What should I do when I feel tired of trying to understand?

Question: The last question: Osho, I have grown tired of trying to understand you. Nothing makes sense. What should I do now? Surely, Rupchand, you’ve come here carrying some peculiar kind of “understanding”—Hindu understanding, Muslim understanding, Christian, Jain—who knows which! Who knows which books are crammed into your head! Who knows through which walls my words have to pass to reach inside you! But there will be walls. You are deaf; otherwise, to understand what I’m saying, does one need higher mathematics, science, some great art? I am saying something as simple as “two and two are four.” One night the hotel room became very cold. Chandulal was shivering under a blanket. He thought, “I should call for another blanket; otherwise, I won’t sleep the whole night.” He phoned the receptionist: “Listen, Miss, I’m feeling very cold.

Question: Second question: Osho, I don’t understand what you say. What should I do? Both are unwise. Both were in a hurry. There’s no hurry to be for or against. Patience is needed. The art of listening comes only to the patient. Listen in stillness, in silence. Listen just to listen—“for now, let me simply hear.” Listen as you would to the roar of the ocean, the rumble of thunder. At such a time you don’t think, Is it right or wrong? Does it conform to the Vedas? Are the verses of the Quran for or against this mountain stream? You must have heard the story. Three pundits finished their studies in Kashi and set out for home. They halted in a forest at night. In the morning, hungry, they decided to cook. One was a botanist. “You go buy the vegetables; who better than you to choose?

Question: BELOVED MASTER, I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU; I HAVE TRIED HARD BUT FAILED. WHAT SHOULD I DO NOW? The lad, thinking of giving his seat to her, looked up and said, "How far?" "You got your nerve!" snapped the Polish girl. "Would I ask you how long?" If you are carrying something in your mind, if you are preoccupied, then whatsoever you hear is not what is being said, it is what you are capable of hearing. Quizmaster: "Lady, for fifty dollars, tell me who was the first man on earth?" Lady: "Adam." Quizmaster: "Right. Now for two hundred dollars tell me Eve's first words when she met Adam." Lady (stuck for an answer, turns to the quizmaster and says): "Gee, that's a hard one, isn't it?" Quizmaster: "Give this lady two hundred dollars!" Govindo, don't remain preoccupied with your own thoughts.

Question: First question: Osho, you say that when understanding arises, nothing needs to be done. The understanding you point to—how is it different from the intellect’s understanding? Please shed some light on real understanding. The intellect’s understanding is not understanding at all. The intellect’s understanding is a counterfeit of understanding. The intellect’s understanding is a device to keep yourself unenlightened. Intellect means the collection of all that you already know. If you listen through the known, you will not truly hear. Listening through the known is like trying to look at the sun with your eyes shut. What you sit there already knowing—your biases, your assumptions, your doctrines, your scriptures, your sect—if you listen through them, how will you hear? Your ears are deafened. They’re stuffed with words. You’ll hear something else entirely, and only that which you already want to hear.

Question: Last question: Osho, in you the impossible has become possible—the unheard-of has happened. And understanding you too seems almost impossible. Why is it so? If you want to understand, it will become impossible. The very desire to understand creates distance. Listen with love; drop the worry about understanding and the rest. Just listen with love and you will understand. If you set out to understand, you will miss. Why? Because when you sit down to understand, you bring the intellect in between. All the while you are alertly examining: which point is right, which is not; which agrees with logic, which is against logic; which accords with my scriptures, which goes against them. You get caught in this whole tangle. The dust of scripture rises within you like a sandstorm. You forget me altogether. In that storm you catch only fragments; sometimes you hear something as something else.