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Sun Aug 15, 2004 8:50 am
although you never really answer my questions in public, and only point to the cd of your website you've sent me the other day (which I haven't looked at yet, mea culpa!), I start to understand more about you and the 'Sangha'...
As far as I can see, you came to Osho (that time Bhagwan, a 'name' I never liked) not out of love (to yourself), but out of BELIEVE. And, as it usually is with BELIEVE, at some point of time the other side of the coin turns up, the DOUBT.And, with it, through the outside happenings, the frustration, followed by turning the back completely.
|You 'old guys' are the generation after Hitler. You've
had the hard task of swimming free from the domination through dictators.
You are the generation of the hippies, the student revolution, and the 'make
love, not war'- sexual revolution.
You 'old people' went to Osho basically because of free sex, mostly coming from a background of having traveled through India, and having had lots of drug experiences.
|And you 'old guys' had been presented a new dictator, this time in a
female coat. It was a FIRE TEST - as far as I can see. It was
deep cooking of all this old conditioning - of OBBEYing to an authority, out of BELIEVE.
It was a repetition of the 3rd Reich, a task for the revolutionaries to solve. It was a chance for you, a test for your awareness, and for the ability to stand up for yourself.
|Most of you guys 'failed' the fire test. You kept the old structures in a new face. You (most of
the 'old guys were Germans) were unable to detect the first signs of dictatorship, until it was too
late. Or maybe some of you did - but the call of the 'open whore house' and the feeling of being connected
in a group of similar feeling people kept you in the game.
It was YOU, who allowed the DICTATORSHIP of the 'BITCHES'! It was YOU who didn't stand up against it, when it was still possible. It was YOU who didn't REBELL, or at least left. IT was YOU who didn't read the signs. And finally it was YOU whose BELIEVE was completely schattered - and you left in disgust, and still keep ranting and ranting.
You keep ranting against Osho, against Sannyas, against Sannyasins - but actually you rant against yourself. Because deep down you know that you failed the test. And the hatred you put out whenever
you only hear the word 'Osho' is a hatred for yourself, n0by.
The test was GREAT! It was dividing the seed from the crap. It was sorting the FOLLOWERS from the SEEKERS. It was sorting those who went to Poona just for the outside FUN and the FREE SEX
from those with a deep yearning for LIBERATION.
n0by, Ramarshi is right: Something in you is dead. It has died together with you believe. But Ramarshi is also wrong: it is never too late.
|This inner flame is always burning, it is the very life
essence. It can smolder, like it does right now - but it can also burn up again. And it has no chance
anymore to burn up from turning to someone on the outside, some MASTER to FOLLOW (some finger
pointing to the moon - excuse the cliché) - it can only burn up when you turn back into yourself, into it directly.
I can already see your sarcastically smiling face, n0bster. I saw it right in front of my face yesterday, when we talked on the phone. I told you of my gratitute to 'the grace of late birth' - I was too young to get to Poona in the 70ties, and watching from the outside in the 80ties too disgusted from the Oregon happenings to ever consider to get into this SECT of red-clothed, mala-wearing FOLLOWERS.
I met Osho in 1987 - not by accident when travelling, not through a greed for sex, and not for the yearning to belong to some group, some chosen people who will change the world. I'd read a book - and for the first I'd found someone speaking out what I always felt true, and what had, since childhood, made me feel an alien in the world. And there was no yearning to get to see the MASTER, to BECOME a SANNYASIN - the very thought of 'following a master' was completely out of question. I was a rebel, and belonging to some group was an impossible idea for me.
|I met Osho on the inside a few weeks after the book - a voice inside, a presence, some slight guidance
only, not opening doors for me, but basically pointing to the thousands of doors I do not need to open. He was
whispering inside of me, for a few weeks only - and it was never a call to follow him. It was a call
to follow myself, to turn back inside. At some point of time I understood the 'work of the master' -
and I took Sannyas, in deep love. By mail, without any celebration. And his voice inside me STOPPED.
And threw me just back to myself. No chance
anymore to keep my focus on him.
My Sannyas is very different to yours, n0by. It is a reminder only.
You've laughed when I told you that my son mistakes Osho for his father. It was clear sign for you, you've detected a believer in me, who conditiones her child to be an Osho believer.
|I told you, and do it again here, where this mix-up comes from: Rishi doesn't know his father. He
knows only pictures - a man with long hair, a beard, and brown, soft, 'indian' eyes (he has the same
eyes). And also Osho has these eyes, and the beard and long hair. Last year, when visiting a friend with an
indian husband, Rishi asked me if this guy was Osho.
And what is still left from Osho on the outside in our lifes is a few pictures, and every night, before going to sleep, a little mentioning of his name only, for me in gratitute to Osho who was a help for me to be now who and where I am.
And some more truth in Rishis mixing-up: he has no father. And he was conceived in deep love and surrender, through the beloved to the whole of life. And this is also my connection with Osho. It is true, in a way he is Oshos child. And just now I remember a vision I had in my very first night in Poona, 1988, which I never shared with anyone because it was just too absurd and contradictory to what I though could be true: for a few hours. I felt in deep embrace with Osho, and I conceived a child. I had taken it symbolically - my inner child, myself being reborn.
It just now brings big laughter...
... and this laughter I send to you, for an enchanting Sunday