Question 1

You said that if one were talking about the body you would say that the body was death-oriented and if one were talking about the soul you would say, "you were never born at all." buddha has said of the soul, "it was just a bubble which is now no more. i myself am not there, so where will i go?" then what is it that is immortal and who is unborn?

 

 

There is a sea over which waves come and go, but the sea remains the same. The waves are not separate from the sea, but the waves are not the sea. Waves are only forms born on the sea, just appearances which take form and die. A wave that remains a wave forever cannot be called a wave.

 

The word "wave" means it dies as soon as it is born. That from which the wave arises is always there, but that which arises is not. This is a dance of the transitory on the breast of the eternal. The sea is unborn; the wave is taking birth. The sea never dies; the wave always dies. The moment the wave knows that it is the sea, it goes beyond the chain of life and death. But as long as the wave believes that it is a wave it is within the possibility of birth and death.

 

That which is, is unborn and deathless. From where will birth come? Nothing is born out of the void. Where will death happen? Nothing is lost in the void. That which is, is eternal. Time makes no difference to it; time does not affect it. This existence is not within our grasp because our senses can only comprehend form and shape. Our senses cannot comprehend that which is beyond name and form.

 

It is interesting to note that you must have stood on the shore of the sea very often and upon returning would have said that you have seen the sea. But you have only seen the waves, not the sea. The sea cannot be seen. What you can see are the waves. Senses can see only what appears

 

on the surface. That which is within remains beyond their comprehension. The senses see the superficial form; the formless within eludes their grasp.

 

The world of name and form is born only because of the senses. It is not existence. Whatsoever has a name and form is born and will die and that which is beyond name and form is eternal. Neither is it born, nor will it die. So when Buddha says that he was born as a bubble, he is referring to two aspects of a bubble. What does the bubble contain? If we enter into a bubble, we will find that a very small amount of the same infinite all-pervasive air that is outside is enclosed within a thin film of water. This thin film has imprisoned a small portion of air, and that small part of air has become the bubble.

 

Naturally, like everything, the bubble also expands. Upon expanding, it breaks and bursts. Then the air that was within the bubble unites with the outer air and the water with water. But that which came into existence meanwhile was a rainbow existence. Nothing ever changed in the air or the water; they remain as they are. But meanwhile, a form was born which died.

 

If we look upon ourselves as bubbles, then we also are forms that take birth and die. What is within us was always, but we identify ourselves with the bubble. So if I am looking at you from the point of view of the body, I will say that you are death-oriented and slowly dying. From the moment you were born you began dying, and you have not been doing anything else except dying. The bubble may take seven moments to burst, but you take about seventy years to burst.

 

In the endless flow of time, there is no difference between seven moments and seventy years. All difference is due to our narrow vision. If time is endless with no beginning and no end, then what is the difference between seven moments and seventy years? If time is a determined quantity, say a hundred years, then seven moments will be very small and seventy years will be quite a long span.

 

But if there is no limit on either end, if there is neither a beginning nor an end, then there is no difference between seven moments and seventy years. In how many moments the bubble bursts is of no consequence.

 

No sooner is it born when it starts bursting. That is why I described the body as death-oriented. By body I mean that which manifests through birth with a name and form. By soul I mean that which remains even after that name and form are lost. When there was no such name and form, then also it was. By the soul I mean the sea and by the body I mean the wave. It is necessary to understand these things clearly.

 

That which is within us never dies, so inwardly we feel that "I will never die." We see that hundreds of thousands of people are dying but still we are not convinced that we will also die. In our deepest depths there is no echo that "I too will die." People die before our very eyes and still that inner feeling of immortality remains. In deeper moments we are always aware that "I will die." We know that the facts show the fallaciousness of this belief and that outer events indicate that it is not possible that "I will not die." Reason says that if everything else has to die, then you will also die. But some voice within severs all links with reason and goes on saying, "I will not die."

