The patient is writing the notes; Doctor Devageet, he is called. He is called doctor, but he is not like Sigmund Freud. He is not here as a doctor. Strangely – with me everything is strange – the doctor is lying on the couch, and the patient is sitting in the doctor’s seat. My own doctor is sitting here, just by my feet. Have you ever seen any doctor sitting at his patient’s feet? Here, it is a totally different world. With me everything goes rightside up – I cannot say upside down.
I am not a patient, although very patient; and my doctors are not doctors, although perfectly qualified as doctors – they are my sannyasins, my friends. That’s what I am talking about, what friendliness can do, a miracle. It is alchemy. The patient becomes the doctor, the doctor becomes the patient – this is alchemy.
Love cannot do it. Love, although good, is not enough. And eating too much of even a good thing is bad for you – it gives you diarrhea or cramps in the stomach, and whatnot. Love can do everything except go beyond itself. It goes lower and lower. It becomes bickering, nagging, fighting. Every love, if naturally followed to its logical end, is bound to end in divorce. If you don’t follow logically, that’s another matter; then you are stuck. To see any person stuck is really terrible; you should do something about it. But these stuck people, if you do something about it, they will both fight you together, tooth and nail.
I remember just a few weeks ago, a man came from England to take sannyas, and you know an English gentleman – he was so stuck, as you say, up to his very neck. You could not see anything, he was so stuck in the mud. You could only see a few of his hairs, only a few because he was a bald man, just like me. If he had been completely bald it would have been far better; at least nobody would notice him. I tried to pull him out, but how can you pull out a man with only a few hairs showing from the mud? I have my own ways.
I asked his friend and his friend’s wife to help the poor man. They said to me, “He wants to separate from his wife.” I had seen his wife too, because she had insisted that she had to be present when he took sannyas. She wanted to see how he was being hypnotized. I had allowed her to be present because there is no hypnotism practiced here. In fact she even became interested herself. I invited her too, saying, “Why don’t you become a sannyasin?”
She said, “I will think about it.”
I told her, “My own principle is ‘Jump before you think,’ but I cannot help, so you think about it. If I am still around by the time you have thought about it, I will be ready to help you.”
But I told the friend and his wife – who are both my sannyasins, and are of those few who are really close to me – to help their friend. I told them to make every arrangement for his wife and her children so she should not be at a loss but spiritually her husband should not suffer any more. Even if he has to leave everything to his wife, let it be so. I alone am enough for him.
I had seen the man, and had seen his beauty. He had a very simple, childlike quality, the same fragrance you find when it rains for the first time and the earth rejoices – the fragrance and the joy. He was happy to be a sannyasin.