Monday, 30 June 2014

Osho on Trust Love Maturity and Petience


TRUST IS NOT A DECISION ON YOUR PART. You cannot decide for it. When you are finished with doubting, when you have come to see doubt through and through and you are completely convinced of the futility of the doubt, trust arises. You have to deal with the doubt, you are not to do anything about trust. Your trust will not be of much importance because your trust, your decision, will always be against doubt. And trust is not contrary to doubt; trust is simply the absence of doubt. When doubt is not, trust is.
Trust is not the opposite, remember. Notwithstanding what the dictionaries say, trust is not opposite to doubt, just as darkness is not opposite to light. It appears opposite, but it is not -- because you cannot destroy light by bringing darkness in. You cannot bring darkness in. There is no way to destroy light by throwing darkness on it. Darkness has never been able to destroy the small flame of a very small candle. The whole darkness of the existence is impotent before a small candle.
Why is it so? If darkness is opposite, inimical, antagonistic, then it should be capable sometimes of defeating light. It is sheer absence. Darkness is because light is not. When light is, darkness is not. When you put a light on in your room, have you watched what happens? Darkness does not go out of the room; it is not that darkness escapes out of the room. It is found simply not to be there. It never was -- it is pure negativity.
Doubt is like darkness, trust is like light. If you have doubt, then you will decide for trust. Otherwise there is no need to decide for trust. Why decide for it? You must be having tremendous doubt. The greater the doubt, the greater the need is felt to create trust. So whenever somebody says, "I trust very strongly," remember that he is fighting against a very strong doubt. That's how people become fanatics. The fanaticism is born because they have created a false trust. Their doubt is alive, their doubt is not finished. The doubt has not disappeared, the doubt is there. And to fight with the doubt they have created a trust against it. If the doubt is very strong, they have to cling fanatically to their trust. Whenever somebody says that, "I am a staunch believer," remember, deep down in his heart he is carrying disbelief. Otherwise, there is no need to be a strong believer. Simple trust is enough -- why strong? When you say to somebody, "I love you VERY strongly," something is wrong. Love is enough.
Love is not a quantity. When somebody says, "I love you very much," something is wrong, because love is not a quantity. You cannot love less and more. Either you love or you don't love. The division is very clear-cut.
Just a few days ago a new book had come, and the first copy I always give to Vivek. I wrote 'With love to Vivek'. She told me, "Why not MUCH LOVE?" I said, "That is impossible. I cannot write that" -- because to me, more or less is not possible. I can simply write 'love';'much love' is absurd. Quantity is not a question, but simple quality. When you say 'much', you must be hiding something behind that 'much'; something of hatred, something of anger, something of jealousy, but something which is not love. To hide that, you have to show your over-enthusiasm, what you call 'gung-ho': MUCH love, STRONG trust, STAUNCH belief. Whenever you are too much of a Christian, you are not a Christian at all. If you are too much of a Hindu, you have not understood at all.
Just the other night a young girl was saying to me that she was afraid. She wants to take SANNYAS but she is afraid, "Because it will be putting Christ as number two; you will become the first." She was very puzzled. "It will be putting Christ behind you," she told me. I told her, "Just look into my eyes. If you really love? Christ then you will find Christ in me. You will not find two persons. But if you are a Christian, then it is difficult. Then forget all about SANNYAS."
One who loves Christ can love me; there is no conflict. One who loves Krishna can love me; there is no conflict. But if one is a Hindu, one is a Mohammedan, one is a Christian, then it is difficult. A Christian is not a lover of Christ. To be a Christian is a decision on your part; doubt has not disappeared, doubt has been repressed.
Don't repress doubt. Rather, just on the contrary, watch, look deeply into it, analyze it. Don't leave any part of it unanalyzed, unknown. Become acquainted with all the layers of the doubting mind. That very acquaintance, the penetration into doubt, will dissolve doubt. One day suddenly you will awake one morning full of trust -- not as your decision. It cannot be a decision because trust is something you are born with; doubt is a learned thing. Trust is tacit, inborn.
Every child trusts. As he grows, doubt arises. Doubt is learned. So trust is there always as an undercurrent in your being. You just drop doubt, trust will arise. And then trust has a tremendous beauty because it is pure. It is not against doubt, it is simply absence of doubt. The rock has been removed and the stream has come bubbling up, flowing.
So please, don't try to make a decision about it. Your decision will be a delay; and the more you decide, the more you will find, deep inside, the worm of doubt increasing. Then you will be divided in two and you will never be at ease, and there will be continuous agony.
So many people believe in God, and deep down is doubt -- throbbing, alive, waiting for its opportunity to destroy the trust. And the trust is bogus because the trust is on the periphery, and the doubt has reached almost to the very core of your being. Never decide about love, about trust, about God. These things are not your decisions. They are not arguments, they are not conclusions.
When doubt is no more there, trust is. It happens. It flows. It arises out of your innermost core, from the innermost shrine. You start listening to a new music of being, a new style of being, a new way of being. It is not of the mind, it is of the being.

