Why can't I see my own faults while I can see others' faults?

Beloved master, why can't I see my own faults while I am immensely capable of seeing others', even their smallest ones?

Prageeta, it is very normal. It is not something exceptional. Our eyes are focused on others; we are other-oriented. We only see the others -- it is not only a question of faults -- we never see ourselves. Even if we want to see ourselves we have to look in a mirror, we have to create the image. When the image is there the other has appeared. The mirror helps us to see ourselves because it creates the other. Otherwise we are absolutely extroverts; we have forgotten the language of how to look in. Hence, as a consequence, you cannot see your own faults; nobody can. The moment you start seeing your faults they start dropping like dry leaves. Then nothing else has to be done; to see them is enough. Just to be aware of your faults is all that is needed. In that awareness they start disappearing, they…

Regarding 'Life itself is God,' a friend has asked,

One who is not feeding the ego simply sees. Faults may be visible; innocence may be visible. He sees what is, and from that seeing he neither inflates nor deflates his ego. There is a saying that a saint does not see anyone’s faults—this is wrong, quite useless. That an unholy person sees only faults—this too is false. Faults exist. And both things can be in the same person. A person can be a sinner and at the same time very virtuous. There is no contradiction. Life is very complex. In one and the same person you can find all shades of black and white. The same person may reveal great nobility one moment and be utterly petty the next. The same man can love and he can hate. He can be selfish, and in some moment he can give his life for others. Life is very complex. Man is…

Osho, when I look at you, the miracle of desireless action seems visible; but when I look at myself, it appears impossible. Why?

A man does a thousand things; one mistake happens—no one becomes a sinner because of that! Sometimes one falls ill; but illness does not become your nature. If you once had a fever, does fever become your nature? Should you, whenever you go to the temple, say to God, “I am a fever, and you are the Great Physician”? Stop this nonsense. Sometimes a man is filled with fever; sometimes he is also filled with anger—but these are accidents; they are not your nature. At most they are mistakes; there is nothing criminal in them. There will be weaknesses, but no sin. Make them secondary; do not give them too much attention. If you focus on them, you will nourish them. Give your attention to your nature, to your stainlessness, to your innocence. Slowly you will find yourself falling in love with yourself. You will fall in love with yourself;…

Osho, why do Shankara and you, before telling us to sing the praises of Govinda, always address us as fools?

Edison said, people say I know a great deal. My condition is like that of a small child on the seashore who has gathered a few shells and conches. That is the extent of my knowledge—just a few shells in my fists—while the vast ocean lies there, unknown to me. Your little knowledge seems very big to you! You have lit a small lamp; its flickering light falls a little around you, a small area gets illuminated—and you call this knowledge! And the infinite lies there filled with darkness; you have no awareness of it! When you understand your foolishness, you will say, “Is this knowledge—the flicker of a tiny lamp!” The infinite lies ahead to journey through, to explore, to search—and I, clutching these shells in my hands, am posing as a wise man! Then you will drop even this “knowledge.” And the day you know that you are…

Osho, all the masters have always said that the dawn is not far. But when I look at myself, morning always seems far away. If I stop looking at myself, will morning come sooner?

People come to me. Only last night someone said, “I’m feeling great bliss—could this be imagination?” You have lived so long in sorrow that when even a faint ray of meditation breaks through and a subtle music of joy sounds, you cannot trust it. You suspect it. I asked that gentleman, “When you were in suffering, did it ever occur to you that perhaps it was imagination?” He said, “That thought never occurred.” In suffering, it was “reality.” Not even a doubt arose that perhaps the suffering was imagined. But now that a little movement in meditation has begun, the boat has loosened from the shore, the oars have lifted, doubt arises: “Could this joy be imaginary?” Mind says, “Come back to the shore. Where are you going? This ocean is all fantasy. Your old spot is fine; your old identification is fine. What are you out to find? Self…