Why does Osho continue to work hard despite the challenges and lack of understanding from people?

Osho, seeing your health makes me very anxious. You have poured your soul out trying to make the world understand, yet instead of changing, people want to erase you. Why are you working so hard?

A small incident comes to mind. Among the Jews there arose the Hasidic mystics. The mystic who gave birth to the Hasidic tradition—the Baal Shem—wrote his first book and sent it as a gift, by the hand of his disciple, to the greatest rabbi of the Jews, their chief priest. He told the disciple: Take this book. Give it into the chief rabbi’s own hands, no one else’s. I am sending you because I want to know his response—what he says, what expression appears on his face. Notice everything. You must return and tell me, detail by detail, without missing a thing. And I am sending you because you are my most alert disciple. Hasidism is a revolutionary tradition. The Jewish rabbis stand for old, decayed, dead conventions. To be a Hasid one must pass through revolution; to be a Jew it is enough to be born in a Jewish…

Osho, every day you speak of nectar, and yet this world keeps returning poison to you. Do you ever feel: to which blind ones am I showing light, and to which deaf ones am I offering ambrosial words?

And remember one more thing: those who abuse and fling poison—this much is certain: they have a relationship with me. They think of me, they brood about me. A connection has been made. Enmity too is a bond—just as friendship is. One remembers the friend, one remembers the enemy. If they have taken me as their enemy, they have made a little room for me in their heart. From there the work will begin. That little space is enough: give me a foothold, and slowly—if the toe finds a hold, the whole hand will gain a hold. And those who are filled with hatred can, at any moment, be filled with love—because hatred and love are two faces of the same coin. In truth, they are angry precisely because they fear that if they are not angry, they may agree with me. So let me repeat: you are angry only…

Osho, you are speaking out of such compassion! The people of this country don’t understand it and get angry. Can you not accomplish your work without taking so much risk? You are softer than a flower. We have fallen in love with you. You are the very foundation of our lives. I am afraid.

There is not the slightest need for fear. Because what is, cannot be destroyed; and what is not, will inevitably pass. Man is the sum of both—the mortal and the immortal. The mortal will go, sooner or later, this way or that. The mortal has to take leave, so there is no reason for fear there. And the immortal is forever; there too there is no reason for fear. Be fearless! Do not cling to what must wither. Do not get too attached to my flower. Recognize my fragrance; that will not fade. You say: “You are speaking out of such compassion! People of this country don’t understand it, they become angry.” This is the eternal way. This has always been people’s manner. Neither their ways are new, nor my love is new. Neither their defeat is new, nor my victory is new. It has always been so. They are…

Osho, I want to carry your message from home to home, from heart to heart, but people are completely deaf and blind. What should I do? Having found what I have found, it is not possible not to share it. There is an inevitability to sharing it.

You who hurl a challenge to humanity all eight watches of the day, You who take palaces and treasures as your hereditary right— Tomorrow you will become dust-motes, kicked under people’s feet. Who here is there that has tasted the nectar of immortality? These rainbow dawns are borne on nights black with sorrow; In summer’s scorching flames there are showers of sweetness! This making and unmaking is the tread of deathless Time’s feet; These talk of joys and sorrows are like pictures of shadows here. To stop is not the law of motion—keep on walking, brother; To be extinguished is not the law of life—keep on burning, brother! Like a block of snow—pure, cool, bright—be the heir of glory; It is not the law for tears to freeze—keep on melting, brother! Keep flowing on, flowing on, flowing on, brother! Keep your head held high and bear the cold and heat,…

Osho, you say one thing, and people understand something else. How will this stop?

A very meaningful story—the story of man. When Socrates was sentenced, the judges of Athens decided: either accept death, or stop saying what you say. Choose one of the two. If you stop speaking as you do, you may live. If you continue, there is no way but death. What was Socrates saying? He was speaking of the sea—to the people of the well. And the well-dwellers are angered by talk of the sea. Socrates seemed dangerous. The court declared his crime to be this: “You corrupt people.” Socrates corrupts people! Such pure expression of truth has seldom happened as in Socrates. “You corrupt people”—that was the court’s verdict. And that court was made of Athens’ most intelligent men, its most gifted. Unanimously they judged: “You corrupt people—especially the young; the old won’t fall for your talk, they are too experienced for you to deceive.” “Old”—those who have been in…