---
section: Library
booktitle: "YAA-HOO! The Mystic Rose"
booktype: "Discourses"
bookcode: "YAAHOO"
dategiven: "26 March 1988 pm"
place: " in Gautam the Buddha Auditorium"
chapternum: "Chapter #8"
chaptertitle: "Our longing is for the stars"
acode: "8803265"
shorttitle: "YAAHOO08"
audio: "Yes"
video: "Yes"
esttime: "106mins"
displaytitle: "YAA-HOO! The Mystic Rose: Chapter #8"
---

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.sutra {
  font-style: italic;
  white-space: pre-wrap !important;
}
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<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THE RAISED HAND AND "YAA-HOO"?</p>


Neelam, you must have seen that today I have raised both my hands, because the German idiots have made a law in Germany that raising one hand is a criminal act. And what about all the dogs? They are not just raising one hand, they are raising one leg all over the Fatherland and pissing! They are the real followers of Adolf Hitler.


I had not been aware that Germany will never become intelligent. It is unfortunate that they have banned me from entering Germany; otherwise I would have been in jail by now, another deportation... I have missed a great experience!


Because if you have seen a German jail the American jail is nothing you have seen the very hell. But the Germans themselves have prevented me; otherwise I would have raised one hand, without fail!


But thinking of my sannyasins... I don't want to create more trouble for you. I have created so much trouble already. So we leave behind that son-of-a-bitch Adolf Hitler. We will be raising both hands, meaning that our longing is for the stars.


And as far as "Yaa-Hoo" is concerned, it means nothing, but it has tremendous significance. It somehow vibrates you without saying anything; just say, "Yaa-Hoo!" and something in your belly...


And, as I have told you, all other greetings are born out of war. This is the only greeting which is born out of laughter, out of love in fact, out of a joke. I searched the whole day for the Red Indian who created the trouble, because in India you can find Indians, but Red Indians... very difficult. But in America, they will not allow me to enter; otherwise I would have searched there and asked the fellow, "What was the reason?"


But a great salute certainly has to have some meaning. And all words have to be given meaning by us; no word has a meaning on its own. You must have heard Mohammedans say, YA ALLAH. It means, "Ah, God." YAA-HOO means "Ah, God."


It is easy to give meaning, just a little searching I have to do. I am a lazy man I could not find any Red Indian. What to say about Red Indian, it is very rare to find an Indian here. I looked all around; then I finally thought, "It is better that I should put in a little of my own effort and work out the meaning." Now it is absolutely clean, clear: it means "Ah, God." So you need not be worried if somebody asks you what it means.


And naturally, two hands reaching to the stars... you have to shout, "Ah God!" in our language; why should we borrow from anybody else? Adolf Hitler himself has borrowed his swastika from India; we never objected. And now, my raising one hand they will discuss in their parliament: "One more reason that this man is criminal." And certainly, according to the definition I become a criminal.


Unfortunately, I am not in their territory so they cannot do anything to me. But many of the sannyasins come from Germany. For them, I had to find a way. And I am not a man to step back. To step forward is my way so from one hand, I have gone to two hands. Now let them make a law against raising two hands....


And you call these countries democracies, where you cannot raise your hands? It is a crime, and dogs are free and man is in all kinds of chains. Just on the first day, when I raised one hand, Premda... he is a doctor and my personal optician. He became afraid because he was sitting in the front row, and his picture was also taken. He started trying to find ways... "Somehow drop my picture, because if this picture is found in Germany, I am finished!"


In fact I told my people, "Don't let him remove his picture"... because as it happens he is the head of the darkroom! Then I understood also that Niskriya looks so innocent but is not so innocent... that cunning fellow was raising both hands, knowing perfectly well that one hand can create trouble back home!


I was thinking, "What is the matter? Why is he raising two hands?" But there is no need to be worried. Now, knowing that those idiots have passed a law that raising one hand is a crime... I had even to consult one of my sannyasins who is an attorney in Germany to ask him what is the situation. He said, "One hand is going to create great trouble, unless we can prove that it was raised in a comedy or in a drama."


