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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Zen: The Path of Paradox, Vol. 1
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Chapter 4: Learn from the Peacocks

So when I say become poets I mean become buddhas, start living in a totally different kind of landscape. Listen more to the heart, listen less to the head. It is in the head that a Josef Stalin and an Adolf Hitler is created. A buddha is sitting in your heart, in the innermost recesses of your heart. Go there. Move silently inwards.

If many, many people are poets like Buddha the world would he changed - but not by any direct effort, not by direct action. Direct action is political, indirect action is poetry. You don’t do it directly, it simply starts happening. Because you have changed you create a vibe of change. Because you live on a different plane those who come in contact with you start hearing the sound of a different plane, they start hearing a song of a different world, they start becoming diffused with it, they start carrying your fragrance.

One poet like Buddha or Bodhidharma creates thousands of poets in the world. He becomes catalytic. His presence inspires. That’s why in the East we have praised satsanga. Satsanga means to be in the presence of a poet, to be in the presence of a master, to be with a master who has arrived - just to be with him, that’s all. If you pass through a garden you may not even have touched the flowers but when you come back home suddenly you find the fragrance lingering on your clothes.

When you come to a master something starts lingering, something starts hanging around you. In the beginning it is very hazy, in the beginning you cannot be certain what it is nor what it is not, but one thing is certain: something is there. By and by it starts becoming more and more clear; by and by clarity arises, more transparency. And soon you find yourself settling in a totally different dimension of being.

The second question:

Osho,
I cannot understand this phenomenon of your speaking yet your saying that you have not uttered even a single word. Osho, how is it possible?

A Zen poem:

The shadow of the bamboo
Sweeps the stair
All night long
Yet not a mote of dust is stirred.

The moonbeams penetrate
To the bottom of the pool
Yet in the water
Not a trace is left.

The third question:

Osho,
What is enlightenment?

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