You love a person… One woman came to me and she said, “For ten years I have been married to a person and we never quarreled. And now suddenly, what happened? He has left me.”
Now, she thinks that if they never quarreled it shows they were in deep love. This is foolish, but this is Aristotelian: the woman is absolutely logical.
She said, “We have been married for ten years. We never quarreled, we were never angry at each other.” She is saying, “We were in such deep love that we never fought about anything. There was not even a single moment of conflict. And now, what happened? Suddenly he has left me! Has he gone mad? Our love was so deep.” She is wrong.
If love is deep then there are bound to be some quarrels. Sometimes you will fight. And the fight is not going to break the love, it enriches it. If love is there, it will be enriched by fighting; if love is not there, then you part, you separate. Ten years is a long time – even twenty-four hours is too long to be constantly in one state of mind, because mind moves to the opposite.
You love a person; sometimes you feel angry. Really, you feel angry only because you love. Sometimes you hate! Sometimes you would like to sacrifice yourself for your lover, and sometimes you would like to kill the lover. And both are you.
If you have not quarreled for ten years it means there was no love at all. It means it was not a relationship. And you were so afraid that any anger, any conflict, any slight thing could break down the whole thing. You were so afraid you never quarreled. You never believed that the love could go deeper than the quarrel, that the quarrel would be momentary and after the quarrel you would fall into each other’s arms more deeply. No, you never trusted that. That’s why you managed not to fight. And it is not something to be surprised about, that the man has left. I said, “I am surprised that he remained with you for ten years. Why?”
One man came to me and he said, “Something has gone wrong with my son. I have known him for twenty years – he was always obedient. Such a good boy you cannot find anywhere. He never disobeyed, he never went against me. And now suddenly he has become a hippie. Now suddenly he doesn’t listen. He looks at me as if I am not his father at all. He looks at me as if I am a stranger. And for twenty years he was so obedient. What has happened to my son?”
Nothing has happened. This is what was to be expected, because if a son really loves his father he disobeys also. Whom else should he disobey? If a son really loves his father and trusts him, sometimes he goes away also – because he knows the relationship is so deep that by disobeying it is not going to be broken. Rather, on the contrary, it will be enriched. The opposite enriches.
Really, the opposite is not opposite. It is just a rhythm, a rhythm of the same; you obey and then you disobey – it is a rhythm. Otherwise, you just going on obeying, obeying, and everything becomes monotonous and dead. Monotony is the nature of death, because the opposite is not there.