Attendance

A friend has asked: Osho, please repeat the instructions for the afternoon meditation.

In the afternoon meditation there is nothing to do. The afternoon meditation is a practice of absolute silence. I will sit among you; you will sit silently near me. In that silence, whatever happens, let it happen—dancing, shouting, crying, singing, the body swaying—whatever it is, let it happen. If someone feels that a longing has arisen within to come to me, then come and sit by me for two minutes and then get up and go. Come to me only if you feel it. Do not come because someone else is going. If the feeling arises within you, then come and then leave. Forget about others.

This hour of silence will be just a waiting for the unknown. You don't know who will come, and yet he will come. You don't know what you will hear, and yet you will hear. You don't know what you will see, and yet you will see. You will sit silently for an hour, just awaiting the unknown guest whom you have never seen and heard. You may sit or lie down as you would like. But be receptive, become receptivity itself, for a whole hour. Be passive, but receptive to that which is, or is going to happen. Let it just happen. Be passive but alert and awaiting, wakefully awaiting. And through silence I will try to communicate to you what I have to say. You may, perhaps, understand through silence what you don't understand through words.

(For ten minutes the meditation of total acceptance continues; after ten minutes Osho gives suggestions for the third experiment.)

And the third point: the greatest wall between man and the Divine is not on the Divine’s side; it is on man’s side. That wall is man’s notion, “I am.” The stronger this notion is—this ego, this “I am”—the higher the wall that stands between us and That. In the full depth of meditation the “I” must dissolve; otherwise the wall will not fall, and union will not be possible. So the third sutra is the dissolution of the “I.” In the third sutra, continue the first two experiments and add the third. We will breathe deeply. We will maintain the feeling of total acceptance: whatever is happening, I am at ease with it. There is no need to harbor any inner resistance. If the sun is intense, it is intense—and I am okay with it, whatever is happening. And the attention remains on the breath. Now add the third…

In the evening I will speak; and those who feel to journey further—for them, in the morning, not talk but meditation—experiments to enter the door from where the scent of that Prabhu—who is life—begins to be felt. He can be known. It is not difficult—because He is very near. Not difficult—because He is not far. Not difficult—because we have not truly lost Him. Not difficult—because no matter how much we forget Him, He never forgets us. Children grow up and forget the mother—it is natural. Life asks—shall the child keep remembering the mother, or shall he move into life? Children forget their mother—naturally. But the mother—however much the children forget—she does not forget. I was once stranded at a small station—the train had been missed. I sat on the platform.