If you sit grumpy and stiff, you can’t really hear; if you relax and smile, the message can enter your heart.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, Krishnamurti keeps telling his listeners, “Listen seriously; it is a serious matter!” But you do not say this to your sannyasins: “Listen seriously; it is a serious matter!”
What does “listen” mean? It means: don’t keep inserting your opinion in between; put yourself aside a little. Listen straight. Listening does not mean “agree with me.” Listening only means: keep deciding for or against for later; for now, just listen—listen exactly to what is being said. You hear only what you want to hear. You hear only what suits you. You hear only up to the point that serves your purpose. You cut and prune as you listen. You allow in only as much as will not be capable of changing you. You allow in only as much as will strengthen your oldness—make you more entrenched, harden and empower your ego. You will go away a little more knowledgeable. I don’t say this to you. I don’t say it precisely because, after forty years of saying it, whom has Krishnamurti managed to make listen! I simply say what I…
Once in a while, my mind looks at your close disciples, like the tall english guy with the sad face. One hears his sad voice as he reads the sutra. The guy never smiles, never lets go. Do people become very serious if they are so near you?
I am not serious, and a certain balance is needed. Teertha balances me. He has to be serious on purpose. When the Master is not serious, disciples have to be serious. You can ask Narendra, one of our sannyasins. His father is a beautiful man -- a little crazy. For thirty, forty years he has been crazy. Small children will watch him -- his own children will watch him -- because he can steal. He can take things from the money box and disappear. Hmm? the father. So small kids, they will just sit there in the shop and watch. When the father can steal, then the children have to watch. Otherwise ordinarily it happens the other way: the father watches, and the kids steal. This is how it is happening here. The Master is nonserious: the kids have to be serious. It certainly balances. Teertha is not serious; he…
How should one approach you, how should one sit, what rhythm should the breath have, and should the eyes be open or closed? Sometimes it seems that an obstacle arises in receiving the invisible waves coming from you, and those waves remain outside. How can one make oneself capable of receiving them? Kindly instruct us in this regard. Samadhi has asked. The question is important; it concerns everyone.
If you get into this calculation, you will have wasted your time. This is satsang—there is no debate going on here; discussion is only on the surface. Some people are here to hear the discussion; fine, they will hear it and go. They have collected rubbish; they carry away the trivial. Others are here for satsang. For them it does not matter whether what I say is right or wrong—they are simply listening. If you can listen so thoughtlessly, so impartially, without becoming a judge, suddenly you will find: what is true appears as true; what is not true appears as not true. It becomes so clear in that luminous state, in that bright state of mind where you are not thinking—where there is no smoke of thought—that truth is seen directly as truth. You do not have to think whether it is true or not. How will you think,…
Osho, when you are giving a discourse, if I gaze at your face the words are not heard; and if I listen to the words, a kind of restlessness is felt. Why is this so?
Words are not of much value. Even if the words are not heard, it is all right; even if they are heard, there is no real gain. If you look toward me, it becomes meditation. If the meditation becomes right, if the wire is connected, the words will stop being heard—because to hear words, a restless mind is needed, an agitated, unquiet mind. In that moment—when the connection is made—the soundless will begin to be heard; that is the real satsang. It is not of much value that you hear what I say. If you can hear what I am, only then does it have value. Speaking is just a pretext; words are only devices. The arrival is into the soundless; the awakening is in silence. If this is happening, then drop all concern for words; just keep looking at me. Let the flame be joined. Forget that I am…
Osho, you constantly tell your sannyasins to keep laughing. But in the locket of the mala you give at initiation, your picture shows a serious expression. Why this seriousness?
Ashtavakra says: to know that state, one needs the same state. Christians say Jesus never laughed. That is false. Yet the Christians are also right, because on the plane on which they can understand laughter, Jesus never laughed. On the plane on which I understand laughter, I know Jesus was bubbling with laughter—he was laughing even on the cross. Have you seen a laughing statue of Buddha? Impossible. Have you heard Mahavira’s titter? Impossible. If you make a laughing statue of Mahavira, the Jains will sue you and drag you into court, saying you have disfigured our Mahavira’s face. Mahavira—and laughing? It cannot be! In one sense they are right too: a Mahavira like you would never laugh. Your laughter bears the imprint of tears. Mahavira’s laughter is very silent, serene—serene like Mahavira himself, without any disturbance. Perhaps there is no giggling in it—there cannot be. It rises from emptiness;…