‘The
male type will find it easier to go into himself directly;
the feminine type will find it easier to move through the other. Neither is
higher or lower because both reach to the same.’
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The poetry of enlightenment of the woman mystic Daya The Last Morning Star Talks on the
enlightened
Osho, The Last Morning Star, Hardcover |
`The Last Morning Star' symbolizes all that is ephemeral in the world. Talking on the playful and provocative poetry of Daya, Osho takes us on a journey from the transient, from our world outside, to the eternal, our boundless world within. This is a journey of the heart - the joyous, spontaneous, and at times uncompromising way of an enlightened woman mystic.
`Search. If meditation doesn't suit you, search through love. If meditation doesn't suit you, search through devotion. But search you must. Don't console yourself by elaborating on the difficulties, and saying that you cannot start because of these difficulties. If one has to start, one has to start...'
‘Doubt and
trust are like night and day. What is the difference between them? A
religious man puts his doubt upon the world and his trust towards the
divine. An irreligious man focuses his doubt towards the divine
and his trust towards the world.’
The state of the sadhus when immersed in love Is indescribable.
They cry while they sing and they laugh.
This is very paradoxical, says Daya;
Drunk with the
nectar of the divine,
Their state of knowing is unfathomable.
The riches of the three worlds are but worthless
For a sadhu, says Daya.
He puts his feet in
one spot, but they land elsewhere,
His body is ecstatic with delight,
The more he drowns in the beauty of godliness
The more his love grows, says Daya.
He laughs, sings,
he cries; he rises and falls again and again,
He is ever-restless.
But once he has tasted the nectar of the divine, says Daya,
He can endure all pain of separation.
The flame of the
anguish of separation is born in my heart,
Come, O divine come, my beloved
Come, O enchanter of hearts,
Come, O Krishna, O simple one,
I long to see you.
My hands are tired
of shooing crows,
My eyes of looking expectantly at the path.
My heart has fallen into the ocean of love,
And there is no shore, no exit.
Look! Anyone look! says Shakeel,
Is this not madness?
That I became his who could not be mine?
The path of love in the search for godliness, is the path of the mad
ones.
You can belong to the divine, but it will never be yours - because if it
is to be yours one thing is required: that you should exist. Someone can be yours only if you exist. But the essential
condition for meeting the divine is that you should be no more. It will appear
only when you disappear; only when you no longer are, will it be there.
So one thing is certain: you can belong to the divine but it can never be
yours. Who can make such a claim when you are no longer there? "My"
can exist only when "I" exists. When ''I" no longer is, what
relevance is there to "my"?
On the path to godliness, there is nothing for the lover but to lose and lose; any talk of gain is futile. And the interesting thing is, it is in this losing that everything is gained. There is nothing else but to drown and to go on drowning; any talk of being saved is useless. And it is in this drowning that the saving happens. The bank of the river is found midstream. One needs to have the courage to disappear, and the first step in gathering that courage to disappear is to let go of your intellect, to let go of your cautiousness, your cleverness; to let go of all mathematics, calculation and logic.
This is why the path of love is the path of the mad, the path of the carefree, the path of the courageous. Even a businessman can travel on the path of knowledge, because there the arithmetic is neat and clean. But only gamblers can walk on the path of love, because there you have to lose everything, and with no certainty of gain. There nothing can be gained, and everything will be lost. If your heart is big enough to accept defeat as victory, death as life, your disappearance as an arriving - only then does the door to the path of love open. The path of love is closed to the prudent, so we call it the path to the tavern, the path of the drunkard.
Love is a wine. The reality is that you are looking for all kinds of wine, because you have not yet learned how to pour the wine of love. You go to the tavern because your temple has not yet become your tavern. You drink the wine made from grapes because you are not yet capable of drinking the wine of the soul. You look for small and cheap escapes because you have forgotten the language of true drunkenness.
The divine is absolute drunkenness. Today's sutras are marvelous. They have come straight from a devotee's heart, they are the blossoming of a devotee's heart. Each sutra is a lotus petal. Understand them carefully.
The state of the sadhus when immersed in love is
indescribable.
They cry while they sing and they laugh.
This is very paradoxical, says Daya;
....