I started ballet when I was nine years old. My ballet teacher was an impressive man: tall and beautiful, all the girls admired and fancied him. And he liked the girls. Once, when I was about 12 years old, he asked me to come to the class early. I was so excited and proud and figured he would give me some private instructions. Well, the instructions I received were of a different nature than I had expected. Nothing major happened, but it was enough to destroy my admiration and trust. I did not talk to anyone about this as my parents would have stopped the classes and I wanted to learn ballet.
A few years later I got a chance to stand up for myself. One day, my ballet teacher was in such a good mood that he was jovially hitting each girl at the beginning of a certain exercise. When it was my turn to start and he gave me that hit, I hit him back. I hadn’t intended to – it was a happening. He hit me on the shoulder; I hit him back in the face. This time he didn’t say a word, he just sat down quietly for the rest of the class. I felt proud of myself. I had discovered some courage inside of me.
Years later, I had just graduated from the University of Economics in Vienna and was working fulltime as a secretary for the general manager of the state-owned petroleum company of Austria. I was earning a lot of money – by my standards. I had grown up in a poor working-class family, where the lack of money had always been the number-one issue. I had been the first one of my family to go to college, and now I had this very secure, very well-paid job, and I felt utterly miserable – as if my wings had been clipped. My heart yearned to go out into the sun; my whole being rebelled against the idea of spending my life in the confinement of an old-fashioned office. I wanted to dance. I wanted to live.
My training in classical ballet and jazz dance had not made me an outstanding dancer. And now, at 27, it was much too late for a dance career anyway. But my heart knew nothing about my age; my heart wanted to dance. While working in the office, I had always felt that there must be more to life than waiting for another working day to be finished; more than marrying, having kids, and waiting for retirement. I tried to talk with my family, friends, and colleagues about this. Everybody told me to keep my job and promised that my yearnings would go away as I got older. But I knew that if I kept this job, I would never get that old. So one morning, without telling anybody, without having planned my future in any way, I decided to quit. I went to my boss and told him that I needed to quit my job and start my dance career. I could see in his eyes that he considered me completely nuts. That’s when my dream of becoming a respected member of society dropped and my life started.
I became Osho’s sannyasin, and a dance teacher, and went on my soul-searching journey. What an exciting life. No regrets! Going to the Ranch, doing Dynamic Meditation for six months without missing a day… Making a living as a dance teacher, never knowing how many people would come to the class and if I would be able to pay for my rent… So much joy, so much insecurity. What an experience, to go through the streets of Berlin in a red robe and with a mala around my neck, not being able to hide amongst the other sheep any more. What a relief, what freedom!
I don’t fight against society; I fight for the freedom to live according to my own insights. Because I am an artist, people don’t expect me to be “normal.” Artists don’t need to follow the rules. People put you in a different box: You are allowed to be different because you bring color into their lives. I don’t feel I can change society. Instead, I create my own world and my own rules within the boundaries of my courses, workshops, and meditations; in my dance and my songs; with friends and while alone.
When I am clear about what I want and go for my truth – wherever it takes me – I find that people sense my sincerity and are supportive. Even those who don’t have the courage to follow their own yearnings seem to recognize my baby steps toward becoming an individual. And sometimes it’s contagious. I create a space for people to do Dynamic, to dance or drum, and to get into their own power. This sometimes gives them the extra energy and trust needed to make a change – to quit a job, or to leave a suppressive partner – and to start living.
I avoid people I don’t care for. I don’t do business with people I don’t like. There are so many wonderful people in the world – if I have a choice, why should I deal with people who are unpleasant? I find that I have a choice most of the time. I do speak up and engage myself when I see that it’s possible to change a situation, and when I feel a person has enough openness to understand me.
Living and telling my truth sometimes has an explosive effect on situations and relationships. It scares me. As a Libra, I prefer harmony to confrontation, and of course I want to be loved and appreciated. But with my love for truth, and a chart with Pluto rising, I have created painful situations for myself on more than one occasion.
Once I got kicked out of a percussion band because I had Osho’s picture on the wall, and I didn’t want to eat out of the same bowl as everybody else. Well, stupid people, you would say, but it hurt because I loved the music we played.
I have a tendency to eat different foods from most people – sometimes vegetarian, sometimes organic – and I don’ t drink alcohol or coffee. This seems to have the power to create a gap between me and others. I can’t quite explain it. It’s not logical, since I don’t try to convince anybody else to follow my example. But having a coffee or a beer together, or eating the same foods, seems to be one of those modern-day rituals that make you part of society.
Being honest can create turmoil and shifts that surprise me – and everybody else. When I was a new, enthusiastic sannyasin in Berlin, my lover was a therapist in a live-in massage therapy project. As his girlfriend, I often listened to the therapists talking among themselves, and I noticed some dishonesty in the crew toward the woman who was financing the project. At the next meeting I confronted the crew leader in front of all the crew and students. I stated my observations, without judging and without blaming. I just sat there, breathing into my heart, and spoke my truth. She did not deny it. This single action led to the voluntary closure of the project. Of course, this is not the way of the “normal” society. This is Osho’s world, where people are ready to change and grow.
And sometimes things are pleasant and easy, where I expected trouble. One day while I was living at the Ranch, I was sitting on the bus on my way to work when the bus took a different direction and went to Mandir – where Osho was going to speak. So I decided to listen to Osho instead of going to my shift. Miraculously, nobody objected when I arrived at my work. In fact, the rules for workers attending discourse were changed the very next day.
As I said, I am not a great revolutionary. I just try to be as honest and truthful with myself and others as I can be. I still like to avoid confrontation – it often feels like it’s not worth the trouble. Also, today’s methods of enslavement are no longer so brutal; they are subtler, using social conditioning and the media instead of force. Still, it takes intelligence and alertness to escape these influences. It takes courage and the overcoming of survival fears to live in my own way. In a world that has forgotten the language of the heart, to follow my creative, spontaneous energy without knowing where it will lead is rebelliousness.
In my workshops and performances I can create a space of love and harmony, of expression and listening. I can create the world I want to live in. I can share the precious gifts that I have received from Osho. I can teach people to trust and express their creative energy, with awareness and love for each other. I can lead groups in such a way that no group leader is needed anymore.
Going into the silence of my heart is the key that leads me through darkness and fear. Finding inner peace in meditation creates an invisible gown that protects me from the madness of the world. Meditation gives me the trust and the power needed to stand up for this incredible, bubbling, ever-changing, creative flux of energy called my life.
Published in Viha Connection Magazine in 2004
http://www.oshoviha.org
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