Osho story on Laughter

The Last Laughter

I have heard about three monks. No name is mentioned, because they never told their names to anybody, they never answered
anything. So in China they are only known simply as “the three laughing monks.”

They did only one thing: they would enter a village, stand in the marketplace, and start laughing. Suddenly people would become aware and they would laugh with their whole being. Then others would also get the infection, and then a crowd would gather, and just looking at them the whole crowd would start laughing. What is happening? Then the whole town would get involved, and they would move to another town. They were loved very much. That was their only sermon, the only message — that laugh. And they would not teach, they would simply create the situation.

Then it happened they became famous all over the country — the three laughing monks. The whole of China loved them, respected them. Nobody had preached that way — that life must be just a laughter and nothing else. And they were not laughing at anybody in particular, but simply laughing as if they had understood the cosmic joke. They spread so much joy all over China without using a single word. People would ask their names but they would simply laugh, so that became their name, the three laughing monks.

Then they became old, and in one village one of the three monks died. The whole village was very expectant, filled with expectations, because now at least when one of them had died they must weep. This would be something worth seeing, because no one could even conceive of these people weeping.

The whole village gathered. The two monks were standing by the side of the corpse of the third and laughing such a belly laugh. So the villagers asked, “At least explain this!”

So for the first time they spoke, and they said, “We are laughing because this man has won. We were always wondering who would die first, and this man has defeated us. We are laughing at our defeat, at his victory. He lived with us for many years, and we laughed together and we enjoyed each other’s togetherness, presence. There can be no other way of giving him the last send-off, we can only laugh.”

The whole village was sad, but when the dead monk’s body was put on the funeral pyre, then the village realized that not only were these two joking — the third who was dead was also laughing… because the third man who was dead had told his companions, “Don’t change my dress!” It was conventional that when a man died they changed the dress and gave a bath to the body, so he had said, “Don’t give me a bath because I have never been unclean. So much laughter has been in my life that no impurity can accumulate near me, can even come to me. I have not gathered any dust, laughter is always young and fresh. So don’t give me a bath and don’t change my clothes.”

So just to pay him respect they had not changed his clothes. And when the body was put on the fire, suddenly they became aware that he had hidden many things under his clothes and those things started… Chinese fireworks! So the whole village laughed, and those two said, “You rascal! You have died, but again you have defeated us. Your laughter is the last.”

There is a cosmic laughter when the whole joke of this cosmos is understood. That is the highest, only a buddha can laugh like that. These three monks must have been three buddhas. But if you can laugh the second, that too is worth trying.

Osho – “Vedanta : Seven Steps to Samadhi”

Osho story on -Old Man’s Horse

Old Man’s Horse

I will tell you a small story. It happened in the days of Lao Tzu in China, and Lao Tzu loved it very much. For generations the followers of Lao Tzu have been repeating the story and always finding more and more meaning in it. The story has grown; it has become a live factor.

The story is simple: There was an old man in a village, very poor, but even kings were jealous of him because he had a beautiful white horse. Such a horse had never been seen before — the beauty, the very grandeur, the strength. Kings asked for the horse and they offered fabulous prices, but the old man would say, `This horse is not a horse to me, he is a person, and how can you sell a person? He is a friend, he is not a possession. How can you sell a friend? No, it is not possible.’ The man was poor, there was every temptation, but he never sold the horse.

One morning, he suddenly found that the horse was not in the stable. The whole village gathered and they said, `You foolish old man. We knew it beforehand, that some day the horse would be stolen. And you are so poor — how can you protect such a precious thing? It would have been better to sell it. You could have fetched any price you asked, any fancy price was possible. Now the horse is gone. It is a curse, a misfortune.’

The old man said, `Don’t go too far — simply say that the horse is not in the stable. This is the fact; everything else is a judgment. Whether it is a misfortune or not, how do you know? How do you judge?’

The people said, `Don’t try to befool us. We may not be great philosophers, but no philosophy is needed. It is a simple fact that a treasure has been lost, and it is a misfortune.’

