What happens when I take sannyas and face opposition from others?

Osho, I do want to take sannyas, but I am very frightened of the world. If I take sannyas, will I be able to withstand the whirlwinds that will rise around me or not? Please reassure me.

Sannyas means: stepping into insecurity. Sannyas means: placing your feet in the unknown. Sannyas means: leaving the known, falling in love with the unknowable. How can I reassure you? The whirlwind will arise. My reassurance would be a lie. I can only say this much: the whirlwind is certain to arise—it should arise. If it does not, how will sannyas ripen? If there is no sun, no heat, how will the fruit ripen? If no wind blows, no storm arises, the trees will lose their spine. Only by bearing the gusts of storm and gale does a tree grow sturdy. The whirlwind will arise. I can assure you of at least this much: be absolutely certain, don’t worry in the least—the whirlwind will arise. And it will be far greater than you imagine. Nor will it be that it comes today and is gone tomorrow. As long as you live,…

Osho, should I take sannyas or not? I am afraid of the world. Will I be able to endure people’s opposition or not?

Opposition is certain. And you will endure it. You are soul-possessed. If you cannot endure opposition, it will be proof that you are a corpse, not alive. The soul within is capable of bearing all. And the soul needs some storms to make it intense, to make it one-pointed. For the polishing of the soul, some tempests are needed. The flower bloomed among thorns; on the couch it withered. It glittered like the dawn among the thorns, that blossom, at its touch the fragrance-bearing breeze was set a-rippling, in camphor-pale petals it cradled springtime’s fullest dream— the flower bloomed among thorns; on the couch it withered. The fierce sun’s heat, the storm’s unbearable gusts could not stain that youthful, struggle-loving one, but the day it was torn from the bush, it could not live— the flower bloomed among thorns; on the couch it withered. He who stands steadfast in storm…

Osho, the people of my caste and community have abandoned me. They even convened a council, and four men together beat me. “Give up sannyas, the hair, the beard, and the ochre”—saying this, they beat me—these so-called Brahmins and pundits. Neither could I understand them, nor could they understand me. Osho, why did this happen? Why have my own become strangers?

Understand me. When, for the first time, sannyasins left their homes and families, they were beaten. Now it has become accepted, and there is no substance in it. So I told you: do not leave; remain in the marketplace. Meditate there, live there. I have again created a hurdle for tradition. The goal is the same. The one who left also stepped off the rut; but now even leaving has become a rut. We are breaking the rut of leaving as well. The renouncer had one convenience: he withdrew from society. Then he came only occasionally—once in two, four, or ten years—so society was not much disturbed. He would stay a day or two—there was even a rule for a sannyasin not to stay more than three days in one place—and then move on. He did not disturb the flow of life. Now my sannyasin will plant his feet and…

Osho, from the very beginning of life everyone is taught: speak the truth, do good deeds, do not be violent, do not sin. But we sannyasins are trying to walk exactly on this path; then why are we opposed? Please kindly explain this contradiction.

So Mahavira would not turn at night lest a bug be crushed. And naked Mahavira must have been tormented by bugs and mosquitoes—no doubt. Mahavira told his disciples: mosquitoes will disturb meditation—don’t worry; it’s a test. Mosquitoes have always been enemies of meditators! I once heard a mosquito telling his kids, “If you behave today, in the morning I will take you to Buddha Hall for discourse! But only if you behave!” Mosquitoes are old enemies. Mahavira said: mosquitoes will torture you; they will create obstacles in meditation. The ascetic pays them no attention; he remains in his meditation—let them bite; he won’t move a muscle. And Mahavira must have been all the more tormented—Jains say that when a snake bit him, milk flowed instead of blood! Will mosquitoes leave milk? So cheap—without going to a dairy—just suck Mahavira and drink milk! They must have swelled with joy! So Mahavira…

Osho, I want to take sannyas, but friends and loved ones are becoming obstacles! What should I do?

They would not be friends, nor loved ones. Those who do not grant you the freedom to be yourself can be neither friends nor loved ones. The very meaning of friendship is that we care for the other so much that whatever they wish to become, we will give them freedom. And the meaning of a loved one is: whichever direction you wish to go, wherever your joy lies, our blessings will be with you—even if we do not agree in our opinions. Love liberates. And that which does not liberate is not love. I am not telling you to take sannyas. I would only say this—whatever your inner feeling is, move toward it with courage. If it is for sannyas, then toward sannyas; if it is for the world, then toward the world. Do not make another the decider. Do not place the decision in someone else’s hands. Otherwise…