What is the concept of beginninglessness?

My mind has difficulty understanding the existence of beginninglessness. Would you please talk about it?

Slowly slowly, learn the art of contacting reality without the mind interfering. Sometimes when the sun is setting, just sit there looking at the sun, not thinking about it -- watching, not evaluating, not even saying, "How beautiful it is!" The moment you say something, the mind has come in. The mind consists of language. Don't use language. Can't you just see the sunset and its beauty? Can't you be overwhelmed by its beauty? Can't you be possessed by its grandeur? What is the point of bringing language in? Nobody is asking you to say anything. The sun does not understand your language, the clouds that have become so beautiful and luminous in the setting sun are unable to understand your language. Why bring it in? Put it aside; be in direct contact, be thrilled. If tears come to your eyes, good. If you start dancing, good. Or if you…

To know? No, no. Not to know—about there being a beginning; the question of knowing does not even arise. If there is a beginning, it can be known. Whatever is, can be known. Now, what is not—what will you do about that? A beginning is impossible. The question of the limit of knowledge does not arise at all. That is, it is not that Mahavira says, “I don’t know whether there is a beginning or not.” I am also not saying that this is the limit of our knowledge—that we cannot find out when the beginning happened.

No, that is not the question. The question is that the very concept—the hypothesis—of a beginning is impossible; it is not possible. It is impossible because even for a beginning, something must already be there eternally; otherwise, even a beginning cannot occur. That is, for a beginning to be possible, existence must precede it; otherwise the beginning itself is not possible. And once there is a prior existence, it is no longer a beginning. And then you can keep pulling this back. Consider someone saying the world, existence, has a boundary. We might say: “We have no evidence of a boundary—of a point where the world ends, where existence comes to an end and beyond which there is nothing.” So we might say, “We don’t know. Perhaps one day man will reach that place where the world ends. Our knowledge is limited—we know very little. We have barely managed to…

Suppose you contemplate something beyond perception, beyond grasping, beyond not being. -- you.

I AM EXISTING. THIS IS MINE. THIS IS THIS. OH BELOVED, EVEN IN SUCH KNOW ILLIMITABLY. You can use any mantra: RAM, RAM, AUM, AUM -- anything. You can use Jesus Christ; you can use Ave Maria. You can use any word and monotonously chant it; it will give you deep sleep. You can even do this: Raman Maharshi used to give the technique WHO AM I? And people started using it as mantra. They would sit with closed eyes and they would go on repeating. `Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?' It had become a mantra. That was not the purpose. So don't make it a mantra, and sitting, don't say, `I am existing.' There is no need. Everyone knows, and you know already that you are existing; there is no need, it is futile. Feel it -- I AM EXISTING. Feeling is a different thing,…

Osho, does living moment-to-moment begin the awareness of interdependence?

You have heard of Baital Pachisi (the Vetala tales). You would never suppose it could be a teaching for the wise—yet this land has made unique experiments. It has produced books that can be read on many levels, with layer upon layer of meaning—two, three, four, five meanings running parallel like five roads side by side. Thus whoever you are, there is a way. A small child enjoys it; the supreme knower enjoys it. The seeker finds the path; the arrived recognizes the destination. For one who is neither, it is a diversion—that too is something, a little entertainment. The first story goes like this. Emperor Vikramaditya was in court when a fakir arrived. As custom had it, people came in the morning to offer gifts. The fakir offered a wild-looking fruit. The emperor smiled—why come so far to offer a jungle fruit? But a fakir has nothing else, so…

Osho, the stream of the timeless is what Lord Buddha called a muhurta for a fleeting instant, and you call the same thing the present. This too makes sense to me, and yet it remains beyond my understanding. But even from this little understanding the joy that arises fills me with gratitude. Osho, I come to your refuge.

All those who have known, all who have awakened, have said one thing with certainty: truth is outside the stream of time—timeless, beyond time. The world is within time—or say, whatever is within time is the world; whatever is outside time is liberation. You can gather a few glimpses of this in your own life now and then. Consider: when you are unhappy, time seems long. When pain becomes intense and your very life writhes in suffering, time grows lengthy. The clock’s pace remains the same; the clock does not see your pleasure and pain, it knows nothing of them. It moves at its own rhythm, yet an hour passes as if centuries are passing. Whoever has known sorrow has known the long stretch of time; time becomes longer and longer. A loved one is dying, and you sit by their cot through the night; the night becomes so long…