The old man said, `I will stick to the fact that the stable is empty and the horse is gone. Anything else I don’t know — whether it is a misfortune or a blessing — because this is just a fragment. Who knows what is going to follow it?’

People laughed. They thought the old man had gone mad. They always knew it, that he was a little crazy; otherwise he would have sold this horse and lived in riches. But he was living like a woodcutter, and he was very old and still cutting wood and bringing the wood from the forest and selling it. He was living hand to mouth, in misery and poverty. Now it was completely certain that this man was crazy.

After fifteen days, suddenly one night, the horse returned. He had not been stolen: he had escaped to the wilderness. And not only did he come back, he brought a dozen wild horses with him. Again the people gathered and they said, `Old man, you were right and we were wrong. It was not a misfortune, it proved to be a blessing. We are sorry that we insisted.’

The old man said, `Again you are going too far. Just say that the horse is back, and say that twelve horses have come with the horse — but don’t judge. Who knows whether it is a blessing or not? It is only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read one page of a book, how can you judge the whole book? You read a sentence in a page — how can you judge the whole page? You read a single word in a sentence — how can you judge the whole sentence? And even a single word is not in the hand — life is so vast — a fragment of a word and you have judged the whole! Don’t say that this is a blessing, nobody knows. And I am happy in my no-judgment; don’t disturb me.’

This time the people could not say much; maybe the old man was again right. So they kept silent, but inside they knew well that he was wrong. Twelve beautiful horses had come with the horse. A little training and they could all be sold and they would fetch much money.

The old man had a young son, only one son. The young son started to train the wild horses; just a week later he fell from a wild horse and his legs were broken. The people gathered again — and people are people everywhere, like you everywhere — again they judged. Judgment comes so soon! They said, `You were right, again you proved right. It was not a blessing, it was again a misfortune. Your only son has lost his legs, and in your old age he was your only support. Now you are poorer than ever.’

The old man said, `You are obsessed with judgment. Don’t go that far. Say only that my son has broken his legs. Who knows whether this is a misfortune or a blessing? — nobody knows. Again a fragment, and more is never given to you. Life comes in fragments, and judgment is about the total.’

It happened that after a few weeks the country went to war with a neighbouring country, and all the young men of the town were forcibly taken for the military. Only the old man’s son was left because he was crippled. The people gathered, crying and weeping, because from every house young people were forcibly taken away. And there was no possibility of their coming back, because the country that had attacked was a big country and the fight was a losing fight. They were not going to come back.

The whole town was crying and weeping, and they came to the old man and they said, `You were right, old man! God knows, you were right — this proved a blessing. Maybe your son is crippled, but still he is with you. Our sons are gone for ever. At least he is alive and with you, and, by and by, he will start walking. Maybe a little limp will be left, but he will be okay.’

The old man again said, `It is impossible to talk to you people, you go on and on and on — you go on judging. Nobody knows! Only say this: that your sons have been forced to enter into the military, into the army, and my son has not been forced. But nobody knows whether it is a blessing or a misfortune. Nobody will ever be able to know it. Only God knows.’

And when we say only God knows, it means only the Total knows. Judge ye not, otherwise you will never be able to become one with the Total. With fragments you will be obsessed, with small things you will jump to conclusions. And Sufis are very insistent on this: that you never bother that there are things which are completely beyond you, but even about them you make judgments. Your consciousness is on a very low rung of the ladder. You live in the dark valley of misery, anguish, and from your darkest valleys of miseries you judge even a Buddha. Even a Buddha is not left without your judgment. Even a Jesus is judged by you — not only judged but crucified; judged and found guilty; judged and punished.

 
Osho – “Until you Die” 

Osho story on Search of God-At the doorsteps of God

At the doorsteps of God

The fear comes at the moment when you come to dissolve your last part, because then it will be irrevocable; you will not be able to come back.

I have told many times a beautiful poem of Rabindranath Tagore. The poet has been searching for God for millions of lives. He has seen him sometimes, far away, near a star, and he started moving that way, but by the time he reached that star, God has moved to some other place.

But he went on searching and searching — he was determined to find God’s home — and the surprise of surprises was, one day he actually reached a house where on the door was written: “God’s Home.”

