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The distinction between the grasses and the blossoms is the same as between you not knowing that you are a buddha, and the moment you know that you are a buddha. In fact, there is no way to be otherwise. Buddha is completely blossomed, fully opened. His lotuses, his petals, have come to a completion.... Certainly, to be full of spring yourself is far more beautiful than the autumn dew falling on the lotus leaves. That is one of the most beautiful things to watch: when autumn dew falls on the lotus leaves and shine in the morning sun like real pearls. But of course it is a momentary experience. As the sun rises, the autumn dew starts evaporating.... This temporary beauty cannot be compared, certainly, with an eternal spring in your being. You look back as far as you can and it has always been there. You look forward as much as you can, and you will be surprised: it is your very being. Wherever you are it will be there, and the flowers will continue to shower on you. This is spiritual spring.

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Osho No Mind: The Flowers of Eternity Chapter 5

Commentary:
This figure stands alone, silent and yet alert. The inner being is filled with flowers--that carry the quality of springtime and regenerate wherever he goes. This inner flowering and the wholeness that he feels affords the possibility of unlimited movement. He can move in any direction--within and without it makes no difference as his joy and and maturity cannot be diminished by externals. He has come to a time of centeredness and expansiveness--the white glow around the figure is his protection and his light. All of life's experiences have brought him to this time of perfection. When you draw this card, know well this moment carries a gift--for hard work well done. Your base is solid now and success and good fortune are yours for they are the outcome of what has already been experienced within.

The many teachers of Junnaid

No situation is without a lesson, no situation at all. All situations are pregnant, but you have to discover; it may not be available on the surface. You have to be watchful, you have to look at all the aspects of the situation.

One of the great Sufi Masters, Junnaid, was asked when he was dying... his chief disciple came close to him and asked, "Master, you are leaving us. One question has always been in our minds but we could never gather courage enough to ask you. Who was your Master? This has been a great curiosity among your disciples because we have never heard you talk about your Master."

Junnaid opened his eyes and said, "It will be very difficult for me to answer because I have learned from almost everybody. The whole existence has been my Master. I have learned from every event that has happened in my life. And I am grateful to all that has happened, because out of all that learning I have arrived."

Junnaid said, "Just to satisfy your curiosity I will give you three instances. One: I was very thirsty and I was going towards the river carrying my begging bowl, the only possession I had. When I reached the river a dog rushed, jumped into the river, started drinking.

"I watched for a moment and threw away my begging bowl--because it is useless. A dog can do without it. I also jumped into the river, drank as much water as I wanted. My whole body was cool because I had jumped into the river. I sat in the river for a few moments, thanked the dog, touched his feet with deep reverence because he had taught me a lesson.

"I had dropped everything, all possessions, but there was a certain clinging to my begging bowl. It was a beautiful bowl, very beautifully carved, and I was always aware that somebody might steal it. Even in the night I used to put it under my head as a pillow so nobody could snatch it away. That was my last clinging--the dog helped. It was so clear: if a dog can manage without a begging bowl... I am a man, why can't I manage? That dog was one of my Masters.

"Secondly," he said, "I lost my way in a forest and by the time I reached the nearest village that I could find, it was midnight. Everybody was fast asleep. I wandered all over the town to see if I could find somebody awake to give me shelter for the night, until finally I found one man. I asked him, 'It seems only two persons are awake in the town, you and I. Can you give me shelter for the night?'

"The man said, 'I can see from your gown that you are a Sufi monk....'"

The word Sufi comes from suf; suf means wool, a woolen garment. The Sufis have used the woolen garment for centuries; hence they are called Sufis because of their garment. The man said, "I can see you are a Sufi and I feel a little embarrassed to take you to my home. I am perfectly willing, but I must tell you who I am. I am a thief--would you like to be a guest of a thief?"

