Often, when I look at the sunset, sadness arises from deep within. It feels as if the sun is my home – the place I will return to when “the work” is done. But now I have fallen in love with “the work,” this earth, this existence, these people. I do feel a deep longing to be free but I wouldn’t want to go home alone.
Osho, will “the work” ever be done? Will I ever be able to go home in peace?
It is one of the deep-rooted habits of the mind always to divide things. The moment you divide things you are in trouble – and mind wants you to be always in trouble; otherwise it has no function.
The greatest trouble the mind can create is the longing for home. I call it the greatest trouble because you have never left home.
And mind projects homes. They may be the moon, the sun, or some faraway quasar – these are new, contemporary substitutes for a faraway God. Mind is so tricky that if you drop the old division, it immediately replaces it with a new, more refined, more contemporary-looking, more intelligent division.
In the past people were wanting to go to heaven, to paradise, to God, and to find peace. As you are, I don’t think even if you meet God, you will find peace. On the contrary, the meeting with God will create so many problems, so many inquiries, so much anger and rage against God – because he created you without your permission; he created the world full of misery and you had to live in it. He created all kinds of desires in you which do not seem to be fulfilled; every desire goes on asking for more and more and more, and there is no end to it. Do you think meeting with God will be a peaceful meeting? It is going to be the greatest fighting encounter!
It is good that God does not exist. He cannot exist, because of you – so many people with so many problems and poor God, alone with a crackpot son and a Holy Ghost. A strange company.
I remember one of the ancient stories that once God used to live on M.G. Road. But people tortured him so much – and in no other language can you torture somebody better than in Marathi. Even if two people are in a loving conversation, it seems they are fighting.
Marathi is unique in that way. It has no music in it. It seems to have come out of anger, violence, war. It has not come out of people loving each other. Each language has its own stamp, from where it has arisen.
And people would not bother whether it was day or night, they were continuously surrounding the house of God on M.G. Road. There are so many complaints to be made – to whom to make the complaints? Everything seems to be wrong in some way or other. Somebody is too tall, somebody is a pygmy, somebody has accumulated all the riches and somebody is a beggar. Somebody is so beautiful and somebody else is just on the other extreme; so ugly that people use his photograph for frightening children.
Your passport photographs are also used for the same purpose.
God said to his company, “This is intolerable. You have to suggest some place for me to move away to.”