Osho meditation the true name about Nanak Omkar Guru shravaka devta bala mardana Ch5Pt2

Ch5Pt2 Osho Meditation True Name Nanak Omkar Guru Shravaka Devta Bala Mardana







It is hard to believe what Nanak says -- that by listening alone a person can attain siddhis, occult powers; or a person can become a pir, a saint; or a devta, a celestial being; or even Indra, the king of the devtas; that by listening, the sky and earth revolve and worlds and lower worlds exist, and death does not touch you.

It all seems a gross exaggeration, but it is not so in the least, because as soon as you learn the art of listening you learn the art of becoming acquainted with life itself. And as you begin to acquire the knowledge of existence, you find that the same silence you experience at the moment of shravana is the principle of all existence. It is the basis on which the sky and the earth are maintained; it is on the hub of this void that terrestrial bodies revolve; it is in silence that the seed breaks and becomes a tree, that the sun rises and sets, and moon and stars are formed and disintegrate. When words fall into silence within you, you reach the place where all creation is born and where it becomes extinct.

Once it happened: A Muslim fakir came to Nanak and said, "I have heard that you can turn me to ashes by your will, and that you can also create me by your will. I cannot believe this." He was an honest, genuine seeker who had not come out of idle curiosity.

Nanak said, "Close your eyes. Be relaxed and quiet and I will do for you what you wish." The fakir at once closed his eyes and became tranquil. Had he not been a serious seeker he would have been frightened, because what he had asked was very dangerous -- to be turned into ashes and remade, because he had been told that creation and extinction lay in Nanak's hands.

It was morning, a day just like this. Nanak was sitting under a tree beside a well at the outskirts of the village. His disciples Bala and Mardana were also with him. They were very much perturbed, because never had Nanak said such a thing to anyone before. What would happen now? They too became alert and the very trees and stones also became alert because Nanak was about to perform a miracle!

The fakir sat, silent and tranquil. He must have been a man of great faith. He became absolutely empty within. Nanak put his hand on his head and pronounced the omkar. As the story goes, the man turned to ashes. Then Nanak again sounded the Omkar and the man regained his body.

If you take the story at its face value, you will miss it, but this did happen within the seeker. When he became completely empty within, when the internal dialogue was broken and Nanak gave out the chant of Omkar, the sadhaka attained the state of shravana -- there was nothing but the resonance of Om within him. And with this resonance the annihilation took place on its own. Everything within the man was lost -- all the world and its boundaries -- turned to naught, to ashes. There was nothing within, nobody. The house was empty. Then Nanak once again chanted the Omkar and the man came back to himself. He opened his eyes, fell at Nanak's feet and said, "I had thought this could never happen, but you have proved it possible!"

There are those who miss the point and believe that the man actually turned to ashes and Nanak brought him back to life, but this is a foolish interpretation. Internally, however, the annihilation and creation did take place. The fakir was capable of listening. When you develop the art of listening then it is not me you will hear. I am an excuse. The guru is just an excuse. Then you will be adept at hearing the breeze as it passes through the trees; in the silence of solitude you will hear the Omkar, the basis of all life. And in the resonance of Omkar you shall find that everything depends on the void. The rivers flow in the void, the ocean becomes one with it. When you close your eyes you will hear your heartbeat and also the faint sound of the blood flowing, and you will know that you are not these; you are also the observer, the witness. Then death cannot touch you.

For those who have mastered the art of shravana there is nothing more to know. All existence comes into being through shravana. All existence happens through the void; and when you are listening, the stamp of the void falls on you. Then the void vibrates in you and that is the basic resonance of existence -- it is the basic unit.

By shravana death cannot touch you. Once you know the art of listening, where is death? Because the listener attains the knowledge of the witness. Right now you think and think, and then listen. The thinker will die because he belongs to the flesh. The day you listen without thinking you will become the witness. Then I shall be speaking, your head will be hearing, and there will be a third within you who will simply watch that listening taking place. When this happens a new element begins to unfold within you, the beginning of crystallization of the witness; and there is no death for the witness.

Therefore Nanak says that through shravana death does not touch. It is through listening that the devotee achieves permanent happiness; it is through shravana that suffering and sin are destroyed.