 

That is why we do not believe that we will ever die. That is why we are able to live in the midst of death; otherwise, as we are surrounded by death constantly, we would die instantly. Why are we so confident and certain of living? That confidence is due to that something within that goes on telling

 

us that we will not die, regardless of how much we may say, or the occurrence of an actual death may say, that we will die.

 

No person can ever conceive of his own death. He cannot imagine that he will die. However much he may try to imagine that he is dying, he will find himself still there. Even if he imagines himself dead, he will find that he is there seeing, that he is there standing outside of death. We are not able to place ourselves within the jaws of death even in imagination, because while imagining we go on watching from the outside. The one who imagines stands outside, so he will not be able to die.

 

This voice from within is the voice of the sea. It asks us, "Where is death?" Death is unknown; still we are afraid of death. This fear comes from the voice of the body, and there is a confusion between the two. The moment we identify ourselves with the voice of the body, our spirits begin to tremble over the fact that the body is bound to die. No matter how much we may try to disprove this or seek the help of science or devise a system of medicine or surround ourselves with eminent physicians and medicines, the body does not for a single moment confirm that "I will live." The body does not have that feeling of deathlessness; it knows that daily it is dying.

 

The body knows that it is a bubble, but we know that we are not bubbles. The moment one identifies oneself with the bubble, all the tensions of one's life begin. No sooner does that within us which is immortal identify itself with the wave when it comes into difficulties. This identification is ignorance; breaking away from this identification is knowledge. Nothing changes; everything remains the same as before. The body remains where it was; the soul also remains where it was. Only the illusion disappears. Then we know that when the body will die we have not to be afraid, because there is no need to be afraid. The body is bound to die. It is useful to be afraid when there is a possibility of being saved. But in a situation from which there is no possibility of being saved, it is useless to become afraid.

 

When a soldier marches forward to the battlefield, when he first leaves his house, he is filled with fear. On the battlefield too he is fearful. But when the bombs begin showering upon him he becomes fearless, because then all possibilities of being saved are destroyed. Such a person can even play cards amidst continuous shellfire. And he is an ordinary man; there is nothing special about him.

 

But this is a unique situation. In this situation, fear of death is meaningless. Death is so imminent that there is no question of survival.

 

On the battlefield, there is some possibility of survival because some die while others survive, and so some fear remains. But on the field of death even that remote possibility is not there. At the moment of death the illusion that "I am the body" suddenly disappears. The fear of death disappears because there is no escape. Then the fact of the body dying becomes a certainty, a destiny. That is the fate of the body; there is no way of saving it.

 

The moment one realizes that death is the nature of the body, it suddenly becomes apparent that what is beyond the body was never born and so there is no question of its death. Thus, for the soul also, fear vanishes, because there is no reason to be afraid for that which cannot die. The fear arises due to the body and soul becoming identified with each other. It arises because the inner voice says, "I will not die," and the outer voice says, "You will certainly die!" These voices become confused. We are not aware that these two different melodies intermingle, and we listen to them as if they were the melodies of the same instrument. That is the mistake.

 

In our ignorance there is always a fear of death, but we go on living as if there were no death.

 

Every moment the ignorant person lives as if there were no death though he is frightened of it. The one who knows also lives as if there were no death, but he is aware that death can happen at any moment. He lives at two different levels. Life for him has split into two parts: the circumference has become separate from the center; the wave has become separate from the sea; the form has become separate from the formless. However, one cannot run away from death. It is a matter of wonder that a thing does not by itself cease to appear by our knowing that it is an illusion. By our knowing, only the consequent pain ceases.

 

Shankaracharya was always giving the example of a rope that appears like a snake in darkness.

 

But this example is inaccurate because by coming near you can know that it is a rope. And once you know that it is a rope, however far from it you may go, it will not look like a snake.

