I was sitting in the house of a multi-millionnaire. What was there which was not with him? But his eyes were very poor and one felt moved on seeing them. He used to collect wealth from morning till evening. His life was spent up in counting the coins, taking care of them and keeping them safe; but he was not rich. He was perhaps only a caretaker.
Throughout the day he could earn, and would guard at night. He could not even sleep. Which watchman of wealth has ever slept? Sleep, dreamless sleep, is the wealth of only those who become free from madness of all types of wealth, of money of fame, of religion; he who is running any kind of race, makes all his days and nights peaceless. Peace-lessness is the shadow of a running mind. Where the mind rests, there is peace.
When at night I took leave of the poor but multi-millionaire host to go to sleep, he said: "I also want to sleep. But there is sleep which does not even look at me. My nights pass in cares. I do not know what type of irrelevant thoughts keep on running. I do not know what types of fears keep frightening me. Kindly tell me some way to healthy and peaceful sleep. What shall I do? I am getting mad."
What way could I tell? I knew the disease. Wealth was his malady. It was that which teased him during the day and the same at the night. Night is only a reaction and fruition of the day. Whatever may be the malady, basically any kind of search for safety outside the self is the root cause. That does not provide safety and only increases the disease. As long as, after giving up all methods of safety, a person does not return to himself till then, his whole life remains a long and painful dream. The real safety does not exist, except in himself. But to find it out, courage to remain unsafe in all respects is essential.
I told him a story, and said, "go and sleep", and surprisingly he did sleep. Next day, he had tears of gratitude and happiness in his eyes. Today when I think of it I do not trust it myself. What magic did that story perform on him? Perhaps in some particular state of mind even an ordinary thing becomes extraordinary. Definitely, something of that sort should have happened. Possibly, the arrow unintentionally struck the right spot. That night he did sleep; it is true. Thereafter, even in his life new flowers started blossoming.
What is that story? Naturally enough, the desire to know it has become deep in your eyes.
There was a great city. A saint came to that town. Saints do come and go; but there was something strange in that one. Thousands of people were coming to his hut; and whoever came near it would return with the same fragrance and freshness which is found on digging himself in front of the rocky falls or in the utter silence of the forest or under stars of the sky.
The name of that saint was also strange: Koti Karna Shrone. He was very rich before taking up Sannyas and he used to wear rings worth crores of rupees in his ears. Therefore his name became Koti Karna, lIe did have money with him but when he did not find his inner poverty disappearing, he became rich by renouncing the wealth.
He used to say the same thing to others; and the music arising from his breath was his witness; the peace flowing from his eyes was his witness; the happiness showering from his words and his silence was his witness. If the mind be mature then freedom from wealth, fame, status and ambition becomes very easy. They are, after all, games of childhood.
Thousands of people had collected outside the town to see and hear the saint Shrone. In listening to him, their minds were calm, like the burning flames of a candle in a windless spot. In that crowd there was also a nun by name Katiyani. When the evening approached, she asked her attendant: "You go and light the lamp in the house. I will not get up leaving this nectar-like speech". When the attendant reached home, she found that the house had been burgled. Inside, the thieves were lifting stores and outside their chief was guarding the house. She returned immediately. The chief of the thieves also followed her.
The attendant approached Katiyani and told her in a nervous voice: "Mistress, there are thieves in the house. ' But Katiyani did not pay heed to her. She was lost in some other thoughts; she kept on listening to what she was listening; kept looking at what she was looking; kept sitting where she was sitting. She was in another world. Tears of love were flowing from her eyes. The attendant became nervous and shook her: "Mother, mother, the thieves have burgled the house. They are carrying all your gold ornaments".
Katiyani opened her eyes and said: "Oh mad one, do not bother; do not worry. Let them carry what they to want carry. All those clothes and ornaments are unreal. I was in ignorance. Therefore, they looked real. The day their eyes open, they will also find them unreal. As soon as the eyes open, you find that real gold which can neither be stolen nor snatched. I am looking at that gold. That gold is within the self".
The attendant could not understand anything. She was lost and speechless. What had happened to her mistress? But the heart of the chief of thieves was moved as if within him some door had opened; as if in his soul some unlighted lamp was aflame. He returned and told his friends: "Friends, leave these bundles here. All these gold ornaments are unreal. Come with me.
Let us also search for the same wealth on finding which the mistress of the house has discovered the gold ornaments as unreal. I have also been looking out for the same collection of gold. That is not far away. It is close by. It is within the self."
OSHO