The second question:

Question 2

THE boundaries are overlapping. They are all on the path of love, but still there are subtle distinctions. Even with overlapping boundaries they have something special: a Tantrika, a Baul, and a Bhakta. Sufi is not different from Bhakta. Sufi is the Bhakta on the Mohammedan path; Bhakta is the Sufi on the Hindu path. There is no difference between a Bhakta and a Sufi, so we will not discuss that The difference is only of terminology. The Sufis use the Mohammedan terminology, the Bhakta uses the Hindu terminology. The difference is not of any importance; it is just language. But these three: a Baul, a Tantrika and a Bhakta have to be understood.
Love has three possibilities: sex, the lowest; love, higher than sex; and prayer, the highest.
The Tantrika remains sex-oriented. The Tantrika in fact avoids love, because love will become an entanglement. He remains a pure technician of sex. With the sex energy he works like a scientist: aloof, detached. He does not bring love into it. He transforms the energy. Love arises in him, prayer also, but those are consequences. They follow like shadows, but the orientation is sex energy. His whole work, his whole lab, is there at the sex center. He works there, unattached, aloof, almost indifferent to the person. With whomever the Tantrika is making love, he remains completely aloof, far away. That is part of the Tantra methodology: that you should not be attached to the person. That's why Tantrikas say: "Don't do Tantra techniques with your wife or with your beloved. No, find somebody with whom you are not attached at all, so that you can become a pure technician." It is scientific.
It is just like this: you may be a great surgeon and you may have done thousands of surgeries, but when it comes to operating on your own wife your hands will start trembling. If it comes to operating on your own child you will have to call another surgeon. He may be not so expert as you, but still you will have to call somebody else -- because the surgeon needs to be completely aloof, not concerned. Only then can surgery be perfectly scientific.
The Tantrik is absolutely of the scientific attitude. He will find a woman or a man with whom he is not attached at all. And before he even moves into a Tantric relationship with somebody, months are needed to prepare. And the whole preparation is: how to avoid love, how not to fall into deep contact with the other person. Otherwise, the whole method will not be of any use.
The Baul is love-oriented. If sex comes into a Baul's life, it is just like a shadow. It is part of his love. He's not afraid of sex, but he is not sex-oriented. He loves a woman: because he loves the woman he wants to share all that he has, sexual energies included. But sex is not his lab; his lab is love, deep contact, care for the other person -- so much so that you become less important and the other becomes more important. That which is a hindrance on the path of the Tantrika is the path of the Baul. If sex comes, it is okay. If it doesn't come, that too is okay. Sex is not the goal. And he is not working on the crude energy of sex, he is working on the subtle energy of love. As the Tantrika is working on a seed, the Baul is working on the flower, the Bhakta or Sufi is working on the fragrance. They become more and more subtle.
Prayer is the highest form of sex energy, higher than love. It is the fragrance; very subtle, all grossness gone. The Bhakta or the Sufi works on prayer. If, following prayer, love enters, it is allowed. There is no problem about it. Even if, following love, sex enters, it is allowed -- but the whole attention is focused on prayer. So if a Bhakta falls in love with somebody, it is a form of prayer. The other is divine, the other is a god or goddess. He makes love sacred. The Baul is just in the middle of the Tantrika and the Bhakta or Sufi. He is a bridge.
There are difficulties with the Tantrika. The difficulty is: it is very gross, and the possibility is that you may be lost in that grossness. It may overpower you. Sex is tremendous energy, wild energy, very stormy, and you are moving in an ocean. The ocean is in deep storm, and you have a very small boat, and it is very dangerous. It is very easy to enter on the path of Tantra, it is very difficult to come out of it. If a hundred enter, only one may survive -- because you are playing with wild energy. The energy is so great that you may be overpowered by it; the very possibility is there.
Prayer is very difficult -- fragrance -- you cannot see it, it is very elusive. It is very difficult to enter on the path of prayer. If you enter, you. come out of it. It is very easy to enter on the path of Tantra, but going is easy, coming is very difficult. On the path of prayer entering is very difficult, coming out is very easy. The entry is almost impossible -- you don't even know anything about love; what to say about prayer? It is just a word with no content. It is too abstract, it is too far away. You cannot make any contact with it, with what prayer is. So, at the most, you can become a victim of a certain ritual. You can repeat a prayer: that will be just verbal, mind-stuff, a mind game. It will not be possible ordinarily to enter on the path of prayer.
The path of the Baul is just in the middle. Entry is not as easy as on the path of Tantra, and not as difficult as on the path of prayer. It is humanly possible. The Baul is very realistic, very down-to-earth, and it seems to be the safest path possible. Just in the middle, balancing both -- on the one hand sex, on the other hand prayer, and the Baul walks just in the middle.