 

But the illusion of life is not like that. The illusion of life is like a stick that is dipped in water. In the water it will appear bent, but when you remove it from the water, it is straight. If you put it back in the water, it will again look bent. Then if you put your hands in the water you find that the stick is straight, but still it appears bent. Just by your knowing that it is straight, the slanted appearance of the stick does not disappear. But by your knowing, you no longer behave as if in the illusion that it is bent.

 

Our illusion of life is not like that of a rope looking like a snake, but like that of a straight stick appearing bent in the water. We know full well that the stick is not bent, but only appears so. The stick even appears bent to the greatest of scientists who have experimented and who know that by dipping the stick in water it does not become bent. Thus, this appearance of crookedness is due to our senses. Our knowledge has nothing to do with it.

 

The difference, therefore, is this: that you will not believe that the stick is bent, but it only appears to be bent. The matter is divided into two different levels. On the level of knowing, the stick is straight.

 

On the level of seeing, it is bent. There is no illusion on either of these levels.

 

On the level of living there is the body which is the outer and on the level of existence there is the atman - the soul. For the knower, the world is not lost. For him the world is just the same as it is for you. Probably, to him the world is clearer in its perspective and appearance. Every tiny cell of the existence is clearer to him. Nothing is lost for him, and he is not in any illusion. He knows that form is born out of the senses and is like the stick which appears bent in water. Because the rays of light bend and change while entering the water, the stick also appears bent. In air, rays of light do not bend, so the stick appears straight. The stick does not bend, but the rays of light bend while passing through water. Therefore, we see the stick as crooked.

 

The existence is as it is, but while passing through our senses the ray of knowledge becomes bent.

 

The ray of knowledge changes due to the medium through which things are known. If I wear blue spectacles, everything will look blue. When I remove them, I see that everything is white. If I put the spectacles on again, I again see everything as blue. I know that things appear blue due to the spectacles, so I will not be in illusion anymore. But I may continue putting on the specs and things will continue to appear blue. However, though I will know full well that the soul - the being - is immortal, the knowledge that the body is death-oriented also continues.

 

In spite of my knowing that the existence of the sea is eternal, the play of the waves continues.

 

But now I know that it has appeared so due to the spectacles. The spectacles are the eyes of the senses, and what you see through them is not necessarily real.

 

That is why the statements of people like Buddha, Mahavira or Jesus are made from two different planes - one of the soul and the other of the body. Our difficulty is that as we are confusing both the planes within ourselves, then naturally we also confuse their statements. Sometimes Buddha speaks as if he were the body. He says, "Ananda, I am thirsty. Please bring me water." The soul is never thirsty. It is the body that feels thirsty. Now Ananda may think that the body is not there at all, that it is only a name and form, just a bubble, "so how can it become thirsty?" Once you have known that there is no body, then from where does thirst come?

 

Then the next day, when Buddha says, "I am not born at all so I will never die," it creates difficulties for the listener. The listener's difficulty is that he thinks that with knowledge the existence will change.

 

Actually, by knowing the existence does not change; only one's gestalt changes. When Buddha says that he is thirsty, he only says that his body is thirsty - that this body, which is a bubble of name and form, is thirsty, and if it is not given water it will soon burst. But the listener's difficulty is that because he is living in a confused state, he is not able to distinguish which statement is coming from which plane, so he confuses their meanings also.

 

Simone Weil has written a book called GRADES OF SIGNIFICANCE. The greater the man, the more he lives on different levels of greatness at one time. He has to live like that because he has to talk from the levels of the people he meets. Otherwise, all talk becomes meaningless. If Buddha talks with you from his highest level, it will be useless. You will take him to be mad. It has generally happened that these types of people have been taken as mad. The reason for that is that whatever they said looked as if it were told by a mad person. Thus, if they speak from their level, they will be branded as mad.

 

If they have to speak from your level, they will have to come down. They will have to come down to a level where you can understand them. Then they will not appear mad. Thus, they will have to talk from as many levels as exist among the people that come to them.

