Question 1

Maneesha has asked:

BELOVED OSHO,

THE TERROR AND THE RELIEF OF HAVING A MASTER WHO PROMISES TO HIT "JUST FOR THE JOY OF IT"! IS THIS WHAT ZEN IS?  --  WHEN RATIONALITY, RIGHT AND WRONG FLY OUT THE WINDOW, THE MIND IS ON HOLD, AND ALL ONE CAN OFFER IS ONE'S SELF?

Maneesha, that's exactly what Zen is. There are hundreds of cases on record, when a master has called a certain disciple even in the middle of the night and told him, "Let me hit you."

And the disciple said, "But for what?"

The master said, "Because by morning you are going to become enlightened and then I will not be able to hit you. And it is such a joy to hit!"

The master enjoyed hitting and the disciples enjoyed being hit. It is a very loving gesture, the hit was not hurting.

Somebody has brought me a Zen staff. It is made of bamboo, and the bamboo is cut in such a way that howsoever hard you hit, it makes only sound, not much hurt. I have put it with Anando, so when Zen Master Stonehead Niskriya comes back he can have this really authentic Zen stick from Korea. However you hit, it makes a good noise. It seems as if somebody's head is broken!

But Zen is a very playful religion. It has made even hitting a joyful play. There is no other religion in the world which allows playfulness and laughter and life and love. Zen allows total freedom in all the aspects of life.

Zen has transformed almost impossible things into very loving gestures. For example Zen wrestlers  -- you will see them fighting, but not with any anger, enmity, or any desire to win over the other. That is the whole training, playful: who wins is not the point. Who plays perfectly consciously is the point. So if you don't know, you may not understand what is happening.

When the two Zen wrestlers come onto the ground, first they bow down to each other, because everybody is a buddha. Before fighting starts, the buddha has to be recognized. And you cannot be angry with a buddha, you cannot hurt the buddha. Both are meditative  --  while they are wrestling you will not be able to see, but you can see the grace, you can see the silence. You can't see violence in their eyes.

And the master who is going to judge, does not declare a man the winner in the same way it is declared all over the world. You will be surprised: sometimes the man who wins is not accepted by the master as a winner because he lost his meditativeness. And the defeated one gets the trophy because he remained conscious all the time: even in his defeat, he has won.

Now, fighting is transformed into meditation. Archery is transformed into meditation, swordsmanship is transformed into meditation. Zen has done miracles, because nobody has ever thought that swordsmanship can be a meditative art.

And when there are two meditators of equal consciousness, nobody wins. The fight can continue for hours and days, but nobody wins because both have equal meditativeness  --  the same depth, the same height, the same love, the same compassion. Nobody is in any way inferior to the other, and only the inferior is going to be defeated.

So most of the time archers, swordsmen, wrestlers, are declared to be equal. Nobody wins, nobody is defeated. Compared to this, Western boxing looks barbarous. The whole effort is violent, bloody. There is no respect for the other partner, nor any compassion. Every effort is an ambition to win by any means possible, right or wrong.

Zen has created a totally different approach to everything. If the world understands Zen, it will be a different world. It is certainly the most alchemical process.

So when I said to you, Maneesha, that I will hit you just for the joy of it, remember that the joy is not only my joy. It has to be your joy also; only then it takes the great quantum leap. Then the master and disciple are simply playing with each other. Nobody is higher and nobody is lower.

And the master calling in the middle of the night shows his insight, that tomorrow morning his disciple is going to become enlightened. He is just on the verge. After that, it won't be right to hit him. And it is such a hilarious job! So he sends his attendant  -- "Bring him quickly!"

He is meditating. He says, "What is the purpose, in the middle of the night?"

The attendant says, "I don't know, I have just seen him holding his stick. So I think he wants to hit you. Other than that, there is no purpose in the middle of the night."

The disciple rushes immediately. If he wants to hit, it is a special privilege  --  otherwise, who cares? In the middle of the night, the old man is waiting to hit you  --  what more kindness, what more compassion!