I said, "It will be very difficult because it is not comic and it is not a drama. And even if it were because of me it is impossible for any court to accept that this is a drama." So I told my sannyasin attorney, Sadhu, that I would change it.


And why not find something better? Why bother about a dirty past and an ugly nightmare? I had raised that hand only to provoke those two dodos who had come from BUNTE magazine. That work is done. Now we settle for two hands and a good full-heart "Yaa-Hoo!"
Just give me a demonstration....

That's good!
<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
IN THE BOOK DIALOGUES WITH GURDJIEFF, GEORGE GURDJIEFF IS SAID TO HAVE DESCRIBED THE WORK AS:
"IT IS MORE THAN ALL WORDS, LESS THAN ALL DREAMS. IT IS A TERROR TO BEHOLD, A JOY TO EXPERIENCE. IT IS THE CONNECTING ENDS OF A GREAT AND SECRET CIRCLE CLOSING THE GAP TWIXT ALL AND NOTHING, IT IS THE WORK."
BELOVED MASTER, HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE THE WORK?</p>


Jivan Mada, I love George Gurdjieff but I don't agree with him. He used to call the search "the work." He has a reason to say so: his reason was that all else that you are doing is futile, it is just making castles in sand which will disappear. Do something which will be eternally yours, which will be forever a part of your being.


Because of this he called his own style of life, his teachings, his philosophy, "the work." He said, "Except this, all else is childish, stupid. People are wasting time, a time which is immensely valuable in which they can crystallize themselves, in which they can become what is hidden in them: the golden splendor."


In a way, he was right. But I don't call my search "the work" because to me... the "work"... the very word perspires! It really stinks. I call it playfulness, I call it joyfulness, I call it a hilarious search. And it is certainly hilarious, because you are searching yourself!


Just say "Yaa-Hoo" and be yourself there is not much search in it. I cannot call it "the work."
My people are not workers, laborers, slaves.
My people are lovers of truth.
In the ultimate sense, it is a love affair.


It cannot be anything else than a love affair, falling in tune with existence, dancing with the trees and the winds, being silent with the stars and the sky, listening to the roaring ocean and feeling this all as your own empire.


The moment your heart beats with the heartbeat of the universe, nothing more is needed. This is not work, this is love; love in the ultimate sense.


Gurdjieff says, IT IS A TERROR TO BEHOLD, A JOY TO EXPERIENCE. IT IS THE CONNECTING ENDS OF A GREAT AND SECRET CIRCLE CLOSING THE GAP BETWIXT ALL AND NOTHING, IT IS THE WORK.


I have told you, in one sense he is right. But in a very ordinary sense he is right. He was not a poet. He was a tremendously beautiful man, but he had no sense of beauty. To him, everything was hard work and the meaning that he is giving to his work is creating A SECRET CIRCLE CLOSING THE GAP BETWEEN ALL AND NOTHING. But that gap can only be closed by a loving silence, not by any work.


And there is no need to go far away to search. Just this moment, if you are silent, you are all and you are nothing. The gap is closed. And certainly it is not work. It is a simple intelligence, a loving intelligence. But Gurdjieff had never known any love. Although he has left behind him in perhaps a dozen countries, boys and girls he made love to many women but that was not love. He never asked the woman, "What is your name?" because he never wanted to see her again; what is the point of unnecessarily noting her address and telephone number?


I have come across one girl... the moment I saw her she had come to me I could not believe my eyes. She looked so much like Gurdjieff. I asked her, "Do you know your father's name?"


She said, "It is strange. You don't ask my name, you ask my father's name."


I said, "Your name I will ask later on; first let me be satisfied. What is your father's name?"


She said, "You are unnecessarily wounding me. I don't know. My mother never told me my father's name, she simply said that he was a very strange and very powerful man."


I said, "My suspicion seems to be absolutely correct. Your father's name is George Gurdjieff, I tell you."
She said, "This is strange how can you know?"


