Chapter 39: Must I Say Goodbye?
Your laughter, your playfulness is the recognition that you have understood me. Your seriousness shows that you have misunderstood me, you have missed it - because seriousness is nothing but sickness. It is another name of sadness; it is a shadow of death.
I am all for life. If it is needed for your laughter, your dance, even to reject me, then reject me - but don’t reject the dance and the song and the life, because that is my teaching.
Why should you take me seriously?
And that’s why I am not taking anybody seriously. Still you don’t understand: I am not taking anybody seriously, simply to make it clear that you are not supposed to take me seriously either. Laugh about me, enjoy me, rejoice in me - but for God’s sake, don’t be serious! Seriousness has killed humanity. It has proved to be the very cancer of the soul.
My only contribution to human evolution is a sense of humor. No other religion, no other philosophy has accepted humor as something religious; it seems to them that it is something profane. To me, humor is the most sacred experience in life.
And there is enough to prove it: except man, no animal in the whole existence has a sense of humor. Can you expect a buffalo to laugh? Can you expect a donkey to have a sense of humor? The moment your saints become serious, they fall into the category of buffaloes and donkeys: they are no longer human, because this is the only special quality that human consciousness has. It shows that only at a certain point of evolution does humor manifest itself.
The higher you go, the more playful will be your approach towards life and its problems. It will not be a burden, it will be a joy to solve them. Life will not be a sin - these are the serious people who have made life a sin - life will be a reward, a gift. And those who are wasting life in seriousness are being ungrateful to existence.
Learn to laugh with the flowers and the stars, and you will feel a strange weightlessness coming into your being.as if you have grown wings and you can fly.
In a book I read about Gurdjieff, it was said that two of his disciples, who had been with him for a long time and in a very intimate way - for example, de Hartmann, who played his music - suddenly left him. Can you explain why this seems to happen again and again in the master-disciple relationship?
The question is something of deep significance and with profound implications. There is something in the very nature of things that this kind of thing happens again and again, and will continue to happen again and again; it cannot be stopped.