The third question:

Question 3

IT is from Madhuri.
It means exactly what it says: you are immature. What is im-maturity? Whatsoever you are doing, you are doing almost unconsciously. Yes, I say be spontaneous, but I don't mean be unconscious. I mean be alert and spontaneous. By 'being spontaneous' you immediately understand to become a driftwood; so whatsoever happens, whatsoever and wheresoever the mind leads you, you are led by it. You become accidental. Immaturity makes a man accidental; maturity gives man a direction.
Maturity comes from a Latin root, MATURAS, which means: to be ripe. A fruit is mature when the fruit is ripe, when it has become sweet and is ready to be digested, can be eaten, can become part of anybody's life. A mature person is one who has come to know what love is, and love has made him sweet.
Now what Madhuri is doing is not love, it is just sexual fantasy -- so one day moving with one man, another day moving with another man. This can be very destructive. Remember, what I say has to be understood very accurately, otherwise my sayings will not be helpful. They will become harmful.
It happened:
Mulla Nasrudin came home. His wife asked him, "What happened, Nasrudin, when you asked your boss for a raise today?"
"He was like a lamb," said Mulla Nasrudin.
"Really? What did he say?"

Please listen to what I say carefully, and don't give it your own interpretation. Don't distort its meaning. Be spontaneous, but you can be spontaneous only when you are very aware. Otherwise you will become an accident -- one moment going to the north, another moment going to the south. You will lose all direction. A spontaneous man is ready to respond to each moment. Sometimes some may see that he is moving to the north, and sometimes others may see that he is moving to the south, but his inner direction remains absolutely certain. His inner direction remains arrowed. He may have to adjust to circumstances, but once adjusted, he again gains energy, momentum, and starts moving towards his direction. He has a feel for the direction, but that feel comes only when you are very, very alert. Otherwise, just spontaneity will reduce you to being animals.
Animals are spontaneous, but they are not Buddhas. So just spontaneity cannot make one a Buddha -- something more, something plus is needed: spontaneity plus awareness. Then you are not a mechanism, and you are not a driftwood either.

The doctor on an ocean liner notified the steward that a man had died in the stateroom number forty-five. The usual instructions to bury the body were given. Some time later the doctor peeped into the cabin and found the body still there. He called the steward's attention to the matter, and the latter said, "I thought you said cabin forty-nine. I went to that cabin and noticed that one of them was in the bunk.'Are you dead,' says I?'Pretty nearly,' says he; so I buried him."

