an ecstatic, “Praise life! Praise here! Praise now! Praise Osho!” The singing rides over rooftops and trees so that, sitting up on the balcony where I work in Lao Tzu House, I pause to listen or sing along.
The Music Group, led by Anubhava on his guitar, meets in the evenings during darshan, the songs blending in and providing a lovely backdrop as Osho leans forward to explain someone’s new name to them or to touch a forehead in blessing. And later, darshan concluded, those who spill out from the gates of Lao Tzu House fall into the arms of those who have been singing and dancing the hour away in Buddha Hall.
Occasionally instrumentalists, singers, and dancers from the Music Group or Sufi Dance come to darshan to play and sing for Osho. Chuang Tzu Auditorium, housed within Lao Tzu House, is surrounded by the dense jungle of Osho’s garden. Imagine then, a group of two hundred flame-dressed men and women arranged in a circle within a circle, walking slowly, arms and faces uplifted, singing our version of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’—a several-layered harmony in which male and female parts meet and then diverge and intermingle in easy accord. This is the real temple—the life energy of several hundred people throbbing with love and joy and gratitude. Here is the Song of Songs, the testimony that life lived passionately is the essence of prayer.
Each “Celebration Day” is another chance to express our many “hearts full of love, beating in the rhythm of your song.” Whether it is to celebrate Osho’s birthday, his enlightenment, Guru Purnima or Mahaparinirvana (or Mahaparibanana, as some of us irreverently call it), hundreds of guests from all over India and from the West throng through the gates of the ashram. We residents man the many stalls offering a variety of books, discourse audiotapes, large, glossy, colored prints of Osho, handmade gifts from the mala shop—little “snuff” boxes, jewelry boxes, hairpins of ebony or teak—clothes from the boutique, toiletries from the “Bodydharma” department, cookies, cakes, and sweets.
The late afternoon is for individual preparation for the evening festivities—everyone engaged in hair washing, body scrubbing, and dressing in their most beautiful robes. Once seated in the brightly lit Buddha Hall, several thousand of us sing to the band’s accompaniment, or perhaps just sit quietly with eyes closed, until the car carrying Osho purrs up to the back of the podium.
The music segues into the beautiful Rumi-inspired song…
Draw near, draw near
Draw near, draw near
And I will whisper in your ear
the name whose radiance
makes the spheres to dance:
Osho!
The faces around me are radiant. I am full to bursting as we fold our hands in namaste to greet Osho’s entrance, which coincides perfectly with this particular song. He has paused, his hands raised in namaste, a soft smile playing on his face.
Just one glimpse of the real man
standing there
and we are in love love love love
love love love love love!
And miraculously, here he is, the “real man,” in our midst. Rumi has written, those many centuries ago, of such a moment, of this very man and those who love him. Time and space have disappeared. I am so full of love and joy that I feel as if I will burst. Tears spill down my face.
Perhaps the format of these celebration changes over the years, but always foremost for me is Osho sitting so still and elegantly in front of us, and our singing. Singing our hearts out—in gratitude to him, to each other, to life, and singing, too, for no reason other than that we cannot not! The love is palpable and expressed in songs that are tender—
He’s a flower of a man,
he’s a rainbow who can sing
who can sing, who can sing,
who can sing.
He’s a waterfall of music,
pouring rainbows over me,
over me, over me
over me.
—and some that are poignant. Indian Taru sings the perennial favorite to a hall that has become absolutely silent, spellbound now:
Guru Brahma, guru Vishnu
guru devo maheshwara
Tasmai shree guruvai namah now.
Om shanti-i-i, shant-i-i, shanti-i-i….
The song dissolves into silence, there is a pause, then once again we are off, riding the crest of
You fountain of love, of love,
You river of love, of love.
You ocean, -o-o-cean!’
And finally, as Osho rises and glides out, beaming, we sing our all-time favorite, the one that ends each celebration:
Yes, Osho, yes!
Yes, Osho, yes!
Yes, Osho,
Yes! yes! yes!
*
Surrendering to a master and into the energyfield around him is really just an excuse to encourage our small selves to dissolve. Osho says on one occasion:
From the heart there is no ego. Because of this we have become afraid of the heart. We never allow it to have its own way, we always interfere with it, we always bring mind into it. We try to control the heart through the mind because we have become afraid—if you move to the heart, you lose yourself. And this losing is just like death. Hence the incapacity to love, hence the fear of falling in love. Because you lose yourself, you are not in control. Something greater than you grips you and takes possession. Then you are not on sure ground and you don’t know where you are moving. So the head says, "Don’t be a fool, move with reason. Don’t be mad."
[You are] possessed…but unless you are ready to be possessed there can be no God for you. Unless you are ready to be possessed there is no mystery for you, and no bliss, no benediction. One who is ready to be possessed by love, by prayer, by the cosmos, means one who is ready to die as an ego. Only that one can know what life really is, what life has to give. What is possible becomes immediately actual, but you must put yourself at the stake.
He suggests we find as many opportunities as we can to be more loving.
Remember, whatsoever you are doing, the quality of love must be there. This has to be a constant remembering. You are walking on the grass—feel that the grass is alive. Every blade is as much alive as you are.
Be loving. Even with things, be loving. If you are sitting on a chair, be loving. Feel the chair; have a feeling of gratitude. The chair is giving comfort to you. Feel the touch, love it, have a loving feeling. The chair itself is not important. If you are eating, eat lovingly.
Music, singing and dancing have always been important to me personally, and I can hardly believe my good luck at not only finding Osho and living such an extraordinary life in exotic India but discovering that all three are intrinsic to our every day. In listening to music, in singing and especially in dancing I
