But he said, “I want you to be warned beforehand. I will not be able to tolerate it if you try to approach my woman in any way.” He said, “I can’t even dream….”
But you don’t know – living four months alone…. And the other man was talking every day about the woman, saying, “She is so cute, so beautiful. In fact, now I am worried that I may never like a real woman, because no real woman is so beautiful and so obedient.”
Slowly, slowly the other also started feeling the need of a woman, and one day when his friend was out he took the chance. He inflated the flat woman, and he said, “My God! She is far more beautiful than any Sophia Loren.” And he could not resist – he made love to that plastic bag. Not only that, playing with those plastic breasts he cut with his teeth one of the breasts. And the woman flew out of the window! – because the air went out so suddenly, it flew out of the window. And at that very moment the friend returned and he said, “This is too much. I warned you, and you did not listen.” And he simply shot the man.
After four months he came back to the village to purchase some more things that he needed. The shopkeeper asked, “How is the woman doing? And I don’t see your friend.” The man said, “Don’t talk about it. He is no friend. I had to shoot him.” The shopkeeper said, “Shoot him? For what?”
He said, “He was fooling around with my woman. I had paid for her. And I have come to get another woman, because he destroyed the woman, also.” The shopkeeper could not believe that jealousy could become such a heavy thing – and for such trivia.
But jealousy is keeping you down. Your anger is keeping you heavy. Your competitiveness, your lust for possessions, has made you a pygmy; otherwise you could also be a giant like Zarathustra or Gautam Buddha.
I am enemy to the spirit of gravity.
Rather than pointing out all the things that make you heavy, he is simply using the words the Spirit of Gravity. It contains everything that makes you heavy.
…and truly, mortal enemy, arch-enemy, born enemy!
I could sing a song about that – and I will sing one, although I am alone in an empty house and have to sing it to my own ears.
There are other singers, to be sure, whose voices are softened, whose hands are eloquent, whose eyes are expressive, whose hearts are awakened, only when the house is full: I am not one of them.