If Osho Danced Salsa (2)/ The Salsa Gigolo Who Loved Salseras.

19 Feb

The following references are from:
The Man Who Loved Seagulls:  Essential Life Lessons from the World's Greatest Wisdom Traditions
by Osho ».

A book of parables, and Osho’s transcribed talks on those parables.

Chapter 5: Only the Gold – The brazen thief in the marketplace of Ch’i: Making the choice between happiness and unhappiness, Pages 113, 116-117, 122-123, 125:
“…
Once there was a man of Ch’i who wanted gold. At dawn he put on his coat and cap and set out for the market.
He went to the stall of a dealer in gold, snatched his gold, and made off.
The police caught him and questioned him. “Why did you snatch somebody else’s gold, and in front of so many people?”
The man replied:
“At the time when I took it I did not see the people — I only saw the gold.”(5)

I have heard about a man who became very famous in Germany — even today his statues are there and some squares and some streets are still named after him. His name was Dr. Daniel Gottlieb Schreber. He was the real founder of Fascism. He died in 1861, but he created the situation for Adolf Hitler to come — of course, unknowingly.

This man had very pronounced views on how to bring up children. He wrote many books. Those books were translated into many languages. Some of them ran into fifty editions. His books were loved tremendously, respected tremendously, because his views were not exceptional — his views were very common. He was saying things which everybody has believed down the centuries. He was the spokesman for the ordinary mind, the mediocre mind. …

He believed in disciplining children from the time they were six months old — because he said if you don’t discipline a child when he is six months old you will miss the real opportunity of disciplining him. When a child is very tender and soft, unaware of the ways of the world, make a deep imprint — then he will always follow that imprint. And he will not even be aware that he is being manipulated. He will think he is doing all this of his own will — because when a child is six months old he has no will yet; the will will come later on, and the discipline will come earlier than the will. So the will will always think: “This is my own idea.”

This is corrupting a child. But all the religions of the world and all the demagogues and all the dictatorial people of the world, and all the so-called gurus and the priests, they all have believed in doing this.

This seems to be the basic cause why man is unhappy, because no man is moving freely, no man is sensing, groping his path with his own consciousness. He has been corrupted at the very root.

But Schreber called it discipline, as all parents call it. He believed in disciplining children from the time they were six months old in such a way that they would never after question their parents and yet believe that they were acting of their own free will. He wrote that on the first appearance of self-will one has to stop it immediately, kill it immediately. When you see the child becoming a person, an individual, you have to destroy the first ray of his individuality, immediately, not a single moment should be lost. …

Many people come to me and they say they are unhappy, and they want me to give them some meditation. I say: first, the basic thing is to understand why you are unhappy. And if you don’t remove those basic causes of your unhappiness, I can give you a meditation, but that is not going to help very much — because the basic causes remain there.

The man may have been a good, beautiful dancer, and he is sitting in an office, piling up files. There is no possibility for dance. The man may have enjoyed dancing under the stars, but he is simply accumulating a bank balance. And he says he is unhappy: “Give me some meditation.” I can give him! But what is that meditation going to do? What is it supposed to do? He will remain the same man: accumulating money, competitive in the market. The meditation may help in this way: it may make him a little more relaxed to do this nonsense even better.

That’s what TM is doing to many people in the West — and that is the appeal of transcendental meditation, because Maharishi Mahesh Yogi goes on saying, “It will make you more efficient in your work, it will make you more successful. If you are a salesman, you will become a more successful salesman. It will give you efficiency.” And American people are almost crazy about efficiency. You can lose everything just for being efficient. Hence, the appeal. …

With me, happiness comes first, joy comes first. A celebrating attitude comes first. A life-affirming philosophy comes first. Enjoy! If you cannot enjoy your work, change. Don’t wait! Because all the time that you are waiting you are waiting for Godot. Godot is never to come. One simply waits — and wastes one’s life. For whom, for what, are you waiting? …”

Chapter 5: Only the Gold - The brazen thief in the marketplace of Ch'i: Making the choice between happiness and unhappiness, Pages 113, 116-117, 122-123, 125

I think of the passions of my childhood, and how they were called ‘hobbies’. One by one, these passions were set aside in favour of real work. Then the discovery of salsa. I have protected this salsa ‘hobby’ of mine, to be sure that the things I do in salsa I do for my own pleasure first.

