Satguru

Osho, if one meets the Satguru—how does the seeker recognize him?

If you are a seeker, it won’t take even a moment. If you are not a seeker, there is no way to recognize. If you are thirsty and you find water—do you need to go ask someone about it? The very thirst becomes the recognition. The cooling of the throat is the proof. But if there is no thirst—if a lake is brimming and your throat has never known thirst—you will not recognize water. Water is known through thirst, not through definitions written in scriptures. If someone is a seeker—what does “seeker” mean? It means one who is searching, aspiring, filled with longing; one who is thirsty for truth. Out of a hundred, ninety-nine are not seekers, yet they descend into the world of sadhana. From this the whole confusion arises. You have never felt thirst, but someone who has known the pangs of thirst and the satisfaction of drinking…

Osho, if everything heard by the ear is false, then what significance remains in the Satguru’s teaching?

Falsehood is truth’s shadow. Understand it rightly: falsehood is the shadow of truth. That is why it can deceive; otherwise how could it? If falsehood were nothing like truth—not even a little—who would be fooled? A counterfeit coin deceives because it looks at least like a real coin—whether it is or not, it looks like it. Falsehood looks like truth—only looks. The outline of falsehood is exactly like the outline of truth. Only one thing is missing: in truth there is life; in falsehood there is no life. Your shadow has your shape, your outline. Your photograph is called yours for this very reason—everything looks like you. But a photograph is a photograph; you are you. What is the difference? Only this much: in you there is life; a photograph has none. It looks like you—how can it be you? Falsehood is truth’s photograph. You often think falsehood is the…

Osho, you say the same thing in countless ways. But when I listen to you, it feels as if I am hearing it for the first time. And I feel so much joy that I don’t feel like going back home. What should I do—what can I do—so that I can just keep listening to you!

You will feel as if you have been made to rise out of season, before time—as if you were not yet to go and yet had to go. And if you go in that way, your home will become even more desolate than before. I do not want to make your home desolate; I want to make your home a temple. I want that when you go home, your home’s new form is revealed. I do not want to tear you away from home, from the world, from family life. That is the newness of my sannyas: I do not want to sever you from the world; I want to join you to the world in such a way that your connection with the world becomes a connection with the Divine. Let the world no longer be a barrier between you and the Divine; let it become a means. If…

Osho, if a seeker finds the true Master, does the search come to an end?

Only then does the search begin. Before that, what you called a search was mere, futile coming and going. Before that it was groping in the dark. There was no path, no direction, no vision. With the meeting of the true Master, the search begins. The pointless running around ends. That was never a real search. The real search begins. And once the real search begins, it is already half fulfilled. Very little remains after the Master. Whoever has found the Master has, in essence, bowed down, effaced himself a little, stepped aside from the ego. Only then could he find the Master; otherwise he could not. And on this very path the Master will take you further: “Don’t just lessen yourself—disappear utterly.” A little effacement brings you to the Master; total effacement brings you to the Divine. Now the way is clear. Step aside a little—you meet the Master.…