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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   The Song of Ecstasy
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Chapter 7: A Song of Life

One who has read even a little of the Gita, has drunk even one drop of Ganges water and has worshipped God even a little, Yama, the god of death, cannot destroy him.

Oh God, protect me from this troublesome world where one has to be born again and again, die again and again, and fall into the womb of a mother again and again, and take me to the other shore.

He who has made his robe out of the rags from the roadside, whose path is free of the thought of sin and virtue, who is engrossed in yoga, such a yogi sometimes plays like a child and sometimes like a madman.

Who are you? Who am I? From where have I come? Who is my mother? Who is my father?

Contemplate over these questions, then you will find that the world and its worry is meaningless and dreamlike, and you will become free of this bad dream.

The same divine resides in you, in me and everywhere else. By becoming intolerant towards me you are getting angry in vain. So, dropping this ignorance of discrimination in everything, see only yourself in all.

Do not waste your energy over such matters as enemy and friend, son and brother, war and treaty. If you want to attain to the feet of the divine soon, maintain equanimity in everything everywhere.

I have heard a story. A wasp made its abode near a window outside a big building. In winter this wasp would sleep and rest, in summer it would fly, dance and collect the pollen of the flowers. It was very happy. But this wasp was a special one - it was a thinker - it used to think a lot and to look down upon other wasps because there was no thinking in their lives. Their lives were full of desire. They never did any thinking, they never contemplated, they never knew the scriptures.

Sometimes it used to fly into the building too. It loved that building. The people visiting the building seemed to be of its own type because they were thinkers. Actually, this building was a big library. Professors, teachers, writers, philosophers, poets used to come there. Usually people used to drive out the wasp, but it would always come back.

Gradually it started reading and writing. It started in the children’s department, and soon it was studying the big books of philosophy. It began to read big volumes of science and poetry. It became very proud and just couldn’t tolerate the other wasps - they seemed very insignificant. It became very egoistic. It was thinking day and night. It forgot all about dancing in the sun, flying in the air and visiting the trees. Now, mostly it used to sit down engrossed in deep thoughts like, “Who made this world? Why was it made? From where has this existence come and where is it going?” It used to think about these serious questions all the time.

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