Why is it so difficult to take sannyas?

Beloved Osho, about four years ago I was in a space which I always remember as "paradise on earth." it felt as if I'd arrived home. Being in such deep and sweet relaxation and love, I felt as if I had fallen deep inside myself. Beloved Osho, why is it so difficult for me to let myself rejoice like that again?

Don't ask for anything to be repeated in your life, because there are always higher things. Why waste your life with anything lower? Always ask for the higher, for the better. And of course, you don't know what is higher and what is greater; again you are just waiting for the unknown. Just as the unknown has given you a gift in the past, it will be giving you many, many gifts; but you have to have the same childlike innocent heart -- waiting and longing, but not definite about what you are asking. Just trust in existence, and you will find better spaces. There is no scarcity of paradises -- there are paradises beyond paradises -- one has just to be innocent and not cling to anything. You are clinging to a certain experience, and that very clinging is becoming a barrier to prevent another experience from happening. If…

Sannyas is a quantum leap, a jump into the unknown, a great courage to become discontinuous with your own past. It is a rebirth. It is a change so great... as if the old dies, and dies utterly and totally and the new comes into being from nowhere, from nothingness, out of nothing. If the new comes from the old it remains the old. If the new is continuous with the old then it is only a modification of the old -- maybe a little bit colored and decorated and changed, with a new dress, with a new mask, but it is not a revolution, it is not a conversion. And sannyas to be true has to be a revolution so total that the old identity is simply dropped -- just as the snake slips out of the old skin and never looks back.

Osho, how do I take sannyas? I keep thinking and then I stop. What is this hesitation?

One night a thief broke into Mulla Nasruddin’s house. While the thief gathered things, Mulla quickly spread his blanket on the floor. When the thief, ready to tie up the loot, looked for a sheet to wrap it in, he found a blanket laid out. He was a bit scared—when he had entered, there had been no blanket on the floor. He’d seen a man sleeping under it; now that man lay on the bed without the blanket, and the blanket was on the floor! But it wasn’t the time to ponder. He tied his bundle and set off. Mulla got up and followed. Hearing footsteps, the thief turned and saw the same man who had been on the bed—first under the blanket, then without it. The thief got nervous and said, “Why are you following me?” Mulla said, “Why not follow? I was the only one left back there!…

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…

Osho, every time after speaking I feel I have been dishonest; only when I remain silent do I feel honest—completely honest with myself. Why is this?

At Harvard University, psychologists ran an experiment. They split a class into two groups. To one half, in a separate room, they said: “The problem on the board is very difficult. There is hardly any hope that any of you can solve it. Even students in higher classes struggle with it. Only great mathematicians can solve it. We’re giving it just to see—by chance, perhaps—there is no assurance at all—maybe one of you might head a little in the right direction. Solving it completely is impossible, still try.” They tried. Out of fifteen students, only three solved it. To the other fifteen, in another room, they said—about the same problem—“It’s very simple. So simple that if any of you fail to solve it, it would be surprising. Students in lower classes have solved it.” Amazingly, twelve solved it; only three failed. What happened? Your confidence is borrowed—others hand it to…