By the way, one of my sannyasins here is called Bodhigarbha. Garbha means pregnant; the name means “pregnant with a buddha, ready to be born as a Buddha.” Some people call him Bodhi Garbage – I love it. It is far truer: Bodhi Garbage – yes, if you can attain to buddhahood, to bodhi, even garbage will become divine; otherwise everything is garbage already.
I love George Bernard Shaw’s small book Maxims for a Revolutionary – forgotten by all, but not by me. I choose strange things, strange people, strange places. Maxims for a Revolutionary seems to have descended on George Bernard Shaw…because otherwise he was just a skeptic. He was not even a saint, not enlightened nor even thinking about enlightenment. He may not have even heard the word; he belonged to a totally different world.
By the way, I can tell you that he loved a girl. He fell in love and wanted to marry her, but the girl wanted to become enlightened. She wanted to seek the truth, so she went away to India. That woman was none other than Annie Besant. Thank God G.B.S. could not persuade her to become his wife; otherwise we would have missed a tremendously powerful woman. Her insight, her love, her wisdom…yes, she was a witch. I really mean she was a witch. I don’t mean bitch, I mean witch. Witch is really a beautiful word; it means wise.
This is a man’s world. When a man becomes wise he is called a buddha, a christ, a prophet; when a woman becomes wise she is called a witch. Look at the unfairness of it. But the original meaning of the word is beautiful.
Maxims for a Revolutionary begins…the first maxim is: There are no golden rules, this is the first rule. Now, even this small statement is of tremendous beauty. There are no golden rules…. Yes, there are none; this is the only golden rule. For the remainder you will have to study the book. Remember, whenever I say study I mean meditate over it. Whenever I say read it, meditation is not required. Only acquaintance with the language will do.
Ninth…am I right, Devageet?
So good to hear once in a while that I am right. I have not heard it for at least forty years. Nobody in my family ever said it. I was always wrong. And I thank God that I was wrong, not “right” according to them, but wrong according to myself. None of my teachers ever said I was right. I was always wrong.
It was a daily routine, almost the usual practice, that I was sent to the headmaster to be punished. The captain of the class would take me to the headmaster, who used to then ask me what I had done that day. But by and by the headmaster stopped asking. I would go there and he would punish me, slap me on the face, and that was all. He did not even ask what wrong I had done.
Once it happened – and still I laugh at the incident – that the captain of the class did something wrong. My teacher jokingly sent the captain to the headmaster with me. I had to take the captain to the headmaster for him to be punished, but before I could say anything he had already punished me! I laughed, and he said, “What is the matter?”