How is this internal dialogue to be broken? How can you become silent? How can the clouds be made to disperse so that the clear skies can be seen? This is what the process is all about. When someone is speaking, there is no need for you to keep on talking. You can be silent, but this habit dies hard, so you go on and on, talking away.

I asked a little boy, "Has your little sister started talking?" He said, "Talking? And how! It's so long since she started to talk that now she won't stop. Now we are all busy trying to keep her quiet."

When you came into this world you were silent. Do you want to be talking away all the time till you leave it? Then you will miss life and even deny yourself the supreme touch, the supreme bliss of death. You entered this world in silence; prepare to leave it in silence, too. Talking is for in-between, and only in the mundane life is it useful, in relating to another person.

When sitting by yourself it is madness to talk since silence is the process by which we relate to our own self. If silent you will find it difficult to keep up outside relationships; if you talk, it will be difficult to relate to yourself. Talking is a bridge that is connecting us to others; silence is a bridge that connects us with our self. Somewhere, somehow, you err in your selection of the means.

If a person becomes quiet and talks to no one, he establishes no relationships and gradually people will begin to forget him. Dumb people are the most miserable, even more so than a blind man. Notice carefully that you feel more pity for the dumb than the blind. While it is true that the blind man cannot see, he does establish relationships; he can have a wife; he can talk to his children; he can be a part of society; he can have friends. But the mute is closed within himself with no way out, no way for him to establish contact with others. You can sense his difficulty in the agony of his gestures. When you cannot follow him, how helpless and miserable he feels. There is no one more pitiable than a dumb person: he cannot talk, he cannot open his heart to anyone, he cannot express his feelings of love or joy or sorrow and unburden his mind.

As the mute is incapable of establishing contact with others, so you have become incapable of establishing contact with yourself. Where you should be dumb -- absolutely silent -- you keep on talking. The other is not there at all, so to whom do you talk? You raise questions yourself and then answer them yourself. This is nothing but a sign of madness. The only difference between a mad person and you is that the mad person talks aloud to himself while you talk silently. Some day you too may join their ranks and begin to talk aloud. Right now you manage to repress the insanity within, but it can erupt any moment, because it is a cancerous ulcer.

Why does this internal dialogue go on? What is the reason? It is out of simple habit. All life long you are taught how to speak. A child is born and the first concern of all around him is that he should speak as early as possible since this is considered a sign of intelligence; the longer he takes, the duller he is considered to be.

Since talking is a social art and man is part of society, how happy the parents are when the child talks. Also many necessities of life are fulfilled by talking: when you are hungry, thirsty, you can express your need. It affords a protection in life.

What on earth is the use of silence? It seems to be useless. It holds no meaning in our day-to-day life. How can you go shopping if you are silent? How will you satisfy the various needs of the body without communication? We are so habituated to talking that we talk even in sleep, all twenty-four hours of the day; talking is automatic.

We keep on talking and rehearsing. Before talking to someone we rehearse the dialogue internally; and then, after the conversation, we repeat over and over all that happened -- what I said and what you said, and then what I said -- and we gradually forget what we are losing by this useless talk. Externally you may be gaining something, but within you are certainly losing contact with yourself. You are getting closer to people while you are becoming further removed from yourself. And the more adept you become at this game, the harder it will be for you to go into silence. Habit! And habit cannot be broken just like that.

When a person walks he makes use of his legs; while sitting there is no need to move your legs. When you are hungry you eat; if a person keeps on eating when not hungry it is a sign of insanity. Similarly, if you try to sleep when you are not sleepy it is inviting unnecessary frustration. But we do not think the same way when it comes to talking. We never say that we shall stop all talk unless it is a necessity.

It seems as if we have completely forgotten that the process of talking can be begun or ended at will, which it certainly can, or else all religions become impossible. Religion is possible only through silence. This is why Nanak praises shravana so much, which is in praise of silence, to glory in silence so that you may begin to hear. But you go along merrily talking, carried along by your own momentum and even if it comes to your understanding it is very difficult to stop, since habits take time to leave and often require the development of opposite habits in order to break them. So you will have to practice silence. To stay in the company of holy men means to practice silence. In the presence of the guru there is nothing to say and everything to hear. You listen and sit quietly. You don't go to the guru for a chat.

