Послания любви. 365 писем Ошо. Бхагаван Шри Раджниш (Ошо)
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I may not be able to be with you again.
Muster your whole will,
take the oars in your hands
and begin the journey that is infinite.
You have wasted much time sitting on the banks;
now the winds are favorable.
This I know,
and that’s why I am pushing you off
the banks so earnestly.
God’s grace is showering –
be open to it and let it in.
Dance it and drink it in!
With such nectar at hand will you still stay thirsty?
107. Love.
What is sought totally is always attained.
Thoughts, when concentrated,
become things.
As the river finds the ocean,
thirsty souls find the temple of God.
But the thirst must be intense
and the work tireless
and the waiting without end
and the calling with the whole heart.
And all this thirst, work, waiting, calling –
are contained in one small word
and that word is prayer.
But praying cannot be performed,
it is not an act,
you can only be in it.
It is a feeling,
it is the soul,
it is a surrender of oneself
without words or demands.
Leave yourself to the unknown
and accept whatever comes.
Whatever God makes of you – accept it,
and if he breaks you, accept that too.
108. Love.
My blessings on your new birth
– sannyas is a new birth,
in oneself, by oneself, of oneself.
It is also a death,
not an ordinary death but the great death.
It is the death of all that you were up until yesterday.
And what you are now –
that too must keep dying every moment
so that the new can be born and born and born again.
Now you will not remain you even for a moment.
You have to die and be reborn every moment –
this is the only sadhana.
Live like a river, not like a pond.
The pond is a householder;
the river, a sannyasin.
109. Love.
The temple of God is open only
to a dancing, singing, happy heart.
A sad heart cannot enter there
so avoid sadness.
Fill your heart with color
as vivid as a peacock –
and for no reason.
He who has reason to be happy is not really happy.
Dance and sing –
not for others,
not for a reason,
just dance for dancing’s sake;
sing for singing’s sake;
then one’s whole life becomes divine
and only then becomes prayer.
To live so is to be free.
110. Love.
I am glad to get your letter.
The moment of the inward revolution is near
but first you have to go through the birth pangs.
Nothing hurts more than this giving birth to oneself
but what comes after it is life’s greatest bliss.
So, longing, waiting, prayer –
take these for your sadhana.
Everything else is fine.
My regards to all.
111. Love.
As the birds sing each morning at sunrise,
the heart fills with song at the dawn of meditation.
As flowers bloom in spring,
the soul is drenched in fragrance
as meditation is born.
As everything glistens green beneath the rain,
consciousness shines with many colors
as meditation showers.
All this and much more takes place,
and this is only the beginning.
Ultimately everything goes;
fragrance, color, light, music –
everything disappears.
And an inner space, like the sky, appears –
empty, formless, without quality.
Wait for that. Long for that.
The signs are good, so do not waste even a moment.
Go on! I am always with you.
112. Love.
Thirst is good,
longing is good, an aching heart is good,
because he comes through the vale of tears.
Weep so much
that only the tears remain, not you.
If the tears alone remain
and he who weeps vanishes
then God comes by himself.
That is why I let you go, not stopping you.
I knew you would regret it –
but this regret is good.
I knew you would weep
but these tears have their usefulness –
can there be a profounder prayer than tears?
113. Love.
What is truth?
This much at least can be said:
It cannot be defined.
So forget about all definitions,
drop all evaluations and interpretations –
these are all mind games,
all creatures of thought.
What is, is beyond the mind.
Thoughts are as unaware of reality
as the waves are of the peace of the lake.
With waves
the lake loses its tranquillity;
when the lake is calm
then the waves cannot exist.
One has to know that-which-is.
Its interpretation is very different from knowing it.
Interpretations take one astray –
they are as illusory as scarecrows.
The