 

One can say that the many people to whom Buddha spoke would come to him in the form of mirrors.

 

All these mirrors created their own separate images of Buddha, and the images were as faithful as the surfaces of the mirrors themselves. An image must match with the mirror. Thus, a convex mirror will broaden the image while a concave mirror will shorten it. If this were not so, the mirrors would be displeased, and then the mirrors would have to be broken or changed.

 

That is why the statements of people like Buddha come across on many different levels. Sometimes in only one statement there will be several levels. This is because when a person like Buddha begins to speak he does so from his own level and when he stops speaking he has come down to the level where you are. Many times in only one sentence there is a long journey - because when he begins to speak it is from the level where he is at. He begins with great expectations about you; then slowly he has to bring down his expectations, and in his last statements he reaches where you are.

 

His level and your level represent two deep divisions, but this does not mean that these two are very distant or separate or different. They are like that of the sea and the wave. The sea can sometimes

 

be without a wave, but the wave can never be without the sea. The formless can be without a form, but a form can never be without the formless.

 

But if we look at our language, it is interesting to see that it is the reverse. In our language, in the word nirakar, formless, there is the word sakar, form. But formless is not in the word form. In language, in the word formless, the word form will have to be there; but it will do if the word form does not include the formless. Language is created by us, but in existence the situation is the reverse. In existence there can be the formless without the form, but there can be no form without the formless.

 

All our words are like that. In the word ahimsa, non-violence, the word himsa, violence, is necessary.

 

But in the word violence, non-violence is not needed. In life, however, it is interesting to note that in order for violence to exist, non-violence is necessary; it is unavoidable. But non-violence can be there without violence. We create language and we create it according to our needs. For us the world can be without God, but how can God be without a world?

 

These are not two different things. Therefore, the macrocosmic can exist without the microcosmic; there is no difficulty for the sea to exist without the wave. But how can the wave be without the sea?

 

The wave is very small, and it is dependent for its very being upon the sea. If the surrounding sea raises it, it is there. The sea takes care of it from all the sides. If the sea releases it, it is gone.

 

These two are not separate, but I have to say that they are separate so that the wave will not be under the illusion that it is immortal, formless and eternal. If the wave thinks itself separate, then there is the possibility for this illusion and its consequences. But if the wave is one with the sea, there is no illusion. If the experience is that of oneness, then it will say, "I am not there at all; there is only the sea." In this way, Jesus was repeatedly saying, "I am not there; only my father in heaven is."

 

So we are in a difficulty. Either we want to be shown God in heaven so we can find out who he is and where he is, or we will call Jesus mad because we do not understand what he was saying. Jesus was saying, "I am the sea, not the wave," but we have not seen anything else but the wave. Sea is only a word for us. That which is the authentic existence is just a word for us, but what is only an appearance we take to be truth.

 

The soul is not known to us, but the body is daily seen by us. What is daily seen becomes truth for us. That is why I have said that the body is death-oriented and is itself a death. The soul is immortal, not death-oriented. But upon its deathlessness there is the dance of death of the body.

 

We have no difficulty in understanding the sea and the wave because we have not seen any enmity between them. But immortality and death are difficult to understand because we have assumed them to be enemies; that is our belief. When I talk about the sea and the wave, their existences are closely linked, so there does not seem to be any opposition. But immortality and death appear as stark enemies - as opposites. It seems they can never be one. But they are also one. The more closely and deeply you know death, the more you will find that death is nothing more than change.

 

The wave is also a change. The deeper you search into immortality, the more you will find it is nothing more than eternity. The existence of whatsoever appears to be in opposition in this world is based upon its opposite. Our difficulty is that it appears to us as opposite. We maintain a separation between death and immortality - but death cannot survive without the deathless. For death to exist,

 

it has to seek the support of that which is deathless. As long as death is there, it needs the support of that which is immortal.