When the disciple reached, the master said, "Aha! So you have come. You don't know but I know.... Come closer. This is the last hit, because early in the morning as the sun rises you will be enlightened. After that, even if you ask me to hit you I will not be able to hit a buddha. That's why I had to call you urgently."

The disciple touched the feet of the master, and the master gave him a good hit, and both laughed. And in the morning the disciple became enlightened. There are not one but hundreds of cases on record. It is sheer playfulness. It is not to harm you, it is just to announce to the disciple that, "Tomorrow morning you are going to become enlightened. And obviously, we have enjoyed for years: you have come and I have hit you. This is the last hit  --  it is a memorable hit. Remember: this hit declares that the light is going to come soon and the night is just about to be over."

Strange methods, and strange people, and perhaps the most beautiful development of a small religious stream. It could never become a crowd religion. It could not be a Catholic religion; six hundred million people will not be able to understand it. It is a religion of only the chosen few, because it needs great heart and great intelligence which very few possess.

I am introducing you to Zen for a simple purpose: all other religions have destroyed your laughter, destroyed your smiles, destroyed your creativity  -- destroyed even the sense of humor. And life without a sense of humor is not much of a life.

Now comes Sardar Gurudayal Singh. He is the most religious person around here. I don't think that if he dies Saint Peter will allow him in heaven. Just because of his laughter, Saint Peter will immediately close the doors: "You don't belong here, just go the other side. All your fellows are there."

I always think that nothing can be worse than reaching heaven. Such deadly people you will find there, rotten, skeletons, doing all kinds of stupid things. You cannot live with a saint even for twenty-four hours, and to live for eternity surrounded only by saints....

I have told you about a Munich porter who was a good happy fellow, just lying down in the gutter because he drank too much beer. Some mistake happened  --  in every bureaucracy some mistake is always possible  --  so the devils who had come to take him, took him to heaven. There, the judgment was to be given where this man should go: Should he remain in heaven or be sent to hell? Saint Peter looked into his files and found that this man had to be in heaven.

The man was continuously saying, "Just let me go! I have my duty at the station, I am a porter." But nobody listened to him. He said, "It is not my time to come into heaven  --  I have not even finished my beer!" But they forced him, drunk... they gave him a harp. He said, "What am I supposed to do?"

They said, "Here, nothing is done. Everybody has a cloud. Sit on the cloud, float, have a harp, and sing hallelujiah."

He said, "It is strange. I am not that sort of person, I have never gone to church in my whole life. What kind of misfortune has fallen over me?" But he was forced to sit on a cloud, and told, "Sing hallelujiah!"

The poor fellow had to sing  --  half drunk, half asleep  --  and there were thousands of clouds floating like small boats, and every saint was doing the same thing, "hallelujiah." So the poor porter also said, "hallelujiah, hallelujiah" and in between he would say, "You son of a bitch!"

God heard that. He thought, "It seems a wrong person has entered. What kind of hallelujiah? Two times he says `hallelujiah' and then he says, `you son of a bitch!'" God inquired of Peter, "Look into the files better; it seems you have brought a wrong person here." And it was found that yes, he was a wrong person, so take him back.

He was very happy. He thanked Saint Peter, "I will never forget this kindness. Just let me go to my pub! And I am perfectly happy. Don't send any messengers again. I am the happiest person at the Munich station. I don't want this singing of hallelujiah and harp and sitting on a cloud. It looks so stupid."

He was brought back, left in the gutter from where they had caught him. Looking around, finding familiar situation, he said, "My god, what kind of a nightmare was that?"

Sardar Gurudayal Singh cannot enter heaven, they won't allow him. They don't allow any intelligent man there. Laughter is a sin, and anyway you cannot joke with saints.

Paddy is drinking a few beers in the pub, and he has a worried look on his face.

"What is the matter?" asks his friend, Seamus.