You can understand his ecstasy, you can understand his joy. He runs up the steps, and just as he is going to knock on the door, suddenly his hand freezes. An idea arises in him: “If by chance this is really the home of God, then I am finished, my seeking is finished. I have become identified with my seeking, with my search. I don’t know anything else. If the door opens and I face God, I am finished — the search is over. Then what? Then there is an eternity of boredom — no excitement, no discovery, no new challenge, because there cannot be any challenge greater than God.”

He starts trembling with fear, takes his shoes off his feet, and descends back down the beautiful marble steps. He took the shoes off so that no noise was made, for his fear was that even a noise on the steps… God may open the door, although he has not knocked. And then he runs as fast as he has never run before. He used to think that he had been running after God as fast as he can, but today, suddenly, he finds energy which was never available to him before. He runs as he has never run, not looking back.

The poem ends, “I am still searching for God. I know his home, so I avoid it and search everywhere else. The excitement is great, the challenge is great, and in my search I continue, I continue to exist. God is a danger — I will be annihilated. But now I am not afraid even of God, because I know His home. So, leaving His home aside, I go on searching for him all around the universe. And deep down I know my search is not for God; my search is to nourish my ego.”

Osho – “Beyond Psychology”

A zen Story by osho-Cherry Blossom and the Misty Moon

Cherry Blossom and the Misty Moon

It happened about a very famous Zen woman, her name was Rengetsu…. Very few women have attained to the Zen ultimate. This one is one of those rare women.

She was on a pilgrimage, and she came to a village at sunset and begged for lodging for the night, but the villagers slammed their doors. They were against Zen. Zen is so revolutionary, so utterly rebellious, that it is very difficult to accept it. By accepting it you are going to be transformed; by accepting it you will be passing through a fire, you will never be the same again.

So traditional people have always been against ALL that it true in religion. Tradition is all that is untrue in religion. So those must have been traditional Buddhists in the town, and they didn’t allow this woman to stay in the town; they threw her out. It was a cold night, and the old woman with no lodging… and hungry. She had to make a cherry tree in the fields her shelter. It was really cold, and she could not sleep well. And it was dangerous too — wild animals and all.

At midnight she awoke — because of too much cold — and saw, as it were, in the spring night sky, the fully opened cherry blossoms laughing to the misty moon. Overcome with the beauty, she got up and made a reverence in the direction of the village….

This is what TATHATA IS.

Overcome with the beauty, she got up and made a reverence in the direction of the village:

Through their kindness in refusing me lodging I found myself beneath the blossoms on the night of this misty moon.

She feels grateful. With great gratitude she thanks those people who refused her lodging, otherwise she would be sleeping under an ordinary roof, and she would have missed this blessing — these cherry blossoms, and this whispering with the misty moon, and this silence of the night, this utter silence of the night. She is not angry, she accepts it. Not only accepts it, welcomes it — she feels grateful.

A man becomes a Buddha the moment he accepts all that life brings with gratitude. He is on the Way, he is on Tao; and he IS becoming meditative.

Osho – “Zen the Path of Paradox”

A beautiful Osho story on Rabia-Why are you searching for bliss in the outside world?

Why are you searching for bliss in the outside world?

Rabia el Adawiya is one of the rarest women in the whole human history. There are only a few names that can be compared to Rabia, but still she remains rare, even among these few names — Meera, Theresa, Laila. These are the few names. But Rabia still remains rare. She is a KOHINOOR, the most precious woman ever born. Her insight is immense.

Hasan is also a famous mystic but on a very much lower scale. And there are many stories about Hasan and Rabia.

One day Rabia is sitting inside her hut. It is early morning, and Hasan comes to see her. And the sun is rising and the birds are singing and the trees are dancing. It is a really beautiful morning.

And he calls forth from the outside, ‘Rabia, what are you doing inside? Come out! God has given birth to such a beautiful morning. What are you doing inside?’

And Rabia laughs and she says, ‘Hasan, outside is only God’s creation, inside is God himself. Why don’t you come in? Yes, the morning is beautiful, but it is nothing compared with the Creator who creates all the mornings. Yes, those birds are singing beautifully, but they are nothing compared with the song of God. That happens only when you are within. Why don’t you come in? Are you not yet finished with the without, with the outside? When will you be able to come in?’

