Excerpted from: Beyond Psychology, #31
"Every child is born with an innate search for truth. It is not something learned or adopted later on in life. Truth simply means, 'I am, but I do not know who I am.' And the question is natural 'I must know the reality of my being.' It is not a curiosity.
"These are the three differences, or three categories the world can be divided into: there are things which are, but they do not know that they are; hence there is no opening for any enquiry. They are closed, their existence is windowless. Then there are animals who know that they are, but they don't have the intelligence to enquire what it is that they are. Their windows are open, but their intelligence is not enough to look out and see the stars and the sky and the birds and the trees. Their windows whether opened or closed don't make much difference.
"Perhaps once in a while a rare animal uses the window. In Shri Raman Maharshi's ashram... and he was one of the most significant people of this century. He was not a master; that's why people don't know him as they know George Gurdjieff or J. Krishnamurti. They don't know him even as they know Sri Aurobindo or P.D. Ouspensky who were only teachers profound teachers, but not mystics.
"Raman Maharshi was a silent pool of energy. Every morning he used to sit for a silent satsang, communion. He never talked much, unless asked something. Then too his answer was very short having profundity, but you had to look for it. There was no explanation in it. His literature is confined to two, three small booklets.
"His teaching was mostly to be in silent communion with the disciples. Naturally, very few people were benefited by him. But every morning he was sitting, people were sitting, and a cow would come and stand outside, putting her neck through the window, and she would remain standing there while the satsang lasted. It must have continued for years. People came and went, new people came, but the cow remained constant... and at the exact time, never late. And as the satsang would disperse she would move away.
"One day she did not appear, and Shri Raman said, 'Today satsang cannot be held, because my real audience is absent. I am afraid either the cow is very sick or she has died, and I have to go and look for her.' He lived on a mountain in the south of India, Arunachal. The cow belonged to a poor woodcutter who lived near the ashram. Raman left the temple where they used to meet, went to the woodcutter and asked, 'What happened? The cow has not come today for satsang.'
"The woodcutter said, 'She is very sick and I am afraid she is dying, but she goes on looking out of the door, as if she is waiting for someone. Perhaps she is waiting for you, to see you for the last time. Perhaps that is why she is hanging around a little longer.'" Osho