The ferryman laughed gently. “That is the first mistake. Osho says: When you go to the Buddha, you are two. But the truth is not two. There is no seeker and no destination. There is only the seeking itself — empty, silent, aware.”
The ferryman stepped into the river. The water touched his ankles, then his knees. He turned and said: buddham saranam gacchami osho
Buddham Saranam Gacchami is not a journey. It is the end of the traveler. “When you go to the Buddha, you are missing the point. You have to become the Buddha. Not going somewhere — but waking up where you are.” The ferryman laughed gently
He pointed to an old wooden boat tied to the shore. It was empty, rocking gently with the waves. But the truth is not two
Just then, an old ferryman approached, his face weathered but eyes sparkling like a child’s. He carried no scriptures, no malas. He simply smiled.
“So… what should I do?” he whispered.
The ferryman laughed gently. “That is the first mistake. Osho says: When you go to the Buddha, you are two. But the truth is not two. There is no seeker and no destination. There is only the seeking itself — empty, silent, aware.”
The ferryman stepped into the river. The water touched his ankles, then his knees. He turned and said:
Buddham Saranam Gacchami is not a journey. It is the end of the traveler. “When you go to the Buddha, you are missing the point. You have to become the Buddha. Not going somewhere — but waking up where you are.”
He pointed to an old wooden boat tied to the shore. It was empty, rocking gently with the waves.
Just then, an old ferryman approached, his face weathered but eyes sparkling like a child’s. He carried no scriptures, no malas. He simply smiled.
“So… what should I do?” he whispered.