I said, "Your face, your eyes, your color, the color of your hair, the color of your eyes... and I have never seen such a strong woman. You cannot be anybody else but Gurdjieff's daughter."


She started crying out of joy. She said, "Many have suspected, but I have never believed it. But when you say it, you are saying it with such authority that I am not ashamed. These tears are of joy that I had a father like George Gurdjieff."


I said, "Not only you had a father like George Gurdjieff, you will have at least a dozen cousin-brothers and sisters all around the world!" Because he believed in sowing the seeds anywhere; he never bothered whether it is the time or not, the season or not. And he never bothered again to inquire what happened to the crops.


He was certainly a very strange man. But what he is saying is very ordinary. He was not well educated in fact, not educated at all. His father died when he was nine and he was part of a nomadic tribe in the Caucasus, in an uncivilized part of the Soviet Union. No schooling... whatever he learned was by experience. To write a single page used to take him months, because he was not articulate at all. He knew many languages because he had lived in many tribes so something from here, something from there, but everything was mixed in his mind.


To talk to him was a torture, because he would say such words... you could have never imagined that such words existed. Moreover, he used to make up words. And his way of writing will explain it to you. He would write something, and then each evening a disciple was chosen to read it and he would sit by the side and look at the faces of the disciples, their response. Nobody has written that way, he was unique in every way. And if he saw that there was no response, nothing was moving in their hearts; or if he saw that people were yawning and wanted to go to sleep and it would be late at night; just within hours it would be dawn he would ask if they had any suggestions to make.


And then the article would be passed around, and every disciple would change a few things, a few words. Here and there a few sentences he would add, a few he would cancel. And the next day he would write the same paper again, with all the corrections again. A single article would be passed around at least thirty times. And when there were no more corrections to make... And my feeling is that people got tired how long can you make corrections? There is a limit to everything. Then one day nobody would correct anything, and unanimously the article would be accepted, although nobody would understand what it was.


When his first book, ALL AND EVERYTHING one thousand pages, his whole lifelong work was published, his publisher suggested... because nobody was ready to publish it, so he had to collect money from his disciples to publish it. The publisher suggested one thing: "I cannot figure out anything of what is written in it, but because you are putting up the money, I am publishing it. I am risking the name of my publishing house! You will have to agree to one thing: cut a hundred pages and let nine hundred pages remain joined, don't cut them. With a note in the beginning of the book saying: First read one hundred pages, and if you feel that you still want to read ahead, cut the rest of the pages. If you feel that it is enough, you return the book and take your money back."


And the fact is, even to go through those hundred pages is very difficult because sometimes one sentence runs through the whole page. By the time you come to the end of the sentence, you have forgotten the beginning. Somehow you look again at the beginning; by that time the middle is lost.


Most of the copies that were sold were brought back, nobody dared to open the rest. Those hundred pages were enough never again to touch any book of such a man! But he sold his books... the ordinary price was only one hundred dollars, but his price was one thousand dollars. He used to keep a few books with him he was a very impressive man, solid steel; anybody would become interested in him and he would say, "If you really want to understand me, first read the book. The price is one thousand dollars, and you cannot return it because that note is valid only if you purchase the book from the publisher." But the publisher had given all the books back to him, saying, "It is impossible. A few people have taken, they read one or two pages and they come running: 'Just give us our money, we don't want to get into this trouble. This man will create nightmares! You cannot make anything out of what he is writing and why he is writing and what his goal is.' "


This book... And he was very inventive he had to be, because he had no education so he had to substitute what he had learned from all his nomadic training. Now, have you ever heard the name Beelzebub? That is the first chapter of the book Beelzebub. My god, what is "Beelzebub"? In a certain nomadic tribe, Beelzebub is the devil's name. But there is no way to know that. And this Beelzebub tells about such things as the creation of the world; that in fact, he has created the world and this fellow God is simply a fiction.


Now, it will annoy anybody "Who is this Beelzebub in the first place? We have never even heard the name and he is establishing himself as the creator of the world and the father of us all."


