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	<title>SamadhiMuse &#187; Rajneesh (Osho)</title>
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	<description>Personal poetry</description>
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		<title>1982-05-25</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1982/05/25/1982-05-25/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 25 May 1982 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1982]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vancouver]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Bhagwan says &#8230; feeling and longing are more than reason and reasons. And I begin to remember something like a man on the edge of sleep. gallagher 25 may 82 vancouver&#8212; Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>               Bhagwan says &#8230; feeling and longing<BR/>                  are more than reason and reasons.<BR/><P/>               And I begin to remember something<BR/>                  like a man on the edge of sleep.<BR/><P/>                                 gallagher<BR/>                                 25 may 82<BR/>                                 vancouver<BR/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1982-07-03</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1982/07/03/1982-07-03/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Jul 1982 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1982]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211; 3 July 82 a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211; The first day here draws to a close and I want to capture some of it. But the images and feelings parade by until my mind numbs. The bus ride from Portland 3 hrs down the Columbia River and then south into the body [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/>      3 July 82    a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival<BR/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      The first day here draws to a close and I want to capture some<BR/>      of it. But the images and feelings parade by until my mind<BR/>      numbs.  The bus ride from Portland 3 hrs down the Columbia<BR/>      River and then south into the body of Oregon.<BR/><P/>      The ride was mostly Silvia the Chilean girl (woman &#8230; older<BR/>      than I) I sat next to.  I got the 2nd seat back on the driver<BR/>      side which is about the best place.  A German Jew translated<BR/>      into Santiago and raised with South American morals &#8230; then<BR/>      Rajneesh.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      I tried to come so as to open myself to this to the maximum.<BR/>      Not to force anything but to always be aware of my current, my<BR/>      best and my goal with the patience and intent to improve and<BR/>      the forgivness to fail.  I&#8217;m not as good with prose as I&#8217;d like<BR/>      to be.  Perhaps I&#8217;m no better at poetry but I&#8217;ve just been<BR/>      writing it so long I&#8217;m blind to that.  I digress.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Because I followed Silvia into the European registration area I<BR/>      got a tent close to her and occuppied by German girls.  The<BR/>      local area, Buddhafield 2, seems to be Germans and Chileans.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      I arrived at 1 a.m. after a crazy ride with Silvia and a German<BR/>      girl and a ranch resident from Chile in a pickup truck.  My<BR/>      tent mates were asleep so I met them in the morning.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      The Buddha hall covers 2 acres.  Probably better than 8,000 of<BR/>      us gathered there this morning to see Bhagwan.  We had a<BR/>      vegetarian breaskfast of granola, apples, bannanas, unimproved<BR/>      yogurt and orange juice.  I wonder how I will survive 5 days<BR/>      vegetarian.  The meals are serve yourself affairs but the<BR/>      quality of everything seems excellent.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Perhaps my perceptual entrapment with the maya of women is<BR/>      loosening a bit.  I seem to have a fundamental intention for<BR/>      coming here which is clear of feminine fantasies.  In fact as<BR/>      thoughts pass thru my mind I WANT to not play that game.  No<BR/>      double entendre, no motive within motive, no watching for signs<BR/>      of invitation.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      When Bhagwan was coming in today my eyes watered.  tears were<BR/>      not far away.  I cherish some hope that he may, could, provide<BR/>      some alternative to working it all out alone.  Something sounds<BR/>      wrong with that as I write it.  Perhaps it&#8217;s just that he&#8217;s a<BR/>      real example of where there is to go.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      It just occurred to me that Germans and Japanese comprise<BR/>      almost everyone in Buddhafield 1 &#038; 2.  The event organizers<BR/>      must have put the Americans in another area ( with the<BR/>      Australians ).  