When I read your books I have felt great love for you. Now that I am here I feel less love. Sitting in discourse I feel more back pain than love. And lately I’ve been feeling a lot of fear, even hatred, of you. I feel unsure of you, especially when you talk about “my sannyasins.” It seems that you expect the total yes, which I have always fought against. I’ve seen many loving, awake people here who feel differently, and that helps me, but it will not last when I have gone.
I am wondering how to address you: Mr. Camel, Mrs. Camel, or Miss Camel? Perhaps the last is the best: you have been missing continuously.
You say when you were reading my books you loved me extremely. That is dangerous, because your love is carrying, just as a shadow to it, hatred. Extreme love is going to be followed by extreme hatred. So what is happening to you is simply natural. It shows the quality of your love: you don’t know what love is.
It is easy to love me reading my books, because books are dead. I am not. It is easy to love the books because you can interpret what is said in the book according to your mind. You can manage to read only that which strengthens your ego, and bypass that which destroys your ego. Books have never been known to make anyone enlightened. What can books do? You are the master of the book; it is in your hands to manipulate it in any way you want.
So if you want to continue loving me extremely, please don’t come near me. Then I am almost dead for you; those books are far more valuable to you, they support you. You choose to hear, to read only that which is in tune with your mind – and your mind is the problem. Your mind has to be hammered. All your defenses have to be destroyed. And when you come to me you are taking a risk. If you really come to me, you will return a totally different man, with no ego, no defenses.
Against whom are you creating defenses? We are one with existence. That oneness proves that there are not any real egos; all are phony. Coming close to me you will become aware that your ego is phony, that your defenses are just useless – they cannot prevent me from reaching you. And the moment I start entering you, there is great disturbance; hence you feel fear. Love disappears, fear comes in.
Miss Camel, you missed.
When there is fear, that is only a passage from love to hatred. You never fear a person you love; you cannot fear a person you love. You are absolutely open, vulnerable, without any defenses to the person you love. That’s the meaning of trust. And if your love cannot create that trust it is just something phony; you are living with an idea but not with reality.
The ego is not you. And to discover yourself, the ego has to be completely destroyed. That’s the only way. The master is nothing but a sculptor.
Michelangelo was asked by a shopkeeper, “In this ugly rock, a marble rock, which had been lying there for almost a decade…. First I used to keep it in my shop, but nobody bothered about it. In fact, everybody laughed at me: ‘What can be made of this?’ Finally I threw it on the other side of the road. How did you manage to see something in this rock?”