Astrall
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What, in your opinion, is the most amazing thing in life?
The most amazing thing in life is that no one seems amazed. People take life for granted. Everything is a mystery, everything is simply astounding! It is a miracle that a tree grows from a seed, that in the morning, when the sun rises, the birds begin to sing. It is a miracle! You encounter miracles every single moment, and yet you do not look amazed. This is the most amazing thing in life—that people take life for granted. Only children do not take it for granted. That is why children possess beauty, compassion, innocence. They always live with a sense of wonder; everything evokes awe in them. Pebbles on the shore or seashells... Observe children, the joy with which they run, the joy with which they collect simple colored pebbles as if they had found stunning diamonds. When they pick flowers, wild flowers, look into their eyes. Or when they catch butterflies—observe them. Their entire being, every cell of their body is immersed in mystery. And this is the most important quality that makes life worth living.
He who loses the ability to be amazed is dead. The moment wonder dies within you, you die. The moment the sense of miracle dies within you, you die. The moment you become unable to feel awe, you lose all your strength.
And to be born with the gift of joy and the feeling that the world is wild—this is the quality that makes life worth living—not only worth living, but worth dancing, worth celebrating.
The only thing that surprises most of all is that you do not seem surprised. And this is exactly how your life turns into a boring life, a life full of sorrow.
Bring back your ability to be amazed, as it was in childhood. Look at the world again with those same innocent eyes. Dionysus calls this agnosia, a state of non-knowing; the Upanishads call it dhyana, samadhi, a state of non-knowing. This is not ignorance. Ignorance and knowledge belong to one dimension: ignorance means less knowledge, knowledge means less ignorance—the difference is only in degree. Agnosia, samadhi—this is not ignorance; it lies beyond it. It is a pure state of wonder. When you are filled with amazement, existence is filled with the divine.
Where does freshness come from?
It comes from nowhere; it is always here. Existence itself is freshness. Existence is fresh because it is always here and now. It is not burdened by the past; it is never old. Time has no effect on existence; time does not exist for it. Time flows only for the mind. In essence, time and mind are synonyms. Stop the mind, and time will stop.
* * *
Someone asked Jesus:
— What will be the most amazing thing in your kingdom of God?
And Jesus said:
— There will no longer be time.
A very unexpected answer: "There will no longer be time." That is what will be most astounding in the kingdom of God—because the mind will vanish, so where could time come from there?
Time does not consist, as is commonly believed, of three tenses: past, present, and future. Time consists only of two tenses: past and future. The present is not part of time—the present lies beyond it. And the present is always fresh. The present is a part of eternity. The present is the penetration of the eternal into the dream-filled world of time, a ray of light in the darkness of the mind.
The past is never fresh—it cannot be, this is obvious. It is always dirty, it always reeks—reeks of death, reeks of everything that has already rotted, reeks of tradition, reeks of corpses. The past is a cemetery. And the future is nothing other than a projection of this dead past. And how can the future be alive? The dead can only give a projection for the dead. What is your future? A modified past, slightly corrected here and there, a bit better, a bit more refined, a bit more comfortable, but it is the same past. You passionately desire to repeat it.
Your future carries nothing new—and cannot carry any. The mind accepts nothing fresh. It is powerless regarding that which is new, fresh, and young. It can move only within the small world of familiar, known things—and the known is the past. The future is nothing other than a desire to repeat it—better, of course. Therefore, the future is also not fresh. Only the present is fresh.
You ask me: "Where does freshness come from?"
Freshness never comes and never goes. It is always here, it is always now. Be here and now, and suddenly you will become fresh, you will bathe in eternity, something timeless will pour over you. Call it God, call it the kingdom of God, call it nirvana—as you wish. All these names point to the same thing—that which cannot have a name. All these words attempt to express the inexpressible.
Just cast the human mind aside. And by saying this, I mean that one must set aside the past and future and look. This very moment... The entire sky descends upon you. You are overflowing. Birds sing—and their songs are fresh; they do not repeat old songs. They have no concept of yesterday evening and do not sing of the future. They do not rehearse tomorrow. Trees are fresh. Everything is fresh, except for man.
So there is no need to ask: "Where does freshness come from?" Better ask: "Where does this grayness, this mustiness, this lifelessness come from?" Because this lifelessness comes and goes. Freshness is always here; it is the very essence of existence. It is the presence of God.
