Dhyan Sutra #2
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Read in Original Hindi (मूल हिन्दी)
Questions in this Discourse
Osho, so many people bring their problems to you—don’t you get troubled?
I told them: if the problem is not your own, there is no reason to be worried. When the problem belongs to someone else, there is no trouble. When it is your own problem, then worry begins. In that sense, I have no problems of my own. But a new kind of sorrow has now entered my life. And that sorrow is this: whomever I look at around me, I find them in such trouble and such pain, while it seems to me that the solutions are so simple! It seems to me that if they would only knock on the door, it would open—and there they are, standing at the very door, weeping! So I experience a very new kind of sorrow and pain.
I had read a little Parsi story. A blind man and his friend were crossing a desert. They had set out on separate journeys; they happened to meet on the way, and the sighted man took the blind man along with him. They walked together for a few days; their friendship grew deep.
One morning the blind man woke first. He groped about for his stick. It was a desert night, and the weather was cold. He didn’t find the stick; there lay a snake, which from the cold had curled up completely and become stiff. He picked it up. He thanked God: “My stick was lost, but you have given me a much better one—very smooth and very beautiful.” He thanked God, “You are so compassionate.” With that same “stick” he nudged his sighted friend and tried to rouse him: “Get up, it’s morning.”
I had read a little Parsi story. A blind man and his friend were crossing a desert. They had set out on separate journeys; they happened to meet on the way, and the sighted man took the blind man along with him. They walked together for a few days; their friendship grew deep.
One morning the blind man woke first. He groped about for his stick. It was a desert night, and the weather was cold. He didn’t find the stick; there lay a snake, which from the cold had curled up completely and become stiff. He picked it up. He thanked God: “My stick was lost, but you have given me a much better one—very smooth and very beautiful.” He thanked God, “You are so compassionate.” With that same “stick” he nudged his sighted friend and tried to rouse him: “Get up, it’s morning.”
Osho's Commentary
I have said a few things to you about how the night can become a prelude to meditation. The vision of practice I carry in my heart is not based on any scriptures, any treatises, or any particular sect. I am only speaking to you of the paths I have walked within and come to know. Therefore what I say is not theoretical. And when I ask you to walk and see, I do not have even an iota of the thought that if you walk you will be unable to attain what you long to attain. Hence this assurance and trust: I speak only of those paths into which I myself have entered and seen.
I passed through a time of great pain and anguish—a time of intense striving and effort. In those days I tried with all my might to enter within. By many ways and many methods I made a deeply engaged effort to move in that direction. Those were days of much pain, much sorrow and trouble. But through sustained effort—just as a waterfall keeps plunging from a mountain, and by its continual falling even the rocks below are broken—through such continuous effort, at a certain moment an entry happened. Of the way by which I found that entry possible, only of that am I speaking to you. And so, with great assurance and trust, I can say: if you experiment, the result is certain. Then there was a sorrow, there was a pain; now there is no such sorrow and no such pain within me.
Yesterday someone asked me that…