The following is an excerpt
from the book "Creativity" by Osho. It's
an awesome book. If you get a chance, buy it and read
it. This passage really touched me. It's a great explanation
of a concept so many of us have trouble with: forgiveness.
Yesterday somebody insulted
you. Again he comes across you today. The factual
memory is that" this man insulted me yesterday." The
psychological memory is that seeing that man, you
start boiling up. And the man may be coming just to
apologize; the man may be coming to be excused, to
be forgiven. He may have realized his mistake; he
may have realized his unconscious behavior. He may
be coming to befriend you again, but you become boiled
up. You are angry, you start shouting. You don't see
his face herenow; you go on being affected by the
face that was yesterday. But yesterday is yesterday!
How much water has flowed down the Ganges? This man
is not the same man. Twenty-four hours have brought
many changes-and you are not the same man either.
The factual memory says, "This
man insulted me yesterday," but that "me" has changed.
This man has changed. So it is as if that incident
had happened between two persons with whom you have
nothing to do anymore-then you are psychologically
free. You don't say, "I still feel angry." There is
no lingering anger. Memory is there, but there is
now psychological affectation. You meet the man again
as he is now, and you meet him as you are now.
A man came and spat on Buddha's
face. He was very angry. He was a Brahmin and Buddha
was saying things that the priests were very angry
about. Buddha wiped off his face and asked the man,
"Have you anything more to say?"
His disciple, Ananda, became
very angry. He was so angry that he asked Buddha,
"Just give me permission to put this man right. This
is too much! I cannot tolerate it."
Buddha said, " But he has
not spat on your face. This is my face. Second, just
look at the man! In what great trouble he is--just
look at the man! Feel compassion for him. He wants
to say something to me, but words are inadequate.
That is my problem also, my whole life's long problem-and
I see the man in the same situation! I want to relate
things to you that I have come to know, but I cannot
relate them because words are inadequate. This man
is in the same boat: he is so angry that no word can
express his anger-just as I am in so much love that
no word, no act, can express it. I see this man's
Buddha is seeing, Ananda is
also seeing. Buddha is simply collecting a factual
memory; Ananda is creating a psychological memory.
The man could not believe
his ears, what Buddha was saying. He was very much
shocked. He would not have been shocked if Buddha
had hit him back, or Ananda had jumped on him. There
would have been no shock; that would have been expected,
that would have been natural. That's how human beings
react. But Buddha feeling for the man, seeing his
difficulty…The man went, could not sleep the whole
night, pondered over it, meditated over it. Started
feeling a great hurt, started feeling what he had
done. A wound opened in his heart.
Early in the morning, he rushed
to Buddha's feet, fell at Buddha's feet, kissed his
feet. And Buddha said to Ananda, "Look, again the
same problem! Now he is feeling so much for me, he
cannot speak in words. He is touching my feet. Man
is so helpless. Anything that is too much cannot be
expressed, cannot be conveyed, cannot be communicated.
Some gesture has to be found to symbolize it. Look!"
And the man started crying
and said, "Excuse me sir. I am immensely sorry. It
was absolute stupidity on my part to spit on you,
a man like you."
Buddha said, "Forget about
it! The man you spat upon is no more, and the man
who spat is no more. You are new, I am new! Look-this
sun that is rising is new. Everything is new. The
yesterday is no more. Be finished with it! And now
can I forgive? Because you never spat on me. You spat
on somebody who has departed."
Consciousness is a continuous
When I say drop your memory,
I mean psychological memory; I don't mean factual
memory. Buddha remembers perfectly that yesterday
this man had spat on him, but he also remembers that
neither is this man the same nor is he the same. That
chapter is closed; it is not worth carrying it your
whole life. But you go on carrying. Somebody had said
something to you ten years before and you are still
carrying it. Your mother was angry when you were a
child and you are still carrying it. Your father had
slapped you when you were just small and you are still
carrying it, and you may be seventy years old. These
psychological memories go on burdening you. They destroy
your freedom, they destroy your aliveness, they encage