According to Osho, leaning on someone to escape sorrow is a dangerous choice: it keeps you dependent, nourishes a subtle relish for suffering (“sufferism”), and avoids the inner emptiness through which real joy appears. Borrowed support only postpones the search; you close the door to joy and collect new ‘diseases’ of attachment. Freedom comes from facing emptiness and risking a solitary, total search.
If you rely on someone else to remove your sadness, you just hide it and block your own real happiness.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, I think to get free of sorrow I should lean on someone, sit in the shade of someone’s love. But even when I don’t find that, there is still a kind of consolation that at least my own suffering is there—along with someone’s neglect. Please tell me, why does this happen?
Every door is the door of Rama—bow your head to all as you go: if you have loved someone, the door of Rama opens. Wherever love knocks, there the door of Rama opens. Never avoid love. Enter love. Do not be afraid of love. Love will give great pain; love will burn; love will become fire—but only by passing through fire does one become pure gold. Do not be frightened of the fire of love; do not run away; otherwise you will remain half-baked, incomplete, full of clay. So I do not say that love will give you only happiness. I do not say love is a bed strewn with flowers. Love is a path of great pain. But it is necessary to pass through it. Only by passing through it do you become worthy of prayer, mature for prayer. The moment someone is immersed in love, a taste begins;…
Osho, I am so familiar with sorrow that I can’t bring myself to trust happiness. One sorrow leaves and another arrives; it just goes on like that. Will I ever have a glimpse of happiness? Show me the path—what should I do to attain happiness? I am ready to do anything.
One sorrow follows another. The son finishes and the father arrives. But the beginning—why did you go to the poet’s house at all? And when he laughed, why didn’t you run away then? When he ordered tea, why didn’t you take the hint? Once you drink the tea, leaving becomes difficult. If you eat someone’s salt, you must play along—otherwise they’ll call you ungrateful! Be careful in advance. Where is the root of sorrow? It is in the ego, in the sense “I am.” This is the root of all diseases; all the ailments are its leaves. And you do not let go of it; you cling to it. Yet it is a sheer, downright untruth. You are not; the divine is. I am not; the divine is. A wave imagines, “I am,” whereas only the ocean is—where is the wave? And once you start living a lie, you must…
Osho, there is a great fear of death. Is there any way to be free of it?
I have heard that on his campaigns Alexander reached a place where he learned there was a spring whose water, if drunk, makes one immortal. He went in search of it. When he reached the spring, he rejoiced; never had he seen water so crystal clear. He was about to cup it in his palms when a crow perched on a branch said, “Stop, Alexander! You will regret it. First hear me.” Alexander was astonished—one marvel: water that grants immortality; another marvel: a speaking crow. “What do you want to say?” The crow said, “I too drank this water. I am no ordinary crow; as you are Alexander among men, I am Alexander among crows. I spent my life searching and found this spring. I drank—and now I writhe. I have been alive for thousands of years; I cannot die. I throw myself from cliffs, dash my head on rocks,…
Osho, what is the definition of God?
Words are very small. If you say God is light, then what of darkness? The scriptures have said that God is light. Suppose we accept this as a definition—then what about darkness? Where will darkness go? Darkness is too; in fact it is far more than light. Light sometimes is and sometimes is not; darkness is always, eternal. Where will you place darkness? If you say God is light, darkness is left out. If you say God is darkness, then light is left out. If you say God is both darkness and light, a contradiction arises: they cannot be together. Try to have both darkness and light in the same room. If you bring in light, darkness disappears; if you preserve darkness, you cannot have light. Then how can both be together? That becomes an impossibility. So you cannot say “both” either. Then the fourth device is to say: it…
Question: BELOVED OSHO, THEN A WOMAN SAID, SPEAK TO US OF JOY AND SORROW. AND HE ANSWERED: YOUR JOY IS YOUR SORROW UNMASKED. AND THE SELFSAME WELL FROM WHICH YOUR LAUGHTER RISES WAS OFTENTIMES FILLED WITH YOUR TEARS. AND HOW ELSE CAN IT BE? THE DEEPER THAT SORROW CARVES INTO YOUR BEING, THE MORE JOY YOU CAN CONTAIN. IS NOT THE CUP THAT HOLDS YOUR WINE THE VERY CUP THAT WAS BURNED IN THE POTTER'S OVEN? AND IS NOT THE LUTE THAT SOOTHES YOUR SPIRIT THE VERY WOOD THAT WAS HOLLOWED WITH KNIVES? WHEN YOU ARE JOYOUS, LOOK DEEP INTO YOUR HEART AND YOU SHALL FIND IT IS ONLY THAT WHICH HAS GIVEN YOU SORROW THAT IS GIVING YOU JOY. WHEN YOU ARE SORROWFUL, LOOK AGAIN IN YOUR HEART, AND YOU SHALL SEE THAT IN TRUTH YOU ARE WEEPING FOR THAT WHICH HAS BEEN YOUR DELIGHT.