The Transmission of the Lamp ~ 31
|date & time||10 Jun 1986 pm|
|location||Punta Del Este, Montevideo, Uruguay|
|audio||Available, duration 1h 29min. Quality: good.|
|video||Available, duration 1h 30min. Quality: good.|
|online text||find the PDF of this discourse|
- Reader of the questions: Ma Prem Maneesha.
- Question 1
- Beloved Osho, the phrase "a broken family" is used to conjure up the essence of a disastrous childhood.
- By the time I was at university, I had had two fathers and three mothers; and if you include my grandparents -- who also functioned as parents for a good while -- a grand total of seven, instead of the conventional two. Initially I was puzzled how it was that I seemed relatively free and well-adjusted, while so many of my more "fortunate" friends -- who had had the proper stable family life -- seemed endlessly troubled by the continuing demands of family ties that pursued them into adulthood. Might not a broken family really be a blessing in disguise?
- Question 2
- Beloved Osho, upon being questioned on his place in history, Einstein said, "If relativity is proved right, the Germans will call me German, the Swiss will call me a Swiss citizen, and the French will call me a great scientist. If relativity is proved wrong, the French will call me a Swiss, the Swiss will call me a German, and the Germans will call me a Jew."
- In your case, Osho, I imagine the Indians will say you had to leave India for lack of space -- you had too many Indian followers; the Americans will say they persuaded you to leave to help spread your message; the Greeks will say they were so impressed with you, that they provided a police motorcade to the airport; and the British will say they even provided you with government accommodation. And all the rest will say that they wanted you to stay but did not want to gain an unfair advantage over the others.
- Beloved Osho, what do you say?
- Question 3
- Beloved Osho, recently when we were in Kathmandu, a Japanese businessman stepped into the lift with me and conversationally asked me what country I was from. Without thinking, I said, "Oh, I'm a sannyasin."
- I don't know what that man must have made of my reply, but I realized only afterwards that something seemed to fall away from me in that moment, through such an innocuous kind of situation. A sense of nationality, of having roots somewhere, even a mother to return to if I really had the need -- everything that Australia represented for me in terms of the past -- simply died right then and there.
- Now I really do feel like an existential gypsy, and I love it!
|◄ Previous event||Next event ►|
|◄ Previous in series||Next in series ►|