Desiring nothing, doubting nothing,
beyond judgment and sorrow
and the pleasures of the senses,
he has moved beyond time.
He is pure and free.
How clear he is.
He is the moon.
He is serene.
For he has traveled
life after life
the muddy and treacherous road of illusion.
He does not tremble
or grasp or hesitate.
He has found peace.
he lets go of life,
of home and pleasure and desire.
Nothing of men can hold him.
Nothing of the gods can hold him.
Nothing in all creation can hold him.
Desire has left him,
never to return.
Sorrow has left him,
never to return.
Gautama the Buddha is describing the indescribable. He is describing the inner world of a master. He is defining what a master is, what the quality of his consciousness is. Where does he exist? – in time or beyond time, in space or beyond space? Does he have any limitations? any boundaries? or has he only a pure vastness, the vastness of the sky? The very phenomenon is so mysterious that it is beyond the words that we use, that we can use. But still a few indications have to be given. These are only hints – don’t cling to these hints. They are not scientific statements; think of them as pure poetry. Yes, fingers pointing to the moon, but forget the fingers and remember the moon.
No word is adequate enough to define a master. All words do injustice to the master because words are meant to describe the ordinary and the master has transcended the ordinary. Words belong to the world; the master is in the world and yet he is no more of it. He exists here and still he does not exist here. He is only a reflection in the lake. He is only a shadow lingering on this shore; the real one has already reached the other shore.
If you can remember this, then even these words will be of great help; otherwise you are bound to misunderstand them…. I have been telling you again and again that life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved. And Prem Mukta informs me, “Osho, this really happened: I overheard an Italian sannyasin enthusing after the lecture, ‘Osho really knows what life is like. It is so true what he says, that: Life is not a problem to be solved but a misery to be lived.’”
Words are dangerous! You can hear in them something which is not there. You can project into them something which is your own, and it is impossible to detect what you are doing. It is good that the sannyasin was saying it to somebody else, but if you don’t say it to anybody else…and there are a thousand and one things that you will never say to anybody else – then they simply remain part of your inner world. And if you have utterly misunderstood them in the first place, then you can start making a foundation out of them for your life. Words can be dangerous.