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Until now, man has lived only a partial life. The worldly man lived a partial life: the worldly man lived a life of love. He tried to comprehend: what is this phenomenon called "love"?
Being in relationships with a wife, children, parents, friends, society — in every possible way he tried to understand what love is. Consciously or unconsciously, all his efforts were directed toward knowing that joy which can occur between two people in deep harmony. Love is harmony between two people, two universes pulsing in a single rhythm, dancing hand in hand, dissolving into one another, merging, becoming a single whole. This is the path of the drunkard.
Just as you become intoxicated by another person like wine, so too does the other become intoxicated by you like wine. But this is only half the truth of your life. You begin to learn more about the other person and completely forget yourself; love requires that you forget yourself and remember the other. The other becomes the center — you gradually disappear into deep darkness, you become secondary. People living such a partial life will sooner or later inevitably be disappointed, because a partial life can never become a realization. When they are disappointed... and the more intelligent a person is, the sooner he is disappointed, because he understands that something is missing, something very essential is missing. You are missing.
You grope for another person, having no knowledge at all of who you yourself are. But how can one find another without even finding oneself? Therefore, you continue only to stumble upon the other. You may call this love, but it is merely a vague search in the dark. There is no understanding, no clarity, no light; everything happens in darkness. But you fear loneliness and therefore seek the company of another person. It is precisely out of fear that your so-called love arises — and love can never arise from fear. This is a fake. The partial is always fake; only the whole is authentic. Meaning is contained only in the whole, never in the part. A part has meaning only in connection with the whole, but never separately from it.
Very many intelligent people became disappointed, and then they decided to move toward the opposite extreme. Such is the way of the mind: if you have failed at one thing, the mind immediately suggests something diametrically opposite. And this attracts you; it seems logical. If love deceived your expectations, if you found yourself unable to enjoy, dance, and celebrate with another person, then it would be logical to conclude that it is better to be alone, to move into solitude, to become a monk. The word "monk" literally means "to be alone." It comes from the same root as words like "monotonicity," "monogamy," "monopoly," "monastery." It comes from the very same root.
A monastery is a place where many people try to remain in solitude. This is the path of the monk, the non-worldly person. But the monk fails in exactly the same way; he is doomed to fail. He chose the other half, and now something will be missing for him again. He will learn what it means to be alone — he will know the path of bliss, he will become blissful, but his bliss will lack something: he will lack the ability to share. And bliss that cannot be shared begins to die, to sour, to turn bitter. Even nectar can turn into poison if it stops flowing. The monk is actually far more blissful than the layman, but the monk's bliss is not a river. It does not move, it does not reach other people. Such a person becomes simply a puddle, a pond, rather than a river — he freezes within certain boundaries, experiencing fear of another person. Just understand what the essence is here: the worldly man fears loneliness and therefore tries to establish contact with another person; in the dark, he calls out to another. But the monk fears the other, because the other may disturb his solitude, may invade his space, may encroach upon that space, that territory which he found with such difficulty. He lives in fear; he lives in a dark, wall-separated, voluntary prison own confinement. He creates walls between himself and others, he eliminates any possibilities for the growth of love. Then his bliss gradually turns into a dead pond with stagnant water, and something begins to be missing for him as well.
There were thousands of Hindu monks who lived in Himalayan caves and never returned back to the world. But these people lose something, something very essential — the ability to share. Life is the opportunity to share, and only by sharing do you achieve realization. Just imagine a sun that keeps itself locked up so that its rays do not go outside. Or imagine a lotus that keeps its petals closed so that its fragrance cannot reach anyone. Imagine a bird that is afraid to sing — for someone might hear it... Then all this Existence would be dead.
This message is for all my sannyasins: you must learn both. You must be fluid, you must be flowing. You must learn to be alone, and you must learn to be together. You must be simultaneously meditative and loving; only then will you be whole people. And in my opinion, to be whole means to be a saint. Until now, man has not been a saint because he was not whole — how can he be a saint? Yes, occasionally some managed to achieve it — Lao Tzu, Zarathustra... Yes, occasionally someone managed to achieve wholeness, but when I look at them, I feel that even the wholeness of Buddha could have been enriched a little more, even the wholeness of Lao Tzu could have become a little greater; something could have been added to it. Even the wholeness of Jesus could have become more multidimensional. Here my efforts are directed toward giving you a multidimensional existence; all dimensions possible for man should be available to you. You must know how to love, and you must know how to experience bliss. By my own experience and by my observations, only a blissful person is capable of loving, and only a person capable of loving is capable of experiencing bliss. These qualities reinforce each other.
You have heard of the vicious circle — when one leads to another, then the other leads back to the first, and you get a vicious circle. But you have not heard of the virtuous circle. I call it virtuous — not vicious, but virtuous — a circle in which one leads to another, and you rise higher and higher, moving toward the highest peaks. You acquire new and new dimensions. The highest thing I can imagine is love joined with your bliss in deep harmony; love and bliss that do not hinder each other, but enrich each other.
