What is the existence of God?

Osho, what is god?

GOD is not a person. That is one of the greatest misunderstandings, and it has prevailed so long that it has become almost a fact. Even if a lie is repeated continuously for centuries it is bound to appear as if it is a truth. God is a presence, not a person. Hence all worshipping is sheer stupidity. Prayerfulness is needed, not prayer. There is nobody to pray to; there is no possibility of any dialogue between you and God. Dialogue is possible only between two persons, and God is not a person but a presence -- like beauty, like joy. God simply means godliness. It is because of this fact that Buddha denied the existence of God. He wanted to emphasize that God is a quality, an experience -- like love. You cannot talk to love, you can live it. You need not create temples of love, you need…

Question: OSHO, DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT GOD DOES NOT EXIST? The presence of beings is enough proof that God does not exist, cannot exist. Either you can exist or God can exist; you both cannot exist. The person who starts believing in God, unknowingly is losing his beinghood; he is becoming a thing. So there are Christian things, Hindu things, Mohammedan things, but not beings. They have dropped their being of their own accord; they have given their being to God. The fiction has become alive, and the alive has become a fiction. I am simply putting things right side up. When I say God does not exist, I have no grudge against God. I don't care a bit about God, whether He exists or not -- it is none of my business.

Beloved master, what is existence? Is it something like what people call god?

Sampurna, existence is that which is, and God is that which is not. Existence is a reality, God is a fiction. Existence is available only to meditators, people of silence; God is a consolation for sick minds, sick psychologies. Existence is not your production -- God is. That's why there is only one existence, but thousands of gods. Each according to his needs, each according to his suffering, each according to his expectations, creates a god or accepts an old belief about God. God is a great consolation, but it is not a cure. Existence is not a consolation. To be in tune with it is to be healthy and whole. All the religions of the world have been teaching God; I teach you existence. I teach you to be in tune with that which surrounds you, which is within you and without you. Once you are in tune with…

Why is life so lovely? Every object, person, creation, manifested and unmanifested too! Color, sound, movement, taste -- strife too. Osho, in this remembrance the heart becomes full, tears flow, breath expands, talk stops, crying happens. I cannot say anything Osho. The eyes close and I sit down.

Become acquainted with god in all his infinite gestures. He has given such a vast temple whose canopy is the sky! He has given such a vast temple where every night there is Divali, a festival of lights. He has lit so many lamps! Scientists have not yet been able to count them. You can count the stars with the naked eyes but it will not be more than three thousand. Counting and counting the scientists have gotten tired of counting. Four billion stars have already been counted. But this is only the beginning. There are more stars, many more. The more scientists count it seems there are more ahead, more ahead... There doesn't seem to be any end. Every night there is Divali and such blind people, no one sees Divali! Every morning his spring Holi festival happens, so much red powder is flying, so many flowers are blooming,…

Osho, where is God? If we are to seek, where should we seek?

Is it a boat or the moon’s shadow upon the ocean’s waters? When will that boat of light touch the shore of night? Is that untouched lunar shade a frolicsome ripple, A fleeting kiss of light on parched, impatient lips? Dream, or ideal, or resolve—call it what you will— A jewel of a ray, a blossom on the body of dusk! Beyond the reach of clay—are all things false there? Are eyes, fixed on limits, chained to the horizon’s bar? How can literate eyes read what the heart hums within— What fragrance once inscribed as verse upon the gentle breeze! Let the unreachable become reachable—this is the abyss’s longing; Made vocal, written upon the deep heart of the ocean! What is that song of the Unseen the moon keeps writing— Boundless love on the boundless grief of the bounded! The quarters beat the drum, the sky is sound, Time sings,…