I am reading a little Osho. In Spanish. So I bit them back at least learn again.
Already on the first pages was clear to me where the fascination stirred his philosophy.
Alleged absolute freedom and self-determination.
A philosophy but that has no children, so they these as - front hires free - yet.
Ultimately, an individual monastery philosophy.
Socrates, as a shining example, let drank the hemlock, also could mention either staying in Athens, or go into exile.
This he did, not shrinking from death, not this lighthouse human freedom and self-determination.
Yes, without responsibility for children. So ultimately the transmission of life.
So, as well as Osho.
Nice words are found there, is much truth to hypocrisy and self-deception.
But I suspect - I may be wrong - that, as with UG Krishnamurti nothing substantial will come to art.
Which should be of a star, the Osho never saw.
Or rather he did not talk about it.
A sterile philosophy ultimately comes exactly their limits. (Yeah, Lizzie, so it is.)
Has art that is (for that you need from the Kenaz rune not know) always to do with the fact that is not only yourself, but sets itself above all needs and also temporary pleasures beyond.
Eben also other, even more than being oneself: that is the basis of art.
So people like Osho and UG is not accessible.
Or rather: of which they both want, so seemingly different their concepts, know nothing.
Krass said: Her favorite disembodied them.
Thus, the ostensible affirmation of life Osho - or is there still something to which I had to sprinkle ashes on my head? - The vertigo of a charlatan, who just also wanted to please only themselves.
As the only "art" I have no fear of dying.
But not enough for me.
Not enough for me.
Ultimately, Osho as well as UG, two Indians, which, rightly repelled by its roots, only staged in not so different way itself, the format of Confucius not begin to had, to a certain extent how much less still that one is indeed consumed unsuccessful in his lifetime wealthy Heinrich von Kleist.
No active imagination; only theorems; ultimately everything bloodless; also no real nobility as Master Kung.
This is still less than Goethe.
Mating calls of decadence.
No wonder drumb that Osho mainly sexually and mentally attracted Zukurzgekommene and attracts its adepts (mass angetörnte women here) his Rolls-Royce parades were trellis.
Enraptured souls even further spent in self-humiliation.
A few pages, I will probably still read.
Because it may yet be even figure out something.
But then I will einigermaßene re-emergence of my Spanish knowledge to another, lohnenswerteren Beech seek to put to work.
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