I&#8217;ll have to go see tomorrow.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      So much to do.  I attended Satsang (saw Bhagwan), ran around 2<BR/>      of the 3 loops that comprise the ranch, had 2 very strange<BR/>      showers, listened to Bhagwan on a recording, bought this<BR/>      stationary, took a nap, met my tent mate (Astrid, I think) and<BR/>      went to wild dancing at Buddhahall.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      Things I want to do are: go swiming at the lake, see the ranch<BR/>      exibit, run the full 3 loops, listen to Bhagwan recordings each<BR/>      day, get a sun tan.  Find peace amid isolation amid 10,000 and<BR/>      have the grace to give love to those I encounter.  I don&#8217;t seem<BR/>      to have much to say that I want to say.  What&#8217;s happening here<BR/>      is not carried well by words, but I can smile.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Is Bhagwan a living master?  I realize now I was naive to think<BR/>      sparks or auras would manifest or something similar.  He&#8217;s a<BR/>      man.  it&#8217;s his subjective aspect that&#8217;s different.  I&#8217;m not<BR/>      sure what my question is now &#8230; I think I&#8217;ll let the week<BR/>      write what ever answer there is on my heart.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/>      4 July 82    a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival<BR/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Each time I dance and sing it comes easier.  The self<BR/>      consciouness leaves sooner, the freedom to move in and out of<BR/>      dance flowing smoother.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      It&#8217;s funny, yesterday I was thinking that the caliber of the<BR/>      people here was excellent.  Everywhere I look I see people that<BR/>      interest me.  I&#8217;m not the only one apparently.  Some newspaper<BR/>      articles seem to express the same recognition.  They say the<BR/>      cream of the crop has come to Bhagwan.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Bhagwan will pass away.  Within three years i think.  He has<BR/>      said that this movement will calcify (like Jesus left the Roman<BR/>      Catholic Church behind) when he&#8217;s gone.  There is something<BR/>      living and unique here beyond the search for higher<BR/>      consciouness and that is the cooperative community.  A true<BR/>      commune.  How will it fare Post-Bhagwan given the history of<BR/>      commune utopias the last 100 years.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      That which I have liked I have become good at.  Computers, sex,<BR/>      knowledge.  Love and God have been lower priorities emotionally<BR/>      though I claim them higher intellectually.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Bhagwan says don&#8217;t save anything.  Only when you have spent<BR/>      everything can you become nothing.  Live, live, burn<BR/>      incandescent that you may expend yourself.  Amen, to my savings<BR/>      account.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Let love expand in the roundbodied awareness that is at once<BR/>      nothing and all it percieves.  That mind should be there is OK<BR/>      &#8230; but it is just a tool.  Sheath it when not in use.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      Today, at Satsang, it occurred to me why Bhagwan aways wears a<BR/>      cap and never speaks. (mind come unsheathed!).  Radiation<BR/>      treatments with a locus of the throat or perhaps the chest.  It<BR/>      may be imagination or clear vision.  I&#8217;ll keep it to myself.  I<BR/>      felt both sad and proud at his strength when I thought these<BR/>      things.  I got up to dance and invited Him to experience my<BR/>      movement, to recall his own &#8230; a gift.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/>      5 July 82    a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival<BR/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Bhagwan says we are born with everything we need to celebrate.<BR/>      We are born with life.  What more could we need.  He says the<BR/>      birds need nothing to celebrate &#8230; why should we?<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Last night my fourth tent mate came home.  He had stayed away<BR/>      the first two nights.  He and G&#8212; slept together and &#8230; it<BR/>      didn&#8217;t seem strange.  Everything stands on its own merit. &#8230; I<BR/>      have learned something here.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      I got up early today to be able to sit closer to Bhagwan at<BR/>      Satsang.  I seem to move through my activities with a strange<BR/>      tolerance and patience.  Mindless to some degree though I still<BR/>      lack that quality in any strong sense.  The wait in line was<BR/>      easy.  Is it the people I wait with &#8230; or how I wait.  Maybe<BR/>      both.