That’s why the Eastern saint looks so sad, no joy. They talk about bliss but it doesn’t show on their faces. They look utterly miserable. They look utterly dead – because they are afraid of the outer, and one who is afraid of the outer will be afraid of love because love is an outgoing process. Love means the other, love means relating, love means communicating with the other. Love means the relationship between I and thou. The East denies the other, hence the East is against love. And if you are against love you will lose dance.
Without love, there is no dance in life and no song. Without love there is no poetry. Life becomes dull, a drag. Without love you can live, but only at the minimum. It will be almost like vegetating. And that’s what is happening to the Eastern spirituality; go into the monasteries, go into the ashrams….
That’s why my ashram looks so utterly different – because people are dancing, singing, holding hands, hugging, loving, joyous. This is not the Eastern concept of an ashram. An ashram has to be absolutely joyless, it has to be more like a cemetery than like a garden, because the moment you stop love, all that is flowing in you stops, becomes stagnant. You cannot celebrate without love. How can you celebrate without love? And what will you celebrate, and with what?
Mulla Nasruddin was saying to me one day, “I have lived a hundred years. I have celebrated my hundredth birthday, and I have never chased a woman in my life, and I have not ever been drinking. I have never played cards, gambled, I don’t smoke, I eat simple, vegetarian food.”
I asked him, “But then how did you celebrate your hundredth birthday? How can you celebrate? With what? And for what? Just living for a hundred years can’t be a celebration. You have not lived if you have not loved!”
The East is against love. That’s why Eastern spirituality is sad, dull, dead. No juice flows through the Eastern saint. He is afraid of any flow, any vibration, any pulsation, any streaming of his energy. He is constantly controlling himself, repressing himself. He is sitting upon himself, on guard. He is against himself and against the world. He is simply waiting to die. He is committing a slow suicide.
That’s why my ashram is going to be misunderstood. This will look like the ashram of a Charvaka, this will look like the garden of Epicurus.
The Western man has loved – there is laughter and there is dancing and there is song – but the Western man has lost all idea of who he is. He has lost track of consciousness, he is not aware. He has become more and more mechanical because he denies the inner. So laughter is there but laughter cannot go deep, because there is no depth. The depth is not accepted. So the West lives in a shallow laughter and East lives in a deep sadness. This is the misery, the agony that has happened to man.