Such stories, small, but of tremendous significance….

One evening people saw her searching for something on the street in front of her hut. They gathered together — the poor old woman was searching for something. They asked, ‘What is the matter? What are you searching for?’ And she said, ‘I have lost my needle.’ So they also started helping.

Then somebody asked, ‘Rabia, the street is big and night is just descending and soon there will be no light and a needle is such a small thing — unless you tell us exactly where it has fallen it will be difficult to find.’

Rabia said, ‘Don’t ask that. Don’t bring that question up at all. If you want to help me, help, otherwise don’t help, but don’t bring up that question.’

They all stopped — all those who were searching — and they said. ‘What is the matter? Why can’t we ask this? If you don’t say where it has fallen, how can we be of any help to you?’

She said, ‘The needle has fallen inside my house.’

They said, ‘Then have you gone mad? If the needle has fallen inside the house why are you searching here?’

And she said, ‘Because the light is here. Inside the house there is no light.’

Somebody said, ‘Even if the light is here, how can we find the needle if it has not been lost here? The right way would be to bring light inside the house so you can find the needle.’

And Rabia laughed, ‘You are such clever people about small things. When are you going to use your intelligence for your inner life? I have seen you all searching outside and I know perfectly well, I know from my own experience that that which you are searching for is lost within. The bliss that you are searching for, you have lost within — and you are searching outside. And your logic is that because your eyes can see easily outside, and your hands can grope easily outside, because the light is outside, that’s why you are searching outside.

‘If you are really intelligent,’ Rabia said, ‘then use your intelligence. why are you searching for bliss in the outside world? Have you lost it there?’

They stood dumbfounded and Rabia disappeared into her house.

Osho – “Sufis: The People of the Path”

Osho story on Buddha-A small Girl

Buddha and a Small Girl

There is a beautiful story.

Gautam Buddha comes into a town. The whole town has gathered to listen to him but he goes on waiting, looking backwards at the road — because a small girl, not more than thirteen years old, has met him on the road and told him, “Wait for me. I am going to give this food to my father at the farm, but I will be back in time. But don’t forget, wait for me.”

Finally, the elders of the town say to Gautam Buddha, “For whom are you waiting? Everybody important is present; you can start your discourse.”

Buddha says, “But the person for whom I have come so far is not yet present and I have to wait.”

Finally the girl arrives and she says, “I am a little late, but you kept your promise. I knew you would keep the promise, you had to keep the promise because I have been waiting for you since I became aware… maybe I was four years old when I heard your name. Just the name, and something started ringing a bell in my heart. And since then it has been so long — ten years maybe — that I have been waiting.”

And Buddha says, “You have not been waiting uselessly. You are the person who has been attracting me to this village.”

And he speaks, and that girl is the only one who comes to him: “Initiate me. I have waited enough, and now I want to be with you.”

Buddha says, “You have to be with me because your town is so far off the way that I cannot come again and again. The road is long, and I am getting old.”

In that whole town not a single person came up to be initiated into meditation — only that small girl.

In the night when they were going to sleep, Buddha’s chief disciple Ananda asked, “Before you go to sleep I want to ask you one question: do you feel a certain pull towards a certain space — just like a magnetic pull?”

And Buddha said, “You are right. That’s how I decide my journeys. When I feel that somebody is thirsty — so thirsty that without me, there is no way for the person — I have to move in that direction.”

The master moves towards the disciple.

The disciple moves towards the master.

Sooner or later they are going to meet.

The meeting is not of the body, the meeting is not of the mind. The meeting is of the very soul — as if suddenly you bring two lamps close to each other; the lamps remain separate but their flames become one. Between two bodies when the soul is one, it is very difficult to say that it is a relationship. It is not, but there is no other word; language is really poor.

It is at-oneness.

