These last days, I have come from discourse shaking and quivering from inside out. It comes after you have left. Although my body trembles, it doesn’t feel like fear…or not any fear that I have known before. The image that comes is of me hanging by my fingertips to a window frame high in the sky, with nothing beneath it. There is no house, just a window frame and you are leaning out and dancing and singing madly. It is so inviting, that I forget myself and start clapping and singing, too. After you have gone, my survival mechanism comes running and trembling, trying to take over again. Is this what is happening, beloved Osho?
Devageet, a very ancient Sufi story….
A man has lost his way in the dark night, in a thick forest. He cannot see any sign anywhere that he is close to some village, some town; but he cannot stay either. It is so dark, and the fear of wild animals….
Trembling, he gropes his way along and falls into a ditch. Afraid, because in the darkness he cannot see how deep the ditch is, he clings to the roots of a tree.
The night becomes colder and colder, and he is shivering and trembling. His hands are becoming almost frozen with cold. And now the ultimate fear grips him, that there are not many more moments to his life. His hands are slipping from the root, he cannot keep them tight, he is almost paralyzed…and finally, it happens.
The root is lost, and the man falls. But the whole valley is filled with his laughter, because there was no ditch – just six inches below there was plain ground. And half of the night he unnecessarily struggled and tortured himself. He has not only found the plain ground – that was the road.
Devageet, you are in the same situation. You say, “It does not look like fear.” It is not fear; it is death itself.
The image that comes is of you hanging by your fingertips to a window frame high in the sky, with nothing beneath it. There you are not right. In the darkness you cannot see that just beneath it is the way – only six inches you have to fall.
Only for six inches, you have to accept death.
But the image is correct…there is no house, just a window frame. That is absolutely true about me. I am just a window frame, and those who trust me are going to be in the same situation in which Devageet is.
I try my best to invite you to dance, and if you are mad enough you are going to start clapping, at least. And that is the moment when you forget that you cannot hold on to the window frame and clap too. The moment you start clapping, the window frame is lost; your hands have slipped from the root.
Those six inches seem to be a long journey, because it is sure death. You are falling, in your mind, into an abysmal depth. It is another matter that nobody dies. Just for six inches…how much time does it take? Perhaps a few seconds, or not even a few seconds, and the whole valley will be filled with laughter – your laughter.