How do you deal with death?

How do you deal with death?

I die every moment, I don't accumulate death -- so it is not a problem. If you really live, then death is not a problem at all. You need not deal with it because it does not exist. Death is a created problem. Try to understand it. Because you don't allow the past to die, it goes on being accumulated, it becomes heavy on you, it is a dead load. If you allow the past to die each moment as the time passes, if you finish with it, then each moment you are born again and you don't accumulate the dead past. Then you don't accumulate death and there is therefore no problem to tackle, there is no problem to deal with. Each moment you become fresh -- and you know that this freshness is eternal, timeless. Even when the so-called death will be happening, you will not be dying.…

Someone asked Osho's views on death and dying.

There is nothing as sure as death. Where there is life, there is bound to be death. He who bears not this fact in mind, wastes life, whereas he who knows this truth, obtains that which is immortal. I do not feel depressed at anybody's death, because there is no need to feel anything about it. However, it is a matter of sorrow, no doubt, if I see a life wasted. We have not to grieve after a dead body, but over a wasted life. You know, King Janak was called 'videh', i.e., without or beyond the body. Once, a young minister of his asked him, 'Your Excellency! How can you be considered without a body, when you do have a physical body? The king smiled but said nothing. After a few days, however, the king invited the minister for lunch. Such an invitation from the king himself was a…

Osho, when I was young I never even thought of death, and now that I have grown old, death keeps frightening me all the time. What should I do? Is it possible to get rid of death?

Ramnath, Freedom from death is not possible. But who told you that you will die? You have never died before, nor can you die now. The one who dies is not you; it is someone else. The body dies—that is merely a sheath. The mind dies—that is a subtler sheath. Within these two peripheries sits the master, the indweller, who is neither born nor dies. This life has happened many times. You are not new. You have come many times and gone many times. But the one seated within is eternal. Neither birth touches it, nor death touches it. Until you know and recognize that inner witness, this fear will go on tormenting you. When a person is young, naturally the worry about death does not take hold. Why should it? Human vision is not far-seeing. Our sight is shallow, small. We see just a few steps ahead. We have…

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, there is a great fear of death. Is there any way to be free of it?

I have heard that on his campaigns Alexander reached a place where he learned there was a spring whose water, if drunk, makes one immortal. He went in search of it. When he reached the spring, he rejoiced; never had he seen water so crystal clear. He was about to cup it in his palms when a crow perched on a branch said, “Stop, Alexander! You will regret it. First hear me.” Alexander was astonished—one marvel: water that grants immortality; another marvel: a speaking crow. “What do you want to say?” The crow said, “I too drank this water. I am no ordinary crow; as you are Alexander among men, I am Alexander among crows. I spent my life searching and found this spring. I drank—and now I writhe. I have been alive for thousands of years; I cannot die. I throw myself from cliffs, dash my head on rocks,…