Don’t argue or agree; get quiet inside, really listen, try it yourself, and let your own clear silence show you what’s true.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, you say the same thing in countless ways. But when I listen to you, it feels as if I am hearing it for the first time. And I feel so much joy that I don’t feel like going back home. What should I do—what can I do—so that I can just keep listening to you!
You will feel as if you have been made to rise out of season, before time—as if you were not yet to go and yet had to go. And if you go in that way, your home will become even more desolate than before. I do not want to make your home desolate; I want to make your home a temple. I want that when you go home, your home’s new form is revealed. I do not want to tear you away from home, from the world, from family life. That is the newness of my sannyas: I do not want to sever you from the world; I want to join you to the world in such a way that your connection with the world becomes a connection with the Divine. Let the world no longer be a barrier between you and the Divine; let it become a means. If…
Question: Second question: Osho, I don’t understand what you say. What should I do? It isn’t even as it was in the Mahabharata, where some of Arjuna’s kin were on one side and some on the other. Things had gone so far that Krishna was on one side and Krishna’s army on the other. That is not only in the epic—it is even more so inside you. At least Krishna was wholly on one side there; it wasn’t as if half of him was here and half there—one hand with the Kauravas and one with the Pandavas. But that is exactly the state within you. A man was run over by a steamroller and died. His wife rushed to the hospital on hearing he had been admitted to Sassoon Hospital. She asked the nurse, “Which ward is my husband in?” “Name?” “The one crushed under the steamroller.
Osho, what is the first experience of samadhi like?
You will know only when it happens. It cannot be said; at most a few hints can be given. It is as if, in the dark, a lamp is suddenly lit. Or as if a dying patient, right at the edge of death, suddenly finds a medicine that works; life’s wave, life’s thrill spreads again—so it is. As if a corpse becomes alive—such is the first experience of samadhi. It is the taste of nectar. The experience of the ultimate music. But it will be only when it happens; and only then will you understand. You will not understand by my saying it. It is as with love. How can anyone explain it? To someone who has never loved, never known love, no matter how many explanations you offer—he will hear it all and still ask, “I haven’t understood; please explain a little more.” It is like explaining light to…
While tokai was a visitor at a certain temple, a fire started under the kitchen floor. A monk rushed into tokai's bedroom, shouting: 'a fire, master, a fire!' 'oh?' said tokai, sitting up. 'where?' 'where?' exclaimed the monk. 'why, under the kitchen floor -- get up at once.' 'the kitchen, eh?' said the master drowsily. 'well, tell you what, when it reaches the passageway, come back and let me know.' tokai was snoring again in no time.
It happened: I was reading Greta Garbo's biography. She was an ordinary girl, working with a barber, just soaping people's faces, and she would have remained the same because she was already twenty-two, and then one American film director accidentally came to that barber's shop -- there were twenty shops in that town -- and when she was soaping his face he smiled, looking at the girl in the mirror, and said, 'How beautiful!' And everything changed. This was the first man to say to Greta Garbo, 'How beautiful!' -- nobody had ever said it before, and she never thought herself beautiful, because how can you think yourself beautiful if nobody says so? The whole night she could not sleep. The next morning she searched out the director, where he was staying, and she asked, 'Do you REALLY think that I am beautiful?' The director may have made the remark…
Beloved Osho, if a disciple does not agree with some of what the master says, is he a disciple?
The disciple is absolutely free to agree or not to agree with what the master says. But what the master does not say -- the disciple cannot disagree about that. About that, there has to be total agreement -- because that is the real thing. What the master says is just a game of words; it does not matter. The master is not a philosopher; he is not teaching a certain system of thought. He is not asking you to agree or disagree. You can disagree with everything the master says, but agree with the master. The question is of agreeing with his being. And I don't think that if you agree with his being then you will bother to disagree with his words.