Even if a person says that he is pretty dead, he is alive. Don't be too linguistic, don't be too literal. I say listen to your feelings, but I don't mean that you should become fragmented. I mean: listen to your feelings, but your feelings have to become a garland. Your feelings should not be like a heap of flowers. Your feelings should be like a garland, a thread running inside the flowers. Maybe nobody is able to see it, but a thread is joining them in a continuity: that continuity is the direction. Unless your feelings are a garland, you will disperse into fragments, you will fall into pieces, you will lose your togetherness.
Yes, I had told Madhuri to be spontaneous, to move according to her feelings. But I have been insisting continuously to do everything, but always remember that awareness is a requirement, a basic requirement -- then do whatsoever you want to do. If there is something you are doing for which awareness becomes a hindrance, then don't do it. If there is something you are doing and awareness does not become a hindrance to it but on the contrary helps it, do it.
That is the whole definition of the right and the wrong. The wrong is that which cannot be done with awareness, for which unawareness is a must. The right is that which can be done only with awareness, for which unawareness has to be dropped; otherwise it cannot be done. Awareness is a must. The right is that for which awareness is a must, the wrong is that for which unawareness is a must. That is my definition of sin and virtue. And YOU are to decide; the responsibility is yours.
It happened:
A worried woman went to see her doctor and told him that her husband appeared to have no virility, and had no interest in her whatsoever.
He gave her a prescription, saying "These will help him. Next time you and your husband are having a quiet meal together, just slip a couple of these pills into his coffee and they will make him spontaneous. And then come and see me again."
Two weeks later she went to see her doctor again, and he asked her if his remedy had been successful.
"Oh yes, doctor," she said. "Absolutely marvelous. I slipped the pills into my husband's coffee and after two sips he began making love to me."
The doctor smiled. "Fine. No complaints then?"
She said, "Well, there is one. My husband and I can't ever show ourselves in that restaurant again."
Now remember, Madhuri, what I say has to be understood, because finally, you will decide where to slip those pills. I cannot follow you. You will decide where to be spontaneous, how to be spontaneous -- and unconsciousness is not spontaneity, Spontaneity is very alert, very responsible, very caring. You are simply fooling around.
"You tell me to follow my feelings and when I finally dare to and am feeling much freer and simpler and happier, you say I am immature. What does it mean?"
I give you a certain rope to see what you do with my assertions, with my statements. I give you a certain rope, but when I see you are going crazy, then I have to pull you back. I have been watching, waiting to see what Madhuri is doing, but enough is enough.
Let me tell you one anecdote:
Abdul the Arab was marooned in the desert. His camel had sat down and flatly refused to get up. At long last another Arab dropped by, and Abdul told him his problem.
"I can fix that," said the second Arab, "only it will cost you five shekels."
"That's cheap at the price," said Abdul, "so you go ahead."
So without further ado the Arab crouched down by the side of Abdul's camel and whispered a few words in its ear. Suddenly the camel leapt to its feet and took off across the desert like a greyhound.
Abdul was amazed and delighted. "That trick is worth more than five shekels," he said.
"I know," said the second Arab, "and I want five hundred shekels from you before I tell you the magic words -- you have got to catch him."
That is only half the story: now you will have to catch five hundred shekels are needed. Unless the second Arab utters the same mantra into Abdul's ear, he cannot catch the camel.
Madhuri, your desires are running like greyhounds. It was easy; it cost you only five rupees, but now you will have to catch your camel and it will cost five hundred rupees. It will be more arduous.
To just move with desires one always feels simple, because one becomes almost like an animal. It is almost felt like happiness because there is no tension, no responsibility. You don't care a bit about the other person. Now the camel has to be caught.
Oh yes, I told you to be free with your feelings; now I tell you to be aware. It will be more arduous, but if you can be aware, then you will REALLY become simple. This simplicity is nothing: this is just regression into childhood, or regression into animality. The simplicity I want you to attain is the simplicity of a Buddha; not a regression, but the very climax of life. This simplicity is not going to help much. It has not helped anybody. This simplicity is very primitive, childish, immature.
But I wanted to see what you do, and I have seen what you are doing. Now become more alert. Bring a discipline to your life, a direction. Become more caring, more loving, more responsible. Your body has to be respected; it is the very shrine of God. You are not to treat it the way you are treating it; it is disrespectful. But it will be hard, I know. But I create situations in which hard things have to be done, because that is the only way to grow.

The fourth question:

