Soup of the soup of the soup of the soup of…

Truth is never second hand,
it cannot be transferred.
One has to know it and be it oneself —
that is why all tradition falsifies it,
and all scriptures,
and all words,
and in the end
it is nothing but the soup of Mulla Nasrudin…
But first I must tell you the story.

A kinsman came to see Nasrudin from the country
and brought a duck.
Nasrudin was grateful,
had the bird cooked, and shared it with the guest.
Presently another visitor arrived.
I am a friend, he said, of the man who gave you the duck.
Nasrudin fed him as well.
This happened several times.
Nasrudin’s house had become like a restaurant
for out-of-town visitors.
Everyone was a friend at some remove
of the original donor of the duck.
Finally Nasrudin was exasperated.
One day there was a knock at the door and a
stranger appeared.
I am the friend of the friend of the friend of the man
who brought you the duck from the country, he said.
Come in, said Nasrudin.
They seated themselves at the table
and Nasrudin asked his wife to bring the soup.
When the guest tasted it
it seemed to be nothing more than warm water.
What sort of soup is this? he asked the Mulla.
That, said Nasrudin,
is the soup of the soup of the soup of the soup of
the duck.

Osho – A Cup of Tea


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