What is the instrument of Osho's music?

Beloved Osho, the other night, I was very touched by the singing of the indian swami who sings before discourse. I felt as if he were playing me like a musical instrument. I felt like a big ear, just listening. Most other music I hear basically amounts to noise -- it's entertaining, but it doesn't touch me. What is it about his music and the music of all those musicians who touch something inside us, that helps us to fly?

Music is born out of deep experiences of meditation; it is a dimension of meditation. By meditating, you may be able to be touched by music, but the reverse is also true: If you are totally absorbed in music, your heart will be touched not only by music but by meditation too. Music is sound. Meditation is soundlessness. The highest music is where the sound does not destroy the soundless moments in between. As the musician becomes more and more refined, he can manage to create sound, and between two sounds he can give you an experience of soundlessness. That soundlessness touches the heart. In the East, music has always been part of meditation. Temples have been full of music and dance. Ashok Bharti loves me. His music is just a communication of his love. He pours himself totally into it. The same is happening with the other sannyasin musician…

Osho, say something about our music so that we can do some good work. Although the effort in this direction is a bit lacking...

The effort is very little—and in truth, all things, all arts, once carried a message behind them. Now there is no message. Now the concern is only this: how can man be exploited through the medium? For the first time everything has been put up in the marketplace—everything. There were a few things that always stood outside the market, and for thousands of years many people labored to keep some things outside. In this life at least, there should be something beyond the market; if everything is for sale, life becomes pitiable. With great effort, people tried for centuries to keep some things completely outside the market. But in these last hundred years, everything has been dragged into it—everything! Naturally, when you bring things into the market, they lose those heights that are possible only outside the market. And for the first time… until now, art never worried whether you…

Just to help him to stand erect on two feet took six months, and even then, whenever there was some possibility, he would run on all fours; that was natural. After six months of effort they could teach him only one word of the human language -- his name, 'Ram'. They started calling him Ram, and it took six months for the child to learn that when somebody asked him, What is your name', he was able to say, 'Ram' -- that's all. His eyes were absolutely empty and stupid; his brain remained retarded. If hippies and yippies are allowed, this will be the final result. No, man has to go beyond society -- not below it. You have to use society to go beyond it; you have to use society as a ladder.

Osho, you gave me a veena. I wanted to play so many things—Jaijaivanti, Bhairavi, Bhairav, Megh Malhar, what not! But nothing happened except noise. Now I place your veena at your feet—you play it!

Now the veena will sound. Now the veena will sound—without me playing it. You just set it down. You only surrender. You sing, let my song become immortal. My syllables scattered, my steps bewildered; songs I composed echoed and faded away. The sky’s ache became a cry in the cuckoo’s throat. You sing, let my song become immortal. Life has passed in sorrow, yet something still remains. Even in life’s final moments I say this to you: for a single breath of joy immortality is poured out. Touch me, let my very life become immortal. You sing, let my song become immortal. Lay the flute at the Lord’s feet. Lay down the veena. Give him your very throat as well. The sky’s ache became a cry in the cuckoo’s throat. You sing, let my song become immortal. As long as you sing, there will be noise—because you are noise. Every…

Osho, the other day while listening to your discourse, a strange kind of vibration arose in the heart and along the auditory nerves; since then even ordinary sounds set off odd ripples and waves of bliss. Please tell me: is there something in the voice of enlightened ones that produces a special effect? Also, in your presence there is a particular, delightful fragrance; at times it is felt in the ashram and sometimes during meditation as well. In this regard, please say whether certain moments in time have their own special fragrance too.

I speak with the same purpose with which a musician plays the vina. He does not play to explain anything. Remember me as a vina player. My speaking is my vina. What I am saying to you—less am I speaking, more am I singing. If you understand its purpose, that is enough: listening to this instrument—as one sometimes, listening to a vina, falls into a trance—one begins to sway; something within begins to vibrate; something like a stone inside begins to melt and flow. For a moment a window, an opening, is there—sky is glimpsed. Like a flash of lightning—the darkness is gone—even if only for a moment; but then you know that light is, and you also know there is a path. It was revealed for a moment in the lightning’s flare, but revealed it was. Now no one can tell you there is no path; no one can…