The ferryman stepped into the river. The water touched his ankles, then his knees. He turned and said:
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.” buddham saranam gacchami osho
Long ago, in a small village on the banks of the Ganges, lived a man named Raghava. He was a scholar of scriptures, proud of his knowledge, yet deeply restless. Every morning, he would chant, "Buddham Sharanam Gacchami" — I go to the Buddha for refuge. But his voice was mechanical, a ritual without roots. He had read thousands of sutras, yet anger flared in him at the slightest insult. He knew the theory of compassion, yet envy gnawed at his heart whenever his neighbor prospered. The ferryman stepped into the river
Raghava sat alone on the bank. For the first time, he did not chant. He simply breathed. The river flowed. The moon rose. And somewhere inside him, a boat that had been full of noise and ambition and fear — suddenly became empty. “That is the first mistake
Raghava felt a strange stillness descend.