Feeling is the language

One evening, a poet went to the sea shore. The sun was setting at the horizon. Sky was changing colours from blue to yellow to amber to red. Sun was calming down with the satisfaction of doing its day’s job with utmost sincerity. Cool breeze was blowing, bringing the mist of the roaring ocean on his face, the dampness of the sand was felt below his feet, a small crab was peeping out of its sand hole and hiding again as it felt the poet’s footsteps. Birds were chirping and flying hurriedly back to their nests. One more evening was passing by in anticipation of the next morning. It was such a beautiful evening.

The poet thought of his wife who was away at her mother’s place as she was expecting a baby; he started missing her. He smiled just at the thought that if she would have been with him at the sea shore, together they would have loved and enjoyed this beautiful sunset. The poet thought of capturing this experience, atmosphere and sentiments for his beloved and send her the same. He sat down on the shore, removed his diary and started writing his experience of these amazingly romantic moments. He found an empty box which he filled with the golden rays of Sun, changing colours of the sky, the freshness and coolness of the wind, the dampness of the sand, the romance in the air, his thumping heartbeats which were missing her so desperately…. he placed the note inside, closed the box and couriered it to his beloved.

Next day his wife’s mother brought the box to her. She was curious that though the box looked big, it was relatively very light in weight. Wife saw the name on the box and smiled. Very excitedly she opened the box and picked up the note. As she started reading it, she started blushing and beaming with joy. Her face started glittering with happiness. She was looking inside the box, taking a deep breath, smiling, reading … again looking inside the box with a wonder in her eyes. The mother was confused seeing the changing expressions on her face and asked, “Hey dear, the box is empty, there’s no gift inside. You are just reading a note and feeling so happy. Have you gone crazy? What is it?”

The daughter threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tight…she exclaimed that the box was sent by her husband. In the note he had mentioned that last evening he was at the sea shore and was missing her so much. He had sent those feelings, the experience, the romance and the beauty of that lovely sunset in this box and hence she was feeling so very happy.

Mother didn’t understand. She looked at her daughter with confused expressions …Daughter understood and said, “so what? Though I was not present when my husband saw the sun set at the beach, I could feel through his words and through his love the divine beauty of that evening which makes me so so happy. Until you love someone so deeply, you won’t understand this feeling Maa !!”, and they both smiled.

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‘Feeling’ is the language, the forgotten language. If you understand feeling, you understand the whole.

lt is said of Lukman, one of the wisest men ever born — he is the founder of Unani medicine — would go to plants, to bushes, trees, sit there, feel them, and ask them, “What use can you be put to? What disease can you be helpful in?” And it is said that he discovered millions of herbs, just by feeling them. The herb would say, “It will be good if you use me in tuberculosis; I can help.”

This looks like a myth, a fiction, but scientists have been at a loss: if this is fiction, then how did Lukman come to know? Because whatever he knew has been proved by all scientific experiment to be right. And no laboratories existed then, like they exist today; no such refined instruments, not at all! If this is fiction, then a greater problem arises: How did he come to know? And not one or two or a hundred herbs — millions! If he had been experimenting with crude implements then it would have taken at least ten to twenty thousand years for him to discover all that. That seems to be more fictitious. The first fiction seems to be nearer reality — that he asked.

And there is the same story in India as well. Ayurveda, the Indian medicine, is based on the same secret. Those secrets were revealed by the plants themselves. But then a language is needed, a language which is universal and not limited to humanity. Feeling is that language. Greek or Arabic or Sanskrit won’t do. No language originating in the mind is divine language. No, the divine language originated in the heart. Feeling is the language.

If you start really feeling, and your heart starts really throbbing with feeling, you can ask a tree, and a tree is always ready to reveal its secret. You can ask a bird, and the bird is eager to share its story. You can ask existence, and existence is ready to reveal its heart. That heart is God, the kingdom of God, the ecstasy, the final liberation, MOKSHA, nirvana; whatsoever you want to call it, you can call it.

OSHO: Just Like That, Chapter-7
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दूरियाँ जब बढ़ी, ग़लतफ़हमियाँ भी बढ़ गईं..
फिर तुमने वो भी सुना जो मैंने कहा ही नहीं !

Duriyaan jab badhin^ galatfahmiyan bhi badh gayin^
phir tumne wo bhi suna jo meine kaha hi nahin.

Misunderstanding started breeding as we distanced
then you heard things that I didn’t even say.

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