What should I do to gather the courage to take sannyas?

Osho, for three years I have wanted to take sannyas, but I haven’t been able to. What could be the reason?

A little joke— A very shy young man is sitting with his beloved in the moonlight. It must be the autumn full-moon night. They’re alone, sitting under a tree. He’s bashful, full of modesty and hesitation. The silence grows heavy; he says nothing. At last, mustering great courage, stammering and stumbling, he says, “May I… may I… may I kiss you?” The girl looks up at him—there is invitation in her eyes, gratitude in her eyes. But the young man has his eyes fixed on the ground. Then again, silence. The quiet becomes even heavier. After half an hour he asks again, “May I… may I… may I kiss you?” Again the girl looks up at him, but now he is gazing at the moon and stars—to avoid it! Silence again. Finally, after another half hour—now it’s become very awkward—the young man says, “Have you suddenly gone deaf? Or dumb?”…

Osho, I am growing old, yet I still cannot gather the courage to take sannyas. What should I do now?

They say Ibrahim was struck—by the man’s voice, his power, his blow—and he said to him, “You stay; I will go. If it is an inn, then stay at your ease—but I am leaving.” Ibrahim left the palace! And whenever anyone later asked him, “What did you do?” he would say, “I understood the point. It is true. How many have halted in this palace, come and gone—it will be the same with me. If I must go, why the claim! I dropped it.” And Ibrahim said, “From the day I left that inn, I found my home. I came to know my true dwelling.” Sannyas is courage, yes—but not as difficult as you imagine. Once understood, it is very simple. I say only this to you: this world is an inn. And I do not even say you must leave it and go. Ashtavakra would not say that either.…

Osho, I have been listening to you for years. I have been with you a long time. From time to time I have heard many different statements from you, even mutually contradictory ones, yet no question has ever arisen in my mind about them. And in spite of them you have always remained one and indivisible in my vision and in my heart. Kindly shed some light on this.

You can be with me in two ways: through thought and intellect, or through the heart and feeling. If you are with me through the intellect and thought, there will be great difficulty. Day after day you will find contradictory statements. Every day you will have to sort them out, and still you will not succeed. The intellect never really resolves anything. Even where things are simple, the intellect tangles them up. And my words are very tangled. Even where everything is clear, the intellect creates problems. And I speak of paths filled with mist. Even if there were only one path, the intellect would find contradictions; here there are countless paths—contradictions upon contradictions. There is hardly a statement I have not refuted a thousand times. So if you are with me through the intellect, only two things are possible: either you will go mad and drop the intellect, or…

Question: Second question: Osho, why am I afraid of sannyas? You still think Yama’s messengers ride buffaloes! A perfect pair—black buffalo, black messengers—a match made in heaven: one blind, one with leprosy! An exact fit. But these are born of your fear. Those who have died knowingly, who have recognized life, have said something else: Supreme Light dawns. In the moment of dying it is as if a thousand suns rise at once. As if lotuses bloom upon a lake, blooming and blooming. As if an infinite lake, with infinite lotuses opening. Those who have died awake, in meditation, have seen neither any blackness in death nor buffaloes nor messengers—yes, they have found God’s embrace, union. But for that you need to muster a little courage first. Sannyas is for the courageous. For the timid there are many temples. This temple is not for the timid.

Osho, I am eager to take sannyas, yet I have been hesitating for a year. I also have this doubt in my mind: what will happen by taking sannyas?

You are still living. Breath still moves. The heart still beats. The blood still runs. However many days may have been wasted, much is still left. The as-yet-unarrived is still there; the future remains. Live this future in a new way, Krishnaraj! Will you keep beating the same old track? Just as you think, “What will happen by taking sannyas?” now think this: what will happen by not taking sannyas? Until now you have not been a sannyasin. What has happened so far? One thing is certain: at least sannyas will be a new experiment. Whether anything happens or not, a new path will be cut. Who knows—what didn’t happen on the old path may happen on the new! Walk with at least that much curiosity. Who knows! The old path is familiar; will you keep circling on it? And not think even once that after so many rounds nothing…