It annoyed people: "We don't want to be sons of Beelzebub. You take this book back one hundred dollars, and all kinds of nonsense?" In those one thousand pages perhaps I may be the only man alive who has read it from the beginning to the end. There are not more than ten pages one sentence here, one sentence there, in that one-thousand-page book, which can be written on a small post card which have any significance.


But what was his influence? His influence was not the book; neither was he an intellectual. He was a very different kind of person, which has no parallel. All his learning was from different tribes of nomads, who are very primitive people. And then he started while he was young, entering into different Sufi monasteries, collecting whatever he could. And he managed to learn some practical ways, which he could not explain theoretically but he could produce effects through work. That's why he is insisting on calling it "the work."


For example one Englishman, Bennett, who became his disciple, was told on the first day of initiation: "In the garden, from this tree to that tree, you dig a ditch three feet wide and three feet deep. And when it is complete and it has to be non-stop; you cannot stop even for a coffee break when it is complete I will come and give you the instructions for what else to do."
The man said, "My god, but what will happen about my food?"
He said, "That is my concern. Do you want to be my disciple or not?"


Bennett said, "I have come to be your disciple. I have heard so much about you; I am going to dig the ditch."


He went on the whole day, a hot day. He went on digging and digging. And by the evening, he was thirsty and hungry and tired. Gurdjieff came with his gold-topped cane, looked around and said, "Yes. Now fill it back up! Make it exactly as it was."


Bennett said, "But I have not eaten anything!" Gurdjieff said, "A man can live ninety days without eating. Don't worry! That is my business. Are you my disciple or my master?"


The poor fellow started filling. By the middle of night, the ditch was filled up. In his memoirs, Bennett writes, "First I felt angry, irritated, felt to drop it and go back home. What kind of nonsense? Who has heard that finding God, one has to dig a ditch?" He was thinking that some prayer, some holy scripture... And this Gurdjieff a chain smoker, always keeping a bottle in the pocket of his long coat, and at any time he would take out the bottle, and a few sips, put it back... and he was never drunk.


Bennett said, "I have fallen into an utterly stupid thing." But a few others were there, and he inquired: somebody had been there for two years, somebody for five years. A few Russians had been living there for twenty years, and he could see that those people had something which nobody else had in the world. This is what Gurdjieff used to call the soul. Bennett wondered... "How, by digging a ditch, can you get a soul?" But he said, "Let us try at least one week."


But even that night he found a tremendous experience. He got tired, because he belonged to a royal family; he had never worked. He had never thought that he would have to dig a ditch! By the afternoon, he was utterly tired. And Gurdjieff used to come again and again, watching, because all the disciples were doing all kinds of stupid things.


Somebody was chopping wood, somebody was carrying big stones and storing them. And Bennett thought, "In what kind of situation have I ended up?" But he said, "At least seven days I should give; these people, if they have looked within for twenty years... And they seem to have something which nobody else in the world seems to have. Their eyes are so shiny; they seem to be made of steel. They have a certain presence, a certain authority. They look more like statues. So it is not bad. It is a torture, but for seven days..."


In the afternoon, when all energy was gone and he was feeling as if he would fall back in the ditch the mind was buzzing, tiredness, and heat, and he started feeling as if he were digging his own grave; he was not going to get out of this ditch again. But when the last moment came, when he was feeling that he was going to fall and then it is finished and he has not even made peace with God... Christians make peace with God the last prayer. Now there was no time and no energy, even to repeat the last prayer to God.


He suddenly found a great rush of energy which he had never known that he had. Very fresh energy, as if he had become again ten years younger. He said, "My god, this is strange just digging the ditch! The man knows something." He started to dig again, now with fresh energy.


By the time the sun was setting he again started feeling tired and he said, "Now it is finished. It seems it was reserve energy." He had just calculated in his mind that there must be some reserve energy, as you keep some reserve gas in your car. At least it can take you to the nearest gas station. But now even that was gone.


