02-06-2010, 12:00 AM
Osho : Faith to a Christian
or to a Mohammedan or to a Hindu is nothing but another word for belief, and
a belief is never anything but a repressed doubt. Every belief has behind it
a doubt. To repress the doubt you believe more and more ... but the doubt
goes deeper and deeper into your unconscious. Faith in the world of
Gautam
Buddha's experience is not belief. It has nothing to do with doctrines and
philosophies, theologies, ideologies. It has something to do with trust,
something to do with love, something to do with being at ease with the
world, however it is.
There is an ancient story of a Zen monk ... Every night the king used to go
on a round of his capital in disguise, to see whether things were alright or
there was some trouble which he was not allowed to know. Is somebody
miserable? -- if he could do something, he wanted to know it directly, not
through so many mediators and bureaucracies. He was always puzzled by a very
beautiful, very silent man, always standing under a tree.
Whatever time of the night he went, the man was always standing there
silently, just like a marble statue.
Naturally, curiosity arose, and finally he could not resist the temptation
to ask this man what he was guarding. He could not see that he had anything
... in fact he was standing naked. The young man laughed and said, "I am
guarding myself; I don't have anything else. But guarding itself -- being
alert and aware and awake -- is the greatest treasure. You have much, but
you don't have the guard."
The king was puzzled,
but intrigued by the beauty of the man and by the authority of his words.
Every night they used to talk a little bit, and slowly, slowly a great
friendship arose. The naked monk never asked, "Who are you?"
The king asked him, "I have been asking so many questions of you -- who you
are, from where you have come, what you are doing, what is your discipline
-- but you have never asked me, 'Who are you?'"
The young man said, "If you knew who you were, you would not have been
asking all these questions. I don't want to humiliate you -- I simply accept
whoever you are. I never asked the trees, I never asked the animals, the
birds, I never asked the stars -- why should I ask you? It is perfectly good
that you are, and I am perfectly at ease with you and with everything."
The question is an
uneasiness, it is a tension; it arises deep down from fear. One wants to
know the other, because the other may turn out to be an enemy, may turn out
to be mad. The other has to be made predictable, then one feels at ease. But
can you make anybody predictable?
The young man said,
"Nothing can be predicted. Everything goes on moving into more and more
mysteries, and I am perfectly at ease; whatever is happening is a joy. Each
moment is so sweet and so fragrant, I cannot ask for more. Whoever you are,
you are good. I love you, I love everybody ... I simply love. I don't know
any other way to relate with existence."
This is faith: not knowing another way to relate with existence except love,
except a total acceptance -- the one suchness. The king was so impressed. He
knew well that a man who has renounced the world, even renounced his
clothes, and in cold winter nights goes on standing alone in his silence, is
bound to refuse his invitation -- a simple expectation of any human being.
But he said, "I have fallen in so much love with you that the whole day I
wait for when the night comes and I go
on my round. I am
always afraid that some day you may not be here. I want you to be closer to
me. Can I invite you to my palace? I will arrange everything as you want."
There was not even a single moment's hesitation and the man said, "This is a
good idea." The king was shocked. One expects from a saint that he has
renounced the world, he cannot come back to the world -- and the saint would
have risen in honor and respect in his eyes.
But the man said, "This is a perfect idea! I can just go with you right now.
I don't have anything to carry with me, no arrangements have to be made."
The king was in doubt -- perhaps he has been befooled. Perhaps this man is
not a saint; he has only been pretending and must have been waiting for this
moment. But now it was very difficult to take the invitation back. So sadly,
reluctantly, he had to take the man whom he had desired so much, loved so
much, his company, his presence, his eyes, his every gesture ... He gave him
the best palace where his guests, other kings and emperors, used to stay.
He was hoping that the saint would say, "No, I don't need these golden beds
and marble palaces. I am a naked monk, more in tune with the trees, with the
wind, with the cold, with the heat." But instead of this, the man became
very interested. He said, "Great! This is the right place!"