Question 4

YES, the question is significant because people can get confused about these three.
Patience is very alert, patience is very active, patience is very expectant. If you are waiting for somebody -- a friend is to call -- you may be sitting just by the door, but you are very attentive, alert. Any noise on the road, any car passing by, and immediately you start looking: maybe the friend has come? The wind on your doors, and suddenly you are alert: maybe he has knocked.... Dead leaves in the garden moving hither and thither, and you come out of your home; maybe he has come.... Patience is as active as that. It is a waiting. It is not dull, it is very radiant. It is not unconscious; it is not like a stupor. It is like a flame burning bright. One waits. One can wait infinitely, but one waits, expectant, active, alert, watchful.
Just the opposite is sheer stupidity. You can just be dull, idiotic, stupid, in a stupor, and you can think that you are waiting, you are patient. And you can enjoy that others who are working hard to reach somewhere are impatient people; you are very patient. But remember, patience needs work. Patience is not inactivity. A patient person works patiently. He does not demand, he does not demand too much, he does not demand in a hurry, he does not demand for instant SATORI or SAMADHI. He knows it is arduous, the path is hard. He knows it is difficult; a thousand and one are the pitfalls. To be lost is easy, to achieve is difficult. It is almost impossible to achieve, and he knows it -- but that is the attraction, that is the challenge, God is impossible, but that's the beauty of it, that's the challenge. The challenge has to be accepted. He works hard at it and yet remains patient, knowing well his limitations, knowing well the very impossibility of the desire.
It is an impossible passion: to know God, to be God. It is unbelievable that it happens. That's why people go on denying that Buddha ever existed -- that Jesus is a myth, that Krishna is just the imagination of the poets. Why do so many people insist that Buddha is just a myth, that Jesus and Krishna never existed? Why? They are simply saying that the whole thing seems to be impossible; it cannot happen.
In a way they are right: it cannot happen; but still it happens. It happens very rarely. It happens so rarely that you can say that it does not happen at all. Once in a while, thousands of years pass, then somebody becomes enlightened -- ALMOST as if it never happens.
Knowing this, one waits; but one does not wait in inactivity, because then the waiting will be futile. The waiting has to be just like the farmer waiting. He sows the seeds; they will come in season. It cannot be hurried. There is no point in going again and again to the field, digging and seeing whether the seeds have sprouted yet or not, because that will be very destructive. That will not allow the seeds to sprout at all. That impatience will destroy the seeds. He waits, he waters -- nothing is seen for months. Nothing comes above the earth, but he waits with deep patience, goes on working, caring about the field, praying and expectant that they are coming, that they are on the way. And one day, they are there.
Sheer stupidity is hiding your inactivity, your inertia, your lethargy, in beautiful terms. A lethargic person can say, "I'm not in a hurry, I'm waiting," and he will not do anything. Then you are waiting in vain; it is not going to happen. Yes, the seeds will sprout in season, but the seeds have to be sown; otherwise they will not sprout.
So watch inside you. These distinctions are not distinctions of one man, these distinctions exist in each man. These are not categories, that somebody is 'sheer stupid' and somebody is 'very patient'. No, these moods exist together in everybody. There is a stupid moment in your life, there is a patient moment in your life, and postponement is just in the middle of these two. Postponement is very cunning.
Patience is alert, stupidity is inactive, unconscious. Patience is conscious, postponement is subconscious. Postponement has a double-bind in it: you want to do something and yet you are not ready to do anything for it. It is a very cunning state of affairs. You want to meditate, but you say, "Tomorrow." If you really want, then today is the right time, because tomorrow never comes. If you really want, then meditate right now, because there is no point in postponing it. How can you be certain that tomorrow will ever come? It may never come. And if it is really important to you and your desire is intense for it, then you will not waste a single moment in postponing it. You will postpone everything else, but you will meditate. You postpone only that which is not significant to you, or, you are playing with yourself, being cunning with yourself. One part of your mind says, "Yes, it is important." Another part of mind says, "Yes, it is important, I know; that's why tomorrow we will start." You are satisfied.
A man challenged by his good friend as to who was the more energetic person: the first said he got up at six, went for a walk, breakfasted at eight, did an hour's work, then to the office, half an hour for lunch, and so on. The detailed work and alternating exercise stretched out till eleven p.m.
"Well," said the friend, "how long have you been doing this?"
"I start on Monday."
God is always postponed, love is always postponed, meditation is always postponed. Anger, greed, hatred, never; the devil, never. When the devil invites you, you are IMMEDIATELY ready. Immediately, instantly you stand up. You say, "I'm coming!" When somebody insults you, you don't say that "Tomorrow I will be angry"; but for love you always go on postponing. For prayer you say, "Yes, it has to be done." This is a very cunning state.
You don't want to recognize the fact that you don't desire prayer, you don't desire love, you don't desire meditation. You don't want to recognize the fact that you don't have any passion for God, so you postpone in this way. You manage well -- you go on doing that which you really desire, and you go on postponing that which you don't desire at all, but you are not courageous enough to recognize the fact. At least be honest. Postponement is dishonest, very dishonest. Watch inside yourself, at what you have been postponing, and you will find that all that is beautiful you have been postponing.
It is a double-bind; you are divided, or you are playing very devilry with yourself.

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