There isn’t a real bell or visitor—when truth shows up, your “me” vanishes at once; you don’t see it, you become it.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Beloved Osho, with my friend, meditation, I clean the skeletons from the closet. With my friend, trust, I enter the dark basement and sweep it clean of ancient dust. With my friend, the heart, I open all the windows and allow the fresh breezes in. With my friend, awareness, I light candles in every room. In the kitchen, my friend, patience, prepares the tea. In the garden, I sit with my friend, the master, and wait silently, for I know that the guest will soon be here. Osho, when the doorbell rings, will I be there to answer it?
The guest always comes; its coming is certain. The bell also rings. The door is also always opened, without fail. But the moment you open the door, you are not there. Existence is, being is, but you are not. The way you have known yourself up to now is no longer there, and what is there cannot be named, cannot be defined. It is all and everything... it is the very essence of existence. You will not be there as you think yourself to be. If you are there, then the guest cannot enter in. In fact, the guest can come only when it becomes a certainty that you are ready to disappear. Your disappearance is the appearance of that which you have been seeking all along. This is a paradox: when the sought is found, the seeker is lost. There are these words of Jesus -- in some sense…
Beloved Osho, when the doorbell rings and I open the door to receive the guest, before I disappear will I get a glimpse of her?
Milarepa, you are impossible! When he was going to play his guitar in England, although there is no God, I prayed, "God save the queen" -- because he is such a ladykiller. Look at his question: he is saying, "When the doorbell rings and I open the door, before I disappear will I be able to get a little glimpse of her!" Just old habits... but no harm. In fact, the doorbell never rings. I will tell you a story. Junnaid, the master of Al-Hillaj Mansoor, in his young days when he was still a seeker, used to sit in front of the mosque praying to God, "How long is it going to take? Open the doors!" And one mystic woman, Rabiya al Adabiya, happened to pass by. She hit Junnaid's head hard with her staff. She was an old woman... Junnaid said, "Rabiya, to disturb somebody in prayer is…
Osho, what is the relationship between meditation and patience?
If you sit to meditate to remove mental restlessness, you will keep looking back again and again: “Has it gone yet?” And the irony is that when you begin to meditate, restlessness will increase. Because what has been repressed will start surfacing; catharsis will begin. The rubbish you have kept hidden within and never allowed to express—meditation will break open those doors too. It will clean the house. Dust piled up for years, for births, will rise again; there will be gusts and storms. For a while even the little peace you had will be lost. Then you will panic: “I came for peace, and even what I had is gone.” Without patience, you could even become unhinged, because meditation brings such a great storm. The disease is not from a day or two; it’s from lifetimes. Meditation will break through all the layers to reach your innermost core. In…
Beloved master, I am standing before a door on which is written: mysteries of existence. I open it and find myself at your feet. Looking deep into your eyes, I see that suddenly the door is there again. I open it and once more, I am here at your feet. Beloved master, how do you manage to be both the door and the mystery on either side?
If the master touches the head of the disciple, that is immensely important, but very esoteric because that creates a circle of energy: from his hands the energy is flowing into the disciple, from his feet the energy is flowing into the disciple. The disciple is almost flooded with the master's being, his ecstasy. The West has missed a tremendously significant experience. In the West to touch somebody's feet looks humiliating, disrespectful. In the East if the master moves his feet and does not allow you to touch his feet that means you are not prepared, you are not open; the energy cannot move in you. And the master, encompassing the disciple from both ends, turns the wheel of his life to new dimensions. So it does not matter, Milarepa, whether it is the feet or the eyes, or just the remembrance or just the heart throbbing with love and…
Osho, Beloved, I stand at your door in silence—when did I ever think of coming here, of attaining your darshan? Who pulled me, helpless, from such a distance? I stand in silence, knocking at the door—oh! I have come empty-handed! I brought no gift to offer! Ah! With what shall I worship and honor the Beloved? Forgive me—I'll sit somewhere here, hidden; when you come I will behold you for just a moment, then I will return, engraving that moment upon the canvas of my heart!
Wherever the mad ones looked, in your madness they went. They hid themselves a thousand times, yet were recognized. By God, how intricate are the paths of love— Those who went to attain, lost themselves upon the way. In the gathering, lowered eyes betrayed the secret of love: We were becoming infamous—yet you too were recognized. In truth, our knowing is by your grace: When we recognized ourselves, we recognized you as well. What greater proof of shortsightedness than this— A lifetime together, yet you were never recognized. Love is the work of the brave, known only to the stout-hearted. Alas, you went into that lane only to stumble in vain. Wherever the mad ones looked, in your madness they went. They hid themselves a thousand times, yet were recognized. You say: “I will sit somewhere here, hidden!” Hide as much as you like… Wherever the mad ones looked, in…