Silence
In the embrace of true silence, where meditative awareness flourishes without repression, bliss naturally unfolds, revealing that any silence devoid of joy is merely suppression; thus, by observing the mind, we invite the fragrant joy that silence truly brings.
Explore Depth →Speech
In the essence of Osho's teachings, the sweetness of a saint's speech arises from the Divine, as they become hollow vessels—flutes through which God breathes—allowing nectar to flow and seekers to savor the reassurance of that living presence.
Explore Depth →From the Discourses
Where Osho draws this distinction himself — each passage links to the complete discourse.
Osho, for forty years continuously Buddha gave discourses and sermons, and it is said that he did not speak a single word. Likewise, you too have been speaking and giving discourses for twenty years, and it could be said that you do not speak a single word. Is this true?
There is a sweet story about Mahavira. The Jains, in their rigidity, clung to the letter and missed the essence. The story is that Mahavira never spoke, and yet people heard. This is a difficult matter: Mahavira did not speak, yet people heard. Mahavira did not speak in any language that the ears can hear. The Jains say his speech is soundless—nishabd. There are no words in it. Yet people heard—those who could. If they too became wordless, sat near Mahavira in silence, they heard. Therefore there is another story in Mahavira’s life, important to note: wild animals heard him, gods of the sky came to listen, birds and beasts came, ghosts and spirits were present. The Jains have great difficulty explaining how birds and beasts can hear. Certainly, if Mahavira spoke in a language, then even among humans only those who knew that tongue could understand. If I am…
Osho, every time after speaking I feel I have been dishonest; only when I remain silent do I feel honest—completely honest with myself. Why is this?
At Harvard University, psychologists ran an experiment. They split a class into two groups. To one half, in a separate room, they said: “The problem on the board is very difficult. There is hardly any hope that any of you can solve it. Even students in higher classes struggle with it. Only great mathematicians can solve it. We’re giving it just to see—by chance, perhaps—there is no assurance at all—maybe one of you might head a little in the right direction. Solving it completely is impossible, still try.” They tried. Out of fifteen students, only three solved it. To the other fifteen, in another room, they said—about the same problem—“It’s very simple. So simple that if any of you fail to solve it, it would be surprising. Students in lower classes have solved it.” Amazingly, twelve solved it; only three failed. What happened? Your confidence is borrowed—others hand it to…
Osho, if silence has so much power, why does anyone speak at all? If silence has great power and silence is everything, then why are words spoken? Why does anyone speak?
Silence does have great power, but there has to be someone who can hear silence! Why does the need to speak arise? It arises because I see you heading toward a pit. I see that you will fall into it and break your arms and legs. I am standing here; I could say it to you from silence, but you don’t have ears to hear silence. So I shout, “You’ll fall into the pit!” In that, is my power lost? Is there any harm in that? No, no, no—nothing is lost. The one who has come to know power never loses anything. The one who has not known keeps losing everything. The one who has known never loses anything. In whatever form, to speak of the wordless we use words... That is exactly what I am saying: the difficulty is that if I write something like an autobiography, it will…
Osho, you have often said that the true master calls the disciple close, and then also sends him away. How can one know whether the master has sent him away in displeasure, out of anger, or as a blessing, out of joy, for the disciple’s further growth?
First thing: a master who gets angry is no master. Second: a disciple who, when sent away, thinks it must have been out of displeasure is not of the right mettle for discipleship. The master does not get angry; the very possibility of anger has ended. If ever a master seems angry, know that he is acting—for sometimes there is no other way. Gurdjieff would often appear angry—so angry it seemed there would be bloodshed. Those who ran away were deprived. Those who still remained came to know how rare it is to find a heart as tender as his. But why would he behave so angrily? Perhaps that was exactly what was needed for the disciple. Such things happened—and only Gurdjieff could do them—that two people would come to see him, one seated on the left, one on the right. When he looked to the left, it was with…
Beloved Osho, your words are so beautiful, yet we feel there is also another communication happening when you are talking to us. Would you talk to us about silent communication, and how we can become more open to it.