Osho
Being in relationships with a wife, children, parents, friends, society — in every possible way he tried to understand what love is. Consciously or unconsciously, all his efforts were directed toward knowing that joy which can occur between two people in deep harmony. Love is harmony between two people, two universes pulsing in a single rhythm, dancing hand in hand, dissolving into one another, merging, becoming a single whole. This is the path of the drunkard.
Just as you become intoxicated by another person like wine, so too does the other become intoxicated by you like wine. But this is only half the truth of your life. You begin to learn more about the other person and completely forget yourself; love requires that you forget yourself and remember the other. The other becomes the center — you gradually disappear into deep darkness, you become secondary. People living such a partial life will sooner or later inevitably be disappointed, because a partial life can never become a realization. When they are disappointed... and the more intelligent a person is, the sooner he is disappointed, because he understands that something is missing, something very essential is missing. You are missing.
You grope for another person, having no knowledge at all of who you yourself are. But how can one find another without even finding oneself? Therefore, you continue only to stumble upon the other. You may call this love, but it is merely a vague search in the dark. There is no understanding, no clarity, no light; everything happens in darkness. But you fear loneliness and therefore seek the company of another person. It is precisely out of fear that your so-called love arises — and love can never arise from fear. This is a fake. The partial is always fake; only the whole is authentic. Meaning is contained only in the whole, never in the part. A part has meaning only in connection with the whole, but never separately from it.
Very many intelligent people became disappointed, and then they decided to move toward the opposite extreme. Such is the way of the mind: if you have failed at one thing, the mind immediately suggests something diametrically opposite. And this attracts you; it seems logical. If love deceived your expectations, if you found yourself unable to enjoy, dance, and celebrate with another person, then it would be logical to conclude that it is better to be alone, to move into solitude, to become a monk. The word "monk" literally means "to be alone." It comes from the same root as words like "monotonicity," "monogamy," "monopoly," "monastery." It comes from the very same root.
A monastery is a place where many people try to remain in solitude. This is the path of the monk, the non-worldly person. But the monk fails in exactly the same way; he is doomed to fail. He chose the other half, and now something will be missing for him again. He will learn what it means to be alone — he will know the path of bliss, he will become blissful, but his bliss will lack something: he will lack the ability to share. And bliss that cannot be shared begins to die, to sour, to turn bitter. Even nectar can turn into poison if it stops flowing. The monk is actually far more blissful than the layman, but the monk's bliss is not a river. It does not move, it does not reach other people. Such a person becomes simply a puddle, a pond, rather than a river — he freezes within certain boundaries, experiencing fear of another person. Just understand what the essence is here: the worldly man fears loneliness and therefore tries to establish contact with another person; in the dark, he calls out to another. But the monk fears the other, because the other may disturb his solitude, may invade his space, may encroach upon that space, that territory which he found with such difficulty. He lives in fear; he lives in a dark, wall-separated, voluntary prison own confinement. He creates walls between himself and others, he eliminates any possibilities for the growth of love. Then his bliss gradually turns into a dead pond with stagnant water, and something begins to be missing for him as well.
There were thousands of Hindu monks who lived in Himalayan caves and never returned back to the world. But these people lose something, something very essential — the ability to share. Life is the opportunity to share, and only by sharing do you achieve realization. Just imagine a sun that keeps itself locked up so that its rays do not go outside. Or imagine a lotus that keeps its petals closed so that its fragrance cannot reach anyone. Imagine a bird that is afraid to sing — for someone might hear it... Then all this Existence would be dead.
This message is for all my sannyasins: you must learn both. You must be fluid, you must be flowing. You must learn to be alone, and you must learn to be together. You must be simultaneously meditative and loving; only then will you be whole people. And in my opinion, to be whole means to be a saint. Until now, man has not been a saint because he was not whole — how can he be a saint? Yes, occasionally some managed to achieve it — Lao Tzu, Zarathustra... Yes, occasionally someone managed to achieve wholeness, but when I look at them, I feel that even the wholeness of Buddha could have been enriched a little more, even the wholeness of Lao Tzu could have become a little greater; something could have been added to it. Even the wholeness of Jesus could have become more multidimensional. Here my efforts are directed toward giving you a multidimensional existence; all dimensions possible for man should be available to you. You must know how to love, and you must know how to experience bliss. By my own experience and by my observations, only a blissful person is capable of loving, and only a person capable of loving is capable of experiencing bliss. These qualities reinforce each other.
You have heard of the vicious circle — when one leads to another, then the other leads back to the first, and you get a vicious circle. But you have not heard of the virtuous circle. I call it virtuous — not vicious, but virtuous — a circle in which one leads to another, and you rise higher and higher, moving toward the highest peaks. You acquire new and new dimensions. The highest thing I can imagine is love joined with your bliss in deep harmony; love and bliss that do not hinder each other, but enrich each other.
Osho