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      Can I capture Satsang?  I spent so much of it mindless &#8230; just<BR/>      aware.  It was strange to watch Bhagwan and not have my mind<BR/>      fill with word and poses and imaginings.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      When He stood to go the rythmic clapping began and I was swept<BR/>      even stronger than before.  There&#8217;s something incredible at the<BR/>      conjunction of mindlessness, giving yourself completely, and<BR/>      the feeling Bhagwan can stir in his Sanyasins.  Even now my<BR/>      eyes verge on tears.  I think I cryed then when he raised his<BR/>      hands for us to get up &#8230; it was as if every person felt the<BR/>      gesture directly in a caress of pure love.  Could we respond<BR/>      with less.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      I saw a handsome man today.  Cut out of noble gypsy like Khan<BR/>      in Startrek.  He was emptying trash cans and smiling.  A woman<BR/>      came up and hugged him.  He hugged her and smiled, careful not<BR/>      to soil her dress with his gloves, and then went back on with<BR/>      his work &#8230; smiling.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Another perspective on women.  I think my recent aversion to<BR/>      looking at women as sexual objects is due to an understanding<BR/>      that sex as an act of love is a higher state than sex as an act<BR/>      of gratification or of using.  I&#8217;m not sure I&#8217;m across this<BR/>      distinction but I&#8217;m aware of it.  In this environment it seems<BR/>      the more natural way to feel in spite of such an incredible<BR/>      concentration of beautiful women.  Women with uninhibited<BR/>      freedom and directness in their eyes.  Women it would be easy<BR/>      to love.  And simple.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      And yet &#8230; and yet I&#8217;ve seen here an Arabic woman with hair as<BR/>      black as night and the soul of a gypsy, I think.  And for her<BR/>      there is something east of using and west of love.  Passion.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      No, I think passion is what it&#8217;s called when both people use<BR/>      each other &#8230; still south of love.  Mutual animal recognition<BR/>      of something other than the other&#8217;s soul.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/>      6 July 82    a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival<BR/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Today I made up my mind about whether Bhagwan is a living<BR/>      master and if I will take Sanyas.  He is and I will.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      I can&#8217;t go as far as trying to live here in the commune.  I<BR/>      love my family too much to take that leap.  So I will take<BR/>      Sanyas and investigate commune living.  I have found an<BR/>      idealogy/philosophy/religion.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      I cryed more freely tonight.  I had &#8216;prayed&#8217; to find how to<BR/>      weave Bhagwan and my family.  And then I understood &#8230; knew<BR/>      both Bhagwan as a true master and my decision on Sanyas.  I&#8217;m<BR/>      not sure there&#8217;s anyway to separate these two.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      When Bhagwan entered, the quick summer storm&#8217;s thunder rolled<BR/>      &#8230; celebration/confirmation.  When it rained and blew we<BR/>      cheered it on joyously.  And when the lights and sound failed<BR/>      for a moment .. our song of love and praise, our conscious<BR/>      link, never faltered.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      Bhagwan is there in the silence.  It takes an act of faith to<BR/>      feel him but once made he&#8217;s there.  You know it.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      Sanyasins are never there when you look for them and then show<BR/>      up when you&#8217;re not looking.  They come and go like the wind in<BR/>      ones and twos.  they have the freedom.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<BR/><P/>      When Bhagwan drove off the one security guard that always looks<BR/>      so stern (the beefy blond on with the curley hair and arms<BR/>      folded) finally made a sign.  Many people were aware of his<BR/>      near absolute consciouness to duty and when, as Bhagwan&#8217;s car<BR/>      passed, he folded his hands, as in prayer, to Bhagwan, the<BR/>      Sanyasins responded with an outburst of applause and joy at his<BR/>      sign.  He smiled sideways in his acknowledgment that he knew<BR/>      they applauded for him and then the applause erupted and first<BR/>      one and then many Sanyasins burst on him and smothered him in<BR/>      hugs.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-<BR/><P/>      The judge that allowed Rajneesh a city and his wife watched<BR/>      tonight as well as some outside police.  I stopped singing<BR/>      several times and wondered how it all must look.  