What are the flowers for worship to be filled with consciousness?

Osho, “Ramnam janyo nahin, bhai puja mein hani; kahi Rahim kyon manihain, Jam ke kinkar kani.” You have named the discourse series beginning today after the great poet Rahim’s couplet: Ramnam janyo nahin. Osho, is death truly only for those who do not know Ram? How is this Ram known? And, Osho, what is worship?

The biggest liars in this world are those believers who, without search, without inquiry, without any exploration, have accepted God. What impotence is this? The shadow of this impotence covers the whole earth. These grand churches and towering temples and minarets reaching the sky—these only hide your impotence, nothing else. Those temple bells, these calls to prayer from mosques, these church prayers, these lights and incense in the Shiva shrines—all this is pomp, deception, dishonesty. It keeps you complacent that believing is enough, knowing is unnecessary. Go to church on Sunday—enough. Get the Satyanarayana story recited once in a while—on loan from a two-bit priest. Or distribute sweets at a temple, or fast and abstain—job done. Whom are you fooling? I look into your eyes and see you are not fooling anyone but yourself. And the greatest deceit in this world is to deceive oneself. If you want to know—do…

Osho, without seeing God, whom should I worship—how, and where? Please be compassionate and explain!

Jageshwar, When you have not seen God at all, why worship in the first place? Why does the question arise—whom should I worship, how, and where? That’s strange. It’s like a naked man asking, “If I take a bath, where shall I wring out my clothes? And even if I wring them, where shall I dry them?” When you have no sense of God yet, how will you worship now? No realization of God—and you want to go further! That’s Sheikh Chilli stuff, castles in the air. But often such foolishness passes for metaphysics. When you asked it, you probably thought you were asking a very profound, very religious question. You are asking something utterly pointless. It’s like the house isn’t even built, the foundation hasn’t been laid, and you are already worrying about the roof—should it be tiles or asbestos sheets? Worship will come later; first there must be…

Osho, I have been worshiping for years, yet nothing has come of it. I have done pilgrimages, fasts, journeys—everything—but fruitlessly. Will I go on living like this without purpose, and die without purpose too?

The crown of fire kept preening itself, the road kept gazing for the dawn; but the lamp’s ardor came apart, the oil of love ran out, the flame shivered. The lamp, distressed, began to plead, and the clay began to call: If one store of oil runs dry, a new stream of love is needed! If a string snaps again and again, the lute needs a new string! The bird flew, straw in its beak, with an unshakable vow of love; but angry storms grew restive, scattered the straw, crushed the nest. The bird was plundered, night closed in, yet the dawn began to call: If a nest is broken and torn, the branch needs a new adornment. If a string snaps again and again, the lute needs a new string! The life-breath lingered in the realm of dreams, the eyes remained given to sleep; then suddenly the heart throbbed,…

Today I would request Osho to guide us on idol worship.

A Japanese seeker from Soto Zen told me of a practice: twenty-four hours a day the disciple intones “Muuuu… muuu…” After days, the sound storms inside; thoughts drop. By three weeks, the roaring “Muuuu!” possesses him. Food, sleep fall away; guards must watch him. At the final climax, a last thunderous roar—and suddenly all is still. For days he lies in deep quiet. When he returns, the old man is dead; a new man stands—continuity with the past broken. Om is such a sound; every religion has its own. As worship deepens, sound transforms consciousness. Repetition is crucial. If you sing one hymn one day, another the next, there will be no results. Continuous blows on one point drive the nail. But beware of mechanical repetition—then it is wasted labor. If the sound becomes your very life, every cell, bone, blood crying it—then sound can open the door. And all…

Osho, even with a living master present, in our country the dead are worshipped. Is this our misfortune, our foolishness, or our downfall?

Satya Prem! Neither misfortune, nor foolishness, nor downfall. It has always been so. This has been man’s way. It is built into the very mode of human being. It is an inevitable part of man’s unconsciousness. You can worship the dead; with the living you have to be transformed. Worship won’t do. Worship is a trick to avoid, a device, a politics. The most cultured way to avoid someone is to worship him. Offer a couple of flowers at his feet and be free—and remain exactly as you were. And you even take the inner pleasure of feeling you did something. In fact you did nothing. The flowers belonged to the trees; they were already dedicated to the divine. You plucked them and placed them on a stone idol or on a scripture. All flowers are already at the feet of the divine. All the birds’ songs are prayers unto…