The king could not
sleep the whole night, although the monk slept the whole night perfectly
well in those luxurious surroundings. From that morning the monk's
respectability in the mind of the king went down every day, because he was
eating luxurious food, he was no longer naked, he was using the costliest
robes. He was not worried about women -- the most beautiful women were
serving him and he was quite at ease, as if nothing had happened. He looked
just the same as he did naked under the tree.
But it was too much;
it was becoming a wound in the king's heart that he had really been
befooled, cheated. Now, how to get rid of this man? He is not a saint ...
One day he asked him, "I have been carrying a question in my mind for many,
many days, but have not been courageous enough to ask."
The man said, "I know
-- not many, many days, but from the very moment when I accepted your
invitation."
The king was again
shocked. He said, "What do you mean?" He said, "I could see that very moment
the change in your face, in your eyes. If I had rejected your offer, you
would have respected me, touched my feet. But I don't reject anything. My
acceptance is total. If you are inviting me, it is perfectly good. When I
said the palace is
right, it is not the
palace that is right, I am right wherever I am. I was right under the tree
naked; I am right under these royal robes, surrounded by beautiful women,
all the luxuries.
Naturally I know you
must be very puzzled. You look tired, you look sad, you don't look your old
self. You can ask me the question, although I know the question." The king
said, "If you know the question, then the question now is that I want to
know what is the difference between me and you?"
The young man laughed
and he said, "I will answer, but not here because you will not understand
it. We will go for a morning walk, and at the right place, at the right
moment, I will answer."
So they both went on
the horses for a good morning ride, and the king was waiting and waiting. It
was a beautiful morning, but he was not there to enjoy the morning; only the
young man was enjoying. Finally the king said, "Now this river is the
boundary of my empire. Beyond the river I cannot go; that belongs to someone
with whom we have been enemies for centuries. We have ridden miles, and now
it is time enough. It is getting hot, the middle of the day."
The man said, "Yes, my answer is -- this is your robe, this is your horse"
-- and getting off his horse, he took off the robe. He said, "I am going to
the other side of the river, because I don't have any enemies. This robe was
never mine, and this horse was never mine. Just one small question: Are you
coming with me or not?"
The king said, "How
can I come with you? I have to look after the kingdom. My whole life's work,
struggle, fight, ambition is behind me in the kingdom. How can I go with
you?" The man said, "That is the difference. I can go -- I don't have
anything in the palace, I don't have anything to lose, nothing belongs to
me. As long as it was available, I enjoyed the suchness of it. Now I will
enjoy the wild trees, the river, the sun."
The king, as if
awakened from a nightmare, could see again that he had been mistaken. That
man had not been deceiving him; he was authentically a man of realization.
He said, "I beg your pardon. I touch your feet. Don't go, otherwise I will
never be able to forgive myself."
The young man said,
"To me there is no problem. I can come back, but you will still start
doubting, so it is better that you let me go. I will be just standing by the
other side of the bank under that beautiful tree. Whenever you want to come
you can come -- at least to the other shore -- and see me. I have no problem
in coming back, but I am not coming back because I don't want to disturb
your nights and days, and create tensions and worries."
The more he became
reluctant, the more the king started feeling sorry and sad, guilty about
what he had done. But the young monk said, "You could not understand me
because you don't understand the experience of suchness: wherever you are,
you are in a deep love relationship with everything that is. You don't have
to change anybody, you don't have to change anything, you don't have to
change yourself. Everything is as it should be; it is the most perfect
world.
"This is my faith,
this is not my belief. It is not that I believe it is so, it is that I
experience it is so." So 'faith' in the world of
Gautam Buddha and his
disciples has a totally different dimension, a different significance. It is
not belief. Belief is always in a concept -- a God, a heaven, a hell, a
certain theology, a certain system of ideas. Belief is of the mind and faith
is of your whole being. Belief is borrowed, faith is your own immediate
experience. You can believe in God, but you cannot have faith in God. You
can have faith in the trees, but you cannot believe in the trees. Faith is
existential, experiential.
