Let this heartbreak show you chasing people won’t bring peace; be grateful you were spared, turn inside, and give your love to the divine through awareness now.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, I wanted to surrender everything in love, but it didn’t happen, because my love itself was not accepted. And now my heart is a broken veena. Even at my pain, the one I loved felt no compassion. How can I now offer this broken, battered life to God?
She didn’t even touch the veena of your heart—how did it break? If she had touched it, it would have broken; the strings would have been scattered. Now you say, “Even at my pain, the one I loved felt no compassion.” It seems to me you do not know the difference between love and pity. If pity had arisen, love would not have happened. Pity is not love. Pity is a sick thing, morbid. In pity there is insult. In love there is respect. And it may be that you asked for pity—that’s why you did not receive love. No healthy person wants to pity, because pity creates a false relationship. An acquaintance of mine began to feel a lot of pity for a widow. Many feel pity for widows! Widows have a certain allure that even married women don’t. He said, “I will marry a widow. I feel great…Read the full discourse →
Osho, I was in love with a young woman. She deceived me and became someone else’s. I am living on, but life has lost all taste. What should I do?
There can’t have been much sap. You are in the illusion that there was. Does sap vanish like that? You don’t even know what sap is. Those who know have said: “Raso vai sah.” They defined God as rasa—essence, sap, joy. They recognized only God as the true savor; nothing else has any lasting savor. Had you gotten the woman, the savor would also have gone—and being tied to her would be another matter. Then it would be hard to get free. Ask the one she has married—what is his condition? Know his griefs too; you’ll find great consolation, great reassurance. A politician once went to visit a madhouse. One man was tearing his hair, beating his chest, holding a woman’s photo, tears streaming—hugging the photo to his chest. He was behind bars. The politician asked the superintendent, “What happened to this man? What is he doing? Whose photo is…Read the full discourse →
Osho, you tell us to love. I too loved; I was defeated, and the wounds have still not healed. Society did not like that love, and my beloved was weak; she bowed before society. I cannot even forgive her. And yet you still tell us to love?
I do not tell you to do love—I tell you to be love. Doing is a small, petty thing. There, only defeat and wounds will come to your hand. And it is good that society put an obstacle in your way; otherwise, as in the story I just told you, by now you would be celebrating your silver jubilee. Society showed you great kindness. Thank society. Take it as grace. And you cannot forgive that woman! What kind of love is this that cannot forgive! What kind of love is this that is full of revenge! And these wounds are not precious wounds. They do not go very deep. They are on the surface—like scratched skin. They are no deeper than the skin. All these heal. Time heals them. Do not sit clutching them. Friend, do not be disheartened! Affairs have often kept forming and breaking. Why those starry tears…Read the full discourse →
Osho, you say love is God, but I have been so singed by love that even the word “love” irritates me. Please guide me.
Do not remain like that—untasted. Drink the essence of life. Break these little cups. And if but once His glance falls upon you, your life will be transformed. “Among millions you made it worthy of being chosen— The heart you looked upon, you made into a heart.” Just place yourself at His feet. Bow a little. Let but one glance of His fall upon you, one ray touch you—and you are transformed. Iron becomes gold. In the dust, flowers of nectar bloom. “What was in that last cup, O cupbearer? Whoever drank it fell silent—and remained silent.” Here you have drunk many kinds of cups. I speak of the last cup. “What was in that last cup, O cupbearer? Whoever drank it fell silent—and remained silent.” Drink that, and a profound stillness will happen. All quiet, all empty, all silent. Within, not even a ripple of thought will arise. That…Read the full discourse →
What does one do about unrequited love? What does one do about unrequited love that seems to live on and on like a wound that never heals? How is it that a man can go on loving one woman year after year believing, in spite of the pain, that and day she will find a place for him in her heart? Am I a fool to believe? I think that I am a fool, and yet I continue to believe. Am I creating this situation? Or is this situation creating me?
I said 'You can marry, but once you have married she will not be a widow. Then what will you do? Then the whole charm will disappear because the charm is in her being a widow.' He laughed -- he thought I was joking. And he got married. And after six months he said 'You were right. I'm no more interested in her. My interest was basically in her widowhood. I wanted to show to the public that I am a great servant of people, that I am serving people even through my love. I am sacrificing my love for a widow. I am going against the society, I am going against the tradition. I am doing something great. But now the marriage has happened and the widow has come, now there is no point.' I said 'You do one thing. You commit suicide. She will be a widow again,…Read the full discourse →