Sex, Love, and Compassion: Seed, Flower, and Fragrance

[Guest guest]

Osho,

I have been reflecting on the difference between "feeling sorry" for someone and

"having compassion." It seems to me that to be sorry for someone has an element

of condescension in it, as if you were superior to the other, and that it does

not necessarily have anything to do with love, whereas compassion must be an

integral part of loving. Please comment.

 

Prem Joyce, the first and the most important thing to remember is that

reflecting is not going to help at all. "Reflecting" is nothing but a beautiful

word for "thinking." The blind man can go on thinking about light, he can arrive

at certain conclusions too, but those conclusions cannot be right. Howsoever

right they appear to be, they are bound to be false, untrue.

 

The moon in the sky is one thing and the moon reflected in the silent lake is

totally another. One exists, the other is only a reflection. If you jump into

the silent lake you will not be able to catch hold of the moon; on the contrary,

you may even disturb the reflection because the lake will be disturbed.

 

The more you think, the more you are creating waves and ripples in the mind. The

real thing for the blind man to do is not to think about light but to heal his

eyes, for the deaf man not to reflect on music but to go through some alchemical

processes which can make him hear.

 

That's the difference between reflection and meditation: meditation opens your

eyes, reflection is thinking with closed eyes. Meditation is seeing and thinking

is remaining blind. But thinking can give you great conclusions, very logical

too; in fact only thinking can give you logical conclusions. Meditation will

give you very paradoxical experiences – illogical or superlogical, but never

logical.

 

Existence consists of contradictions.

 

It is vast enough to contain all contradictions – it consists of polar

opposites. They appear to be opposites to the logical mind, but they are

complementaries deep down in reality. They exist together in a kind of

simultaneity.

 

In English "meditation" again has the same flavor as "reflection." In English

there is no word which can be said to be the equivalent of dhyana or Zen, so we

have to use the word "meditation"; that comes closest. But a few conditions have

to be put upon it.

 

The moment you use the word "meditation," the immediate question arises, "On

what?" -- because "meditation" in the English language means meditating upon

something. And the words dhyana, or Zen, simply mean emptying yourself of all

thinking; it is not a question of meditating upon something. Meditation is a

state of absolute silence, of profound peace, of not thinking at all but just

being aware. Only in that awareness will you be able to see the truth.

 

You say, Prem Joyce: "I have been reflecting on the difference between 'feeling

sorry' for someone and 'having compassion.'"

 

And you can immediately see the difficulty: "feeling sorry" for someone and

"having compassion" are exactly the same. The person who knows what compassion

is cannot say "I have compassion"; he is simply compassionate. Having compassion

is not possible – either you are compassionate or you are not; it is not a

question of having. If you have compassion, it is the same, in different words,

as feeling sorry for someone.

 

But language can give you great scope for playing games, mind games. "Feeling

sorry" and "having compassion" are synonymous. Of course, feeling sorry and

having compassion are synonymous, but feeling sorry and being compassionate are

not synonymous. Being compassionate is a totally different phenomenon than

having compassion. Having compassion, again you will have that idea that "I am

far superior than the other. Look how much compassion I have!" And compassion is

not something that you can possess, it is not something that you can have, you

can only be it. Know the difference between having and being!

 

But you have been groping, and something significant has arisen out of your

groping.

 

You say: "It seems to me that to be sorry for someone has an element of

condescension in it, as if you were superior to the other...."

 

Yes, even the blind man can grope for the door and can sometimes find it, but

still he will not be able to see it. It is just accidental, that's why you are

not certain. Seeing has absolute certainty about it.

 

Seeing is knowing, and knowing is not approximate.

 

You say: "It seems to me...."

 

Naturally, if you are reflecting, at the most it can only seem to you that "This

is the door... perhaps this is the door." The "perhaps" will always surround

you, and with the perhaps one is in a kind of bondage: there will be ifs and

buts, you will never be on certain ground. And without being on certain ground

you cannot be centered: there will remain some wavering – maybe it is so, maybe

it is not so.

 

You say: "It seems to me that to be sorry for someone has an element of

condescension in it...."

 

It has! There is no question of being uncertain about it. In fact, people enjoy

being sorry for others. They are always looking for situations where they can

feel sorry for others – it is so ego-fulfilling, it is such a nourishment for

the ego. If somebody's house is on fire you go with tears in your eyes and you

show great sympathy, you show much concern, as if you are immensely pained. But

deep down, if you watch, you will find a certain joy, a certain glee.