Source: " The Great Zen Master Ta Hui " - Osho
or to a Mohammedan or to a Hindu is nothing but another word for belief, and
a belief is never anything but a repressed doubt. Every belief has behind it
a doubt. To repress the doubt you believe more and more ... but the doubt
goes deeper and deeper into your unconscious. Faith in the world of
Gautam
Buddha's experience is not belief. It has nothing to do with doctrines and
philosophies, theologies, ideologies. It has something to do with trust,
something to do with love, something to do with being at ease with the
world, however it is.
There is an ancient story of a Zen monk ... Every night the king used to go
on a round of his capital in disguise, to see whether things were alright or
there was some trouble which he was not allowed to know. Is somebody
miserable? -- if he could do something, he wanted to know it directly, not
through so many mediators and bureaucracies. He was always puzzled by a very
beautiful, very silent man, always standing under a tree.
Whatever time of the night he went, the man was always standing there
silently, just like a marble statue.
Naturally, curiosity arose, and finally he could not resist the temptation
to ask this man what he was guarding. He could not see that he had anything
... in fact he was standing naked. The young man laughed and said, "I am
guarding myself; I don't have anything else. But guarding itself -- being
alert and aware and awake -- is the greatest treasure. You have much, but
you don't have the guard."
The king was puzzled,
but intrigued by the beauty of the man and by the authority of his words.
Every night they used to talk a little bit, and slowly, slowly a great
friendship arose. The naked monk never asked, "Who are you?"
The king asked him, "I have been asking so many questions of you -- who you
are, from where you have come, what you are doing, what is your discipline
-- but you have never asked me, 'Who are you?'"
The young man said, "If you knew who you were, you would not have been
asking all these questions. I don't want to humiliate you -- I simply accept
whoever you are. I never asked the trees, I never asked the animals, the
birds, I never asked the stars -- why should I ask you? It is perfectly good
that you are, and I am perfectly at ease with you and with everything."
The question is an
uneasiness, it is a tension; it arises deep down from fear. One wants to
know the other, because the other may turn out to be an enemy, may turn out
to be mad. The other has to be made predictable, then one feels at ease. But
can you make anybody predictable?
The young man said,
"Nothing can be predicted. Everything goes on moving into more and more
mysteries, and I am perfectly at ease; whatever is happening is a joy. Each
moment is so sweet and so fragrant, I cannot ask for more. Whoever you are,
you are good. I love you, I love everybody ... I simply love. I don't know
any other way to relate with existence."
This is faith: not knowing another way to relate with existence except love,
except a total acceptance -- the one suchness. The king was so impressed. He
knew well that a man who has renounced the world, even renounced his
clothes, and in cold winter nights goes on standing alone in his silence, is
bound to refuse his invitation -- a simple expectation of any human being.
But he said, "I have fallen in so much love with you that the whole day I
wait for when the night comes and I go
on my round. I am
always afraid that some day you may not be here. I want you to be closer to
me. Can I invite you to my palace? I will arrange everything as you want."
There was not even a single moment's hesitation and the man said, "This is a
good idea." The king was shocked. One expects from a saint that he has
renounced the world, he cannot come back to the world -- and the saint would
have risen in honor and respect in his eyes.
But the man said, "This is a perfect idea! I can just go with you right now.
I don't have anything to carry with me, no arrangements have to be made."
The king was in doubt -- perhaps he has been befooled. Perhaps this man is
not a saint; he has only been pretending and must have been waiting for this
moment. But now it was very difficult to take the invitation back. So sadly,
reluctantly, he had to take the man whom he had desired so much, loved so
much, his company, his presence, his eyes, his every gesture ... He gave him
the best palace where his guests, other kings and emperors, used to stay.
He was hoping that the saint would say, "No, I don't need these golden beds
and marble palaces. I am a naked monk, more in tune with the trees, with the
wind, with the cold, with the heat." But instead of this, the man became
very interested. He said, "Great! This is the right place!"
