According to Osho, licentiousness is the mind’s swing to one extreme—an unrestrained, reactionary indulgence born from repression—just as insane as suppression itself. Both create each other like a pendulum. He doesn’t advocate either pole; instead he urges awareness—seeing directly, beyond beliefs—so intelligence finds a sane, balanced way of living where desire is neither repressed nor compulsively gratified.
Licentiousness is going wild because you were forced to be too strict; Osho says skip both and stay aware so you act wisely.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, do you profess licentiousness in life?
I don't profess anything. I simply clarify things to you, I don't profess. I am not giving you any ideology, I am only giving you insight. Take note of the difference. An ideology has to be professed, an insight has to be imparted. I simply make things clear to you, I simply help you to clarify things. I am not giving you a dogma. I am not giving you a theory that will solve all your problems -- there is none. I am simply telling you: Open your eyes, become more aware. And that awareness will help you in every kind of difficulty, in every kind of problem. That awareness will be like a light in the dark night. And wherever you go that light will remain with you, you will be able to see. I don't give you a theory. You have depended too much on theories. Theories are…
Osho, just as the word "renunciation" can be misleading, the word "indulgence" can also be misleading, can't it?
That is exactly what Manik Babu says: anything can be misleading. That is not the question—anything can be. But if even here a choice has to be made, I say it is all right if indulgence misleads; I even recommend that. If the choice is between indulgence and renunciation—both capable of misleading—then I say let indulgence be the one to mislead. I say this because indulgence is a sign of life being healthy, simple, and spontaneous. And here is the curious thing: the person who sets out to indulge will, little by little, find renunciations becoming inevitable—however misleading indulgence may be. As he descends into experience, the possibilities of larger enjoyments open up, and renunciations become unavoidable. But the one who sets out to renounce will lose the possibilities of the old enjoyments, and the new possibilities will not arise. He will go on drying up. It is true: overeating…
Osho, you have earlier said, “Live moment to moment, live in the present.” Now you are saying, “Return to the past.” What should we do?
So it is with the mind—there are ruts. The past means endless grooves. However much you understand, your intellect agrees, you make decisions, you resolve—at the moment of resolve you feel something is going to change. But not even an hour passes before your decision breaks. Then only self-condemnation is produced, nothing else. Your saints, your fakirs, your priests and pundits—most of the time they only succeed in producing self-condemnation in you, nothing else. Their words are logically correct. You cannot even say they are wrong; you have to admit they are right. In that admission you take a decision. But against what are you deciding? Inside are grooves carved since who knows when, deep tracks. Walking in them has become a habit. It is easy to walk in them. They will pull you again and again. The meaning of returning into the past is: these grooves must be erased.…
Osho, human beings either go to the excess of sexual indulgence or to the opposite extreme of the frustration born of sexual repression. What is Sahaj Yoga’s vision on this subject—please be kind enough to explain it to us.
The Taj Mahal is the imagination of Sufi fakirs. An emperor had it built, but the conception was given by Sufis. Those who built it were Sufi fakirs too. That’s why, if you sit silently and look at the Taj on a full-moon night for an hour or two, an unparalleled meditation descends. The signatures of Sufis are upon it. Its very form is such that it dissolves you into meditation. Millions of statues of Buddha were made—who made them? Not shopkeepers. Not mere technicians either. Such images of Buddha were made that if you just sit by them—stone, yes, but they poured so much into the stone; gave it such a form, such a hue, such a feeling—that even sitting near the stone something within you becomes still. In China there is a temple—the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas. It took centuries. Monks kept making, kept making, kept making.…
He has asked: Mahavira and Buddha speak of self-restraint and renunciation—so what is wrong with that?
Buddha said, “In the last village some people brought sweets. I told them, ‘My stomach is full.’ They took their trays back. I say the same to you: my belly is already full of your abuses. No hunger remains. Please take your trays back.” And Buddha added, “I feel pity for you. Those people who took their sweets back must have distributed them somewhere. But what will you do with these abuses? Because I refuse to accept them. You have the right to give; at least grant me this much right—to accept or not. I refuse to accept your abuses.” This man is not “restrained,” with anger surging inside while he grits his teeth, clenches his fist, and thinks, “I won’t let the anger out.” If he is such a person, no understanding has dawned. A man of restraint need not have understanding; but a man of understanding will have…