For a moment Junnaid hesitated. The thief said, "Look, it is better I told you. You seem hesitant. The thief is willing but the mystic seems to be hesitant to enter into the house of a thief, as if the mystic is weaker than the thief. In fact, I should be afraid of you--you may change me, you may transform my whole life! Inviting you means danger, but I am not afraid. You are welcome. Come to my home. Eat, drink, go to sleep, and stay as long as you want, because I live alone and my earning is enough. I can manage for two persons. And it will be really beautiful to chit-chat with you of great things. But you seem to be hesitant."

And Junnaid became aware that it was true. He asked to be forgiven. He touched the feet of the thief and he said, "Yes, my rootedness in my own being is yet very weak. You are really a strong man and I would like to come to your home. And I would like to stay a little longer, not only for this night. I want to be stronger myself!"

The thief said, "Come on!" He fed the Sufi, gave him something to drink, helped him to prepare for sleep and he said, "Now I will go. I have to do my own thing. I will come back early in the morning." Early in the morning the thief came back. Junnaid asked, "Have you been successful?"

The thief said, "No, not today, but I will see tomorrow."

And this happened continuously, for thirty days: every night the thief went out, and every morning he came back empty-handed. But he was never sad, never frustrated--no sign of failure on his face, always happy --and he would say, "It doesn't matter. I tried my best. I could not find anything today again, but tomorrow I will try. And, God willing, it can happen tomorrow if it has not happened today."

After one month Junnaid left, and for years he tried to realize the ultimate, and it was always a failure. But each time he decided to drop the whole project he remembered the thief, his smiling face and his saying "God willing, what has not happened today may happen tomorrow."

Junnaid said, "I remembered the thief as one of my greatest Masters. Without him I would not be what I am.

"And third," he said, "I entered into a small village. A little boy was carrying a lit candle, obviously going to the small temple of the town to put the candle there for the night."

And Junnaid asked, "Can you tell me from where the light comes? You have lighted the candle yourself so you must have seen. What is the source of light?"

The boy laughed and he said, "Wait!" And he blew out the candle in front of Junnaid. And he said, "You have seen the light go. Can you tell me where it has gone? If you can tell me where it has gone I will tell you from where it has come, because it has gone to the same place. It has returned to the source."

And Junnaid said, "I had met great philosophers but nobody had made such a beautiful statement: 'It has gone to its very source.' Everything returns to its source finally. Moreover, the child made me aware of my own ignorance. I was trying to joke with the child, but the joke was on me. He showed me that asking foolish questions--'From where has the light come?'--is not intelligent. It comes from nowhere, from nothingness--and it goes back to nowhere, to nothingness."

Junnaid said, "I touched the feet of the child. The child was puzzled. He said, 'Why you are touching my feet?' And I told him, 'You are my Master--you have shown me something. You have given me a great lesson, a great insight.'

"Since that time," Junnaid said, "I have been meditating on nothingness and slowly, slowly I have entered into nothingness. And now the final moment has come when the candle will go out, the light will go out. And I know where I am going--to the same source.

"I remember that child with gratefulness. I can still see him standing before me, blowing out the candle."

"You go with life, you flow with life, with your totality and intensity, and you will never face any dilemma, any problem."

“We cannot live in a world that is not our own, in a world that is interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a HOME. Part of [healing] the terror is to take back our own listening, to use our own voice, to see our own light.”

~ Hildegard von Bingen

22. The Foolish Heart



The Foolish Heart
The crazy wisdom of Francis of Assisi

The heart has its own reasons, which the mind cannot understand. The heart has its own dimension of being, which is completely dark for the mind. The heart is higher and deeper than the mind, beyond the reach of it. It looks foolish. Love always looks foolish because love is not utilitarian. Mind is utilitarian. It uses everything for something else-- that is the meaning of being utilitarian. Mind is purposive, end-oriented; it turns everything into a means--and love cannot be turned into a means, that is the problem. Love in itself is the goal.

Fools always have a subtle wisdom in them, and the wise always act like fools. In the old days all great emperors always had one fool in their court. They had many wise men, counselors, ministers and prime ministers, but always one fool.

Why?--because there are things so-called wise men will not be able to understand, that only a foolish man can understand--because the so-called wise are so foolish that their cunningness and cleverness closes their minds. A fool is simple, and was needed because many times the so-called wise would not say something because they were afraid of the emperor. A fool is not afraid of anybody else, he will speak whatsoever the consequences.