 

Even for a lie to exist, it can do so only with the support of truth. For a lie to exist, it also has to claim that it is truth. Truth never claims to be truth, but the lie always claims that it is truth. It cannot travel an inch without such a claim. It has to vociferously announce, "Be careful; I am coming. I am truth."

 

It carries many certificates with it to prove why it is truth.

 

Truth needs no certificate; it needs no support from lies. If truth takes their support, it will be in difficulty. If the lie does not take the support of truth, then the lie will be in difficulty.

 

For immortality, the support of death is not necessary, but it is only in relation to the concept of immortality that the occurrence of death is understood. The pure existence has no need for that which is changeable, but what is changing can be understood only in relation to that which is changeless. One thing is certain, that we understand only the changeable - because that is what we are. That is why, whenever we think about immortality, we try to understand it only through that which is changeable. There is no other way.

 

Our condition is like one who is in darkness trying to guess what light is. He has no other way.

 

Darkness is only a very dim form of light. It is a condition of the minimum possible light. Where there is no light at all, there is no such thing as darkness. Light may be or it may be beyond the power of our eyes to grasp it.

 

Our senses grasp things only within certain limits. Otherwise, the beams of highly intense light that constantly pass by us would make us instantly blind if we were to see them. As long as we did not know what the x-ray was we did not know that the rays of the x-ray could pass through a human body. We did not know that a picture of our inside bones could be taken from outside. If not today, then tomorrow we may be able to find a ray which can penetrate through the initial cell of a newly conceived child in its mother's womb and enable us to see what will be the entire lifespan of that child after its birth. And there is a possibility of this happening.

 

Many types of rays pass by us, but our eyes cannot catch them. What we are calling darkness is simply light which our eyes are not capable of seeing. Because our eyes cannot see certain light rays, for us they appear to be nothing more than darkness. What we call darkness is just that light which our eyes cannot see. Therefore, any inferences a person standing in darkness makes about light are likely to be wrong, as darkness is only a form, a shade of light. Although death is only a change in the form of immortality, any inferences drawn about immortality from one viewing death would also be wrong. If we know what immortality is, only then does something happen; otherwise not.

 

People surrounded by death only understand immortality to mean that we will not die. But they are wrong. One who knows what immortality is knows that he was never there at all. The difference is very deep and fundamental. A person seeing death thinks that if it is true that the soul is immortal he will not die. His thinking is future-oriented. He is living in the future and is worried about it, so his understanding will be future-oriented. But one who knows what immortality is would say, " I am not there at all; I was never born." He will be past-oriented.

 

Because all scientific knowledge is surrounded by death, science always talks about the future. And since the whole of religion is surrounded by immortality, it always talks about the past - about the origin, not about the end. It is concerned with the basic source. Religion talks about from where the world has come, from where we have come. Religion says that if we know completely from where we have come - our source and our beginning - we will not be worried about where we will go, because we cannot go anywhere but back toward that source. Our origin is our destiny, our search, our end.

 

Religious thinking is concerned with the search for the origin - with what is the origin. From where has this world come? From where has this existence, this soul, this world, come? Religious thinking is in search for the past, for our origins. All sciences are in a future-oriented search - for where we are going, where we will reach, what we will become, what will happen tomorrow, what the end is.

 

The search of science is conducted by those who are death-oriented. Religious thinking is done by those for whom death has ceased to have any meaning.

 

It is interesting to note that death is always in the future. Death has nothing to do with the past.

 

Whenever you are thinking about death, the past is of no consequence, of no importance. Death lies in the tomorrow, but the source from where life has come is always in yesterday. From where life is coming, from where the Ganges is flowing, is the source, Gangotri. But where the Ganges will empty itself is the sea. It began in the yesterday and will end in the tomorrow.