Gurdjieff was sitting by the side under a tree, and his cigar was lit... strange fellow! Neither does he eat the whole day he has been here nor does he allow anybody to eat. What kind of company is this? And when will the time for lunch come? No question of breakfast; that has passed long ago in the morning. It is time for dinner! But again Bennett felt that now this time he was going to faint. This is the last time he is seeing the sunset; never again will he see the sun.


And again it happened: at the last moment a tremendous wave of energy overwhelmed him, which was bigger than the first one a tidal wave. He had again become twenty years younger. He said, "My god, that man seems to be a magician. I have not eaten, I have not even drunk water, and that fellow is simply smoking cigars. In between he sips his vodka and puts it back. And nobody has eaten, and no talk, no spiritual discussion... "


In the middle of the night, when he had filled the ditch completely, he was so full of energy as he had never been in his life, even in the early morning after a full, deep sleep. And Gurdjieff called everybody: "Breakfast is ready." He was a great cook. The people who lived with him had never known such a great cook, because he had learned the art from different tribes, different nomads, and he had such a big kitchen... full of strange, weird things that people had never seen.


And then the breakfast was served and Gurdjieff for the first time in the whole day spoke to Bennett. "Have you learned anything or not? Man has one layer of superficial energy that he uses in day-to-day work, and he thinks this is all. If he exhausts it... which is really rare, unless you make an effort to exhaust it. That's what you were doing in digging the ditch. The second layer is the reserve layer. If the first layer is finished, the second takes over. It is bigger, deeper, stronger.


"Then the third layer there are very few people in the world who have known the third layer. But if you can exhaust the third layer also, you will know the fourth, cosmic layer, in which you are connected with the universal energy. It is no longer yours now the whole energy of the universe can flow through you. But nobody comes to that point..."


Gurdjieff said, "I know you must have felt angry, annoyed: What kind of teaching is this? But my teaching is the work. I don't know how to philosophize it; I first give you the experience and then I explain it to you. I am not a learned man and I don't want you to become learned. I want you to become experienced."
That's why he used to call it "the work."


But very few people were able to remain with him not more than a few dozen people. He was in America, he was in Europe, he was in England, but people would remain a day or two and then get lost, because the things that were to be done were so hard and the man was absolutely without compassion. That's how it looked.


It is not true; the man was very compassionate. But he was a master of his own kind.


And you are asking, Jivan Mada, "How would you define the work?" In the first place, I don't like the word and I don't define what is happening here as work. I want you to be more playful and more joyous. It is a totally different approach. You will reach the same point, but if you can reach dancing then why go weeping?


Gurdjieff never mentioned meditation, he had no idea. In his work, it does not come in. But what happens in his work with so much hardship can happen silently, sitting without any effort, in a simple state of let-go.


I call my discipline let-go. Just drop everything and be silently here and you have arrived because you have never left.
Don't go unnecessarily round and round.
You are where you have always been.


And ultimately you will find one day that this is where you have always been seeking and searching in all directions because you thought that you would meet yourself somewhere. It is play, it is love, it is dance.


But certainly, it is not work. It is a very relaxed approach towards reality. Because we are part of it if we relax, we start merging and melting into it.


Garimo has defined my work very well. She is saying a new version of an ancient prayer:
<p class="question">YOU ARE NUTS,
WE ARE NUTS,
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
YAA-HOO!</p>


It is so simple. It does not take much effort to be nuts. Just avoid being coconuts. Nuts are perfect, coconuts are very hard. Coconuts need masters like Gurdjieff. For nuts, I am perfectly right.