This is how fools act--simply, without thinking what the result will be. A clever man always thinks first of the result, then he acts. Thought comes first, then action. A foolish man acts; thought never comes first.

Whenever someone realizes the ultimate, he is not like your wise men. He cannot be. He may be like your fools, but he cannot be like your wise men.

When Saint Francis became enlightened he used to call himself "God's fool." The pope was a wise man, and when Saint Francis went to see him even the pope thought this man had gone mad. He was intelligent, calculating, clever; otherwise how could he be a pope? To become a pope one has to pass through much politics. To become a pope diplomacy is needed, a competitive aggression is needed to put others aside, to use others as ladders and then throw them.

It is politics... because a pope is a political head. Religion is secondary, or nothing at all. How can a religious man fight and be aggressive for a post? They are only politicians.

Saint Francis came to see the pope, and the pope thought this man was a fool. But trees and birds and fishes thought in a different way. When Saint Francis went to the river the fishes would jump in celebration that Francis had come. Thousands witnessed this phenomenon--millions of fishes would jump simultaneously; the whole river would be lost in jumping fishes. Saint Francis had come and the fishes were happy. And wherever he would go birds would follow; they would come and sit on his leg, on his body, in his lap. They understood this fool better than the pope. Even trees that had become dry and were going to die would become green and blossom again if Saint Francis came near. These trees understood well that this fool was no ordinary fool--he was God's fool.

03. Enlightenment



Enlightenment
Why the Buddha waits at the gates of heaven

Whatsoever you do, do it with deep alertness; then even small things become sacred. Then cooking or cleaning become sacred; they become worship. It is not a question of what you are doing, the question is how you are doing it. You can clean the floor like a robot, a mechanical thing; you have to clean it, so you clean it--then you miss something beautiful. Cleaning the floor could have been a great experience--you missed it; the floor is cleaned but something that could have happened within you has not happened. If you were aware, alert, not only the floor but you yourself would have felt a deep cleansing.

Clean the floor full of awareness, luminous with awareness. Work or sit or walk, but one thing has to be a continuous thread: make more and more moments of your life luminous with awareness. Let the candle of awareness burn in each moment, in each act. The cumulative effect is what enlightenment is. The cumulative effect, all the moments together, all small candles together, become a great source of light.

The story is that when Gautam Buddha died he reached the doors of paradise. Those doors rarely open, only once in a while, in centuries--visitors don't come every day, and whenever someone comes to those doors the whole of paradise celebrates it. One more conscious-ness has attained to flowering, and existence is far richer than it has ever been before.

The doors were opened, and the other enlightened people who had entered into paradise before... because in Buddhism there is no God, but these enlightened people are godly--so there are as many gods as enlightened people. They had all gathered at the door with music, with song and with dance. They wanted to welcome Gautam Buddha but to their amazement he was standing with his back to the gate. His face was still looking toward the far shore that he had left behind.

They said, "This is strange. For whom are you waiting?"
He's reported to have said, "My heart is not so small. I'm waiting for all those I have left behind who are struggling on the way. They are my fellow travelers. You can keep the doors closed--you will have to wait a little for the celebration of my entering into paradise, because I have decided to enter this door as the last man. When everybody else has become enlightened and entered the door, when there is nobody left outside, then my time will have come to enter."

This story is a story--it cannot be an actual fact. It is not within your hands; once you have become enlightened you will have to enter into the universal source of life. It is not a question of your choice or decision. But the story is that he is still trying, even after his death. This story arose out of what he had said he was going to do on the last day before his death--that he would wait for you all.

He cannot wait here any longer, he has already waited over his time. He should have been gone by now but, seeing your misery and your suffering, he somehow kept himself together. But it has become more and more impossible. He will have to leave you--reluctantly--but he will wait for you on the other shore; he will not enter paradise, it is a promise: "So don't forget that for you, I will be standing there for centuries. But hurry, don't let me down, and don't let me wait too long."