Meditation is nothing other than a way, a method to connect you with the eternal, to lead you beyond time, beyond that which is born and dies, beyond all boundaries, into the incomprehensible and unknowable. And this is not somewhere far away; it is as close as can be. Even saying that it is close would be wrong, because it is exactly your being, it is you. Freshness is your soul.
Your mind is boring, utterly boring. Get out of the mind. At least for a few moments a day, cast the mind aside, expose yourself completely. And then you will know that it springs within you—that very freshness you ask about. Where does it come from? It comes from the deepest core of your being—and in fact, it doesn't "come." Suddenly you discover that it was always there. It was always present as an underground current, hidden by many, many layers of memories, dreams, and desires.
Buddha says: cast away all desires, and you will know. Cast away all desires, and you will reach those limits that lie beyond the edge of birth and death, and enter the infinite.
But why does man not move toward his own being, which is so close? He is ready to go to the Moon; he is ready to go anywhere! He is ready to strive for the stars, but not for his own heart. Why? There must be some deep reason behind this. The reason is that in a journey inside yourself, you will have to lose yourself. And man is afraid to lose himself. He clings; he wants to remain himself. He does not want to lose his personality, and even though it is fake, it is better than nothing. Such is our logic.
We do not know who we are, and therefore we cling to the body, to the mind, to anything we are given—to conventions, to Catholicism, Hinduism, Islam. We cling to everything that was imposed on us because it gives us a sense of comfort, an illusion as if we know ourselves: "I am a communist"—this becomes my knowledge of myself. "I am a Catholic"—this becomes my knowledge of myself. "I am a Hindu," "I am a German"—this becomes my knowledge of myself.
Buddha says: "Know thyself." Socrates says: "Know thyself." They all say: "Know thyself." All awakened ones carry only one message: know thyself. We listen and do not hear. We continue to walk across the same rotten bridges; we continue to live in unhappiness just as before. And the reason is that this old life of unhappiness can give you only one thing—the ego. If you go inside, you will have to pay for it. And this price equals the loss of your ego...
Osho
The most amazing thing in life is that no one seems amazed. People take life for granted. Everything is a mystery, everything is simply astounding! It is a miracle that a tree grows from a seed, that in the morning, when the sun rises, the birds begin to sing. It is a miracle! You encounter miracles every single moment, and yet you do not look amazed. This is the most amazing thing in life—that people take life for granted. Only children do not take it for granted. That is why children possess beauty, compassion, innocence. They always live with a sense of wonder; everything evokes awe in them. Pebbles on the shore or seashells... Observe children, the joy with which they run, the joy with which they collect simple colored pebbles as if they had found stunning diamonds. When they pick flowers, wild flowers, look into their eyes. Or when they catch butterflies—observe them. Their entire being, every cell of their body is immersed in mystery. And this is the most important quality that makes life worth living.
He who loses the ability to be amazed is dead. The moment wonder dies within you, you die. The moment the sense of miracle dies within you, you die. The moment you become unable to feel awe, you lose all your strength.
And to be born with the gift of joy and the feeling that the world is wild—this is the quality that makes life worth living—not only worth living, but worth dancing, worth celebrating.
The only thing that surprises most of all is that you do not seem surprised. And this is exactly how your life turns into a boring life, a life full of sorrow.
Bring back your ability to be amazed, as it was in childhood. Look at the world again with those same innocent eyes. Dionysus calls this agnosia, a state of non-knowing; the Upanishads call it dhyana, samadhi, a state of non-knowing. This is not ignorance. Ignorance and knowledge belong to one dimension: ignorance means less knowledge, knowledge means less ignorance—the difference is only in degree. Agnosia, samadhi—this is not ignorance; it lies beyond it. It is a pure state of wonder. When you are filled with amazement, existence is filled with the divine.
Where does freshness come from?
It comes from nowhere; it is always here. Existence itself is freshness. Existence is fresh because it is always here and now. It is not burdened by the past; it is never old. Time has no effect on existence; time does not exist for it. Time flows only for the mind. In essence, time and mind are synonyms. Stop the mind, and time will stop.
