So how many steps you take makes no difference. The abyss remains the same. He will lead you for ninety-nine steps, and you are very happy – as if you have covered the abyss and now the bottom has come nearer. No, the bottom remains as far away as before. These ninety-nine steps are just to befool your mind, just to give you a ‘how’, a technique. Then at the hundredth step he says, “Now jump!” And the abyss remains the same, the span the same.
There is no difference, because the abyss is infinite, God is infinite. How can you meet him gradually? But these ninety-nine steps will befool you: Patanjali is more clever. Heraclitus is innocent, he simply says to you, “This is the thing: here is the abyss. Jump!” He does not persuade you, and he does not seduce you, he simply says, “This is the fact. If you want to jump, jump; if you don’t want to jump, go away.” He knows that to make steps is useless, because finally one has to take the jump. But I think it will be good for you to follow Patanjali because by and by he seduces you. At least you can take one step; then the second becomes easier; then the third. And, when you have taken ninety-nine steps, to go back will be difficult because then it will be absolutely against your ego to go back – then the whole world will laugh. You have become such a great sage, and you are coming back to the world? You were such a mahayogi – a great yogi – why are you coming back? Now you are caught, and you cannot go back.
Heraclitus is simple, innocent. His teaching is not that of a kindergarten school, but he is a child – that’s right – innocent like a child, wise also like a child. Patanjali is cunning, clever, but Patanjali will suit you because you need somebody who can lead you in a cunning way to a point from where you cannot go back – it becomes simply impossible.
Gurdjieff used to say that there are two types of masters: one innocent and simple; another sly and cunning. He himself said, “I belong to the second category.” Patanjali is the source of all sly masters. They lead you to the rose garden and then, suddenly, the abyss. And you are caught in such a grip of your own making that you cannot go back. You meditated, you renounced the world, renounced wife and children; for years you were doing postures, meditating, and you created such an aura around you that people worshipped you. Millions of people looked at you as a god – and now comes the abyss. Now, just to save your prestige, you have to jump. Where to go? Now you cannot go anywhere.
Buddha is simple; Patanjali is sly. All science is cunningness. This has to be understood, and remember, I am not saying it in any derogatory sense; I am not condemning. All science is cunningness!
It is said that one follower of Lao Tzu – an old man, a farmer – was drawing water from a well. Instead of using bullocks or horses, the old man and his son were working like bullocks and carrying the water out of the well, perspiring, breathing hard. It was difficult.