What is the false in me?

Question: BELOVED OSHO, WHAT IS THE FALSE IN ME? Atmo Khirad, everything is false in you. The false and the true cannot have a mixed existence. There is no compromise possible; either you are true or you are false. Your whole personality is false because it has been given to you; it is not a growth. It is like plastic flowers -- you have put them on a rose bush. They are not part of the bush and they don't get any nourishment from the bush, although they can deceive people. One thing is strange, that the false is more permanent than the real. The real is almost like a river, a continuous change. Springs come and go, nothing remains the same. But the false, plastic flower is permanent; whether spring comes or goes does not matter to it. It is not alive, it is dead.

Osho, it seems that everything about me is false—every word, every thought, every feeling; love, prayer, and even laughing and crying. I am a living, breathing lie. In such a case, what now, Osho? I can no longer trust myself. Perhaps even this writing is a lie. Asked by Krishnapriya.

Suddenly you will find only ruins remain. And from those very ruins the soul rises. On the ruins of ego your real nature is born. Truth is born on the ashes of untruth. Let it happen. There will be pain—great torment. For the mind does not want to accept that all of mine is false. “Surely something must be true!” But remember: nothing “somewhat true” exists. When truth is, it is whole; or it is not. We are living by the support of falsehood because we do not know truth. And without some support, living seems impossible. We know nothing of truth—what it is. And to live, one needs some support, some excuse—so we live with the false, taking it for the true. I was reading a poem— In love’s dense bowers, under the deep shade of sadness, come, sit for a moment or two and share this afflicted heart…

Osho, in the Dwarka camp you said that meditation and samadhi are a voluntary, conscious entry into the state of death, through which the illusion of death dissolves. Then the question arises: to whom does the illusion of death occur? Does it occur to the body or to consciousness? Since the body is only an instrument, it cannot have delusive awareness; and there is no reason for consciousness to be deluded. Then what is the cause and basis of this event of delusion?

They sent word. She came very annoyed. “It’s his same old habit,” she said. “He’s grown old but hasn’t dropped it. Even at death he will create mischief.” She came with a stick, banged it on the ground and said, “Stop this devilry! If you must die, die properly!” The man laughed, came down, and said, “I was only playing a little—wanted to see what they would do. Now I will die properly, conventionally.” Then he lay down and died. His sister left, saying, “Fine, now finish the rites. There is a right way for everything; do things properly.” Our illusion about death is a social delusion. It can be broken. There are methods and arrangements to break it. And even if no one else breaks it for you, anyone who has done a little meditation will break it himself at the time of death. No outside help is needed.…

A wrestler named o-nami great waves, was immensely strong and highly skilled in the art of wrestling. In private be defeated even his very teacher, but in public his own young pupils could throw him.

IN HIS TROUBLE HE WENT TO A ZEN MASTER WHO WAS STOPPING AT A NEARBY TEMPLE BY THE SEA, AND ASKED FOR COUNSEL. "GREAT WAVES IS YOUR NAME, " SAID THE MASTER, "SO STAY IN THIS TEMPLE TONIGHT AND LISTEN TO THE WAVES OF THE SEA. IMAGINE YOU ARE THOSE WAVES. FORGET YOU ARE A WRESTLER, AND BECOME THOSE HUGE WAVES SWEEPING EVERYTHING BEFORE THEM." O-NAMI REMAINED. HE TRIED TO THINK ONLY OF THE WAVES, BUT BE THOUGHT OF MANY THINGS. THEN GRADUALLY HE DID THINK ONLY OF THE WAVES. THEY ROLLED LARGER AND LARGER AS THE NIGHT WORE ON. THEY SWEPT AWAY THE FLOWERS IN THE VASES BEFORE THE BUDDHA; THEY SWEPT AWAY THE VASES. EVEN THE BRONZE BUDDHA WAS SWEPT AWAY. BY DAWN THE TEMPLE WAS ONLY SURGING WATER, AND O-NAMI SAT THERE WITH A FAINT SMILE ON HIS FACE. THAT DAY HE ENTERED THE PUBLIC WRESTLING AND…

Osho, this world is maya. Here everything is false. Save me from drowning in it.

A cat was sitting on a tree branch, swaying, in a great devotional mood. A dog passing below saw the cat—his mouth watered—but she was up on the branch, beyond his reach. And she was swaying as if on a journey to heaven, eyes closed, tears of ecstasy flowing. The dog stood awhile hoping she might sway too much and fall. But she did not sway that much; she held the branch tight. Finally the dog said, “What’s the matter? What’s giving you such bliss?” The cat opened her eyes: “You spoiled it all! I was dreaming that from the sky it was raining mice—a torrential downpour! Mice upon mice were falling!” The dog said, “Fool, do you know scripture? It is clearly written that sometimes miracles happen, and when they do, bones rain from the sky, not mice. There is no mention of mice in the scriptures. Idiot! You…