Maneesha has asked:

Osho,
Whenever I try to die each night, to close down my senses and be dead, I only feel life trying to assert itself more vigorously. Am I doing it wrongly or is that what is meant to happen? Or are there no “meant to happens” here?

Maneesha, it is meant to happen. I am a teacher of life, not of death; but I can teach you only if you are ready even to die for life. Already you are so dead, and still you believe, your whole life, that you are alive. But this life is lukewarm. Hence in the meditation I try to help you, to push you deeper into death because as far as I am concerned death is a fiction. The whole effort is that as you try to be more and more dead, you will find life asserting itself. It is a very deep dialectical process. The more you try to die, the more you will find yourself fresh and young and newly born.

I teach resurrection. Jesus should not have the monopoly of being resurrected, it is everybody’s right. You don’t have to hang on a cross, you can simply die here. You can just leave the body and go in, fearlessly, – because there is the eternal treasure of being.

There is no question of losing anything; relax totally so that all energy moves inward, gathers inward, becomes a concentrated phenomenon. That’s why you are feeling more alive. I want you to be more alive, alive forever; because that is your nature, only recognition is needed. Meditation is simply a method to recognize the eternity of life and the fiction of death.

This silence is so precious that even the bamboos are not making commentaries today. But I will still give them a little chance to laugh. Laughter dignifies you because no animal laughs. Laughter proves life because dead men don’t laugh.

Little Muni Bramachappati, youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Rama Bramachappati, a fifteen-year-old child, is suddenly awakened by deep moaning and groaning coming from the neighbor’s flat.

Sleepy-eyed, she goes into her parents’ room and asks, “Mom, what is that noise coming from next door?”

“Don’t bother about it, dear,” says Mrs. Bramachappati. “That young German lady must be having a headache.”

Twenty minutes later, little Muni is woken again.

“Hey mom,” she cries. “It sounds like the young German lady is really suffering now!”

“Just don’t bother about it, dear,” replies her mother. “She must be having a fever – just go to sleep.”