One buddha can create thousands of seekers around him. They are not awakened but they are willing to be awakened. They have not yet reached the goal, but they are very receptive, open, available. In the presence of the master they can at least function as mirrors very easily; then one buddha becomes millions of buddhas.
I had made the communes so that five thousand people could live together and learn to reflect me. Not to imitate me, remember – these are two totally different things. The mirror never imitates you; the mirror simply reflects you.
Now I have dissolved the communes, because now I want the whole world to be my commune.
Wherever there is a sannyasin, he has to be a mirror. And time and space make no difference: If he is available to me, he is as close to me as you are. And from the farthest corner of the earth he can reflect me.
And now I have millions of sannyasins around the world. I have withdrawn all conditions that can hinder people from becoming sannyasins. These millions of people are going to create a network of energy enveloping the whole earth.
Just one sun rises in the morning, but it is being reflected by all the oceans, all the lakes, all the rivers, all the ponds. Small ponds reflect the same sun as the biggest ocean. Just one sun rises, and millions of places start reflecting it. And it is not only the ocean, lake, river, ponds – there are other reflections too, which are more subtle.
Even before the sun comes above the horizon, the birds suddenly start singing. They are awakened, something has happened to them, and something tremendously beautiful; otherwise from where will the song arise? And they are so full of life! The flowers open their petals…these are also reflections. There is no obligation on their part; they can remain buds. There is no obligation on the part of the birds; they may decide not to sing, but something irresistible which is beyond their control….
When the sun is rising, something is rising in them too: their life energy, their kundalini. Of course a bird cannot become a buddha, but he can at least sing, dance, fly in the sky just out of sheer joy, open his wings as an indication of freedom, aliveness. He can claim the whole sky as his own.
And all the flowers – from the smallest grass flower to the biggest lotus – they suddenly all fall into a symphony. They forget their differences; they forget that there are poor flowers and there are rich flowers, that there is the proletariat and there are the bourgeois; suddenly all classes disappear. And in their flowering, in their opening, they release whatsoever they have.
They give back to existence as a gift whatever existence has given to them. They don’t keep it, they don’t hoard it. They give it back a thousandfold, they multiply it, because what was – apparently – not in the seed, what was not in the roots, what was not in the tree, in the branches, in the leaves…has suddenly come to blossom in the flower: all the colors, all the fragrance. But they waited long in the dark night for the sun to rise.