I said, “You don’t understand the simple arithmetic of life. All your worries are about how to become the chief minister. I know you: first you were just an MLA and your worries were about how to become a deputy minister. You became a deputy minister – then your worries were how to become the minister. Now you have become the minister, your worries are how to become the chief minister. Do you think that is the end of the road?”
He said, “No, that is not the end of the road. I can see beyond it. Once I am chief minister I would like to go to the central cabinet.”
I said, “Then first you do all these things. When you have become the prime minister, either you will go insane…. Most probably by the time you become the prime minister you will become senile.
“But with these ambitions you cannot be without tensions; and if you want really to be without tensions, without worries, without anxieties, then get out of this mad race to become somebody more important, more powerful. Then just be whatever you are, and relaxation comes very easily.”
Tensions are our guests, we have invited them. Relaxation is our nature. We don’t have to invite it. You don’t have to relax; you have just to stop inviting tensions, and relaxation will start on its own accord. In your very being, in every fiber, in every cell of your being there will be relaxation. This relaxation is the beginning of meditation.
In this relaxed state nobody is hindering the path. You are standing before the temple of your being, and the doors are open. They have never been closed – existence can’t be so cruel. Once you are not standing in the way…
Rabiya al-Adabiya was a Sufi woman, very unique. Man has not allowed women any opportunity to grow in the spiritual dimension. Only a few women have escaped from the slavery of man, very few; they can be counted on ten fingers, and Rabiya would be at the very top. She was going to the marketplace to fetch some vegetables and she saw a famous religious man, Hasan, kneeling down in front of a mosque – outside, where people leave their shoes, because he used to say he was not worthy enough to enter into the temple of God. For years he had been praying five times a day before the mosque, and his only prayer was, “Father, open the doors, let me in! How long have I to wait?”
Rabiya had heard this many times while coming and going, and one day she could not resist the temptation: she hit hard on Hasan’s head. This is very irreligious. When somebody is praying you should not disturb him – and this was not an ordinary disturbance.
Hasan simply jumped up, and he said, “Rabiya, are you mad, or what?”