He said, “You know it. I never want to be enlightened while you are alive. I simply want to sit at your feet the way I have always been sitting. To be your disciple, to be showered with your love…who cares about enlightenment? This is my enlightenment!”
So I can understand Vivek’s difficulty. She has been for sixteen years with me. When she came she was only twenty years old; now she is thirty-six, almost twice the age. And all these sixteen years, day in, day out, she has been taking care of me with as much love as possible, with a deep devotion. It is difficult for her to think of herself as being a friend. It would not be a gain to her, it would be a loss. Those who have understood the joy and the celebration of being a disciple, of being in love with a master, will all feel the same: that to be a friend is nothing compared to it; everything is lost. To be a friend becomes formal.
So those who were really with me have been shaken, hurt, and those who were not really with me have been tremendously happy. Just by me calling you my friend, you do not achieve the state in which I am. If it was so easy I would have called the whole world my friend, and they all would have come to the same state.
Milarepa’s question is concerned with it. After the American government destroyed the commune illegally, but systematically – it was a criminal act against human consciousness and its evolution – people had to leave the commune. Now, a few of these people are feeling resentful; that simply means they were around me for a certain reason. There was some greed – although I have been insistently destroying all greed, all ego, all jealousy, all competition, all ambition. But these are so deeply rooted that although intellectually you may feel they have left you, they are there.
These people are now feeling resentful because deep down they had the greed that if they die in the buddhafield they will become enlightened, and now the buddhafield has disappeared. They are angry, and they are angry at me because in spite of me telling them continually that I do not believe in miracles, they continued to believe. So it was a shock to them that I was arrested. They would have loved it if I could have gone out through the walls of the jail, and then a miracle…those were their desires. The commune had been destroyed and I should have done something to prevent it from being destroyed. Naturally, they are angry.
But this is their misunderstanding. They can’t see real miracles; they can’t see how I lived for those twelve days in jail, how the people in the jail – the authorities and the inmates – almost became sannyasins. All these people in the jail were saying that it was absolutely unjust, unfair, against the constitution, and when I left their jail, there were tears in their eyes.