The king could not
sleep the whole night, although the monk slept the whole night perfectly
well in those luxurious surroundings. From that morning the monk's
respectability in the mind of the king went down every day, because he was
eating luxurious food, he was no longer naked, he was using the costliest
robes. He was not worried about women -- the most beautiful women were
serving him and he was quite at ease, as if nothing had happened. He looked
just the same as he did naked under the tree.
But it was too much;
it was becoming a wound in the king's heart that he had really been
befooled, cheated. Now, how to get rid of this man? He is not a saint ...
One day he asked him, "I have been carrying a question in my mind for many,
many days, but have not been courageous enough to ask."
The man said, "I know
-- not many, many days, but from the very moment when I accepted your
invitation."
The king was again
shocked. He said, "What do you mean?" He said, "I could see that very moment
the change in your face, in your eyes. If I had rejected your offer, you
would have respected me, touched my feet. But I don't reject anything. My
acceptance is total. If you are inviting me, it is perfectly good. When I
said the palace is
right, it is not the
palace that is right, I am right wherever I am. I was right under the tree
naked; I am right under these royal robes, surrounded by beautiful women,
all the luxuries.
Naturally I know you
must be very puzzled. You look tired, you look sad, you don't look your old
self. You can ask me the question, although I know the question." The king
said, "If you know the question, then the question now is that I want to
know what is the difference between me and you?"
The young man laughed
and he said, "I will answer, but not here because you will not understand
it. We will go for a morning walk, and at the right place, at the right
moment, I will answer."
So they both went on
the horses for a good morning ride, and the king was waiting and waiting. It
was a beautiful morning, but he was not there to enjoy the morning; only the
young man was enjoying. Finally the king said, "Now this river is the
boundary of my empire. Beyond the river I cannot go; that belongs to someone
with whom we have been enemies for centuries. We have ridden miles, and now
it is time enough. It is getting hot, the middle of the day."
The man said, "Yes, my answer is -- this is your robe, this is your horse"
-- and getting off his horse, he took off the robe. He said, "I am going to
the other side of the river, because I don't have any enemies. This robe was
never mine, and this horse was never mine. Just one small question: Are you
coming with me or not?"
The king said, "How
can I come with you? I have to look after the kingdom. My whole life's work,
struggle, fight, ambition is behind me in the kingdom. How can I go with
you?" The man said, "That is the difference. I can go -- I don't have
anything in the palace, I don't have anything to lose, nothing belongs to
me. As long as it was available, I enjoyed the suchness of it. Now I will
enjoy the wild trees, the river, the sun."
The king, as if
awakened from a nightmare, could see again that he had been mistaken. That
man had not been deceiving him; he was authentically a man of realization.
He said, "I beg your pardon. I touch your feet. Don't go, otherwise I will
never be able to forgive myself."
The young man said,
"To me there is no problem. I can come back, but you will still start
doubting, so it is better that you let me go. I will be just standing by the
other side of the bank under that beautiful tree. Whenever you want to come
you can come -- at least to the other shore -- and see me. I have no problem
in coming back, but I am not coming back because I don't want to disturb
your nights and days, and create tensions and worries."
The more he became
reluctant, the more the king started feeling sorry and sad, guilty about
what he had done. But the young monk said, "You could not understand me
because you don't understand the experience of suchness: wherever you are,
you are in a deep love relationship with everything that is. You don't have
to change anybody, you don't have to change anything, you don't have to
change yourself. Everything is as it should be; it is the most perfect
world.
"This is my faith,
this is not my belief. It is not that I believe it is so, it is that I
experience it is so." So 'faith' in the world of
Gautam Buddha and his
disciples has a totally different dimension, a different significance. It is
not belief. Belief is always in a concept -- a God, a heaven, a hell, a
certain theology, a certain system of ideas. Belief is of the mind and faith
is of your whole being. Belief is borrowed, faith is your own immediate
experience. You can believe in God, but you cannot have faith in God. You
can have faith in the trees, but you cannot believe in the trees. Faith is
existential, experiential.
Source: " The Great Zen Master Ta Hui " - Osho