Genealogy

Maneesha has asked: beloved Osho, does where we have come from have some significance in relation to where we are going?

No, Maneesha, because it is the same place. Where you have come from and where you are going is the same place. These are not two places, so there is no question of any significance. There is no need to bother about from where you have come. That is a long route, a very long route. A few people have done that, and it creates a tremendous anguish that you cannot even conceive. One life is enough to make anybody insane, but remembering backwards, other lives... and you don't know how many hundreds or thousands of lives you have lived, because for four million years you have been here on this planet. And that is also not the end. To those who have been concerned with that problem, it is a necessary question: from where have we come to this planet and in what way? Life must have come to…

Question: Second question: Osho, who am I and what is the goal of my life? See: the Ganges sets out from Gangotri in the Himalayas and falls into the ocean. You may say, “Where did it reach its origin? It began at Gangotri and fell into the Bay of Bengal.” No—you have not seen the whole. You have not seen the complete circle. From the ocean the Ganges rises again as vapor into the sky, becomes clouds, and rains once more upon the Himalayas to descend at Gangotri. Then the circle is complete. When the Ganges returns to Gangotri, the circle is complete, the journey fulfilled. The end, friend, is where the origin is. Therefore all the sages say: when you attain to perfection, you become like a small child. The end, friend, is where the origin is. When you attain saintliness you become simple—as if ignorant.

Osho, the day before yesterday you said: do not let your funeral bier be lifted before you have known yourself. This challenge pierced the heart like an arrow. How should we set out toward knowing ourselves—where and how to begin?

Human beings have many names. In Arabic, Urdu, Persian, the word admi is taken as a synonym for man. It should not be. Because man—manushya—means one who engages in manan, contemplation. Admi means one made of earth. In English too the synonym is “human.” It should not be. It is a wrong translation. “Human” comes from “humus,” moist earth—because Islam and Christianity both consider man a figurine of clay into which God has breathed. Only in this land has man not been regarded as a clay puppet. Here the mark of being human is the capacity for manan; therefore we call him manushya. There can be many directions for thought. A painter thinks, a sculptor thinks, a philosopher thinks, a religious teacher thinks, a scientist thinks. But all these processes of thinking go outward; they point to some subject other than oneself. The one we call a knower turns all…

Osho, who am I, where have I come from, and what is my destiny?

He went with Farid. They undressed and entered the river. As soon as the man ducked under, Farid climbed atop him and held him down, pressing his neck so he couldn’t come up. The man began to thrash, like a fish flung onto burning sand—hands and feet flailing. But Farid was strong; still, when it’s life and death, hidden strength surges. The man, though thin and scholarly as inquirers often are, gathered all his might and with one wrench threw Farid aside and burst to the surface. Farid asked, “Did you understand something?” The man said, “Understand? You were about to kill me! Is this how one realizes God? Are you a man or a murderer? I had heard you were an accomplished fakir—but you seem mad. You were choking me!” Farid said, “We’ll talk about that later. First, before you forget—human memory is very weak—tell me: while I held…