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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Die O Yogi Die
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Chapter 9: The Inner Revolution

There is not a single drop in existence that will not become the ocean one day or another. The part becomes the whole, the fragment becomes the unfragmented, the finite becomes the infinite. Not a single drop will miss its destiny of becoming the ocean. Then how can there be a single man who will remain deprived of becoming divine?

Being godly is man’s intrinsic nature. If man becomes free of limitations he can become divine, just as a drop can become the ocean. Man is godliness; it is only a matter of letting the limitations drop. There is no other barrier to man’s becoming divine. We have drawn a line, a magic circle, all around us. It is a line that we have drawn ourselves and we never leave that circle. We have made a wall. We have made this arrangement for our security and we have become imprisoned in the known. The unknown calls us, but because of fear we don’t proceed on the journey.

The journey of yoga, of union, is a journey to the unknown. But only a person who has become tired of the known will go on a journey toward the unknown. Has what you have known brought fulfillment to your heart?

If the heart feels fulfillment then the question of moving towards God never arises, you have already attained godliness. The very meaning of fulfillment of the heart is the union with the divine. But your heart does not feel fulfillment - your heart is not feeling fulfilled at all, it remains as empty as ever. Only the hope goes on entangling you that tomorrow you will feel this fulfillment, or the day after tomorrow. They are only false assurances that can never be achieved. No assurances have ever been achieved.

Yesterday I was listening to a popular song:

Who knows what kind of people were they, whose love found love?

There have never been any people whose love has found love. In this world no one has ever attained contentment.

Who knows what kind of people were they, whose love found love?
When I asked for budding flowers, I received a garland of thorns.
When I sought the goal of happiness, I received the dust of sadness.
When I wished for songs of affection, I received cold sighs.
Whoever came to console me only doubled the heart’s heaviness.

Each friend gave a moment or two of company and departed.
Who has time to hold the hand of a madman?
Often my own shadow was restless.

If this is life then I will live it:
I won’t show my distress,
I will sew my lips together and drink back my tears.
How can I be afraid of grief now, I’ve grieved a hundred times.

Who knows what kind of people were they, whose love found love?
When I asked for budding flowers, I received a garland of thorns.

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