Paddy drinks down his beer and says, "I am totally afraid to go near the highway, day or night."

"Why?" asks Seamus, sipping his beer.

"Well," replies Paddy, "my wife just escaped with a truck driver, and every time I hear a horn I'm afraid he is bringing her back!"

One day in English class at Horowitz High School in L.A., Tom Robbins, the famous author, comes to lecture the class on creative writing.

After discussing how to write a short story, he says, "Okay, for a successful short story, there are four essential ingredients: religion, sex, politicians, and mystery. And it should be concise and to the point."

"No problem!" shouts Bobby Babblebrain, Boris's young punk son, from the back of the room. And he scribbles something on a scrap of paper. He hands it to Tom. On it is written:

A Short Story.

"Jesus Christ!" screams Nancy Reagan. "I'm pregnant again. I wonder who the hell did it this time?"

A black couple, Luther and Ruby, and their seven-year-old kid Samson, are having a hard time living in New York.

Luther has heard that if you swim across the Mississippi River, and make it alive, you turn white. So they pack up and drive to Mississippi.

They are standing on the banks of the mighty river, and they can hardly see the other side. The water is very rough, and the current incredibly strong. Samson, the kid, seeing his parents' hesitation, cries bravely, "I'll go first!" and he jumps into the river.

Little Samson is swept along, but manages to struggle his way to the other side. As he steps out of the water, he looks down and sees that he has turned lily white.

Seeing her boy's success, Ruby jumps in next and is nearly drowned. But with incredible effort, she makes it to the other side  --  as a white woman. Samson and Ruby wave to Luther to come across, so Luther jumps into the raging river. He gets halfway across, and then Ruby and Samson hear shouting and cries for help. Then there is silence.

Ruby is about to jump in to try and save Luther, when Samson takes her by the hand and says, "Don't worry, Mom  --  it's only a nigger!"

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

(Gibberish)

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Be silent, close your eyes. Feel your body to be completely frozen.

Now look inwards, collecting your whole consciousness. Try to reach to the center of your being. You live on the circumference. It is not far away  --  just a great urgency is needed, as if this is your last moment of life. You have to reach to the center of your being; otherwise you will never know the taste of eternity.

Just at the very center you are the buddha, the awakened one.

Thousands of flowers start showering on you.

The whole existence rejoices in your silence.

For the first time you are not an island but part of the whole continent, of the whole cosmos.

This moment, when your boundaries disappear, is the most valuable moment. The Buddha Auditorium becomes suddenly a lake of consciousness without any ripples. Ten thousand buddhas simply become one.

This oneness is eternal, immortal, the origin of everything.

Everything changes. Only your witnessing buddha remains unchanging. It is the very center of the cyclone.

To make it more clear, Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Relax. But remain alert, a witness of your body, of your mind, and all that is happening in this moment within you.

The silence, the peace, the bliss...

As you go deeper, the splendor becomes more and more rich. As you go deeper, life becomes a mystery, a miracle of immense significance. And a deep gratitude arises, just for the sake of all that existence has done for you. It is not a prayer, it is a thankfulness.

The evening was beautiful on its own. But your witnessing, your consciousness, has added thousands of stars to its beauty. Gather as much of the experience as you can, because you have to bring it to the circumference, to your actual life. It has to become a twenty-four-hour, round-the-clock experience. Slowly slowly, the circumference and the center come closer. One day the circumference disappears into the center: you have attained perfect buddhahood.

Nivedano...

(Drumbeat)

Come back, but now come a little more alert, a little more of a buddha, a little more loving, a little more graceful. Sit down for a few moments just to recollect the path you have gone in, and the path that you have come out. It is the same path, the golden path.

You have to live your experience in your life, in your activity, in your gestures, in your relations with people. Remember you are a buddha, and you have to behave like a buddha, and you will find great transforming forces entering into your life.

The whole existence becomes supportive  -- supportive to your metamorphosis.

Okay, Maneesha?