are not even aware who resides at the innermost core of their being.

When Alexander the Great came to India... and he came at a very right, ripe moment... Buddha had left his body only three hundred years before; his vibe was still alive. People were still filled with the joy, with the silence that they have experienced in Buddha. He had gone, the flower has disappeared, but the fragrance was still in the air, still lingering. It lingered on at least for five hundred years.

Alexander was very much surprised; he had never felt such quality. He came across many people he had never come across in his whole life. They were strange -- they talked a strange language, they lived a strange life. He was mystified.

He met a naked fakir and he was so much impressed by the man's beauty, his grace, his silence, his bliss, that suddenly he felt his own poverty. And he was the conqueror of that time, the conqueror of the then known world, the greatest conqueror ever. And he felt his beggarliness before this naked beggar, because he could see he was empty. And this naked man was overflowing with meaning, with joy, with splendor.

Alexander begged from this beggar that, "Give me some gift that can be of help to me!"

The beggar pulled out a small mirror -- so goes the story -- from his bag, and gave the mirror to Alexander the Great. Seeing that it is just an ordinary mirror, and very cheap too, Alexander said, "Do you think this is such a great gift? From a man like you I was expecting something really miraculous!"

And the naked fakir laughed and he said, "It is more than you could have ever expected. Keep it safe for the day when the question arises in you 'Who am I?' and then look into it."

Alexander could not resist the temptation. That very night when he was alone, he looked into the mirror and he was surprised: he saw his original face.

This must be a story, because no mirror can show you your original face -- unless that mirror means meditation. Meditation can show you your original face. The story simply says that the beggar gave him the secret of meditation; it is a metaphorical way of saying. Meditation is a mirror. All the mirrors can only show the physical face, but meditation can show you your spiritual face.

And that's what I am doing here:

AAINE BECHTA HUN MAIN ANDHON KE SHAHAR MAIN.

I am selling mirrors in the city of the blind.

And it is really a city of blind people, mad people, dead people; all kinds of strange people have gathered on the earth. It seems the earth must be a dumping place of the universe because scientists say at least there are fifty thousand planets on which life exists, so they must need some place to dump. They must be using earth as a dumping place -- because it is so full of mad people, so full of dead people, so full of mediocres, stupids...

A couple of jazz musicians, real gone, were watching a crater erupt.

"Man," cried one, "dig that crazy cigarette lighter!"

A young woman who had been completely broke for many weeks found a ten-dollar bill in the gutter. Overjoyed, she rushed into the nearest supermarket and spent it all on groceries. As she was walking out with her parcel she collided with a drunk and landed on the pavement amidst a mess of milk, coffee powder, broken eggs and tomato sauce.

Seeing her dream of a feast shattered, she burst into tears and began sobbing bitterly. The drunk staggered to his feet and gazed in fascinated silence at two eggs floating in a pool of tomato sauce. Then he looked at the woman and spluttered, "Don't worry, lady, it would not have lived anyway -- its eyes were too far apart!"

A drunk was staggering down the road in the middle of the day, obviously much the worse for wear, and almost collided with a Catholic priest who was on his way to visit an elderly parishioner.

"'Scuse me, Rev'rend," slurred the drunk, "but can you direct me to Alcoholics Anonymous?"

The priest's contemptuous expression brightened visibly and he shook the drunk warmly by the hand. "My son," he intoned, "I am pleased to see that even in your intoxicated state you can see the error of your ways, and have had the good sense to go and join Alcoholics Anonymous."

"Join? The hell!" said the drunk. "I am going to resign!"

A young boy was chasing crows away from some young plants in a field, shouting, "Fuck off! Fuck off!"

A priest was walking by, called the boy over and remonstrated with him for the use of bad language.

"Remember," he pontificated, "God is everywhere and hears every word you utter. Do not offend his ears with such language! Besides, if you shout, 'Shoo, shoo!' loudly enough, they will fuck off just as quickly!"

Upanishads

I AM THAT

Chapter-11

No Mind At All