How could love manifest between Krishna and Meera despite the gap of five thousand years?

Osho, Meera’s path was the path of love, but there was a gap of five thousand years between Krishna and Meera. How, then, could this love come to be? Please explain.

For love there is no distance of time and none of space. Love is the one alchemy that dissolves both time and space. With one you do not love, even if he sits right beside you, body touching body, you are thousands of miles apart. And the one you love—though seated far away among the moon and stars—is forever by your side. Love is the one experience in life where time and space both become futile. Love is the only experience that trusts neither the distance of space nor the distance of time; it erases them both. In the definition of the divine it is said: he is beyond time and space, timeless. Jesus has said, “Love is God”—for this very reason. In human experience only love is timeless and spaceless; through that alone a connection with the divine is possible. So it makes no difference that Krishna lived five…

Osho, you said, “Before you I have brought together two such pairs; you are the third pair.” But Osho, I have no worthiness at all—then how did you choose me? Please be gracious and tell me.

Krishna Chetana, love is the only element that conquers death. Everything else loses to death. There is no opposition between life and death. The real opposition is between love and death. How could life and death be opposed? The culmination of life is always in death. Death is the fruit of life, its outcome. Life is the journey; death is the destination. How can they be in conflict? Inevitably, every life dissolves into death. Therefore death is the supreme peak of life; it cannot be life’s enemy. With what then is death at odds? With love. Love is the only element before which death is defeated, to which death surrenders. Understand this. That is why, in one whose heart is filled with love, fear dissolves—because all fear is the fear of death. And in the life of one who is fearful, the seed of love cannot sprout. The fearful person…

Osho! I set out to seek the Beloved; how is union with the Beloved attained?

Yog Neelam! The Beloved is not far. Not even so far that any meeting would be needed. There has only been forgetfulness, not separation. Separation cannot be. The Beloved abides within. He is the breath of our breath, the heartbeat of our heart. Without him we have no being. Because he is, we are. As the ocean is, so the waves are. The ocean can be without waves, but the waves cannot be without the ocean. Yet a wave can fall into a delusion—the delusion that “I am separate from the ocean.” In that very delusion, forgetfulness happens. Only forgetfulness happens; separation cannot. The whole search for the Beloved is nothing but remembrance—re-remembering. That is why the saints have called this search surati. Surati means remembrance, recollection. Surati is the folk form of the word smriti. What the Buddha called smriti, by the time of Kabir and Nanak became surati—dearer,…

DEJA VU happened. A memory from a previous existence came. That statue was such that picture after picture began opening. That statue became a catalyst -- and once again the story began. It shocked her. Krishna's form returned to her memory. Again that dark face, those wide eyes, that crown of peacock feathers, the flute-playing Krishna -- Meera went back thousands of years in her memory. She started to cry. She began begging the sadhu for the statue. But the sadhu also had great affection for his idol. He refused to give it; he traveled on. A whole day passed. She ate no food, and drank no water. From her eyes tears flowed -- on and on she cried. Her family was alarmed, now what can be done? The sadhu has gone, where can he be found? And will he give it up? Very unlikely.

Beloved Osho, I feel warm love in your presence and now I realize that when I am not close to you it does not happen in the same way. Is it still true that time and space do not make any difference in the great affair between master and disciple?

People's understanding was absolutely wrong that Ananda, who had burst into tears, must have loved the master more. Asked, he said, "I am crying because he was alive, and for forty-two years I have been his most intimate disciple -- intimate in the sense that I was always with him. In these forty-two years not even for a single day was I separate; even in the night I used to sleep in his room, just to be present in case he needed something. I am not crying because I was the most intimate, I am crying because even with such a long physical intimacy I have remained separate from him. Something has remained like a barrier." Gautam Buddha was not dead yet. He had closed his eyes, and he was relaxing into the eternal. He came back, opened his eyes, and said to Ananda, "Don't be worried. It was my…