Are you teaching people how to die?

A friend has asked: am I teaching people to die? Teaching death? One should teach life. They have asked rightly. I am teaching about death. I am teaching the art of dying—because whoever learns the art of dying becomes adept in the art of living as well. The one who consents to die becomes heir to the supreme life. Only those who learn how to disappear, to dissolve, come to know how to truly be.

The master laughed: “You are both fools. You are doing what people have always done—seeing only half the truth. It is true you could disembark because you let the money go. But it is equally true you could let it go because you had it. It is true you crossed because you had money; equally true that had you only ‘had’ it, and not been able to part with it, you would not have crossed. Both statements are true. Together they make life—and there is no contradiction between them.” On every plane we have split life into such oppositions. Each side can argue, for each holds half of life—and half is not a small thing. It suffices for argument. Therefore argument solves nothing; one must seek the whole. I certainly teach death, but that does not mean I am against life. It means that the door to knowing life is…

A friend has asked: are you teaching people how to die? Are you teaching death? You should teach life instead.

He is right, I am indeed teaching people how to die. I am teaching the art of dying, because one who learns the art of dying becomes an expert in the art of living as well. One who agrees to die becomes worthy of living the supreme life. Only those who have known how to erase themselves also come to know how to be. These may seem like opposite things because we have taken life and death to be opposing each other, contradictory, but they are not. We have created a false contradiction between the two, and that has produced fatal results. Perhaps nothing has caused so much harm to the human race as this contradiction. Subsequently, this contradiction has had ramifications on many levels. If we divide things which are essentially one into separate parts -- not only separate but contradictory parts -- the ultimate result can be nothing…

Osho, we don’t know how to keep the ritual of your gathering; we don’t know how to smear ourselves with the ash of our own body. O Osho, you who teach the way to die, listen: we don’t know how to die before we die.

If you learn the art of dying, each morning you will find you are a child again. Butterflies call again; the dew speaks again; pearls are scattered all around once more; moon and stars turn mysterious. What does childhood mean? Innocence—no self-consciousness yet. Whoever learns to die every day wins the taste and doorway to childhood day after day. The delight that was in self-forgetfulness—where is it? We came to our senses, and we saw. You ask, “Before death we cannot die.” If you die only when you are killed—what art is that! Everyone dies when they are killed—dogs and cats, men and women. If you die only when death slays you, what will be your mastery? What will be your worth? That mighty Bhima, of whom it is told There dwelt the strength of sixty thousand elephants— He could not lift a single piece of wood off his chest…

Osho, it seems as if a constant benediction showers from your eyes—sweet and tender. Your eyes move over the listeners, and the moment they fall on me it feels as if a spear has pierced my innermost core. My whole body trembles. Something like death happens. But why does the ultimate death not take place?

The goldsmith puts gold into the fire. If the gold had a little intelligence it would scream and writhe, saying, What are you doing—will you kill me? But how could the gold know that this is the very process of becoming pure? Passing through the fire, whatever remains is kundan, pure gold. What does not die in you even when you die—that is the soul. What is not erased in you even when you are erased—that is your true being. You will have to pass through death. If you go from me having learned anything else, you will have gone collecting trash. If you go having learned death, you have taken the key. We have called India’s supreme mystical scriptures the Upanishads. Upanishad means to be near the master; it means to sit close—just that. What happens by sitting close? By sitting near one who is gone, the courage to…

Can you say something about death and the art of dying?

Indians are still hoping that with a little better technology, a little better government, a little more money, a little more production, things will all be perfectly okay. The Indian mind is hoping, it is very materialistic. The modern Indian is more materialistic than the people of any other country. The materialist countries are fed up with materialism. It has failed; they are disappointed and disillusioned. So let me tell you, my sannyasins are more Indian. They may be Germans, they may be Norwegians, they may be Dutch, they may be Italians, French, English, Americans, Russians, Czechs, Japanese, Chinese, but they are far more Indian. Journalists again and again come and ask, "Why don't we see more Indians here?" And I say, "They are all Indians! There are just a few foreigners -- just those few whom you think are Indians, just those few foreigners; otherwise they are all Indians."…