Sahaj Yoga

Osho, you have titled this series of talks “Sahaj Yoga.” Do “sahaj” and “yoga” not seem mutually opposed?

Anand Maitreya! They don’t just seem opposed, they are opposed. But no ultimate truth of life can manifest without contradiction. Life is made of opposites—darkness and light, day and night, woman and man, negative electricity and positive electricity, birth and death. The very structure of life is woven of opposites. Hence the opposites are not only opposed; they are complementary to each other. If you have labored hard all day, you will be able to sleep deeply. Labor and rest are opposites, yet only the one who has worked can rest deeply—and the one who has not worked cannot. So the opposites are not only opposed, they complete each other. And only the one who has rested deeply at night can rise in the morning and engage in work again. One who has not rested through the night will not be able to work in the morning. Look closely at…

Osho, are the siddha Saraha’s Sahaj-yoga and Zen’s awareness of the moment different or essentially one? And isn’t Sahaj-yoga simply another name for surrender?

Sahaj-yoga means: do not make life complicated. Do not become false. The more false you are, the more miserable you will be. Falsehood brings suffering, because through it your connection with truth loosens and breaks. Existence is truth. If you become truthful with it, your music will harmonize, your notes will fall into place. Then your rhythm coincides with the whole; there will be dance and celebration. Becoming true with the whole, you merge with it—and in that merging is samadhi. If you remain false, you remain isolated. Existence can have no union with falsehood, because falsehood has no being. What is not cannot unite with what is. Only what is can meet what is; what is not can only meet what is not. That is why one lie forces a thousand more. To protect one lie, you must tell another, because only lies can shield lies. Then to cover…

Osho, please explain Sahaj Yoga more openly and clearly.

I’ve heard: In Japan a fakir died. At his death, hundreds of thousands gathered; he was renowned. But his disciple was even more famous—indeed the guru was known because of him. People came and saw that this disciple was sitting outside, beating his chest, weeping. They said, “You—and you’re crying? We thought you had attained knowledge! And you weep?” The disciple said, “Fools! For the sake of your ‘knowledge’ I should quit crying? Keep your knowledge—guard it—I don’t want it.” They said, “What will people say? Go inside! There will be disgrace. We thought you were sthitaprajna, steadfast in wisdom; we thought nothing could touch you.” He said, “You thought wrong. Earlier little touched me—I was less sensitive, I was hard. Now everything touches me and passes right through. I will weep—I will weep my heart out. Throw away your ‘knowledge.’” But as devotees are, they said, “Bad name will…

There are really only two religions in the world: yoga and samkhya. But samkhya has always appealed only to a very few individuals here and there, so it is not talked about much. That is why Krishnamurti appears to be very novel and original. He is not, but he seems to be because samkhya is so unknown. Only yoga is known. There are ashrams and training centers and yogis all over the world. Yoga is known: the tradition of effort. And samkhya is not known at all. Krishnamurti has not said a single word that is new, but because we are not familiar with the tradition of samkhya, it appears to be new. Only because of our blissful ignorance are there revolutionaries. Samkhya means knowledge, knowing. Samkhya says, "Only knowing is enough; only awareness is enough." But these two traditions are just dialectical. To me, they are not opposed.