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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Philosophia Perennis, Vol. 1
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Chapter 5: Beep Beep!

In fact, you can enjoy aloneness only if you can enjoy relationship. It is relationship that creates the need for aloneness; it is a rhythm. When you have moved in deep relationship with somebody, a great need arises to be alone. You start feeling spent, exhausted, tired, joyously tired, happily tired, but each excitement is exhausting. It was tremendously beautiful to relate, but now you would like to move into aloneness, so that you can again gather yourself together, so that again you can become overflowing, so that again you become rooted in your own being.

In love you moved into the other’s being, you lost contact with yourself. You became drowned, drunk. Now you will need to find yourself again. But when you are alone, you are again creating a need for love. Soon you will be so full that you would like to share, you will be so overflowing that you would like somebody whom to pour yourself into, to whom to give of yourself. Love arises out of aloneness. Aloneness makes you over-full. Love receives your gifts. Love empties you so that you can become full again. Whenever you are emptied by love, aloneness is there to nourish you, to integrate you. And this is a rhythm.

To think of these two things as separate has been the stupidity, the most dangerous stupidity that man has suffered from. A few people become worldly - they are spent, they are just exhausted, empty. They don’t have any space of their own. They don’t know who they are; they never come across themselves. They live with others; they live for others. They are part of a crowd; they are not individuals. And remember, their life of love will not be of fulfillment; it will be half. And no half can ever be a fulfillment. Only the whole is fulfilled.

And then there are the monks who have chosen the other half. They live in the monasteries. The word monk means one who lives alone; the word monk comes from the same root as monogamy, monotony, monastery, and monopoly. It means one, alone.

The monk is one who has chosen to be alone, but soon he is over-full, ripe, and knows nowhere to pour himself. Where to pour himself? He cannot allow love, he cannot allow relationship; he cannot go and meet and mix with people. Now his energies start getting sour. Any energy that stops flowing becomes bitter. Even nectar stagnant becomes poison, and vice versa even poison flowing becomes nectar. To flow is to know what nectar is. And to become stagnant is to know what poison is.

Poison and nectar are not two things but two states of the same energy. Flowing, it is nectar; frozen, it is poison. Whenever some energy is there and there is no outlet for it, it goes sour, it becomes bitter, it becomes sad, it becomes ugly. Rather than giving you a wholeness and health, it makes you ill.

All monks are ill. All monks are bound to be pathological.

The worldly people are empty, bored, exhausted, dragging themselves somehow, in the name of duty, in the name of the family, in the name of the nation - all sacred cows - somehow dragging to death, just waiting for death to come and deliver them. They will know their rest only in their graves. They will not know any rest in life. And a life that knows no rest is not really a life.

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