Preaching

Beloved master, why are people always ready to preach -- no matter to whom, no matter about what, and no matter whether anybody receives it or not?

Before he is chosen to be a pope he is not infallible. Just the election by two hundred topmost cardinals, and within minutes the fallible man, through election, becomes infallible. Then whatever he says is absolute truth and whatever he does is absolute truth. And only five minutes before that he was a fallible person! There is proof and evidence that all these popes were as fallible as any man. One pope denounced Joan of Arc who was one of the most beautiful and one of the most courageous women born anywhere on the earth.... A male chauvinist mind was so against Joan of Arc simply because she proved herself more courageous, more strong than any man. And the chauvinist mind of man feels very inferior; he cannot allow that. So many reported that she was a witch -- all her power... otherwise, women don't have such strength. All her…

Osho, I am very skilled at giving advice to others, although my own understanding never seems to help me. Why is it so easy to advise others?

When I turned twenty-one, I went back. I said, “I still experience nothing of what you describe. I am twenty-one now—what’s your plan? Will you now say, ‘become forty-two’?” If I become forty-two, then you’ll push it further. Don’t stall! If it has happened to you, say so. If not, say it hasn’t. That day, I don’t know in what mood he was—no one else was there; otherwise his devotees would be sitting and it would be harder. That day he closed his eyes; two tears fell. That day reverence arose in me for him. He said, “Forgive me. I had been lying. It hasn’t happened to me either. It was only to put you off. Even then you were small, but you recognized it, because I could see in your eyes there was no reverence for me. You understood I was deferring it to ‘when you grow up.’ I…

Osho, questions arise—and for many of them the answers also come. What is all this?

Girls want people to tell them they are beautiful. A handful of fools to say it—that’s all it takes—and you’ll always find such fools loitering on the seafront; no matter what she looks like—even if she resembles Kali of Calcutta, motherly and forbidding—some fool will still exclaim, “Ah, what beauty!” It feels good when someone says, “You are intelligent!” You gather your self-image from others’ borrowed opinions. You ask their questions and paste on their answers. You call this your knowledge. All of it stale and borrowed... No—no one else can give you knowledge. No one else can answer your questions. The one who truly wishes you well, who truly wants you to become a flame of life, will tell you: the answer to every one of your questions is within you. Therefore the way is to sit silently and go inward. And a moment comes, as you keep finding…

Osho! I feel that in your ideas, in your vision, there is the power to liberate this country from its ancient stagnation and orthodoxy and set it upon the path of progress. But the difficulty is that the intellectuals and journalists here treat you as untouchable and dismiss your ideas as useless raving. It is deeply disheartening. Kindly guide me.

Shvetaketu came back stiff with pride. He was young and returned with a mountain of scriptures on his head. He had earned gold medals in every subject, came home laden with honors. His father, Uddalaka, saw him from afar at the gate—saw his swagger and pride. The father felt great pain, because this was not why he had sent him to the gurukul. He had sent him to become wise. Instead he was returning utterly ignorant—stuffed with information. He was bringing back mountains of information. But no one becomes wise through information! Information is counterfeit coin—borrowed, stale, not one’s own, someone else’s. The father grew anxious; tears rolled from his eyes. Shvetaketu bowed at his feet, but only his body bowed; the father could see that his life had not bowed, because in his mind he knew he was now more knowledgeable than his father. Uddalaka asked, “Son, why this…