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In November and December 1978, Osho introduces Hakim Sanai's Hadiqa or Garden
Hakim Sanai: this name is as sweet to me as honey, as sweet as nectar. Hakim Sanai is unique, unique in the world of Sufism. No other Sufi has been able to reach to such heights of expression and such depths of penetration. Hakim Sanai has been able to do almost the impossible.
If I were to save only two books from the whole world of the mystics, then these would be the two books. One would be from the world of Zen, the path of awareness: Sosan's Hsin Hsin Ming. I have spoken on it; it contains the quintessence of Zen, of the path of awareness and meditation. The other book would be Hakim Sanai's Hadiqatu'l Haqiqat: The Walled Garden of Truth—in short, The Hadiqa: The Garden. This is the book we are entering today.
The Hadiqa is the essential fragrance of the path of love. Just as Sosan has been able to catch the very soul of Zen, Hakim Sanai has been able to catch the very soul of Sufism. Such books are not written, they are born. Nobody can compose them. They are not manufactured in the mind, by the mind; they come from the beyond. They are a gift. They are born as mysteriously as a child is born, or a bird or a rose flower. They come to us, they are gifts.
So first we will enter into the mysterious birth of this great book The Hadiqa: The Garden. The story is tremendously beautiful….
(Hakim Sanai meets a madman, Lai-Khur, who admonishes his hypocrisy yet prophesies a great destiny for him. Hakim Sanai experiences a satori…)
So he went to Mecca on a pilgrimage, to meditate, to be silent, to be a pilgrim unknown to anybody, to be anonymous. The thing had happened, but it had to be absorbed. The light had happened, but one has to get accustomed to it.
And when he became accustomed to the new gestalt, to the new vision, he came back to Lai-Khur and presented him this book, The Hadiqa. That's what he wrote on the way back from Mecca.
He poured his experience, his satori, into this book. These words are saturated with satori. This is how this great book was born, like a child is born, mysteriously; like a seed becomes a sprout, mysteriously; like a bird comes out of the egg, mysteriously. Like a bud opens early in the morning and becomes a flower, and the fragrance is spread to the winds.
Yes, this book was not written. This book is a gift from God. This book is a gift from God, and a gratitude from Hakim Sanai to that strange madman, Lai-Khur. unio101
In December Osho talks on Pythagoras' Golden Verses
Pythagoras represents the eternal pilgrim for philosophia perennis—the perennial philosophy of life. He is a seeker of truth par excellence. He staked all that he had for the search. He travelled far and wide, almost the whole known world of those days, in search of the Masters, of the mystery schools, of any hidden secrets. From Greece he went to Egypt—in search of the lost Atlantis and its secrets….
It was a great effort in those days, to travel from Greece to China. It was full of dangers. The journey was hazardous; it was not easy as it is today….
By the time Pythagoras came back, he was a very old man. But seekers gathered around him; a great school was born. And, as it always happens, the society started persecuting him and his school and his disciples. His whole life he searched for the perennial philosophy, and he had found it! He gathered all the fragments into a tremendous harmony, into a great unity. But he was not allowed to work it out in detail; to teach people he was not allowed.
He was persecuted from one place to another. Many attempts were made on his life. It was almost impossible for him to teach all that he had gathered. And his treasure was immense—in fact, nobody else has ever had such a treasure as he had. But this is how foolish humanity is, and has always been. This man had done something impossible: he had bridged East and West. He was the first bridge. He had come to know the Eastern mind as deeply as the Western mind….
But his whole life's effort was destroyed by the stupid people, by the mediocre masses. These few verses are the only contribution left. These verses can be written on one postcard. This is all that is left of that great man's effort, endeavour. And this too is not written by his own hand; it seems all that he had written was destroyed.
The day Pythagoras died, thousands of his disciples were massacred and burnt. Only one disciple escaped the school; his name was Lysis. And he escaped, not to save his life—he escaped just to save something of the Master's teachings. These Golden Verses of Pythagoras were written by Lysis, the only disciple who survived.
The whole school was burnt, and thousands of disciples were simply murdered and butchered. And all that Pythagoras had accumulated on his journeys—great treasures, great scriptures from China, India, Tibet, Egypt, years and years of work—all was burnt.
Lysis wrote these few verses. And, as it has been the ancient tradition that a real disciple knows no other name than his Master's, these verses are not called Lysis' Verses—they are called The Golden Verses of Pythagoras. He has not written his name on them….
If we can learn something from the past history, if we can learn something from Pythagoras…. People could not use Pythagoras and his understanding, they could not use his great synthesis, they could not use the doors that he had made available. A single individual had done something immense, something impossible, but it was not used.
I am trying to do exactly the same again; I feel a very deep spiritual affinity with Pythagoras. I am also bringing you a synthesis of East and West, of science and religion, of intellect and intuition, of the male mind and the female mind, of the head and the heart, of the right and the left. I am also trying in every possible way to create a great harmony, because only that harmony can save. Only that harmony can give you a new birth.
But there is every possibility that what was done to Pythagoras will be done to me. And there is every possibility what was done to Pythagoras' followers will be done to my sannyasins. But still, even knowing that possibility, the effort has to be made again. Because this is a valuable time. It comes only once in twenty-five centuries when the wheel can move in a new way, can take a new direction.
You all have to risk, and you have to risk all that you have. And risk it with great joy! because what can be more joyous than to give birth to a new man, to become vehicles for a new man, for a new humanity?…
My sannyasins can become an energy womb, an energy field. A great synthesis is happening here. East and West are meeting here. And if we can make this impossible thing happen, man will live in a totally different way in the future. He will not need to live in the same old hell. Man can live in love, in peace. Man can live in great friendliness. Man can live a life which is nothing but a celebration. Man can make this earth divine.
Yes: this very earth can become the paradise and this very body the Buddha. peren101
Pythagoras says: Revere the memory of the Illustrious Heroes…
…of Buddha, of Lao Tzu, of Krishna, of Christ, of Moses, of Mohammed, of Mahavira. Remember! That's why I am talking on so many Masters: so you can remember that you are not alone on the path. Many have succeeded before you. You will also succeed. If so many have succeeded, why not you? Many have preceded you and reached. You are not moving alone; many are ahead of you. It is a long procession of truth-seekers. You are part of a great chain. You may be a small drop, but you are part of a great river—the river of Buddhas, of all the enlightened people of the world.
That's why I am talking about so many enlightened people: to give you courage, to give you confidence; to give you the sense that you are in a great chain, part of a golden chain, and you are not moving alone. There is no need to be afraid. You cannot be lost! peren101

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