Osho – “The Osho Upanishad”

Osho story on Kamasutra

Shankara’s Defeat

Shankara went around the country arguing. He came to a place called Mandala — I have been to Mandala many times. It is just a two-hour drive from Jabalpur, situated in a very beautiful place. Narmada, one of the holy rivers of the Hindus, falls in one thousand streams. The mountain is such that the river is divided into one thousand, exactly one thousand, streams. It is a beautiful scene. The story is that there was one monster who had one thousand hands. Narmada is the only river in India which is virgin, other rivers are married. This Sahasrabahu — one thousand arms…. That is the meaning of the name: Sahasra means one thousand, bahu means arms — sahasrabahu means a one-thousand-armed man. He said, “I am going to marry this girl. She cannot escape me. I have got one thousand hands; where is she going to escape?”

So he tried to catch hold of the river with his one thousand hands. But to destroy the virginity of a woman, according to Hindus, is the greatest sin possible. Christians would have rewarded him, given him some place in their trinity: another holy ghost. But Hindus have punished him — at least in the story it is so; he turned into a stone. And really the whole mountain does look as if the Narmada is falling through one thousand hands.

So Mandala has been an ancient place of pilgrimage and has always been a seat of great Hindu scholars. One Hindu scholar had in his youth moved around just like Shankara; Mandan Mishra was his name. Mandala was called after his name, Mandan, because he lived there. He was so famous that the name of the place was changed and called after him.

When he was young he had moved all around the country and defeated all the scholars and philosophers. He was old when Shankara was young, just thirty years of age — he died when Shankara was thirty-three. After defeating everybody Shankara was a little reluctant to go and challenge Mandan Mishra because Mandan was so old. But without defeating Mandan he could not declare that he had conquered the whole country and convinced everybody that what he was saying was true. Reluctantly he went.

Outside the town, at the we]l, a few women were drawing water. Shankara asked them, “can you tell me where the house of Mandan Mishra is?”

And all those women giggled and laughed, and they said, “You need not ask. You just go into the town and you will find it, because even the parrots in front of his house recite the VEDAS. You need not ask anybody, you just go. The very atmosphere around his house will tell you that you have come close to Mandan Mishra.”

Shankara was a little afraid — he had never heard of parrots reciting the whole of the VEDAS. And in the end he went and he saw with his own eyes a row of parrots in the mango trees reciting the VEDAS in perfect Sanskrit. He thought, “this man seems to be difficult. But there is no way to avoid it.” He went in, touched the feet of the old man with respect, and challenged him.

Mandan said, “I am too old, but if you feel that it is necessary, then I am ready. But I feel a little reluctant myself arguing with a young man. You are too young, and I am too old, too experienced and I have won all over the country. You should think twice. Right now you have not been defeated by anybody, but those are the people I defeated in my youth, myself; so think twice.”

Shankara said, “I never think twice. I first take the jump and then think. Are you ready or not? If you are not ready then you will have to become my follower.’

Mandan said, “There is no problem for me; I enjoy a dialogue, I enjoy discussing — and with a man like you it is really joyful. Even to be defeated is a great blessing. To have found someone who has more intelligence than you is not a disgrace. But,” Mandan said, “one thing has to be decided. You will have to find somebody who can preside; otherwise the decision will be very difficult.”

Shankara had heard that Mandan’s wife was as great an intellectual as Mandan himself In fact, in Mandan’s youth they had a six-month-long discussion, and only then was Mandan able to defeat the woman. But the woman had, from the very beginning, put this condition: “If I am defeated then you will have to marry me. If you are defeated then certainly I am going to marry you because….” Mandan saw that he was in a dilemma in every way; he was caught. And he could not refuse a woman, that would be too unmannerly; you cannot refuse a woman. So he fought.

And the woman was really a giant; it took six months, and I suspect she got defeated by her own doing. And I have reasons to suspect it, because anyway she was going to marry him. It would look ugly to be victorious and then to marry a man who has been defeated — that would not be nice — and to have a defeated husband…. So my feeling has always been that Bharti — her name was Bharti — must have arranged it. Six months was enough to prove her mettle. All over the country, for even six days nobody had been able to withstand Mandan. If she could withstand six months, she must have turned the whole of Mandan’s blood to perspiration.

