Lieh Tzu said, “Wait, I will solve the problem.” He went to the water well, pulled up a bucket of ice-cold water, went in and poured it over the head of Chuang Tzu. Chuang Tzu laughed, and he said, “You came at the right time; otherwise, the whole day I would have been sitting here, sad. You solved the problem.”

Lieh Tzu said, “Do you need another bucket?” He said, “No! The water is so cold. I am Chuang Tzu, because if I was a butterfly your bucket of ice-cold water would have killed me.”

Your question is beautiful. “If Zen is the path and you are the gate, then who lives in the house?” You live in the house, but you have forgotten. And to remind you, a path has to be created; to remind you, a gate has to be created. To remind you, you have to be taken on the path and given help to enter the house, which in fact you have never left.

Just an imaginary game – getting out on the path, doing great disciplines, meditations, the master…. Finally the gate comes and you say, “Aha! I have arrived.” And this is the house which you have never left.

Osho,
I don’t know.
Can you tell me a joke?

Your question is very beautiful. To be in the state of not knowing…what is left? Then to have a good laughter or sit in absolute silence and listen to the birds and their sounds…. Not knowing is the ultimate knowing.

You have asked for a joke…

Hymie Goldberg has been told by the doctor that he is dying. Becky is sitting by the bedside.

“Listen Becky,” says Hymie. “Soon I will be dead and I don’t want you to be living alone. I want you to get married again.”

“Darling,” weeps Becky, “don’t talk like that. I will never find another man like you.”

Holding her hand, Hymie continues, “Look sweetheart, in a few weeks you will see things differently. I leave everything to you – the house, the cars, the money in the bank. You will have no worries in your next marriage.”

“No, Hymie,” wails Becky, “I will never look at another man.”

“And you know,” says Hymie, “those expensive hand-tailored suits I had made? I want your future man to wear them.”

“What!” cries Becky. “Your suits? But Sollie is at least two inches taller than you.”

You have asked for one joke, but it would be very miserly of me. I will have to tell you at least two jokes more.