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Kabir

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Chapter 15: From zero learning to learning zero

Question 6

 

 

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The last question:

Question 6

OSHO, I ALWAYS WONDER WHY PEOPLE MISUNDERSTAND YOU. I HAVE NEVER COME ACROSS SUCH A SIMPLE APPROACH AS YOURS IN MY WHOLE LIFE OF SEEKING THE WAY.

Ramananda,

PEOPLE are bound to misunderstand. It is expected. It is nothing unexpected, because what I am saying is not according to their tradition. What I am saying is according to Buddha, Krishna, Christ, Kabir, Farid, Bahaudin, Zarathustra, Lao Tzu, but not according to any tradition.

These people are not part of any tradition. These are Himalayan peaks, alone. A Zarathustra is a Zarathustra and a Buddha is a Buddha. They don't belong to any country and they don't belong to any tradition and they don't belong to any race, color, religion. They simply belong to God. They simply belong to the whole. And whenever such people are there they are bound to be misunderstood, because the tradition that priests create, that scholars create, that politicians support -- the tradition which is a conspiracy against man's freedom -- is bound to retaliate, react.

It is not an accident that Jesus is crucified, the real accident is why Buddha is NOT crucified. It is understandable why Socrates is poisoned, the more problematic thing is why Lao Tzu is not poisoned. How did they manage to escape? Maybe the only reason was that Lao Tzu was very mild in his expression, hence nobody bothered much about him. Socrates was not mild; his expression was very strong. He was like a sword, sharp. He could not be tolerated.

Buddha could be tolerated, of course with difficulty. Stones were thrown at him, mad elephants were released to kill him, rocks were rolled down from the hill to crush him, but still he was not crucified like Jesus. The reason may be that his expression was very, very silent. His expression was very polite, his expression was very poetic. Jesus spoke in words of fire, Jesus spoke in terms of utter rebellion. Buddha was also a rebellion, but a very sophisticated rebellion; Jesus was raw, Buddha was too cultured. Naturally, it had to be so: Buddha came from the royal family, very cultured, educated, mild, all manners, etiquette. Jesus was the son of a carpenter. He had that same raw quality of wood, and the same smell of raw wood.

But one thing is certain: that whenever a man like Buddha or Jesus or Lao Tzu is there, he is bound to be misunderstood, because the crowd belongs to the tradition, to a certain tradition: Hindu, Mohammedan, Christian, Jew, Jaina, Buddhist, and the tradition cannot tolerate any new revelation. And the people are so full of knowledge, so full of prejudice, that they go on understanding in their own way. And because they understand in their own way, it becomes a misunderstanding. It is a very unconscious process. They don't want to misunderstand; they are not deliberately trying to misunderstand me. They are trying to understand, but they come with conclusions, already arrived at conclusions, a priori conclusions. Hence whatsoever they hear is not what I say: their minds distort it, change it, give it a new color.

The farm had been mortgaged and their life's savings had gone to give daughter a college education. Pa was driving the truck to the station to call for her after graduation. She climbed in beside him, slipped an arm through his and whispered, "I want to confess something, Pa. I ain't as pure a girl any more."

Pa dropped his face in his hands and wept bitter tears. "After all the sacrifice me and Ma made for your education," he sobbed, "you still say 'ain't'?"

This is how a prejudiced mind functions.

Three young women were attending a class in logic, and the professor stated he was going to test their ability at situation reasoning.

"Let us assume," he said, "that you are aboard a small craft alone in the Pacific and you spot a vessel approaching you with several thousand sex-starved sailors on board. What would you do in this situation to avoid any problems?"

"I would attempt to turn my craft in the opposite direction," said the redhead. "I would pass them, trusting to my knife to keep me safe," said the brunette.

"Frankly," murmured the blond, "l understand the situation but I fail to see the problem."

It depends on you!

What I say is very rarely heard. To hear it, you will have to become a disciple. To hear it, you will have to learn the art of learning. To hear it, you will have to be receptive, in deep love and trust. If you can put your mind aside, if you can listen to me in deep silence, in great reverence and love, there is no possibility of misunderstanding. Otherwise you are going to understand everything the way YOU can understand.

That is one of the problems with language: it is very good, very adequate,;n communicating the ordinary things of life; the higher you move, the more inadequate it becomes.

Cohen met Levy for the first time in years. "How are things, Levy?" he asked his old friend. "I hear you got very rich here in America."

"I can't complain," the other replied. "I got a house and garden in the country, an automobile, a wife, ten children, and money in the bank."

Cohen, nettled, tried to soften the hurt of his friend's success. "Well," he said, "after all, in a day what can you do that I can't? We both eat, sleep and drink. What else is there in life?"

"Aaah," said Levy, "you call your life living? In the morning I get up, have a fine breakfast, a good Perfecto cigar. Then I lay on my verandah. After that I play a round of golf and come back with a healthy appetite for lunch. When I finish I have another Perfecto and lay down on my verandah again. I come to supper with an appetite like a wolf. After supper I smoke a good long cigar, lay on my verandah again, and at night go to the theatre, the opera, whatever I like."

"That's wonderful! And you don't do no work?" said Cohen, marvelling.

On his return home, he told his wife of the encounter. "You know who I met today?" he announced. "Levy, who came over on the ship with me. Is that man rich! He's got a house and garden in the country, an automobile, a wife, ten children."

Mrs. Cohen interrupted, "What is his wife's name?"

"I don't know," said her husband, "but I think it is Verandah."

 

THE END

 

Energy Enhancement            Enlightened Texts           Kabir           The Guest

 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

 

 
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