It is always there. While I am talking to you, I am also BEING to you. Talking is relating to you through the intellect, and being is relating to you with my totality. While you are listening to me, if you are really listening, then it is not only a listening to the words. Listening to me, your mind stops. Listening to me, you are not thinking. When you are not thinking, you are open. And when you are not thinking and your mind is not functioning, you start feeling. Then I can overwhelm you, I can move and fill you. Words are used only as a device. I myself am not interested much in words. But I have to speak, because this has been my feeling: while I am speaking you become silent. If I am not speaking, then you are speaking within and you are not silent. If…
The Synthesis
The Intersection: Both are mediums through which humanity attempts to communicate and process the existential reality of life.
The Divergence: Speech is linear, localized, and inherently dualistic. It can only cut truth into fragments. Silence is vast, continuous, and non-dual. It is the only true medium capable of carrying the ultimate experience of divinity.
Osho's Synthesis: Osho spoke for 35 years continuously, but he famously said, 'My words are not my message. My words are only devices to help you hear my silence.' Speech is used by the awakened mind merely to exhaust the restless mind of the seeker, leading them ultimately into the profound silence that cannot be spoken.
A master who prizes silence above all and yet talks every morning for thirty-five years: the paradox is the doorway to Osho's whole relationship with language. Silence has the greater power, he grants — but power needs a receiver, and ears trained only for words cannot hear the wordless. So speech becomes a device: the shout that stops you at the pit's edge, the sound used to smuggle in soundlessness.
Hence his claim, echoing Buddha and Mahavira, that in all those millions of words he never really said anything — the words were bait, the transmission was presence. The sections below give the distinction in Osho's own words, each linked to the full discourse.
Why Speak at All, If Silence Is Everything?
A questioner presses the obvious objection. Osho's answer: silence speaks only to those who have ears for it — the rest must first be shouted to.
Silence does have great power, but there has to be someone who can hear silence! Why does the need to speak arise? It arises because I see you heading toward a pit. I see that you will fall into it and break your arms and legs. I am standing here; I could say it to you from silence, but you don’t have ears to hear silence. So I shout, “You’ll fall into the pit!”— Main Kahta Akhan Dekhi, Chapter 1 →
Talking Is to the Mind; Being Is to the Whole
Disciples sensed a second communication running beneath the discourse. Osho confirms it — the words are the carrier wave, not the message.
While I am talking to you, I am also BEING to you. Talking is relating to you through the intellect, and being is relating to you with my totality.— My Way The Way Of The White Clouds, Chapter 7 →
The Soundless Speech of Mahavira
Asked whether he, like Buddha, had spoken for decades without saying a word, Osho reaches for the Jain story of speech beyond language.
The story is that Mahavira never spoke, and yet people heard. This is a difficult matter: Mahavira did not speak, yet people heard. Mahavira did not speak in any language that the ears can hear. The Jains say his speech is soundless—nishabd. There are no words in it. Yet people heard—those who could. If they too became wordless, sat near Mahavira in silence, they heard.— Nahin Ram Bin Thaon, Chapter 13 →
Frequently Asked
He called speaking a device: most people cannot hear silence, so words are used to catch the mind, quiet it, and point past themselves. He observed that while he spoke, his listeners stopped speaking inside — the discourse produced the very stillness it talked about. The goal of his words, he said repeatedly, was to persuade you to be silent.
Truth, in his teaching, is wordless — whatever reaches language is already a translation, and whatever the listener receives is a translation of that. So the essential thing was never in the sentences; it traveled as presence, in the gaps and the meeting itself. Like Buddha's forty years of unspoken speaking, the words were fingers pointing to the moon.
No — mere not-talking can be noisy with inner chatter, and Osho told of frauds whose vowed silence hid emptiness of another kind. Real silence is the absence of the inner speaker, not the outer voice. That is why a master's silence can communicate — and why, as with Mahavira's soundless speech, only those who themselves become wordless can hear it.