The prayer time is coming near, but before it comes I have to answer one question which has been waiting almost for two weeks. It is from Vimal. The answer is very simple but the question is very difficult. He is asking:
<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
WHAT IS GOING ON? THINGS HAVE BEEN BUILDING UP INSIDE ME FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS AND NOW I FEEL I AM ABOUT TO BURST.</p>


So who is preventing you? And everybody knows what is going on. It is happening so clearly and so loudly, and it will happen today also. And it seems Vimal is trying to be very philosophical about it "theoretically speaking," he is asking what is going on.
Everything is going on!
And he is saying:
<p class="question">I FEEL UNWORTHY OF YOU.</p>


My god! I don't see that anybody in the world has any need to feel unworthy of me. Everybody is worthy and particularly here, my whole approach is to help you get rid of this stupid idea propounded to you that you are unworthy and you have to become worthy. I am saying to you, you are worthy as you are. You don't have to become. If you try to become somebody other than who you are, you will be phony.
Be real and you are worthy.


I accept you with my total heart; I have not rejected a single person in my life for any reason. But I know your problem; that's why I said the solution is very simple to why you are feeling unworthy and all these theoretical stupidities...
<p class="question">I FEEL AFRAID AND ISOLATED...</p>


My god! Here? You feel afraid and isolated? People don't have even space to sit! And when the great relaxation happens, then even I cannot find who is who. People disappear. Somebody's head and somebody else's body... That day when that "Yaa-Hoo" happened, I was looking at Zareen. She was sitting just in front of me. Such a solid woman disappeared! A few parts here, a few parts there. I even started worrying whether she would come back joined, it appeared to be almost a massacre. Then I realized that perhaps people are right that I am a great criminal, that I not only corrupt people, I kill people! But I will do it again...
And Vimal is feeling like a coward:
<p class="question">AND MY RELATIONSHIPS WITH PEOPLE ARE ALL FALSE!</p>


So what do you want? Real relationships? Relationships have to be false; otherwise you will have to be glued together, and it will be really a difficult life! I cannot understand.
He is saying:
<p class="question">I FEEL MEAN.</p>


Very good! So who is telling you not to feel? feel mean, perfectly mean! And here, my people will enjoy it. "This fellow is going... he is perfectly mean. Just avoid him!" But there are people even greater than you think, meaner than you can believe. Have you seen Sarjano? The day I told him to open the suitcase and give back all the things in the suitcase to the people they belong to, he disappeared! He said, "Now it is too much." He will come back and I can assure you, when he comes back... open his suitcase and see: it will be empty. He always comes, fills his suitcase, and goes away. And just after three or four days, he will be back.


So, don't you feel in any way that you are the only mean person. There are greater fellows and they are all respectable. I love Sarjano, he is very articulate. And you are saying,
<p class="question">I FEEL MEAN AND MISERLY AND VERY UNGIVING OF MYSELF IN ANY WAY. AND WORST OF ALL I FEEL LIKE I AM HIDING ALL THE TIME, NEVER LETTING ANYONE SEE WHO I AM.</p>


It seems you are thinking to stand naked on the podium, so everybody knows who you are. Everybody knows who you are. Why are you worrying? Except you, everybody knows but you are not worried about that. You are not concerned with knowing yourself, you are concerned that "Nobody knows about me, who I am or what I think or feel."


Why should they? People are doing their own things why should they bother about you? Your emotions, your feelings, your thoughts... then they will not have any time for themselves.
And finally:
<p class="question">I FEEL I AM FED UP WITH LIFE...</p>


That's very good. Every great man always gets fed up with life. Gautam Buddha got fed up with life. So you are on the right track. Just don't go to Goa. Because you are saying:
<p class="question">... AND HAVE THOUGHTS OF GOING SOMEWHERE...</p>


That somewhere should not be Goa. If you are really fed up with life... and do you think Goa is a place to commit suicide?
Strange thoughts:
<p class="question">... REALLY SAFE AND JUST VEGETATING.</p>


If that's what you want "really safe and just vegetating" then become a member of the Couch Potato Club. I am going to tell Avirbhava to open an office and register people who want to become potatoes.
Vimal is saying:
<p class="question">IT FEELS LIKE MORE THAN JUST LAZINESS, IT FEELS LIKE I JUST WANT TO DIE.</p>


Vimal, people who want to die simply die. They don't harass others. Now you are harassing me. Do you want me to give you directions how to die? All the governments are after me, I was fined four hundred thousand dollars on the grounds that I have arranged a marriage, and this is their highest punishment. You can murder the president then also, the same punishment... And I have been speaking my whole life against marriage.


