But this insignificant education prevails all over the world – it makes no difference, in the Soviet Union or in America. Nobody has looked for a more whole, a total education. In this sense almost everybody is uneducated; even those who have great degrees are uneducated in the vaster areas of life. A few are more uneducated, a few are less – but everybody is uneducated. But to find an educated man is impossible, because education as a whole does not exist anywhere.
So now this: I’m a fairly good-looking guy with a pretty good tan, and I’m with a beautiful girlfriend, and I’m pretty intelligent. I meditate once in a while and I can play some chords on the guitar; and I know the difference between a pre-frontal lobotomy and a free bottle in front of me; so while everyone else is trying to find out why they can’t be themselves, I’d like to know why I can’t be Milarepa?
Satyadharma, you are perfectly good as you are. You need not be a Milarepa. These are the ideas which education and a competitive society have given to you. You want to be somebody else.
You say, “I am a fairly good-looking guy.” Who told you that? It must have been your girlfriend – but every girlfriend says that to every boyfriend. You should not get too impressed by such things.
You say “with a pretty good tan.” Particularly here in India, a tan is not pretty good – I hate it! – it’s just beautiful-looking people burning their skin under the sun. A tan is a stupid Western idea. If you want to rest, rest in the shade; don’t have any inferiority complex about your whiteness. The blacks have created the idea that “black is beautiful.” What about white? Not a single white man says “white is beautiful.”
And you say, “And I am with a beautiful girlfriend.” And naturally you think these things mean you can be declared another Milarepa. But then everybody else…? Then we will have to name people “Milarepa number 1,” “Milarepa number 2.” And you say, “I meditate once in a while, and I can play some chords on the guitar, and I know the difference between a pre-frontal lobotomy, and a free bottle in front of me; so while everyone else is trying to find out why they can’t be themselves, I would like to know why I can’t be Milarepa.” You can be, but you will be only number two, and that hurts.
You can be only a carbon copy, and you don’t know the difficulties of poor Milarepa; you are not aware of his problems.
I have heard from reliable sources…Milarepa came home exhausted and terribly upset. “I was late for work today,” he told his wife.
“I know,” she replied.
“I quarreled with the boss.”
“He fired me,” he said glumly.
“I know,” she answered.
“How the hell do you know?”