Chapter 3: The Greatest Sermon in the History of Zen
But the shadow is outside; your being is your inner center. And except to be present, here and now, there is no way to it. This is the only path that leads to oneself.
Maneesha is asking again:
You speak so highly of the Zen masters, their ingenious and yet simple methods, and the innocence of the kind of people who could become realized through them. Yet while I do sometimes see you as a Zen master, I would not say your approach is characteristic of theirs. Is that because the kind of people you have are too cerebral, are so much out of contact with innocence and spontaneity, or is it that you have a different understanding of what is most effective? Or both?
[Osho spreads out both his arms]
Both. I am myself a category in itself. I will not stand in any queue, even with Gautam Buddha. I love my aloneness, my own spontaneity. That makes a difference.
Secondly, the people I am with are totally different from the people the Zen masters had to deal with. The Zen masters, if present here, would look simply insane to you. I am trying to make their insanity as sane as possible so that you can understand.
You are different, you are more in the head than the people Zen masters were dealing with. So my effort is first to bring you to your heart, and only then can I have a silent dialogue with you. I have to speak to create silence in you. It is a very contradictory way.
But before you fall into a deeper silence, throbbing with the joy, peace, contentment which Maneesha has been speaking of.
That is not only her experience, that is the experience of most of my people here and around the world.
The bamboos will also be happy to hear you laugh a little.
Seamus is leaning on the bar in the pub, when Paddy comes in with a perfect black eye.
“Hey, Paddy!” says Seamus, “That’s a beautiful black eye you have there. Who hit you?”
“As a matter of fact,” says Paddy, after ordering a beer, “Fergus O’Reilly hit me.”
“My God!” says Seamus, “with what?”