It’s a good kind of fear when you don’t know exactly what it is. It is simply means that you are on the verge of something unknown.
When your fear has some object, it is an ordinary fear. One is afraid of death -– it is a very ordinary fear (that is) instinctive; there’s nothing special about it. Being afraid of old age or disease, illness -– these are ordinary fears, common, garden variety. The special fear is when you cannot find an object for it, when it is there for no reason at all. That makes one really scared! If you can find a reason, the mind is satisfied. If you can answer why, the mind has some explanation to cling to.
It is better to see the thing as it is without asking why. Something unknown is hovering around you, as it is going to hover around every seeker. This is the fear every seeker has to pass through. I am not here to give you explanations but to push you into it. I am not a psychoanalyst -– I am an existentialist. My effort is to make you capable of experiencing as many things as possible -– love, fear, anger, greed, violence, compassion, meditation, beauty, and so on forth. The more you experience these things, the richer you become.
Everyday Osho — 365 Daily meditations for the here and now by Osho
If spirituality is simply a function of life, the edge of a cosmic ripple, then where is it going? We don’t know. Like the universe, it is still expanding into unknown territory. We can decide to cooperate and go with that wave, or we can ignore our spirituality and thereby ignore one of the basic meanings of being human. If we choose to engage in the full process of being human, then we will truly fulfill our part in the universe’s evolution.
If we don’t offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don’t lift to the horizon; our ears don’t hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.” — Kent Nerburn, “Letters to my Son”
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