Chapter 6: The Black-Nosed Buddha – How a Zen nun’s worship spoiled her beautiful golden statue: On the consequences of jealousy and possessiveness, Pages 137-139:
“…
A nun who was searching for enlightenment made a wooden statue of Buddha and covered it with gold leaf. It was very pretty and she carried it with her wherever she went.
Years passed, and still carrying her Buddha, the nun settled down in a small country temple where there were many statues of Buddha each having its own shrine.
The nun burned incense before her golden Buddha each day, but not liking the idea of her perfume straying to the other statues, she devised a funnel through which the smoke would ascend to her statue only.
This blackened the nose of the golden statue and made it especially ugly.(7)

Possessiveness, attachment, is the false love. Hatred is better, because at least it is true, at least it is a fact. And hatred can become love any day, but possessiveness can never become love. You simply have to drop it to grow into love. Why does attachment appear like love? And what is the difference? The mechanism is subtle.

Love means that you are ready to merge yourself into the other. It is a death, the deepest death possible, the deepest abyss possible in which you can fall, and go on falling and falling. And there is no end to it, there is no bottom to it, it is an eternal falling into the other. It never ends. To love means the other has become so significant that you can lose yourself. Love is surrender — unconditional; because if there is even a single condition then you are important, not the other; then you are the center, not the other. And if you are the center, the other is just a means. You are using the other, exploiting the other, finding satisfaction, gratification through the other — but you are the goal. And love says, make the end the other, and dissolve, and merge. It is a dying phenomenon, a death process. That’s why people are afraid of love. You may talk about it, you may sing about it, but deep down you are afraid of love. You never enter into it.

All your poetries, all your songs about love, are just substitutes so that you can sing without entering into it, so that you can feel that you are loving without loving. And love is such a deep need that you cannot live without it; either the real or some substitute is needed. The substitute may be false, but at least for a time, for the time being, it gives you the feeling that you are in love. And even the false is enjoyed. Sooner or later you will realize that it is false; then you are not going to change the false love into real love — then you will change the lover or the beloved.

These are the two possibilities: when you come to know that this love is false you can change, you can drop the false love and become a real lover. The other possibility is to change the partner. And this is how your mind functions: whenever you feel, “This love has not given me the bliss it promised, rather on the contrary, I have become more miserable” — you think the other is deceiving, not that you are deceiving. …”

Chapter 6: The Black-Nosed Buddha - How a Zen nun's worship spoiled her beautiful golden statue: On the consequences of jealousy and possessiveness, Pages 137-139

When I ask a salsera to dance, it is because I want pleasure from the dance. The pleasure is derived from the music, the partnering that happens in the dance, and what we make of the moment. The pleasure is also derived from knowing that she is also gaining pleasure, and for her, knowing that I am gaining pleasure. Her pleasure accentuates my pleasure, and my pleasure accentuates her pleasure. And the greatest pleasure for me is when a salsera submits to me, completely.

Chapter 7: The Man Who Loved Seagulls – . . . and why they stopped playing with him: A story about the futility of chasing happiness, Pages 161, 168:
“…
There was a man living by the seashore who loved seagulls.
Every morning he went down to the sea to roam with the seagulls. More birds came to him than could be counted in hundreds.
His father said to him one day, “I hear the seagulls all come roaming with you — bring me some to play with.” Next day, when he went to the sea, the seagulls danced above him and would not come down.(8)

When you forget about happiness, suddenly you are happy. When you forget about contentment, suddenly it is there. It has always been there around you, but you were not there. You were thinking: somewhere in the future a target has to be achieved, happiness earned, contentment practiced. You were in the future and happiness was just around you like the fragrance of a flower. …

When you are seeking too much you are closed; the very tension of seeking and searching closes you. When you are desiring too much, the very desire becomes such a tense state of affairs that happiness cannot penetrate you. Happiness penetrates you in the same way as sleep; contentment comes to you in the same way as sleep: when you are in a let-go, when you allow, when you simply wait, they come.

In fact, to say they come is not right: they are already there. In a let-go you can see them and feel them, because you are relaxed. In relaxation you become more sensitive — and happiness is the subtlest thing possible, the most subtle, the very cream of life, the essence. When you are relaxed in a total let-go, not doing anything, not going anywhere, not thinking of any goals, no target, not like an arrow but like a bow, relaxing, without tension — it is there. …”

Chapter 7: The Man Who Loved Seagulls - . . . and why they stopped playing with him: A story about the futility of chasing happiness, Pages 161, 168

When the music changes and it no longer fits me or the salsera, it is time to end the connection. I would rather sit and wait, than ruin the afterglow of the connection we just had. Maybe the next song will be better. Or the next song. If nothing else, I have learned to be patient in my waiting. Am I waiting for Godot, or no longer rushing to find happiness every time the music plays?

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