osho: Gebrauche diesen Planeten nicht wie einen Warteraum

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Du bist ein Gast. Verlasse diesen Planeten ein wenig schöner, ein wenig menschlicher, ein wenig liebenswerter, ein wenig duftender für die unbekannten Gäste, die dir folgen werden.

(You are a guest.
Leave this earth a little more beautiful,
a little more human, a little more lovable, a little more fragrant,
for those unknown guests who will be following you.)

Für den Moment sind wir hier, und für diesen Moment müssen wir hier total und intensiv sein, und wir müssen diesen Moment so schön wie möglich machen.

(… for the moment we are here, and for the moment we have to be here totally, intensely, and we have to make this moment as beautiful as possible.)

I feel like a guest on earth, as if I don’t really belong here at all. In your beautiful gathering, I feel that I am also a guest, staying here only by your grace or by good fortune. I have nothing really to give, except myself. Is this enough?

Vimal, this is more than enough. The readiness to give oneself is the greatest adventure of life. And it is not only you who does not have anything else to give, we all come naked in the world. We don’t bring anything into the world. All that we really have is our own self — everything else belongs to the world, is not ours. To give money or to give anything else is really to avoid giving yourself.

The people who give money to the poor, make hospitals and schools and universities — and brag about it — are unaware of the fact that all their giving is just a facade. They are hiding their nudity. They are hiding the fact that they are not courageous enough to give themselves — because that is the only thing worth giving; that is the only thing that belongs to you. All so-called givers are giving things that don’t belong to them. It is almost like somebody giving you the full moon, somebody giving you the sunrise saying, „You can have it, it is yours.“

I have heard about two drunks. They were lying down under a tree on a full-moon night. Gazing at the moon, very poetically, in a very romantic mood, one drunk said to the other, „I would like to purchase this moon.“
The other said, „That is impossible. Forget it! Completely forget it!“
The first man said, „But why are you getting so angry?“
The second man said, „Why shouldn’t I get angry? — I don’t want to sell it!“

Unless you give yourself, you don’t give! You simply hide behind your so-called givings, your poverty and your impotence.

Vimal, there is nothing wrong. The very realization that you can give only yourself is a great realization, tremendously beautiful and intrinsically spiritual.

You are saying, „I feel like a guest on the earth.“ Do you think anybody else can feel to be a host on the earth? Everybody is a guest except Anando’s ghosts. Only they are the hosts; otherwise everybody is a guest. But there is nothing to be worried about it.

Be grateful to existence that it has invited you to be a guest.

You say, „As if I don’t really belong here at all.“ Nobody belongs here. Everybody comes one day, and everybody one day goes away. This is a big caravanserai. Just one night’s stay and in the morning the journey starts again. Who is going to stay here? Millions of people have been here before you — not even their names can be remembered, they were all guests — and millions of people will be here after we are gone.

Just don’t use this planet like a waiting room in a railway station, particularly an Indian railway station. I have been traveling for years, staying in thousands of waiting rooms and seeing the strange scene. People are throwing their banana peels on the floor, spitting their „pan“ leaves on the floor, even if I have asked them, „What are you doing!“ They answer me saying, „This is only a waiting room. It is not anybody’s home. And who cares? Just ten minutes more and my train is coming!“ It is true your train is coming, but your train will be bringing a few passengers who will be staying in this waiting room with your banana peels!

You are a guest.
Leave this earth a little more beautiful,
a little more human, a little more lovable, a little more fragrant,
for those unknown guests who will be following you.

An ancient Sufi story: The king of Baghdad used to go around the city on his beautiful horse, just to see how things were going — of course in disguise, not as the king — so that he could see reality as it is. If he went as the king, then he could see everything that was beautiful and he would not be shown the real face — he would have to see only the mask.

Everyday he saw a man, a very old man, must be past one hundred years, working in the garden, putting in small plants, but those small plants were not seasonal flowers. If they were seasonal flowers there would be no question at all. Those were the plants of the cedars of Lebanon, which grow one hundred feet, two hundred feet high, just almost touching the stars and they take hundreds of years to grow to that height. They live one thousand years, two thousand years, three thousand years and they are some of the most beautiful trees.

The king was puzzled because this old man, who is one hundred years, cannot even hope to see the next spring. His hands are shaking; he is so fragile, any moment death may take him away. And why is he planting these cedars? He will never be able to see them grow, to see them come of age, to see their beauty when they start touching the stars.

Finally it was impossible for the king to resist the temptation. He stopped his horse one day and went to the old man and said, „I should not interfere in your work, but I cannot resist the temptation.“

The old man said, „There is nothing to worry about, my son. You can ask anything you want.“

The king said, „My question is, you will never be able to see these trees come of age; you will be gone long before that….“

The old man said, „That’s true.“

The king said, „You know that’s true and still you go on doing it?“

The old man said, „If my forefathers had not planted the seeds — just see on the other side of my garden those tall Lebanon cedars — I would have never seen them. If my forefathers were so generous about the children with whom they are not yet acquainted, who will be coming, who will be the visitor, who will be the guest…. Still they worked hard and they created those monumental trees. Looking at those trees I gather courage and work hard, because certainly I will not be able to see the beautiful growth but somebody will. My children’s children, or perhaps even their children, will be able to see when they come to their full glory. It is enough that I am not betraying my forefathers. If they could trust in the future, in the unknown guest, I can also trust.“

We are all guests, but don’t use this beautiful planet as a railway-station guest house. It is not a waiting room. It is our home for the time being and it will still be the home for somebody else. Don’t be so miserly as to say, „I will be gone — after ten minutes my train is coming, so who cares if I leave the waiting room dirty?“

Nobody belongs here, Vimal. But for the moment we are here, and for the moment we have to be here totally, intensely, and we have to make this moment as beautiful as possible. We have to live our life like a dance, so when we leave, anybody who comes after us will find that the people who have been here were not ordinary people; they have left flowers and fragrance; they have left the echoes of their songs and their dances; they have left their footprints in pure, twenty-four carat gold.

It is not unfortunate that we are guests. It is a great opportunity: the planet, the existence, has been so generous, so kind, so loving, so accepting, that it has welcomed you to be here.

Leave your mark. You may be gone, but your laughter can remain.

You may be gone, but your dance can remain behind. You may be gone, but the way you lived will go on creating its own vibrations; the people of the future will be reminded, with gratitude, that they are inheritors of a great planet and of a great race of human beings.

At the funeral of one of the richest men in town, a stranger was observed crying louder than any of the other mourners. One of the townspeople approached him: „Are you a relative of the deceased, the richest man of our town?“
„Then why are you crying, and crying so loudly?“
„That’s why!“

Vimal, it is perfectly good just as you are. In this gathering nobody is a host — all are guests pretending to be hosts to each other. It is a beautiful pretension. Nobody is a host; everybody is a guest, but how can there be a guest if there is no one to host him? This is the strange fact about this gathering; the whole gathering is the host, but as far as each individual is concerned, he is just a guest. So you are both — a guest as an individual and a host as a part of the gathering.

An American makes a bet with a Britisher that whichever of them tells the most unbelievable story, wins.
„You start then,“ says the Britisher.
„Well,“ says the American, „one day an American gentleman….“
„Enough! You win!“ says the Britisher.
An „American gentleman“ — you have told the strangest story.

You don’t have anything to give except yourself. It is more than enough. Nothing else is asked. Even this is not asked of you. It is out of your own love. If you give yourself to the commune, the very giving will be a great reward.


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