 

But people never look within themselves.

 

It is bound to be there, for two reasons: it is not your house which is on fire,

"Thank God!" – that is the first thing. Secondly, you must be enjoying your

tears, because when somebody builds a new house, a beautiful house, you feel

jealous; great envy arises in you. You cannot enjoy, you cannot participate in

his joy. You want to avoid – you don't even look at his house.

 

I used to go to Calcutta where I would stay in a very beautiful house. And the

man who was the owner of the house was immensely concerned about the house. He

was very rich, one of the richest men in Calcutta, and he had no children. So

just the wife and the husband were there with nothing else to do but maintain

the house, the garden and the lawns with great care, and whenever I came he

would take me around to show me what new things they had done.

 

The last time I went, he didn't talk about the house, the garden, the swimming

pool. I was puzzled – that was so abnormal for him. Twenty-four hours passed and

the house was not mentioned at all: the new paintings that he had acquired and

the new "antique" furniture – the new antique furniture! – and how much it had

cost him. And he was looking a little bit sad too.

 

I asked, "What is the matter? You look very sad!" He said, "Yes, I am sad." He

took me out onto the lawn and showed me a house in the neighborhood – a new

house had been built and he said, "Unless I can defeat this man I will remain

sad!"

 

The neighbor invited me for lunch. He also wanted the owner of the house, my

host, to come with me, but he immediately refused. I had to go alone. When I

came back he said, "Don't take any note of my refusal. I cannot go into that

house. Unless I make a bigger house than him I cannot go there! It hurts! I am

feeling humiliated."

 

If you cannot participate in the joy of others, how can you feel sorry when they

are in trouble? If you feel jealous when they are joyful, then you will feel

joyful when they are in trouble. But you will not show it, you will show

sympathy. "Sympathy" is not a good word.

 

There are a few words that are very ugly but which are now very respected; words

like "duty,service,sympathy" – these are ugly words. A man who

is

fulfilling his duty is not a man of love. A man who is doing service knows

nothing of love, because service is not done, it happens. And the man who

sympathizes is certainly enjoying some kind of superiority: "I am not in that

sorry state, the other is in the sorry state. I have the upper hand – I can feel

sorry for him."

 

I lived in Jabalpur for twenty years. The richest man in Jabalpur used to come

to me once in a while. He said one day, "One thing troubles me always. I have

been helping all of my relatives, even faraway relatives, I have made them all

rich in every possible way, but nobody feels friendly towards me. In fact, I

feel a certain antagonism from all of my relatives. Why is it so? I have done so

much for them, and there was no need for me to do anything for them. I did it

out of love, but they feel antagonistic."

 

I said, "I know your relatives – they also visit me – and I know that they are

antagonistic to you. The reason is very simple: you have never allowed them to

do anything for you. You have always been doing things for them and you have

never allowed them to do even a small thing for you – you have not even asked

them to bring you a rose flower – so they are all feeling humiliated. And it is

not love that you are talking about, it is just ego: "I have done so much!" You

want to show them that "I have done so much and I don't need anybody to do

anything for me"; that's why there is antagonism. Of course, you have done it

with good intentions, but intentions don't count. The unconscious desire for ego

fulfilment, for ego gratification is hurting them."

 

I said to him, "Once in a while give them a chance. I know that you don't need

anything, but they have beautiful gardens and you can tell them, "Sometimes

bring roses for me." Sometimes when you fall ill you can ask them to come and

just sit by your side, and they will all feel happy. Just small things!

Sometimes you can tell them, "Invite me to supper, to dinner," and they will be

immensely overjoyed; they will not feel antagonism." He said, "That I cannot do

– that is impossible. That is against my nature." So I told him, "Then it is

absolutely clear now – even you can see it – why all your good deeds have

brought antagonism!"

 

These do-gooders are mischievous people.

 

They do good, but their desire is just the opposite of it.

 

Prem Joyce, the idea of feeling superior to the other is present in both cases,

whether you feel sorry or you have compassion.

 

And you say: "...and that it does not necessarily have anything to do with

love...."

 

Certainly it does not necessarily have anything to do with love – not only that,

it is anti-love because it is an ego trip and ego can never be in tune with

love. Ego is poison to love, it is necessarily anti-love. Your compassion is not

out of love if some desire of being superior is being fulfilled by it.

 

Osho, Zen: Zest, Zip, Zap and Zing