According to Osho, 'home' in the worldly sense doesn't exist—there are only houses; 'home' is a psychological projection we weave to escape existence's coldness. Chasing it breeds frustration. Accepting our essential homelessness dissolves attachment and creates freedom; then, without trying to manufacture security, we discover an inner warmth, and the whole existence becomes our home wherever we are.
Home isn’t a place you build; when you feel okay inside without needing one, everywhere you go feels like home.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Question: BELOVED OSHO, WHAT IS HOME? There is no home, there are only houses. We try to make homes out of houses, but in fact, home is projection -- there is only a house -- it feels cold. We need a home: we want something cozy, something that belongs to us, something to which we belong. Something which is an extension of our being, something which we can make part of us; something which is not just a place where you live, but which becomes alive with you. A house is a dead thing; a home is a living entity, but it is a projection. So those who are searching for a home will find themselves frustrated again and again because they will find again and again that it turns out to be only a house. Home was their idea. It was their illusion, their hallucination.
Beloved Osho, now that I am slowly, slowly turning inward, I find this longing mixed with sadness welling up frequently. It seems connected with the feelings that arise when I see you or dream about you. Is it the realization that I really don't know much love and bliss in my life, or is it the longing for home? Would you please speak to me about this?
But the man said, "I have a question: After taking seven rounds around you, is the journey finished? Is the pilgrimage over?" He said, "No, whenever you have money again, you can come. This pilgrimage is never going to end. And if you don't find me here, you will find somebody else. You can do this pilgrimage around anybody -- you just have to be sensitive to see the real, the living god within. It is not only within me, it is within you also. If you are alert, you can take seven rounds around yourself -- no need to waste the money and no need to go anywhere. Remember, there is no home. Or, the home is everywhere -- both are true." I will not say to you that the home is everywhere -- although it is true. I will say there is no home. If you can continue…
Remember this word transcendence. You are transcendental: you go beyond both the polarities. Both the polarities are in you but you are neither -- you tower higher than both. Once you become in tune with this transcendence then you walk, not on the plain ground, but between the valleys and the peaks, remaining so balanced that no plain ground can remain as plain as this; This is something inner; it has nothing to do with the ground. The ground is very high and low, both heaven and hell are there, but you are somewhere far, far away from both. You simply watch the whole game of it, the whole play of consciousness. Homesickness will arise. It is part of our security, part of our mediocre life. But there is no home.
Osho, why didn’t Mahavira do his spiritual practice while remaining at home? What need was there to go out?
In Gandhi’s ashram a hymn was sung: “Call only that person a Vaishnava who knows the pain of the other.” Someone once recited it to me and I said it needs a slight correction. In truth, a Vaishnava is one who does not even know that anyone is “other.” Knowing the pain of the other is a second thing. To know the other’s pain, you must first accept that there is “other” and there is “mine.” A Vaishnava is one who does not know anyone as other—and only then can the pain of the other be felt as one’s own, because there is no “other” left. We live within the circle of “I,” of “mine.” That is our home: my house, my wife, my father, my son, my friend—an entire world fabricated by “mine.” Around this “mine” we have raised many kinds of walls: of stone, of love, of hatred,…
Question: BELOVED OSHO, THE HOME-COMING O SOLITUDE! SOLITUDE, MY HOME! I HAVE LIVED TOO LONG WILDLY IN WILD STRANGE LANDS TO COME HOME TO YOU WITHOUT TEARS!... WE DO NOT QUESTION ONE ANOTHER, WE DO NOT COMPLAIN TO ONE ANOTHER, WE GO OPENLY TOGETHER THROUGH OPEN DOORS.... HERE, THE WORDS... OF ALL EXISTENCE SPRING OPEN TO ME: ALL EXISTENCE HERE WANTS TO BECOME WORDS, ALL BECOMING HERE WANTS TO LEARN SPEECH FROM ME. DOWN THERE, HOWEVER -- ALL SPEECH IS IN VAIN! THERE, THE BEST WISDOM IS TO FORGET AND PASS BY: I HAVE LEARNED THAT -- NOW!... EVERYTHING AMONG THEM SPEAKS, NO ONE KNOWS ANY LONGER HOW TO UNDERSTAND.... EVERYTHING AMONG THEM SPEAKS, EVERYTHING IS BETRAYED. AND WHAT WAS ONCE CALLED A SECRET AND A SECRECY OF PROFOUND SOULS, TODAY BELONGS TO THE STREET-TRUMPETERS AND OTHER BUTTERFLIES....