A few days ago a friend offered to come for a discussion. I said, "In that case, you talk. I shall listen but say nothing."

He said, "But I want to exchange views with you."

I answered, "I have nothing to do with your thoughts. If you are prepared to be without thoughts I can give you something. Or, if you have something to give, I'm prepared to take."

We have nothing whatsoever to give, but we are eager to carry out transactions in thoughts. We say exchange of thoughts and what we mean is you give me a bit of your insanity, and I give you a bit of mine. As both are mad enough, there is no need of any give-and-take.

We do not go to the guru to exchange views but to sit quietly next to him. Only when we are silent can we hear, and that requires a little practice. How can you begin? In the twenty-four hours of a day you need to be silent for an hour or so, whenever it is convenient. The internal dialogue will go on but don't be party to it. The key to it all is to hear the talk within just as you would hear two people talking, but remain apart. Don't get involved; just listen to what one part of the mind is telling another. Whatever comes, let it come; don't try to repress it. Only be a witness to it.

A lot of rubbish that you have gathered over the years will come out. The mind has never been given the freedom to throw away this rubbish. When given the chance, the mind will run like a horse that has broken his reins. Let it run! You sit and watch. To watch, just watch, is the art of patience. You will want to ride the horse, to direct it this way or that, because that is your old habit. You will have to exercise some patience in order to break this habit.

Wherever the mind goes, merely watch; don't try to enforce any order as one word gives rise to another and another, and a thousand others, because all things are connected. Perhaps Freud was unaware, that, when he based his entire psychoanalytic method on this "free association of thoughts" as he called it, it derived from yoga. One thought comes, and then another, and each thought is linked to the other in a continuous chain.

Once I was traveling in a train that was very full. When the inspector came to check our tickets he looked underneath my seat, where there was an old man hiding. He said, "You, old man, come out! Where is your ticket?"

The poor man fell at his feet and said, "I don't have any ticket nor any money but I have to go to the village in connection with my daughter's wedding. I would be grateful if you let me go this time."

The inspector took pity on him and let him go; but when he turned to the next row he saw another man underneath the seat. This man was young. "Are you also going for your daughter's marriage?" the inspector joked with him.

"No, sir," said the young man, "but I'll soon be this old man's son-in-law, and I too am penniless."

This is how things are joined. Someone is the son-in-law; someone is the father-in-law. The connections are hidden and need to be brought out. There is a whole chain of them within you and you will often be shocked when you know how, and in what queer ways, your thoughts are interlinked. Sometimes you will also be frightened and think you are going mad.

This is, however, a very wonderful method. Whatever is happening, allow it to happen. If it is convenient and possible, speak your thoughts out loud so that you can also hear them, because within the mind the thoughts are subtle and there is the fear you may not be very conscious of them. Speak them aloud, listen to them, and be very aware and alert to remain well separated from them. Resolve to speak out whatever comes to mind, but be absolutely unbiased and neutral. If abuse comes -- abuse! If ram, ram comes or omkar, give voice to that.

It is absolutely necessary to empty the mind patiently for six months, because all your life long you have done nothing but load it with thoughts. If you persist patiently and diligently then only six months is enough; otherwise it might take you six years, or six lives! All depends on you, how wholeheartedly and sincerely you work at this method.

Many a time it will happen that you will forget to be a witness; you will ride the horse once again and set out on your journey of thoughts, involved once again. If you identify yourself with some thought, then you will have failed; as soon as you become aware of this, get off the horse and let the words, the thoughts, go where they will without riding them. Just keep watching.

Gradually, very faintly, you will begin to hear the footsteps of silence, and experience the art of listening. Then, when you are qualified to listen you no longer need look for a guru, because wherever you are, there the guru is. The breeze will stir in the trees, the flowers and the dry leaves will fall -- you will hear all. Sitting on the seashore you will hear the waves. You will hear the river in spate, the lightning in the sky, the thundering of clouds. You will hear the birds sing, a child cry, a dog bark -- under all conditions you will hear.

When the art of listening is mastered, the guru is present everywhere. If shravana is not known, all the masters sitting before you cannot make you listen. The guru is -- only when you can listen.

Osho The true name vol1


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