And she must have got herself defeated. Why I suspect it is because of this second debate between Shankara and Mandan. Shankara said, “I would like your wife to preside.”

Bharti said, “I have no problem, if you choose me knowing perfectly well that I am the wife of Mandan Mishra.”

Shankara said, “That I know, but I know also that you are a great intellectual, that you were the only one who almost defeated Mandan. And I cannot conceive of you — being Mandan’s wife, and yourself an independent intellectual in your own right — as being unfair I accept you. Whatsoever you decide will be, without complaint, accepted.”

The debate again lasted six months. Finally Mandan was defeated. Shankara asked Bharti’s opinion.

Bharti said, “Mandan is defeated but you are not victorious yet.” This was the climate of intelligence. She said, “Mandan is defeated but you are not victorious yet because 1, being his wife, according to Hindu scriptures am half of his being. So you have only done with one half of Mandan Mishra. The other half is still here. Now you will have to discuss with me.”

Shankara was tired enough. Six months with Mandan had been such a difficult job that many times he had thought that he was going to lose. And then immediately to begin another debate…. And he knew the woman had kept this Mandan in debate for six months; now what was going to happen? But that woman was really intelligent. She said, “I am not interested in theology — I am a woman — so forget all about your BRAHMASUTRAS of Badarayana; SHRIMAD BHAGAVADGITA, VEDAS; I am not interested in them, my interest is in Vatsyayana’s KAMASUTRAS” — the first book on sexology in the whole world.

Now, Shankara was a bachelor, thirty years old. He said, “Vatsyayana? — but I have not even read him.”

Bharti said, “You can ask for time to study.”

But he said, “Just study won’t help, because I don’t have any practical knowledge.”

Bharti said, “I can give you as much time as you want. You can get married, you can have practical knowledge. But till you defeat me in sexology, on matters concerning sex and its subtleties, you have no right to declare yourself victorious. Mandan is defeated, Mandan has to be your follower; he can help you.

 He is old, he is my husband and he knows everything about sex. He can help you now he is your follower. But half of his being still has to be conquered.”

Now, Shankara’s disciples must have invented the rest of the story because it seems contrived. Up to then it was perfectly right, historical. Shankara asked for six months’ leave, and in those six months he entered the body of a king who had just died — because he could not have experience of sex through his own body, he was a celibate monk. And the woman had put him in such a spot — either he had to accept defeat and become a follower of Bharti…. That would be stupid: Mandan, his follower, and he himself, Bharti’s follower.

I don’t think it is true — Shankara must have experienced sex through his own body. Now let Hindus and their religious feelings be hurt; what can I do? I cannot believe any nonsense that he entered a just — dead king and used the king’s body and left his own body in a cave — I have been to the cave also — with his disciples. They had to protect the body till he returned, so continuously, twenty-four hours a day, they were guarding the body, taking care of the body. And for six months he lived in the king’s body having all kinds of sexual experiences with his many queens.

And after six months he entered his own body; the king died. Shankara went back to Mandan for the debate — and Bharti simply laughed. She said, “I was just joking. When my husband is defeated, I am defeated. His life is my life, his death is my death, his pleasure is my pleasure, and his pain is my pain. His defeat is my defeat — you need not argue.”

Shankara said, “My God! Then why did you put me to such trouble?”

Osho – “From Personality to Individuality”

Osho story on wisdom of stories

Same Old Stories

It once happened to a man who was travelling by rail: he noticed that another man who was his sole companion in the compartment was behaving in an unusual way. For some time he seemed to be chuckling to himself very happily, and then a serious look would come over his face and he would make a gesture of impatience before resuming his chuckles again. After a while, the first man could not stand it any longer and said,’Excuse my asking, sir, but what is it that amuses you so much?’

‘Funny stories, of course,’ he promptly replied,’I am telling myself funny stories.’

‘How very interesting,’ murmured the first man soothingly, and then added,’but every now and then you look very serious. Why is that?’

‘That is when it is a story I have heard before.’

