I Ching

Osho, I am very ignorant. Have compassion and give me knowledge.

So I say to you: you are blessed that you know you are ignorant. Now don’t hastily hide this ignorance under knowledge, don’t cover it with knowledge. This ignorance is auspicious. Out of this ignorance, a path opens. That path should turn toward meditation, not toward knowledge. Turn toward knowledge and you will miss; turn toward meditation and one day you will come upon knowledge. This will sound paradoxical—go toward knowledge and knowledge will never happen; go toward meditation and knowledge is certain. And the processes of meditation and knowledge are different. The process of meditation is awareness, wakefulness. The process of knowledge is scripture, doctrine, philosophy. They are different things. Listen to this little incident— One morning a new monk reached the monastery of the Master Peng Chi and asked a question. The monk’s name was Ching Shui. He said, “This Ching Shui is very lonely, very ignorant and…

Osho, if reading and listening do not bring knowledge, then what is the need for reading and listening? And besides, you yourself have been reading and listening for so long! What is the difference there?

Yes. In truth, life is woven of great opposites. And it is true that by reading and understanding, by listening, knowledge does not simply arrive. If the awareness remains alive in you that reading and listening alone do not bring knowledge, then reading and listening can become a means to invite knowledge within—provided that awareness stays clear that by these alone knowledge does not come. But if the notion takes hold that reading and listening themselves give knowledge, then knowledge will never dawn in you. Reading will not be a means; it will become a hindrance. Now, on the surface these things look reversed. If it is firmly clear to you what reading can and cannot give, you can even gain something through reading—because then you won’t cling to the reading. It is already clear to you that nothing final is obtained by reading. Then you won’t clutch at listening…

Osho, I have been entangled in the scriptures all along; and you say scriptures are futile. What should I do now?

In the hands of one who knows, not only scriptures but the smallest happenings of life take on deep and grave meaning. Tattooed words, but trenches of meaning being dug— Sir is busy tattooing, tattooing and tattooing! “Malpua” scrawled across the belly, “house” written on the brow; “dhoti–kurta” written on the body— the devils laugh! On the back, “mountain ranges” inscribed, on the chest, “cremation ground”; tears labeled “pearls,” and read out as “charity”! On the ears, “sweet jaggery-balls” written, on the hands, “favor”; on the cheeks, “Ganga–Yamuna” written— and they keep taking a bath. Write “favor” on the hand—will it become favor? Write “meditation” on the forehead—will it become meditation? On the cheeks, “Ganga–Yamuna” written— and they keep taking a bath. Tattooed words, but trenches of meaning being dug— Sir is busy tattooing, tattooing and tattooing! The pundit goes on tattooing and re-tattooing. The pundit’s world is profoundly false.…

Question: OSHO, HOW CAN I LEARN THE SECRETS OF LIFE? Zen people are right when they say: NOT KNOWING IS THE MOST INTIMATE. Unlearning is the process that can bring you to that beautiful space of not knowing. And then observe. Observe life without any knowledge interpreting it. You have become so accustomed to interpretation. The moment you see the sunset, immediately, habitually, you repeat words that you have heard from others: "What a beautiful sunset!" You don't mean anything by it; you are not even looking at the sunset. You have not allowed it to penetrate to your heart. You are not feeling any wonder. You are not in a state of awe. You have not fallen on your knees. You are not looking with unblinking eyes, absorbing. Nothing of that. Just a casual remark: "What a beautiful sunset!