 

Thus a person surrounded by death will always draw conclusions that are colored by death. What is factual about a higher plane can only be guesswork on the part of the lower plane. The facts of the second plane should be evaluated by the experiences of the second plane only. It is, therefore, interesting to note that one who knows the second plane naturally knows the first plane too, but one who knows the first does not necessarily know the second. That is why, if we have described Buddha, Krishna and Christ as highly intelligent and wise, it is due to a special reason: they know all the planes; we know only one. That is why what they say is more meaningful. And whatsoever we know, they surely know. There is no difficulty in this. They have known death; they have also known misery, anger and violence. Theirs is the experience of all the planes.

 

In Western countries all knowledge is just accumulation on the same plane. Whatever Einstein might have been knowing, the difference between his knowledge and ours is merely quantitative.

 

For example, we can only measure this table, but he can measure the whole world. This difference is of quantity or of degree. There is no qualitative difference. This means that he does not know something which is different from what you may know, but what he knows is just an extension in quantity of what may be known to you. You may know less, he knows more. You have only one dollar, he may have a million. But your dollar and his million are not qualitatively different. What he has is not different from what you have.

 

When we call Buddha or Mahavira gyanis, knowers, what we mean is different. It is possible that on our plane we may know more than they know, but our calling them gyanis means that they know something of another plane about which we do not know anything. They have gone into a new dimension which has a qualitative difference.

 

If Mahavira and Einstein should encounter each other, it may even happen that Mahavira will not prove to be a knower of things that are known to Einstein. He may not have as much accumulation

 

of knowledge as Einstein. Mahavira may say, "I can only measure a table; you are able to measure the whole earth. You can even tell the distance of the moon and the stars from the earth; I cannot do that. If I can measure this room even, it is enough for me. But still, I would say that you are not more learned or knowledgeable than me because you only know that which is ordinarily plausible."

 

If a room can be measured, the stars can also be measured. There is no transcendence in doing so. Within Einstein there is no mutation or change; he is not a different man. He remains the same person, though he is more efficient where we are inefficient. It is only that he has a much greater speed on the same plane, while we are very slow. Einstein has traveled far on the same plane where we have traveled very little. Einstein went deep where others only touched the periphery, but Einstein has not moved into another plane.

 

When we call Buddha or Mahavira or others of their category knowers, we mean that they have gone beyond the plane of death to where they have known immortality, and what they tell us about this is invaluable. We may understand it this way: if a person who has never drunk any alcohol makes a statement about it, the statement has no value. If a person who has drunk alcohol makes a statement about it, then also it has no value. But the statements of a person who has drunk alcohol and who has gone beyond it have value.

 

One who has not drunk alcohol at all is a child. His statements will be childish. That is why people who have never drunk any alcohol have not been able to understand those who drink. Those who drink say, "We have known what you know, but now we know something more." If you drink, then you can say something about it. But those who have drunk themselves full and who have then left it have something more to say. Alcoholics will listen to them.

 

In Europe and America, there are societies of ex-alcoholics. Alcoholics Anonymous is a widespread institution. Only those who have once been alcoholic can become members of this institution, and this movement was started in order to enable other alcoholics to give up drinking. What is surprising is that such associations of alcoholics can make others who are alcoholics give up drinking very quickly, because what such alcoholics say comes from their maturity. Their statements are understood better by the drinkers because what they are telling is from experience. They also have drunk and faltered and fallen flat repeatedly, and have passed through all the experiences of the drunkard. That is why their statements, which come out of experience, have a value.

 

But this I have told only by way of an illustration. Whether you drink or do not drink or give up drinking, there is no difference in the plane you are on. You are still on the same plane. The difference is only that of different rungs on the same ladder. But once you experience deathlessness, there is a change of plane. The great impact of the teachings of Buddha, Mahavira and Christ is due to the fact that although they knew that which we ordinarily know, they also knew something beyond what we know. From the new knowledge that they had, they could say that there were fundamental errors in our knowing.

 

-Osho, "Dimensions Beyond The Known, #02, Q1"