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Part X : 1987-1990 Poona-Two : Osho's Garden
I have been in this garden for seven years before I went to
America. My people had planted small plants and now it has become
really a jungle, so beautiful that you need not do anything—just
sit silently under the shade of a tree and feel what trees are
whispering to each other. There is constant communion between
the earth and the sky.
And if you have heard that whispering, your heart will start
dancing with joy. That whispering will become your song of life.
That whispering will make you understand the Song of Solomon.
mess114
This garden is not just an ordinary garden. These trees have
heard me as much as you have heard me, and these trees have loved
me as much as you have loved me. These trees are as much my disciples
as you are. So be respectful with them. With loving care, with
sensitive alertness, you will not only be a good gardener, you
will also become a higher consciousness—more human, more
divine.
Shower on these trees all your love. They cannot speak, but
they are very sensitive.
The latest experiments about trees are so revealing—they
can even read your thoughts. Their sensitivity is far greater
than man's sensitivity.
Scientists have developed certain instruments like the cardiogram.
They put the cardiogram on a certain tree and the cardiogram starts
making a graph of how the tree is feeling. The graph is symmetrical,
and then suddenly they bring a woodcutter with an axe, and the
moment the tree sees the woodcutter the graph changes. It goes
berserk, the symmetry is lost. Nothing has been done to the tree,
it is just that the woodcutter has come with the idea to cut it.
That idea is being caught by the sensitiveness of the tree, and
now, there are scientific ways to find it out.
The strangest thing is that if the woodcutter is just passing
without any idea of cutting the tree, the graph does not change.
It depends on his idea—his thought creates a certain wave.
Every thought is being broadcasted from your mind, creating waves
around you, and those waves are picked up by the sensitiveness
of the tree. They are very much alive. splend21
Just by the side of Chuang Tzu hall there were no flowers three
days ago. Then one day the storm came and the rains came, and
in the morning suddenly there were beautiful sunflowers—just
in one night. I had seen the place; in the evening there were
no flowers, in the morning there were flowers. golden04
And for a man like me who has an allergy to perfumes…
My gardener, Mukta, has to keep all the flowers outside my windows,
which are never opened, so I can see the roses but the perfume
cannot reach to me. And poor Mukta has to work hard because keeping
those roses around my room… There are such big, huge trees,
so much shadow, and roses cannot blossom perfectly unless they
have sunlight. So she has constantly to change the flowerpots.
But she manages for me to see the roses all around me wherever
I am in the house. She is deceiving the sun and she is deceiving
the roses. She has to continuously move them in a rotation; whenever
a flower comes to its total blossoming, she brings it around to
my side outside the windows. And when she sees that the plant
is not happy without the sun, she takes the plant to the sun.
So she has to keep a double row rotating. It is a rotary club.
But she manages perfectly well. She knows I love the roses, but
I cannot tolerate their fragrance. I am too sensitive to their
fragrance. That immediately disturbs me. gdead04
Just for the last few days I have been seeing a bird. When I
left for America it was not here, and I have never seen it anywhere
else. It is so beautiful: pure white, with a black head and such
a long tail—the bird is very small, the tail is almost six
times bigger than the bird. Because the tail is so long, it cannot
fly like other birds; it moves in air like a fish moves in water.
I enquired…because it is a strange bird, I have never seen
one so beautiful. It has made a point…every day when I am
taking my food in the morning and in the evening it comes for
certain. Shunyo told me that this bird is a rare bird; it is called
the "bird of paradise."
I said, "It looks like a bird of paradise—it doesn't
seem to belong to the earth. The beauty is so unique…with
a small black head, and so snow-white, and the tail is so long
that it cannot fly, it just hops from one tree to another tree.
The way it moves is almost like a fish moving in water."
I told Shunyo, "Watch, he cannot be alone, there must be
a girlfriend or boyfriend—in this place he may be a bird
of paradise, but he cannot be a saint!"
She says she has seen his girlfriend. She has a little small
tail—that is the only difference. But I have not seen the
girlfriend yet. It is my experience, if the girlfriend comes first
to me the boyfriend is bound to come. But if the boyfriend comes
first, then it is not necessarily so—the girlfriend even
may become an enemy to me, jealous. The poor fellow comes alone.
And every day I have been watching, looking; she must be sitting
somewhere. But she is avoiding me.
This whole existence takes responsibility for the oceans, for
the mountains, for the stars. razor06
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