According to Osho, a realized one faces no danger among the 'asleep' because the ego—the magnet that attracts contagion like greed, fear, or disease—has dissolved. Like a dead man immune to plague, nothing can 'catch' on. But if any sense of 'I' remains—even 'I am realized'—vulnerability persists; danger exists only before egolessness.
When there’s no “me” left, nothing bad sticks; if you still feel “I,” you can still get hurt.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
A friend has asked: Is there any danger for a realized one in living among those who are asleep, or is this instruction only for seekers?
There is no danger for the realized one, because he is no more. Danger exists only for the one who still is. Think of it this way: is there any danger for a dead man living among the sick? Will he catch a disease? He won’t. A dead man doesn’t catch diseases. Let there be plague all around, cholera all around—seat a dead man right in the middle and he will sit there in perfect ease. Cholera won’t catch him, nor will plague. Because for disease to catch, there must first be someone there to catch it. That man is dead—he is no more. Whom will it catch? So the realized one has no danger, because in a profound sense he has died within: the ego that diseases catch hold of—the greed, the anger—that ego is finished. Now there is no danger for the realized one. The very meaning of…
Osho, what do those people mean who say that, so that there is no explosion, one should search within with a subtle, refined vision...
But the effortless awakening I speak of—once it arrives, there is no question of its departure, because you did not bring it; it came. Gradually you and awakening are not two; you are the awakening. You did not make even anger “the other,” so how would awakening be “other”? It becomes you. There is no question of its return. Whatever we have truly known cannot be unknown. You cannot undo knowing. Yes, what we have merely learned by rote can wobble. But what is known—like a child who comes to know love; once he knows, he cannot un‑know it. Knowing becomes part of you; it cannot fall away. Reading four books about love is different; that can be forgotten. Through the experiment of awakening, whatever happens in us reveals itself gradually. Awakening is not something that comes from outside; it is your inner being uncovering itself. If it were an…
Osho, if there is danger in Kundalini awakening, what is that danger? And if there is danger, then why awaken it at all?
When there is insecurity, danger, we flee in fear, we hide. Thus we lose life. Many people lose life trying to save it. Only those live who do not try to save life, but move through it with a leap. There is danger. That is precisely why you should go—because there is danger. And it is the greatest danger. There is not so much danger in climbing to the summit of Gaurishankar (Everest). Nor in going to the moon. Recently some travelers lost their way—great danger—but the danger was only to their garments. Only bodies could be exchanged. But the danger in meditation is greater—greater than going to the moon. Why are we so afraid of danger? Have you ever thought why we fear it so? Behind the fear of every kind of danger is ignorance. We fear we might dissolve. We fear we might be lost. We fear we…
Osho, why is it so dangerous to be with a living Sadguru? Why do so few people dare to stake everything and dive into your Buddha-field, even though, like Paltu, your call is echoing across the world—“There’ll never be such a wager again; you may not be human again. Why do you stand hesitating while the gold slips from your hand.” Osho, have compassion, grant awakening.
Paltu’s call never resounded across the world. Very few knew him. He was a simple rustic; his language was of the village. But he spoke to the point. This one aphorism of his is priceless. It should have resounded—but it didn’t. To make a thing resound in the world requires great skill and organization. And to make a religious statement resound is very hard. Religion is not a detective novel that everyone wants to read; not a film full of murder and rape that everyone wants to watch; not sensational news that every newspaper puts in headlines. Religion is delicate—no sensation, no violence, no arson. Religion is meditation. Who has taste for meditation? People care for money, not meditation; for office, not for the divine. They are ready to collect all kinds of junk, but words like moksha and nirvana create no echo in their hearts. The moment they hear…
Osho, in yesterday’s talk you said that a seeker should first be concerned with becoming a vessel, and should not go about begging from place to place. But the very meaning of a seeker is that he has obstacles in practice. He doesn’t know how to become a vessel, how to prepare. So if he does not go asking, what should he do? How difficult it is to meet the right guide!
But searching and begging are two different things. In fact, the one who does not want to search is the one who begs. Searching and begging are not the same; they are opposites. He who wants to avoid searching begs; a seeker never begs. And the processes of searching and begging are entirely different. In begging you have to keep your attention on the other—the one who will give. In searching you have to keep your attention on yourself—the one who is to receive. It is true that there are obstacles on the path of the seeker. But if we understand rightly, saying there are obstacles on the path of the seeker means the obstacles are within the seeker; the path too is within. And to understand one’s obstacles is not very difficult. So we will have to speak a little more extensively on what the obstacles are and how…