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Chapter 7: Session 7

Vivek calls your notes “The Ramblings of a Mad-man”.written by a madman, but not ramblings. If I am mad, then who is sane? If I am mad then who can say he is not mad? Nixon? Who can claim sanity? This poor earth is full of mad men, so I appear to be mad. A sane man among the insane always appears so.

There is a beautiful story by Kahlil Gibran which I have always loved:

There was an ancient town ruled by a well-loved king and queen. Into the only well - except that for the sole use of the king and queen and their prime minister - a magician throws a potion. The magician declares, “Whoever drinks the water will go mad.” Obviously, except for the king and queen and the prime minister, the whole town goes mad. They had to drink from that well, and they all went mad. Except for the king, the queen and the prime minister, they all go mad.

All the mad townspeople are gathered around the palace shouting against the king and saying, “The king has gone mad. We don’t want a mad king.”

The king asked his prime minister what to do. The minister must have been a wise man, not like politicians today, a man of insight, not elected but chosen by the wise. He said, “I will keep the crowd happy for a time. You run to the town’s well and drink deeply. Drink deeply. Get drunk on it. Then come back and all will be right.”

The king soon returns, but entering through the front door naked, singing, dancing.singing songs of ecstasy, he dances with the crowd. The king’s dance convinces the crowd of his sanity. They declare him sane. They recrown him. They rejoice. They celebrate his return to sanity.

I am surrounded by madmen. I am in a whole world of madmen. Certainly I will look mad.mad, even to my own people.

I have not shouted for twenty-five years. I have spoken with a microphone. But just for your sake I say, “Shut Up!” - not for you but for the fool within you. For you I have nothing but tears.and joy.and prayer. Look, my tear is coming. It comes in the left eye, it is joined to the right brain, like the left hand.

The right side of the brain is right. When I say, “Right is right and left is wrong,” it refers only to the brain. The body is just the opposite: right is wrong and left is right. If you want to see the tear you will need to come to the left side.

It is beautiful to cry for someone. To have a tear for someone is far more beautiful than to be joyous. It is like a shower; it is as if in the middle of the night the sun has risen. I will not say anything, I will only keep silent.

Arise! Ascend! Awaken!

These are words to be understood. And I am not a preacher. Preaching is dirty. I am a lover.

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