And you are asking directions from me how to die? There are simple ways and please don't involve me. You can inquire of anybody; everybody knows how to die, it is such a simple matter.


But you don't want to die, you want to discuss. And I am not saying that from my side. Your question ends:
<p class="question">FROM WHERE YOU ARE SITTING CAN YOU SEE ANY LIGHT AT THE END OF MY TUNNEL?</p>


Everybody has to see the light of his own tunnel. I am seeing light in my own tunnel. This is impossible, you cannot exchange tunnels. And I don't like peeping into other people's tunnels. If you cannot find it you who have lived in your tunnel for so long how can just a stranger looking into it find any light? And what is the need? Just purchase a few candles.
Now I come to the real thing.


All this nonsense that Vimal is writing is to hide the real problem. I knew it was going to happen, and I have been telling Maneesha, "You should not fall sick." But she goes on falling sick, once in a while. And I knew that whoever would be given the chance to read the questions or the sutras would soon start thinking that he is also capable: why should he be the substitute? He can do it. He has done it. And this Maneesha again comes back and Vimal is...


That's what is giving him the feeling of unworthiness and desire to go somewhere, even to die. And the only thing is that he wants to read the questions.


But this is how people's minds function. He may not even be aware that this is the real question, and if I allow him from tomorrow to read the questions he will not be fed up with life and he will not be thinking of going anywhere and all problems will disappear. But my problem is, the same problems will appear in Maneesha! And you know perfectly well that women can create more fuss and tantrums, and she lives just on top of my head. It is very difficult: they start crying, weeping.
You may be right, but a woman is never wrong.


Once a woman has got a position finished! You should be happy that periodically she falls sick just pray to God that her periods come more often. Don't get fed up, persist. Try and try! But I cannot help.


But you should not hide your real problem through such things. That's why I have been keeping your problem for two weeks: so that perhaps you will cool down, and then I will see. Because a person who wants to die does not wait for two weeks for the answer.


At three o'clock in the morning, the phone rings on the hotel night desk. The night porter, O'Grady, picks it up. "Hello," says Paddy's alcohol-filled voice. "What time do you open the bar?"
"At ten o'clock in the morning," replies O'Grady and puts down the phone.


At five a.m. the phone rings again. "What time did you say you open the bar?" asks an even drunker Paddy.


"I told you ten o'clock," says O'Grady angrily, "and you are not going to be let in!" He is about to slam down the phone when Paddy whines, "But I don't want to get in, I want to get out."


Seamus blunders out of the bar and staggers into the local cemetery where he falls into a freshly-dug grave and goes to sleep. In the morning, the factory siren wakes him up and he gets up on his feet to have a look around.


"Ah, my god," gasps Seamus, holding his hands over his ears. "The day of judgment... and I am the first one!"


On a very hot afternoon chief Brown Bear and his wife are traveling across the plains on a rickety old train. The chief is thirsty so he orders his squaw to fetch him some drinking water. She waddles down the train corridor and returns shortly with a cup full of water.


Drinking it quickly, the chief demands more. So off she goes down the corridor. He drinks the second cup and again demands more. The squaw again makes her track to the water source, only to return promptly with an empty cup.
"Where water?" asks the chief.
"Sorry," says the squaw, "white man sitting on well."


A man walks into a bar, orders a drink and proceeds to laugh out loud for about two minutes. When all the people are looking at him, he abruptly stops laughing, and starts crying and sobbing. After about two minutes of this, a smile comes onto his face and he again breaks into uncontrollable laughter.


This is followed by another bout of crying and then more laughter. After about twenty minutes of alternate laughing and crying, he looks up at all the inquiring faces and says, "Please forgive me, but my mother-in-law has just driven over a cliff in my new Rolls Royce."

Okay, Maneesha?
Yes, Osho.
			

> [!info]
> Copyright 1964-1990 Osho (Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh)
>