My eyes<BR/>      always watered at the power and the beauty.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/>      8 July 82    a Rajneeshpuram diary &#8211; 1st festival<BR/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      It was hard telling Rose.  So little of the experience can pass<BR/>      &#8230; only the tangible details; I&#8217;ll start wearing Sanyas<BR/>      colors, I believe Bhagwan is a true master.  But overall she<BR/>      was fair.  Scathing inditments followed by a good natured<BR/>      &#8216;you&#8217;re such a fool&#8217;.  She syas she&#8217;s more worried for Danny&#8217;s<BR/>      reaction.  I guess I am too, now.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      Sanyasins &#8230; they&#8217;re people I can be proud of.  They carry the<BR/>      best of the world&#8217;s wisdom out with themselves dressed for<BR/>      attention with a mandate to love and understand.  To transcend<BR/>      reactions.  Strong faces, open hearts.  When I walk by them and<BR/>      they smile their smile I&#8217;m glad of my choice.<BR/><P/>      &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8211;<BR/><P/>      I just realized that when I feel unable to openly experience a<BR/>      sanyasin .. that I&#8217;m afraid of falling into so much beauty all<BR/>      at one without some social support.<BR/><P/>                              &#8211; 1st festival diary.<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1982-11-17 Bhagwan knocking</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1982/11/17/1982-11-17-bhagwan-knocking/</link>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 1982 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1982]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vancouver]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Bhagwan knocking I read Bhagwan just before I went to sleep and awoke to find my self drawn to paper by my thoughts. Itching me, burning me, his words brought me awake with thoughts that seemed to cut through the dreams I normally live. I&#8217;ve drifted and doubted under the incredible pressure of friends until [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>                     Bhagwan knocking<BR/><P/>      I read Bhagwan just before I went to sleep<BR/>      and awoke to find my self drawn to paper by my thoughts.<BR/>      Itching me, burning me, his words brought me awake<BR/>      with thoughts that seemed to cut through<BR/>         the dreams I normally live.<BR/><P/>      I&#8217;ve drifted and doubted under the incredible pressure of friends<BR/>      until Oregon and the experience I had there<BR/>      has drifted into the library of my memories<BR/>      and I&#8217;m once more unconscious and a-churn<BR/>         with the pressures of what to do with my life.<BR/><P/>      But, when he speaks it rings with utter truth<BR/>      that while I listen and remain aware<BR/>      my life and purposes, cares and concerns<BR/>      are cast into a doubt more profound and meaningful<BR/>         by the lack of any arguments or reasons given.<BR/><P/>      If I go again I will surely take Sanyas.<BR/>      I can feel the pull from here.<BR/>      Should I light the candle I won&#8217;t let burn?<BR/>      He asks nothing if not all<BR/>      and ( though no one believes it )<BR/>      he asks nothing but for me.<BR/>      My love, my awareness, my being.<BR/>      He says do them, take them, be them.<BR/>      I point the way, I am the gate.<BR/>      Listen, experience, become &#8230; more.<BR/>      I am a living example.<BR/><P/>      And I stand awe struck and amazed<BR/>      by music no one here ever seems to hear.<BR/>      Is it me or is it them?<BR/><P/>      No one here has any real purpose<BR/>      and He says there is none<BR/>      but he&#8217;s happy with that<BR/>      and look at us here.<BR/><P/>      And the night goes on.<BR/><P/>                        gallagher<BR/>                        17 Nov 82<BR/><P/>      <BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-01-13</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/01/13/1983-01-13-2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 13 Jan 1983 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vancouver]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I wonder, as I listen to Bhagwan&#8217;s words if the difference he defines between knowledge and knowing doesn&#8217;t have something to do with the difference between holistic and sequential modes of perception&#8230; sort of like an apparatus we control the F stop. Full open is holistic with full parallel processing the ego dead because nothing [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>         I wonder, as I listen to Bhagwan&#8217;s words<BR/>         if the difference he defines<BR/>         between knowledge and knowing<BR/>         doesn&#8217;t have something to do<BR/>         with the difference between holistic<BR/>         and sequential modes of perception&#8230;<BR/>         sort of like an apparatus we control<BR/>         the F stop.