Death is not going to occur after seventy more years -- we are dying gradually
and there will be nothing left after seventy years. Life goes on finishing drop
by drop. Do not call it life, it is a lie. You can call it a gradual death. Do
not celebrate birthdays, all are deathdays. The day you see death in your
birthday and you hear the footsteps of death in life, you will know the truth.
That truth will give you freedom. As soon as you know that truth you will start
a new search -- money will seem meaningless, the body will seem meaningless;
the relations of body and money will become meaningless and even the world
based on money and body will seem meaningless. And before knowing the truth it
is necessary to know the untruth as untruth, the false as false...
OshO
DON'T THINK ABOUT
ANYTHING THAT CONCERNS OTHERS. And that's what you go on thinking. Ninety-nine
percent of the things that you think about concern others. Drop them -- drop
them immediately! Your life is short, and your life is slipping out of your
fingers. Each moment you are less, each day you are less, and each day you are
less alive and more dead! Each birthday is a death day; one more year is gone
from your hands. Be a little more intelligent.
OshO
It is not that at a
certain date you die. In fact, the reality is that the day you are born, you
start dying. The child who is one day old has died a little bit, he has died
one day. He will go on dying day by day. What you call your birthday is not
really your birthday -- you should call it your deathday. The man who is
celebrating his fiftieth birthday is really celebrating his fiftieth deathday.
Death has come closer. Now, if he is going to live seventy years, only twenty
years are left. Fifty years he has already died! We are continuously dying as
far as the body is concerned...it is foam disappearing. Don't be deceived by
seventy years because seventy years mean nothing in the expanse of eternity --
what is the meaning of seventy years? It is foam, it is momentary.
OshO
Each of your birthdays
is an effort to forget that it is not your birthday, it is your death day; you
have died one year more. But with flowers and candles and cakes, one forgets
the immediacy of death. It is always with you. Birth is the beginning of death.
OshO
The pure awareness is
beyond time and space both. This is the beginning of true life, a life that is
eternal, a life that knows no death. The first birth is not true birth because
it will come to an end. It is bound to be followed by death. How can one call
it a birth? It implies death. It is not the beginning of life, in fact it is
the beginning of death. The moment a child is born he starts dying; when he is
one day old it means he has died one day. If he is going to live seventy years
now there is one day less. Every day life will be running out of his hands.
Each birthday will be really a death day.
OshO
In fact, death does not
come one day suddenly; it starts the day you are born. You start dying from the
very first breath. Each birthday is a deathday. Your life is slipping out of
your hands and you cannot escape.
OshO
At 60 death is coming
nearer, and you must have felt it that night, because whenever a birthday comes
a subtle feeling of death arises. To suppress that feeling we celebrate
birthdays. Whenever a birthday comes, on that day it is impossible to forget
death. To help you forget, friends come and greet you and they say, "This
is your birthday." Every birthday is a death day, because one more year
has gone, death is nearing. In fact a birthday is not a birthday, cannot be --
death is approaching, death is coming nearer. Time is slipping fast through the
fingers. The very earth on which you are standing is being pulled away. Soon
you will be in the abyss. A birthday is a death day. To hide it, to suppress
it, the society has created tricks. People will come with flowers and gifts to
help you forget that death is coming nearer -- and they call it a birthday.
OshO
The first day is not
the birthday, it is just the beginning of the process of birth, and then you
will be born and born and born and born. Again and again in a thousand and one
ways you will go on growing. The process ends only at death, and that too, only
apparently.
OshO
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