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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Reflections on Khalil Gibran's The Prophet
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Chapter 3: A Seeker of Silences

This has always happened. Nobody in the whole history of man has been able to hide the truth. It is like a light - how can you hide it? It may be a faraway star to you, you may not be able to reach it, but nobody can prevent you from recognizing it.

And remember: recognizing it is not a small matter. Your heart is touched, your being is full of joy. One of you, at least one of you has blossomed; his fragrance has reached you. Before the petals fall and the flower disappears you have to reach him quickly, at least to say good-bye, to show your thankfulness, because his realization shows definitively that you are also carrying the same seed. Perhaps you have not searched for it, have ignored it, got lost in many, many things in the world.

One person remembering himself reminds many: what are you doing here? You had not come here just to do the trivia that you are involved in. You have forgotten that this earth was going to be a discipline, a school, a training, a learning, a disciplehood.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship.

They have never believed him. He has been telling them again and again: “Just a little more and my spring is on the way. Soon my ship will be arriving.” They have laughed at him, they have mocked him. They have disbelieved in him. They thought him a poet, a dreamer of dreams, but they have never recognized that perhaps his ship is coming.

And now they are shouting from field to field telling one another, “We were wrong and he was right.” We were many, he was alone. He could not prove, he could not give any evidence for what unknown lands he was talking about, but now there is no need of any evidence. The ship has arrived.

There are skies beyond skies. One just needs a heart strong enough to wait.

And he said to himself:
Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

He has been trying to gather these people all the time he has been amongst them, and nobody listened. He was an outsider, a stranger, talking about strange and mysterious things which he had no reason, no logic to prove. Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering, now that I am going to leave?

They are rushing and shouting his name, field to field: “Although he was alone, he was right. We were many, but we were wrong.”

Truth is not a question of majority or minority. Truth is always of the individual - never of the crowd.

And the crowd recognizes only at the time of parting, but then it is too late.

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

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