The Rebellious Spirit ~ 29

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event type discourse
date & time 24 Feb 1987, 19:00
location Chuang Tzu Auditorium, Pune
language English
audio Available, duration 1h 50min. Quality: good.
online audio
video Available, duration 1h 58min. Quality: good, but a slight constant audio-noise.
online video
see also
online text find the PDF of this discourse
shorttitle SPIRIT29
Reader of the questions: Sw Anand Vimal.
Question 1 from Sw Dhyan John
Beloved Osho, something is happening to me -- a feeling of fullness, richness, and expansion in my upper body. It's pushing on my throat. It's not gripping me, it's embracing me, and everyone and everything around me. I don't know if they can feel it, but I can. It's a touchless touch, like a sweet hello, not addressed to anyone or anything -- but rather everyone and everything. And it is silently following me around. This is like a strange pregnancy, which I know nothing about. How could I? I am a man. What is it, Osho? Can men get pregnant? Have you been visiting me in the night, Osho?
Question 2 from Sw Devageet
Beloved Osho, I can sense some mysteries which you never speak of. Is it that we must come in the night and take them? Or are some mysteries simply revealed once we are drowned in them? Beloved, beloved Osho, what does understanding mean?
Question 3 from Prem Pradeepa
Beloved Osho, is it possible that I know myself less and less?
Question 4 from Sarjano
Beloved Osho, a few days ago it happened, and you must know it; the one who can find words for everything now has no words to describe this experience. I only say what it was not: There were no angels playing their trumpets, there was no celestial music, nor smell of incense, nor flowers, nor colors of thousands of rainbows....
The experience came from the back, with velvet feet like a thief, so unknown and so familiar....
My arms grasped the sky searching for your hand while my feet walked on their own towards Lao Tzu gate, and my being was only a riverlike whisper, murmuring, "Osho, Osho, Osho." But your hand was not there, or didn't I see it, didn't I feel it?
Oh Osho, my beloved ocean, haven't you promised me that you would take hold of my hand?


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