Reading Osho

I am an avid reader. I read almost everything except for sci-fi. Not that I think its lame but I've just never got around it.
But that’s not what this blog post is about. A few days ago my mom suggested I read Osho's work. Obviously I was sceptical. When I said I was an avid reader I didn’t mean I enjoyed spiritual mumbo-jumbo. But, the thought never left my head. Then at a family function I asked my sister, S if she's read Osho.
She nodded. “You feel the freedom in his words,” she said.
So, on a whim I typed Osho into the search bar on Goodreads and was instantly bombarded with a list of at least ten to twenty books. How much does this guy have to preach?
I just started reading one his books called Tears Of The Mystic Rose and I have to say that I am hooked. I can feel his anger at his father, I can feel the sadness he feels when his mother dies and I can feel the love he has for his bhagwan.
What’s surprising is that he doesn’t actually plan to become what he became. He just went with the flow and did what he felt passionate about and everything just took care of itself. I just don’t think that kind of passion exists anymore. I mean people pursue what they like because they hate it less, I guess. For instance, I would choose marketing over finance because I hate it less than finance not because it’s my ultimate passion. And I like writing but I’m not sure if I’m that good for me to give up everything else and just pursue it solely. What I’m saying is that I have one back-up plan after another. It’s like I’m expecting all of them to fall apart while this guy didn’t have a plan to begin with. The term “backup” probably didn’t exist in his dictionary either. The other word is “impossible”.
But I think what he means when he says that “impossible” didn’t exist is that he was ready to conquer all impossibilities in the world to make what he wants possible.
But the real question is: what am I so undeniably passionate about?