Sorrow

Osho, why have the saints always portrayed life as sorrow? Is this pessimism justified?

The saints have not portrayed life as sorrow. The saints looked into life and found it to be sorrow. That is not a “portrayal.” They never tried to prove that life is sorrow; they saw it—and it was sorrow. Now, if a thorn pierces your foot and you say, “I feel pain,” will anyone object, “Why are you depicting it like that? This is pessimism”? Someone has a festering ulcer, is in excruciating pain, and says, “I am suffering.” And you say, “Don’t describe it like that; that’s pessimism. One ought to be an optimist—say the ulcer gives you great joy!” What will change by saying so? The saints looked at life and described it as it is. That is not a philosophy of the saints—that life is sorrow; it is their experience that life is of the nature of suffering. Leave the saints aside—what is your experience? Just examine…

Osho, there is a great fear of death. Is there any way to be free of it?

I have heard that on his campaigns Alexander reached a place where he learned there was a spring whose water, if drunk, makes one immortal. He went in search of it. When he reached the spring, he rejoiced; never had he seen water so crystal clear. He was about to cup it in his palms when a crow perched on a branch said, “Stop, Alexander! You will regret it. First hear me.” Alexander was astonished—one marvel: water that grants immortality; another marvel: a speaking crow. “What do you want to say?” The crow said, “I too drank this water. I am no ordinary crow; as you are Alexander among men, I am Alexander among crows. I spent my life searching and found this spring. I drank—and now I writhe. I have been alive for thousands of years; I cannot die. I throw myself from cliffs, dash my head on rocks,…

Osho, I think to get free of sorrow I should lean on someone, sit in the shade of someone’s love. But even when I don’t find that, there is still a kind of consolation that at least my own suffering is there—along with someone’s neglect. Please tell me, why does this happen?

Every door is the door of Rama—bow your head to all as you go: if you have loved someone, the door of Rama opens. Wherever love knocks, there the door of Rama opens. Never avoid love. Enter love. Do not be afraid of love. Love will give great pain; love will burn; love will become fire—but only by passing through fire does one become pure gold. Do not be frightened of the fire of love; do not run away; otherwise you will remain half-baked, incomplete, full of clay. So I do not say that love will give you only happiness. I do not say love is a bed strewn with flowers. Love is a path of great pain. But it is necessary to pass through it. Only by passing through it do you become worthy of prayer, mature for prayer. The moment someone is immersed in love, a taste begins;…

Osho, I am so familiar with sorrow that I can’t bring myself to trust happiness. One sorrow leaves and another arrives; it just goes on like that. Will I ever have a glimpse of happiness? Show me the path—what should I do to attain happiness? I am ready to do anything.

One sorrow follows another. The son finishes and the father arrives. But the beginning—why did you go to the poet’s house at all? And when he laughed, why didn’t you run away then? When he ordered tea, why didn’t you take the hint? Once you drink the tea, leaving becomes difficult. If you eat someone’s salt, you must play along—otherwise they’ll call you ungrateful! Be careful in advance. Where is the root of sorrow? It is in the ego, in the sense “I am.” This is the root of all diseases; all the ailments are its leaves. And you do not let go of it; you cling to it. Yet it is a sheer, downright untruth. You are not; the divine is. I am not; the divine is. A wave imagines, “I am,” whereas only the ocean is—where is the wave? And once you start living a lie, you must…