I open my eyes for English to catch the exact meaning, and I close them for Sanskrit to feel its music inside.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, people listen to discourses with their eyes closed. But I’m afraid to close my eyes even for a moment. I want to keep looking at you—only looking. When the light of your eyes enters mine, the divine experience that happens is beyond description. In that experience I can hear only half the discourse. What kind of thirst is this? Can it be quenched?
This is a sacred thirst—the longing of love and devotion. Do not be afraid of it. - Don’t imitate others. If your eyes want to remain open, let them; follow your own truth. - Words are secondary; the essential transmission is silent, through presence and the meeting of eyes. Missing some words is not a loss. - Allow the thirst to deepen; it purifies and burns the ego. When separation drops, the longing transforms. - In one sense, desire is never “quenched” by objects; in another, it fulfills itself when you dissolve into the beloved—the seeker and the sought become one. - Open or closed eyes are not the point; totality is. Let the experience take you beyond seeing the other to simply being. Shanta has asked: There are two kinds of people in the world—those who live through the ear, and those who live through the eye. Everything in…
Osho, when you are giving a discourse, if I gaze at your face the words are not heard; and if I listen to the words, a kind of restlessness is felt. Why is this so?
Words are not of much value. Even if the words are not heard, it is all right; even if they are heard, there is no real gain. If you look toward me, it becomes meditation. If the meditation becomes right, if the wire is connected, the words will stop being heard—because to hear words, a restless mind is needed, an agitated, unquiet mind. In that moment—when the connection is made—the soundless will begin to be heard; that is the real satsang. It is not of much value that you hear what I say. If you can hear what I am, only then does it have value. Speaking is just a pretext; words are only devices. The arrival is into the soundless; the awakening is in silence. If this is happening, then drop all concern for words; just keep looking at me. Let the flame be joined. Forget that I am…
Osho, while listening to your discourse my eyes start closing, my ears begin to go deaf, and even if I try I can’t manage the situation. My heart longs that, when the Divine is before me, I keep gazing at you and drink the nectar of your words. But it just doesn’t happen. Please tell me how I can listen to you consciously.
When the eyes close, the whole outward journey ends; all the energy turns inward. The Ganges flows back toward Gangotri, toward the source. Open eyes—perhaps the Shvetambaras found Mahavira’s eyes so beautiful that they wished to go on looking at them. With closed eyes, what will you see? So they kept Mahavira’s eyes open. That those eyes were worthy of seeing is true; that they were very beautiful is true; that worship and adoration arose toward those eyes is true. But this is a human weakness. Mahavira’s eyes would have been closed when he knew himself. And only when he knew himself did he become Mahavira; before that he was not Mahavira. Your eyes too will close. The ears too will close. All the senses will close—because the senses are the doors through which energy moves outward. When all the senses close, all the energy returns within. Mahavira called this…
Osho, every morning I come to see you and to listen to you, but I can’t partake of both flavors at once. If I listen, my eyes close; if I look, my listening diminishes. Please tell me how I can receive both benefits together.
So in the beginning do just this: when you feel like listening, listen. When you feel like seeing, see. Don’t try to cultivate both together yet. Slowly, slowly it will settle by itself. Little by little you will find that while listening with closed eyes I begin to be seen as well. The eyes need not be open to see me. Then you will find that with eyes open you are seeing me—and the hearing begins as well. And not only here: when you return home, even if you sit before my picture with eyes open, you will begin to hear my voice. But this will happen—wait a little, don’t be in a hurry. For now, however you can drown, drown. First learn how to drown. Again, on my lips are eulogies of lips and cheeks; Again, on some face today there is a glow upon glow. In the trembling…
Suman has asked, “How should I listen?”
When you listen with your eyes open, one kind of experience happens. When you listen with your eyes closed, another kind of experience happens. Both kinds are useful. Sometimes listen with your eyes open, sometimes with your eyes closed. Flow between these two experiences. Make them the two banks, and let the river of your life flow between them. Both are right. Both are necessary. Whichever your heart longs for at a given moment, enter that experience. Sometimes listen with your eyes open—this too is a way to become absorbed in me. Sometimes listen with your eyes closed—this too is a way.