Does one ever reach a moment of understanding why things are this way and not that way?

Does there ever come a moment when one knows why things are this way and not that way?

NO, THAT MOMENT NEVER COMES. That moment cannot come, knowledge is impossible. Life is a mystery -- the more you know about it, the more mysterious it becomes. You cannot reduce it to a formula, you cannot reduce it to theories. It never becomes a doctrine. The deeper you go, the deeper you feel ignorant. But that ignorance is blissful. That not-knowing is utterly beautiful, it is a benediction, because in that not-knowing your ego dies. That not-knowing becomes the grave for your ego. And wonder arises: OH! And a great joy. Knowledge is a kill-joy. Knowledgeable people are not joyous people, knowledgeable people become serious. They are burdened, their heart dances no more, only their head goes on growing out of all proportion. It becomes like a canceric growth -- their whole body disappears, all their limbs shrink, and there is only the head. They become head-heavy. When knowledge…

Osho, what is the definition of God?

Words are very small. If you say God is light, then what of darkness? The scriptures have said that God is light. Suppose we accept this as a definition—then what about darkness? Where will darkness go? Darkness is too; in fact it is far more than light. Light sometimes is and sometimes is not; darkness is always, eternal. Where will you place darkness? If you say God is light, darkness is left out. If you say God is darkness, then light is left out. If you say God is both darkness and light, a contradiction arises: they cannot be together. Try to have both darkness and light in the same room. If you bring in light, darkness disappears; if you preserve darkness, you cannot have light. Then how can both be together? That becomes an impossibility. So you cannot say “both” either. Then the fourth device is to say: it…

He has also asked: Osho, why is there this search at all? What is the need for it?

Ask that when you meet the divine, because only the divine can answer it. “Why is this at all?”—ask God when you meet him. Yet, so far, those who have met could not ask, because the moment they meet, they forget to ask. So the friend who has raised it—write it down very firmly so you don’t forget. But the danger remains: up to now, no one has managed to ask. The instant he is found, everything is found, and the very urge to question disappears. I have heard: on the seashore a great fair was held. Many people went. Two dolls made of salt went there too. People began to argue: How deep is the ocean? The salt dolls got worked up. “We’ll jump in right now and find out.” One jumped. The people on the shore waited and watched. He didn’t return, didn’t return. Much unease arose. The…

Beloved Osho, beautiful white cloud, why are we so fortunate to have you with us -- and why are we with you?

Right now, you can have the glimpse. If you are not thinking, then who are you? Where is time? Is there any past? Is there any future then? Then THIS moment becomes the eternity. The whole time process is just a long extended now. The whole of space is just expanded here. So when you ask why I am here, or why you are here, it is because this is the only way of being. I cannot be anywhere else. You cannot be anywhere else. This is how we have become joined together. You may not be able to see it right now. The links are not so clear for you because your own unconscious is not clear for you, because you don't know yourself in your totality. One tenth of your being is known to you, nine-tenths is just in darkness. You are like a forest with a little…

Beloved Osho, I cannot find the question, but my heart needs an answer. What is it?

It is a very profound inquiry. Anybody who is sincere will have the same inquiry. All questions are foolish, silly at the most. But still, there is some existential need for an answer. The question is not known. I have told you about one of the most beautiful woman poets, Gertrude Stein. She was dying, and a small circle of friends had gathered around her. Just before her death she opened her eyes and asked, "What is the answer?" They were all puzzled because this is not the way... first you have to ask the question. She is first asking what the answer is -- answer to what? But you cannot be hard to a dying woman -- and no ordinary woman, a really great poet. And even in this statement her greatness is absolutely present. For a few seconds there was silence. Then one person gathered courage and said,…