Many group leaders from the West are being drawn to Osho. Perhaps they sense that, though their work is helpful, it has its limitations. And/or maybe they recognize the need to continue their own personal inner exploration.
Osho describes how meditation and therapy can work well together, explaining that for many of us, before we can sit calmly for any length of time in a passive form of meditation such as Vipassana, we need some form of release.
All the methods that are being used in the West are cathartic, and all that have been used in the East are non-cathartic. My effort is to bring a new synthesis to them.
The Western methods should be used in the beginning so that one is clean and has thrown out all repressions. Then the Eastern methods should be used, because then they go to the very core of your being. You enjoy them then, and there is no effort involved; they are almost effortless. Things settle by themselves while you simply sit and watch. But right now, if many things are there and you try to sit, they will bubble up, and you will go on thinking and thinking and thinking about them.
Sarito was among the growing number of Westerners who had discovered Osho and the group work happening in Pune via the human potential movement that was thriving in America in the late 1970s. She says this about her experience:
“Pune was THE place, everybody knew, to ‘do some groups.’ Like the cutting edge of the human potential movement, even better than Esalen. Unlike veterans of much of the group work that was going on in the States at the time, where it often seemed to me people just added a layer of jargon and seriousness to whatever problems they had gone to some workshop or another solve, people would come back from the groups in Pune lighter, more playful—even transformed. And it interested me for that reason, primarily, because I knew I was a hopeless misfit (or ‘unfit’ as Osho would say) and needed to be fixed, and I thought perhaps it could happen there.
“When I arrive, I’m to do the Leela group, which is ‘residential’ and means I will be staying inside the ashram for seven days and need to pack a bag with clothing and toiletries enough for that time. There is a brief description of the group on a bulletin board explaining that Leela means ‘play,’ and it’s something to do with ‘energy.’ The group leader’s name is Somendra. I suppose I could find someone to tell me more about it, but I am reluctant to carry someone else’s interpretations with me and risk spoiling the adventure, so I don’t.
“I arrive on the first morning and note the floor, covered in mattresses, which I understand will also serve as our sleeping quarters. Attached to the room is one large, open tiled bathroom with two showerheads and a toilet. The group begins with introductions, name and groups already done. All are sannyasins except for me, all have participated in a long list of groups. When I say, ‘My name is Carol, and this is my first group,’ they all burst out laughing in a way that communicates very clearly to me, ‘Man, she has no clue what she’s in for.’
“I soon find out. No sooner are the introductions completed than we are asked, as if it’s perfectly normal and routine, to take off our clothes. Like everyone else in the group, I’m a veteran of the 1960s and have done plenty of skinny-dipping and the like. But that was always among friends, and I don’t know any of these people! So I am a little taken aback, but soon find that it feels just the same as skinny-dipping with friends, nothing ‘sexual’ about it, nobody gawking at anybody’s breasts or genitals. We’re all grown-ups here, I realize, or better to say, children, because it brings this lovely quality of innocence to the room, and vulnerability. The group leader takes off his shirt in solidarity, but leaves his pants on—which also seems fine, just the right balance of leadership and ‘we’re all in this together.’ And then we start to work.
“The work seems to draw on Osho’s active meditations, lots of energetic physical activity, breathing, gazing into each other’s eyes, and relating in nonverbal exercises in smaller groupings or as a whole. Evocative music to support the different exercises. From time to time we are brought back to a circle and given a chance to express in words whatever has ‘come up’ for us during the work, and Somendra might just nod in acknowledgment, or offer a few words or perhaps a question. There is a striking absence of ‘analysis’ or attempt to work things out on an intellectual level. The point is, rather, to simply see clearly what is, and acknowledge it. Then, as Osho has so often said, that very awareness itself becomes the insight, is the dissolving of the obstacle, the acceptance of the gift.
“At the end of the first day, after one particularly energetic exercise that has left us all sweaty and tired, Somendra does indeed take off his pants to join us all in the showers, where we all giggle and splash each other with water, soap down each other’s backs, and generally horse around. Then Somendra says good night and, exhausted, the rest of us stake out places to make our beds on the floor and fall asleep.
“Halfway through the 7-day process we are given a ‘night off’ to go back to wherever we are staying and to spend the night there and do whatever. For me that is back in the hotel I am staying in with my boyfriend, and within minutes I can see it is going to be awful. In contrast to the group I’ve just left, with its naked simplicity, its vulnerability and love, every phony, superficial, self-serving and self-denying aspect of this relationship is suddenly horrifically clear to me. I can hardly bear it, and I feel myself withdrawing into a pattern that feels all too familiar, putting on what I hope is an invisible armor of casual superficiality and small talk to hide the turmoil going on inside. It seems to work, and for once I am eager the next morning to slip out of bed before dawn and head for Dynamic and then back to the group.
“When we regather after breakfast in the group room, we sit in a circle with everyone sharing their experiences of our ‘night out.’ I’m listening and judging them all, thinking whatever they have gone through is trivial and superficial compared to my own existential encounter with the dark underbelly of my life. When it comes to my turn, I answer the group leader’s question by not answering: ‘It was okay,’ I say. ‘Nothing special.’ He moves on to the next person, and I congratulate myself that I have dodged a bullet.
“Then, when the circle has been completed and everyone has had their say, it is approaching time to break for lunch. The group leader goes round the circle again, giving feedback / making comments on the various experiences people have reported. He saves me for last, and then turns to me and says, ‘and you, Carol. You can’t give anything, not even a few words, and that’s why you are stuck.’
“Then he stands up to go for lunch, as does everyone else, leaving me there in the room alone, devastated, having just been told the most true thing about me that anyone has ever said directly to me in my life. On the group room wall is a photo of Osho, which by now has become an anchor for me, an indication of his presence there. The group leader might be the instrument but it is Osho doing the work. I look up at the photo and he beams back at me. ‘Yes,’ he says.
“I stagger out onto the lawn, lie down in the grass and weep at the sky for some time, then stagger out the back gate and wander down the road to find a spot on a wall to sit where I won’t be visibly devastated to everyone who passes by.
“It is lunchtime, and the children from the nearby school are on the streets. Two small girls come up to me and, in their singsong voices, try to practice their English: ‘What’s your name?’ I play the game grudgingly, wishing they would go away, until one holds out her hand and asks, almost demands, ‘Paisa?’ [Money?]
“NO! I say, with all the guilt and anger one feels when confronted by a poverty that can never be healed by a few coins tossed in its direction. She asks again, more gently this time, looking straight into my eyes. ‘Paisa…?’
“I hear the words in my head: ‘You can’t give anything, not even a few words.’ I dig into my bag and give her a 10-paisa coin, and the two of