* * *
Someone asked Jesus:
— What will be the most amazing thing in your kingdom of God?
And Jesus said:
— There will no longer be time.
A very unexpected answer: "There will no longer be time." That is what will be most astounding in the kingdom of God—because the mind will vanish, so where could time come from there?
Time does not consist, as is commonly believed, of three tenses: past, present, and future. Time consists only of two tenses: past and future. The present is not part of time—the present lies beyond it. And the present is always fresh. The present is a part of eternity. The present is the penetration of the eternal into the dream-filled world of time, a ray of light in the darkness of the mind.
The past is never fresh—it cannot be, this is obvious. It is always dirty, it always reeks—reeks of death, reeks of everything that has already rotted, reeks of tradition, reeks of corpses. The past is a cemetery. And the future is nothing other than a projection of this dead past. And how can the future be alive? The dead can only give a projection for the dead. What is your future? A modified past, slightly corrected here and there, a bit better, a bit more refined, a bit more comfortable, but it is the same past. You passionately desire to repeat it.
Your future carries nothing new—and cannot carry any. The mind accepts nothing fresh. It is powerless regarding that which is new, fresh, and young. It can move only within the small world of familiar, known things—and the known is the past. The future is nothing other than a desire to repeat it—better, of course. Therefore, the future is also not fresh. Only the present is fresh.
You ask me: "Where does freshness come from?"
Freshness never comes and never goes. It is always here, it is always now. Be here and now, and suddenly you will become fresh, you will bathe in eternity, something timeless will pour over you. Call it God, call it the kingdom of God, call it nirvana—as you wish. All these names point to the same thing—that which cannot have a name. All these words attempt to express the inexpressible.
Just cast the human mind aside. And by saying this, I mean that one must set aside the past and future and look. This very moment... The entire sky descends upon you. You are overflowing. Birds sing—and their songs are fresh; they do not repeat old songs. They have no concept of yesterday evening and do not sing of the future. They do not rehearse tomorrow. Trees are fresh. Everything is fresh, except for man.
So there is no need to ask: "Where does freshness come from?" Better ask: "Where does this grayness, this mustiness, this lifelessness come from?" Because this lifelessness comes and goes. Freshness is always here; it is the very essence of existence. It is the presence of God.
Meditation is nothing other than a way, a method to connect you with the eternal, to lead you beyond time, beyond that which is born and dies, beyond all boundaries, into the incomprehensible and unknowable. And this is not somewhere far away; it is as close as can be. Even saying that it is close would be wrong, because it is exactly your being, it is you. Freshness is your soul.
Your mind is boring, utterly boring. Get out of the mind. At least for a few moments a day, cast the mind aside, expose yourself completely. And then you will know that it springs within you—that very freshness you ask about. Where does it come from? It comes from the deepest core of your being—and in fact, it doesn't "come." Suddenly you discover that it was always there. It was always present as an underground current, hidden by many, many layers of memories, dreams, and desires.
Buddha says: cast away all desires, and you will know. Cast away all desires, and you will reach those limits that lie beyond the edge of birth and death, and enter the infinite.
But why does man not move toward his own being, which is so close? He is ready to go to the Moon; he is ready to go anywhere! He is ready to strive for the stars, but not for his own heart. Why? There must be some deep reason behind this. The reason is that in a journey inside yourself, you will have to lose yourself. And man is afraid to lose himself. He clings; he wants to remain himself. He does not want to lose his personality, and even though it is fake, it is better than nothing. Such is our logic.
We do not know who we are, and therefore we cling to the body, to the mind, to anything we are given—to conventions, to Catholicism, Hinduism, Islam. We cling to everything that was imposed on us because it gives us a sense of comfort, an illusion as if we know ourselves: "I am a communist"—this becomes my knowledge of myself. "I am a Catholic"—this becomes my knowledge of myself. "I am a Hindu," "I am a German"—this becomes my knowledge of myself.
Buddha says: "Know thyself." Socrates says: "Know thyself." They all say: "Know thyself." All awakened ones carry only one message: know thyself. We listen and do not hear. We continue to walk across the same rotten bridges; we continue to live in unhappiness just as before. And the reason is that this old life of unhappiness can give you only one thing—the ego. If you go inside, you will have to pay for it. And this price equals the loss of your ego...
Osho