<BR/>         Full open is holistic with full parallel processing<BR/>         the ego dead because nothing can exist<BR/>         separate from the process?<BR/>         letting the past, as memory or judgment<BR/>         come in is analogous to dividing the task<BR/>         forming alternatives or sequentiality into it<BR/>         closing the aperture&#8230;<BR/>            attenuating the sensitivity&#8230;<BR/>               biasing the wait&#8230;.<BR/><P/>                              01-13-83<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-04-03</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/04/03/1983-04-03-2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 03 Apr 1983 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[San Juan Capistrano]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[We talked about Bhagwan and religion today. She thinks I&#8217;m crazy but without malice. I tried to make the point that he is to religion what &#8216;One World&#8217; is to nationalism Somehow its only the Rolls Royces everyone sees and I had to confess I don&#8217;t understand that part myself. I told her that if [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>            We talked about Bhagwan and religion today.<BR/>               She thinks I&#8217;m crazy but without malice.<BR/>            I tried to make the point that he is to religion<BR/>               what &#8216;One World&#8217; is to nationalism<BR/>            Somehow its only the Rolls Royces everyone sees<BR/>               and I had to confess I don&#8217;t understand<BR/>                  that part myself.<BR/><P/>            I told her that if I couldn&#8217;t get time off<BR/>               I would quit my job to go this summer<BR/>            and she couldn&#8217;t fathom how something<BR/>               I&#8217;m so inactive in<BR/>                  could be so important to me.<BR/><P/>            I said that in my priorities only she<BR/>               and the kids came higher.<BR/>            I tried to ask her how she would feel<BR/>               if somehow she had come to believe<BR/>                  that Christ had returned&#8230;<BR/><P/>               would it change her life,<BR/>                  that He was existing, available,<BR/>                     in our society?<BR/><P/>            Would it change mine?<BR/>               I&#8217;m still trying to find out.<BR/><P/>            I&#8217;m going to go again in July and<BR/>               join the Buddhafield.<BR/>            Open my heart and eyes to the storm<BR/>               of history around this man.<BR/><P/>                           Gallagher<BR/><P/>                           3 April 83<BR/>                           S.J.C.<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-07-02</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02-3/</link>
		<comments>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02-3/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 Jul 1983 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[As empty as the wind Rajneeshpuram blows thru me its rain, its words, its brown hills sculpted in the late afternoon sun and the fragments of cold wind beneath the swarming clouds Kundalini ends with the worshipers whispers singing &#8216;Gautama&#8217; towards Bhagwan&#8217;s home gallagher 02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram&#8212; Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>               As empty as the wind<BR/>               Rajneeshpuram blows thru me<BR/>               its rain, its words, its brown hills<BR/>               sculpted in the late afternoon sun<BR/>               and the fragments of cold wind<BR/>               beneath the swarming clouds<BR/><P/>               Kundalini ends with the worshipers<BR/>               whispers singing &#8216;Gautama&#8217;<BR/>               towards Bhagwan&#8217;s home<BR/><P/>                           gallagher<BR/><P/>                           02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-07-02</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02-4/</link>
		<comments>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02-4/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 Jul 1983 08:02:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I see faces here with intellect and character wearing orange and they remind me that our mild religious persecutions could be their political prisons gallagher 02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram&#8212; Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>            I see faces here with intellect and character<BR/>            wearing orange<BR/>            and they remind me that<BR/>            our mild religious persecutions<BR/>            could be their political prisons<BR/><P/>                              gallagher<BR/><P/>                              02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-07-02</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02/</link>
