I was saying to you that friendship is a higher value than love. Nobody has said it before. And I also say that friendliness is even higher than friendship. Nobody has even mentioned that. I will certainly have to explain.
Love, howsoever beautiful, remains earthbound. It is something like the roots of a tree. Love tries to rise above the earth and all that it implies – the body – but it falls again and again. It is no wonder that people say somebody has “fallen in love.” This phrase exists in all languages, as far as I know.
I have tried to explore the matter by asking many people from various countries. I wrote to all the embassies asking whether they have a phrase in their language which is exactly the equivalent of “falling in love.” They all replied, “Of course.”
And when I asked, “Do you have a phrase or something similar to what I call ‘rising in love’?” they either laughed, giggled, or started talking about something else. If I asked by letter, then they never replied. Certainly nobody replies to a madman who is asking, “Is there a word in your language for ‘rising in love’?”
No language has that kind of word, and it cannot be just coincidence. In one language maybe, even two perhaps, but it cannot be a coincidence in three thousand languages. It is not just by chance that all languages have conspired together to make the phrase in three thousand ways always to mean “fall in love.” No, the reason is, love is basically of the earth. It can jump a little bit, or rather you could call it jogging….
I have heard that jogging is in fashion, particularly in America. So much so that just the other night I received a gift from a lady who loves my books. She sent me a jogging suit. Great idea! I loved it. I told Chetana, “Wash it, and I will use it.”
She said, “Are you going to jog?”
I said, “In my sleep! I will use it as my sleeping robe.” And, by the way, you probably know that all my sleeping robes are jogging suits already. I like them, because in my sleep I can still jog and exercise, or wrestle with Muhammad Ali the great, and do all kinds of things – but only in my sleep, under my blanket, in absolute privacy.
I was telling you that love, once in a while, jumps and feels as if it is free from the earth; but the earth knows better. Soon he comes back to his senses with a thump, if not with broken bones. Love cannot fly. It is a peacock, with beautiful feathers – but remember, they are not able to fly. Yes, the peacock can jog.