This is how things go on. If you yourself are telling the story, how can you tell the new story? All stories are heard before; you can just repeat. Your life cannot be a life of newness, of freshness, of morning. Your life is bound to be stale, stuffed with just repetitions; at the most an efficient mechanism, but no consciousness.

So whenever you are ready to take the journey for the unknown, the pilgrimage towards the divine, fear will arise — fear of losing that which you have never had, fear of losing life. Life you have never had — just a mechanical thing: the fear of losing a repetitive efficiency, the fear of losing your old pattern. It may be comfortable and convenient, but it is not alive.

 There is nothing like death, because death is the most comfortable state of being, convenient. In a grave you will be perfectly comfortable and convenient, and there is no trouble. Life always creates new troubles. Those troubles are not really troubles. If you look rightly, they are challenges to grow.

Osho – “Come Follow To You”

Sufi mystic story who had remained happy his whole life

What do you want?

One Sufi mystic who had remained happy his whole life — no one had ever seen him unhappy — who was always laughing, who was laughter, whose whole being was a perfume of celebration…. In his old age, when he was dying, on his deathbed and still enjoying death, laughing hilariously, a disciple asked, “You puzzle us. Now you are dying, why are you laughing? What is there funny about it? We are feeling so sad. 

We wanted to ask you many times in your life why you are never sad. But now, confronting death at least, one should be sad. You are still laughing — how are you managing it?”

The old man said, “It is simple. I had asked my master — I had gone to my master as a young man; I was only seventeen and already miserable, and my master was old, seventy, and he was sitting under a tree, laughing for no reason at all. There was nobody else there, nothing had happened, nobody had cracked a joke or anything, and he was simply laughing, holding his belly. I asked him, ‘What is the matter with you? Are you mad or something?’

“He said, ‘One day I was also as sad as you are. Then it dawned on me that it is my choice, it is my life.’

“Since that day, every morning when I get up, the first thing I decide is… before I open my eyes I say to myself, ‘Abdullah’” — that was his name — “‘what do you want? Misery? Blissfulness? What you are going to choose today?’ And it happens that I always choose blissfulness.”

It is a choice. Try it. When you become aware the first moment in the morning that sleep has left, ask yourself, “Abdullah, another day! What is your idea? Do you choose misery or blissfulness?”

And who would choose misery? And WHY? It is so unnatural — unless one feels blissful in misery, but then too you are choosing bliss, not misery.

Osho – “The Book of Wisdom”

Osho story on Habit

Just out of Habit

There is a story that when the great library of Alexandria was burned, one book was saved. But it was not a valuable book, and so a poor man, who could read a little, bought it for a few coppers. It was not very interesting, yet there was a most interesting thing in it. It was a thin strip of vellum on which was written the secret of the “touchstone”.

The touchstone was a small pebble that could turn any common metal into pure gold The writing explained that it was on the shores of the Black Sea lying among thousands and thousands of other pebbles which looked exactly like it. But the secret was this: the real stone would feel warm, while ordinary pebbles are cold. So the man sold his few belongings, bought some simple supplies, camped on the seashore, and began testing the pebbles.

This was his plan: he knew that if he picked up ordinary pebbles and threw them down again because they were cold, he might pick up the same pebbles hundreds of times. So when he felt one that was cold he threw it into the sea. He spent a whole day doing this, and they were none of them the touchstone. Then he spent a week, a month, a year, three years… but he did not find the touchstone. Yet he went on and on this way: pick up a pebble, it’s cold, throw it into the sea… and so on and so on. Just visualize the man doing it for years and years and years — pick up a pebble, it is cold, throw it into the sea… from morning to evening, for years and years.

But one morning he picked up a pebble and it was WARM — and he threw it into the sea. He had formed the habit of throwing them into the sea, you understand, and habit made him do it when at last he found the touchstone, poor fellow.

That’s how mind functions. Trust is a touchstone. Very rarely do you find a man in whom you can trust. Very rarely do you find a heart who is warm, loving, in whom you can trust. Ordinarily you find pebbles which look like the touchstone, almost alike, but all are cold. year in, year out, from the very childhood: you pick up a pebble, you feel it, it is cold, you throw it into the ocean.

Osho -” The Divine Melody”