Is the fear of death necessary to remain awake to life?

Osho, to remain awake to life, is the fear of death necessary?

I did not speak of fearing death, because what does fear of death even mean? It is essential to know that death is. The one who does not know this is the one who is afraid. To be afraid means we carry the notion that someday we will die—that what we presently take to be life will be snatched away. So the fear is that death might take away our life. That is what the fear is. But if you come to know that you are already dead, what is there to fear? If you come to see that every day you are dying, that much of you has already died, what is there to fear? As long as what you take to be life appears to you as life, the fear of death appears. And if this very thing begins to be seen as death, what fear of death…

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…

When teng yin feng was about to die he said to the people around him: I have seen monks die sitting and lying, but have any died standing? 'yes, some,' they replied.

'HOW ABOUT UPSIDE-DOWN?' ASKED TENG. 'NO, NEVER SUCH A THING,' THEY SAID. SO TENG DIED STANDING ON HIS HEAD AND HIS CLOTHES ALSO ROSE UP, CLOSE TO HIS BODY. IT WAS DECIDED TO CARRY HIM TO THE BURNING GROUND, BUT HE STILL STOOD THERE WITHOUT MOVING. PEOPLE FROM FAR AND NEAR GAZED WITH ASTONISHMENT AT THE SCENE. HIS YOUNGER SISTER, A NUN, HAPPENED TO BE THERE. SHE GRUMBLED AT HIM: WHEN YOU WERE ALIVE, YOU TOOK NO NOTICE OF LAWS AND CUSTOMS; AND EVEN NOW YOU'RE DEAD, YOU'RE MAKING A NUISANCE OF YOURSELF. SHE THEN PRODDED HER BROTHER WITH HER FINGER, AND HE FELL DOWN WITH A BANG. THEN THEY WENT OFF TO THE CREMATORIUM. He was a small child in school and the question was asked: Why and how did the sea turn into red wine when Jesus reached it? The answer was fixed, ready-made; it had been taught…

A friend has asked: Osho, why should we think about death at all? We have life—let us live it. Be in what is present. Why allow the thought of death to come in between?

Just as there can be fear of sleep. Sleep is, in a way, a daily death. The day is life; the night is death. It is a piecemeal death. Every day we die a little, we sink within; in the morning we return fresh again. Then after seventy or eighty years the whole body gets tired—work, work, work—the body wears out. Then full death takes hold; the entire body changes. But we are very afraid of that. It is a deep sleep. Yet we are very afraid of it. Have you noticed that the body changes every morning too? It changes a little, which is why you don’t notice. It does not change completely; there is a partial transformation. When you go to sleep in the evening, your body is in one condition; when you wake in the morning, your body is in another. By morning the body has become…

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,…