We continue to pretend that we love even those we don’t get along with very well. We pretend to love even those we have never liked. Our love is, rather, some other arrangement for us – for our security, for our economic well-being, to make our lives more convenient. You may lose your husband, so there is some worry. You may have gained a house by taking a husband, you may have gained wealth…your life has found a certain structure. It is up to you if you are content with this structure, very good, but because of this structure you are missing the divine – because the divine is only attained through love. There is no other door through which you can meet the divine except the door of love. Whosoever misses love will miss the divine.
How can fear and love exist together? If you are so afraid of your husband looking into the eyes of another woman, then love has not happened between you. Your husband has not looked into your eyes, nor have you looked into his eyes. You have not seen the divine in your husband, nor has he seen the divine in you. Do you call this a relationship of love?
When love happens, fear disappears. Then even if your husband looked into the eyes of every woman in the world it would make no difference. He will find only you in every woman’s eyes. He will find your eyes in every woman’s eyes – because every woman will reflect you. He will be reminded of you no matter what woman he sees.
But love never happens. Somehow we go on holding ourselves together, so that we don’t fall apart.
I have heard:
Mulla Nasruddin was in a lift. The building was twenty-seven storys high. The lift was already crowded when Mulla and his wife entered on the second floor, and when an extremely beautiful woman entered on the fourth floor, there was absolutely no room left at all.
Somehow the woman managed to squeeze herself between the Mulla and his wife. As the lift slowly ascended towards the twenty-seventh floor, Mulla’s wife became increasingly anxious. Mulla was pressed against the woman, and the woman was pressed against him. There was no way that either of them could say anything because the lift was so crowded.
Mulla’s joy only made his wife even more anxious. And Mulla’s joy…it was as though he were in heaven! Again and again he drooled as he gazed at the woman. Then, suddenly, the woman screamed and slapped Mulla’s face. “You decrepit old man! How dare you? How dare you pinch me?”
There was a pindrop silence in the lift. Rubbing his face, Mulla got out with his wife on the next floor. At last he was able to speak again. “I don’t understand what happened,” he said. “I didn’t pinch her.”
“I know,” replied his wife in delight, “I did.”