Zarathustra: A God That Can Dance

CHAPTER 1

Prologue part 1
26 March 1987 pm in Chuang Tzu Auditorium

BELOVED OSHO,
PROLOGUE PART 1
WHEN ZARATHUSTRA WAS THIRTY YEARS OLD, HE LEFT HIS HOME AND THE LAKE OF HIS
HOME AND WENT INTO THE MOUNTAINS. HERE HE HAD THE ENJOYMENT OF HIS SPIRIT
AND HIS SOLITUDE AND HE DID NOT WEARY OF IT FOR TEN YEARS. BUT AT LAST HIS
HEART TURNED – AND ONE MORNING HE ROSE WITH THE DAWN, STEPPED BEFORE THE
SUN AND SPOKE TO IT THUS:
GREAT STAR! WHAT WOULD YOUR HAPPINESS BE, IF YOU HAD NOT THOSE FOR WHOM
YOU SHINE!
YOU HAVE COME UP HERE TO MY CAVE FOR TEN YEARS: YOU WOULD HAVE GROWN
WEARY OF YOUR LIGHT AND OF THIS JOURNEY, WITHOUT ME, MY EAGLE AND MY
SERPENT.
BUT WE WAITED FOR YOU EVERY MORNING, TOOK FROM YOU YOUR SUPERFLUITY AND
BLESSED YOU FOR IT.
BEHOLD! I AM WEARY OF MY WISDOM, LIKE A BEE THAT HAS GATHERED TOO MUCH
HONEY; I NEED HANDS OUTSTRETCHED TO TAKE IT.
I SHOULD LIKE TO GIVE IT AWAY AND DISTRIBUTE IT, UNTIL THE WISE AMONG MEN HAVE
AGAIN BECOME HAPPY IN THEIR FOLLY AND THE POOR HAPPY IN THEIR WEALTH.
TO THAT END, I MUST DESCEND INTO THE DEPTHS: AS YOU DO AT THE EVENING,
WHEN YOU GO BEHIND THE SEA AND BRING LIGHT TO THE UNDERWORLD TOO,
SUPERABUNDANT STAR!
LIKE YOU, I MUST GO DOWN – AS MEN, TO WHOM I WANT TO DESCEND, CALL IT.
SO BLESS ME THEN, TRANQUIL EYE, THAT CAN BEHOLD WITHOUT ENVY EVEN AN
EXCESSIVE HAPPINESS!
BLESS THE CUP THAT WANTS TO OVERFLOW, THAT THE WATERS MAY FLOW GOLDEN
FROM HIM AND BEAR THE REFLECTION OF YOUR JOY OVER ALL THE WORLD!
BEHOLD! THIS CUP WANTS TO BE EMPTY AGAIN, AND ZARATHUSTRA WANTS TO BE MAN
AGAIN.
THUS BEGAN ZARATHUSTRA’S DOWN-GOING..

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE is perhaps the greatest philosopher the world has known. He is also great
in another dimension which many philosophers are simply unaware of: he is a born mystic.
His philosophy is not only of the mind but is rooted deep in the heart, and some roots even reach
to his very being. The only thing unfortunate about him is, that he was born in the West; hence,
he could never come across any mystery school. He contemplated deeply, but he was absolutely
unaware about meditation. His thoughts sometimes have the depth of a meditator, sometimes the
flight of a Gautam Buddha; but these things seem to have happened spontaneously to him.

He knew nothing about the ways of enlightenment, about the path that reaches to one’s own being.
This created a tremendous turmoil in his being. His dreams go as high as the stars but his life
remained very ordinary – it does not have the aura that meditation creates. His thoughts are not his
blood, his bones, his marrow. They are beautiful, immensely beautiful, but something is missing;
and what is missing is life itself. They are dead words; they don’t breathe – there is no heartbeat.

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