Communication

 

 

In this sleep, when the heart is in darkness and the whole light has become focussed on the head, even if you are told the ultimate truths you will misunderstand them. Even if a Buddha tries to wake you up, you will be angry at him. Naturally, obviously! because you will think he is disturbing you. He is disturbing your dreams, not you, but you have invested too much in your dreams. He will say one thing, you will understand another.

 

Either you will go on listening according to your prejudices, choosing -- choosing only those things which can support you -- or you will become very angry, you will crucify, you will poison, you will destroy such a person who comes and unnecessarily disturbs your sleep.

 

Your sleep is deep. It has been long, long there. You have become accustomed to it -- so much so that the heart goes on sleeping and still you can manage your life. YOU are a sleep-walker, a somnambulist. There are people who walk in their sleep; they can go to the fridge, they can eat something, they can come back to their beds -- and they will not stumble anywhere. And if you wake them up in the middle, they will be very much surprised; they will not be able to figure it out, where they are and what they are doing. They will be shocked.

 

They move with open eyes, remember; somnambulists move with open eyes. But those open eyes are not really open; they simply manage a few steps. And because they have become accustomed to those few steps, they can be done mechanically; no consciousness is needed. Just watch your life: you are doing a thousand and one things, but all those things are mechanical. You go on doing them like a robot.

 

And when you talk to robots, it is really very difficult to reach them. They misunderstand.

 

It seems there were two brothers by the name of Jones. John Jones was married and Jim was the owner of an old dilapidated rowboat. It just so happened that John's wife died on the same day that Jim's boat filled with water and sank. A few days later, a kindly old lady saw Jim on the street, and mistaking him for John said, "Oh, Mr. Jones. I heard about your terrible catastrophe. You must feel heartbroken."

 

Replied Jim, "Why, I am not a bit sorry. She was a rotten old thing from the start. Her bottom was all chewed up and she smelled like old dead fish. She had a bad crack in back and a pretty bad hole in the front and every time I used her she started leaking all over the place. Oh, I could handle her all right, but when anybody else used her, she would go to pieces. Well, here is what finished her. Four guys came across town looking for a good time and asked me to rent out. I warned them she was not so hot, but they said they wanted to take a crack anyway. Well, the damn fools, all four of them tried to get inside at once and she split right up the middle."

 

The old woman fainted before he could finish.

 

That's how it goes on: one thing is said, something else is understood. Communication is very very difficult. Even ordinary communication is difficult, and when a man like Kabir talks it becomes almost impossible -- because he is talking from the sunlit Himalayan tops and you are listening from your dark holes in the valley. By the time it reaches you its colour has changed, its flavour has changed, its meaning is no more the same.

 

And, obviously, you interpret it according to your own conditionings, your own past. Hence, you hear but you don't listen. You will have to learn how to listen. Listening means being utterly silent, not interpreting, not judging, not evaluating -- neither for nor against -- just being present.

 

Listen to these words of Kabir, just as a silent presence. Don't be in a hurry to decide whether he is right or wrong. The beauty of listening is that if he is right, you will simply know that he is right. If he is true, truth is self-evident; you will know it as sure as you know when you have a headache -- nobody needs to prove it to you. [....]

 

It is difficult to prove, but there are things which need not be proved -- a mouse knows that he is a mouse. Proof may be difficult. When you listen to the truth, it may be difficult for you to prove that it is true, but YOU WILL KNOW. It will be an inner feeling that it is true, and that feeling is enough, because that feeling simply transports you into another world. It is not a question of your deciding whether it is true or untrue. If you decide, you will miss the whole point, because how are you going to decide? You will decide by your past. And you don't know what truth is! If you had known there would have been no need to listen to the Buddhas -- you would be a Buddha yourself You don't know, so your past has no idea of what truth is. How can your past decide what is what? Put the past aside. Just listen.

 

And I am not saying believe -- just listening is not synonymous with believing. It has nothing to do with belief or disbelief -- just listening is just listening. You are neither in favour nor disfavour; you are simply open. You allow it inside you.

 

And let me repeat: the beauty of truth is that when it reaches you, your heart simply jumps in joy. It knows! Truth synchronizes with your heart. It has the same rhythm. Suddenly the heart starts dancing, and that dance is the proof. And if it is not true, the heart will not dance, and then you will know that it is not true. But it is not a question of logical decision, of logical evaluation.

 

-Osho, “The Fish in the Sea is Not Thirsty, #4“