Letting Go,

Dropping the Big One

by Bjarni 

n the summer of 1995 I decided to stop using the name Parva. After nearly seven years with Osho it was time to go back to my roots, and this included using the name I'd heard as a child, the name passed on to me by my ancestors.This decision came after talking to a native elder who said that to know where we are we must know where we came from. His words resonated with me, and I decided to act.

When I told my sannyasin friends that I was dropping sannyas, they teased me, asking, “How do you do that?”

And of course they were right. I am still a seeker of sorts, which is what the word sannyasin actually means, and I don't believe I will ever stop feeling connected to the places inside myself that I was able to reach because of Osho. So I quickly changed my tune and started telling people that “I'm dropping my sannyasin name.”

I soon realized that I was doing what I viewed as the core of Osho’s teaching: letting go.

I began by letting go of my dreams and hopes for the future with Osho. Dreams and hopes of recreating beautiful moments in the past and somehow making them permanent. Things like the wonder and excitement of my initial contact with Osho, and the best and deepest moments of connectedness with the community. Dreams of having everything in my life fall into place when I finally go to Poona. Dreams that had originated in my experience, but had ended up taking me away from the here and now.

Seeing how I had developed attachments and identifications that had taken me away from being present was painful and so was letting them go. But it was needed. It helped me be more present.

Then I began to let go of my identification with the sannyas community. In so doing I realized how needy for acceptance and afraid of rejection by the community I had been, and how much of myself I had withheld as a result. I began saying things I’d been afraid to say, both disagreements and appreciations, and felt as if I was really being myself for the first time.

The response of the comunity amazed me. Where I had expected judgment and criticism, I found acceptance and support. And I started to really see that my friends in the community love me not because I am “one of them,” but because of who I am. What a realization!

And I finally began letting go of my attachment to Osho's physical form, which I realized I hadn't done when he left his body in 1990.

He had said something like, “I'll still be here when I leave the body. Look for me in the sunset, listen for me in the rain.” I was just starting to get it.

It was a long and often painful process, but I feel freer than before. I had become attached to the form, the external trappings, and the past and future of my relationship with Osho and the community. In letting all that go I believe I've come closer to the emptiness and openness that to me is the heart of sannyas. I still sit, still do Dynamic sometimes, and I love the kind of silent understanding and freedom of expression that I feel with many sannyasins. Many sannyasins have told me they still sense in me a strong connection to Osho.

So am I a sannyasin? At one time that would have been a significant question to me, but now it’s not. I am who I am. Just me. And that’s it.

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