		<comments>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/02/1983-07-02/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 02 Jul 1983 08:03:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[This place is outrageous. There&#8217;s a post office on the main street of Rajneeshpuram, Oregon and lights over the road like Disneyland and an orange party underneath. It&#8217;s festival time, party time at Rancho Rajneesh; the eye of the storm. gallagher 02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram&#8212; Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>            This place is outrageous.<BR/>            There&#8217;s a post office on the main street<BR/>            of Rajneeshpuram, Oregon<BR/>            and lights over the road like Disneyland<BR/>            and an orange party underneath.<BR/>            It&#8217;s festival time,<BR/>            party time at Rancho Rajneesh;<BR/>            the eye of the storm.<BR/><P/>                        gallagher<BR/><P/>                        02 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-07-03 Festival Snapshots</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/03/1983-07-03-festival-snapshots/</link>
		<comments>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/03/1983-07-03-festival-snapshots/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 1983 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Festival Snapshots Morning, serving breakfast, still fasting, bright and clear, the lady vectored to the heart of it. Laser surgery with loving eyes; this is not it. The ideas are not it. They just indicate it, as Bhagwan says, like fingers pointing at the moon; they are not it. This is a stage provided for [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>                        Festival Snapshots<BR/><P/>            Morning, serving breakfast,<BR/>            still fasting, bright and clear,<BR/>            the lady vectored to the heart of it.<BR/>            Laser surgery with loving eyes;<BR/>            this is not it.  The ideas are not it.<BR/>            They just indicate it, as Bhagwan says,<BR/>            like fingers pointing at the moon;<BR/>            they are not it.<BR/><P/>            This is a stage provided<BR/>            for us to work ourselves out on.<BR/>            I can&#8217;t remember all her words<BR/>            but they ran like silver through me<BR/>            and that I can&#8217;t remember them doesn&#8217;t matter.<BR/>            Truth has its own memory.<BR/><P/>            What I remember most is the feeling<BR/>            as she spoke, and her eyes &#8230;<BR/>            with openness and love,<BR/>            like the glow of whiskey going down,<BR/>            or Venus rising.<BR/><P/>                              gallagher<BR/><P/>                              03 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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		<title>1983-07-03 What to do</title>
		<link>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/03/1983-07-03-what-to-do/</link>
		<comments>http://samadhimuse.com/1983/07/03/1983-07-03-what-to-do/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 1983 08:02:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Dennis</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[1983]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneesh (Osho)]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rajneeshpuram]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[What to do? I believe in this. No waiting through thousands of people and months of time for someone real to come by. Here, every other person is a wonder of openness and courage. From all over the world people who believe like I do have come together. The languages, the faces, the beauty &#8211; [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><PRE><font face="Verdana" size="2"><P/>                        What to do?<BR/><P/>         I believe in this.<BR/>         No waiting through thousands of people<BR/>         and months of time<BR/>         for someone real to come by.<BR/>         Here, every other person<BR/>         is a wonder of openness and courage.<BR/><P/>         From all over the world<BR/>         people who believe like I do have come together.<BR/>         The languages, the faces, the beauty<BR/>         &#8211; it&#8217;s astonishing.<BR/><P/>         It&#8217;s not power they respect,<BR/>         nor possessions or title<BR/>         but rather, just that same thing<BR/>         that I went seeking so long ago<BR/>         in such a stumbling way.<BR/><P/>                        gallagher<BR/><P/>                        03 july 83 &#8211; Rajneeshpuram, Oregon<BR/><P/><BR/></FONT></PRE><P/><P/><I><B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#808080">&#8212; Copyright</font></B><font face="Courier" size="1" color="#C0C0C0"> 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher &#8212;</font></I></p>
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