Question 6

WHEN I THINK ABOUT BECOMING A SANNYASIN, I GET VERY WORRIED ABOUT MY BEING ACCEPTED IN ORANGE CLOTHES AMONGST MY OLD FRIENDS. I AM FRANKLY AFRAID OF BECOMING AN OUTSIDER IN MY WORLD, PARTICULARLY SO AS I AM ON MY OWN AND WITHOUT A HUSBAND WITH WHOM TO SHARE THIS NEW WAY OF LIFE. DOES THIS MEAN I AM NOT YET READY TO BECOME A SANNYASIN AND SURRENDER TO YOU?

No, it does not mean that you are not ready to become a sannyasin, or not ready to surrender to me. You are ready -- hence the question. And the question arises in everybody. It is a dangerous step; it is going into the unknown. Fear is natural, anxiety natural. One wavers. The old seems to be comfortable -- old friends, old relationships -- one is settled. Now everything will be unsettled again. Mind is always afraid of unsettled states; mind is always afraid of the unfamiliar, mind is always afraid of the unknown. Mind is always afraid to go out of the familiar, the comfortable, the convenient.

No, you are ready -- hence the question has arisen. And now you cannot escape, because you will feel more and more that my friendship is more valuable than all the friendship that you have. And I will haunt you, I will not leave you alone. Wherever you are, I will follow you like a shadow. And soon the comparison will be there -- either to choose the old or the new. The new is being born already. Soon you will see -- now the question is either to leave me, or the old convenient comfortable structure. And to leave me will become more and more difficult.

Let me tell you one anecdote...

Zsa Zsa Horntoot's husband arrived late at a country club dance and discovered that in emerging from his Rolls he had torn one knee of his trousers.

"Come into the ladies' dressing room with me," suggested his resourceful Zsa Zsa. "There isn't a soul there and I'll pin it up for you." It developed, however, that the rip was too large to be pinned. A maid furnished needle and thread, and was stationed at the door to keep out all and sundry, while Mr. Horntoot removed his trousers.

Suddenly a bevy of formidable matrons shoved the mad aside and demanded immediate admittance. "Quick!" Zsa Zsa commanded her mortified spouse. "Get into the closet." She pushed him in just in time and slammed the door.

No sooner had she admitted the matrons, however, than Mr. Horntoot began screaming, "Open this door IMMEDIATELY!"

"But the girls are in here now," Zsa Zsa reminded him.

"To heck with the girls," cried Mr. Horntoot. "I'm out in the main ballroom!"

Soon you will find that. First fall in love with me, and then choice will not be very difficult. You are ready... and the fear is natural. But let me tell you a few things: first, if you really have friends, and you call them OLD friends, they will understand you. If they cannot understand you, your change, they are not friends, they are not old friends at all. Friendship always allows space for the other to be. Otherwise the friendship is just false; it may be acquaintance -- it is not worth bothering about.

You say, "I am afraid of becoming an outsider in my world." Everybody is an outsider; howsoever you pretend, you remain an outsider. Unless one enters into God, one remains an outsider in this existence. We pretend, we try to create a small oasis of relationship -- friends, relatives, children, husband, wife -- and we try to hide behind these things. But death comes and destroys all, and suddenly we are naked in our outsiderness. No, in this world you cannot be an insider unless you have moved into God. This world belongs to God. Only by belonging to God do you become part of this existence -- otherwise not. These trees will remain strangers to you and so will remain the birds and the sun and the moon and the sands and the rains. Everything will remain a stranger unless you have made a contact with the divine. With that contact the whole quality of life changes.

My suggestion is, you are an outsider already -- everybody is. By becoming a sannyasin you will be taking a few steps to become an insider.

And you say, "Particularly so as I am on my own and without a husband with whom to share this new way of life." Now this is ridiculous, because people come to me and they say... the wife says, "Because of the husband -- he will not understand, that's why I cannot take sannyas." The husband comes; he says, "I want to take sannyas but... because of the wife; I am not alone." Now, you are alone: nobody to hinder you, nobody to understand or misunderstand.

You say, "Now that I am on my own..." Don't find excuses. Mind is very cunning in finding excuses, and mind is a coward.

Let me tell you one story, a beautiful story: meditate over it...

Once there was a great king who asked his magician to find him a courageous man for a dangerous mission. After a long search, the magician brought four men before his master. The king, wishing to choose the most courageous of the four, asked the magician to arrange a test.

The king, the magician and the four men went to the edge of a large field, on the other side of which stood a barn. The magician gave instructions: "Each man shall have his turn. He is to walk to the barn and bring forth what is there inside."

The first man walked across the field. Suddenly a storm came up: lightning flashed, thunder rolled, the ground shook. The man hesitated. He was frightened. As the storm increased, he fell down in fear.

The second man walked across the field. The storm grew worse, until it was a tempest. The second man passed the first man, but finally he also fell down.

The third man started with a rush, and passed the other two. But the heavens opened, the ground split, and the barn itself waved and cracked. The third man fell down.

The fourth started slowly. He felt his footing. His face was white with fear. But he was more afraid of being thought afraid than of anything else. Slowly he passed the first man, and he said, to himself, "I'm alright -- so far." Foot by foot he went on until he had passed the second man, and again he said to himself, "So far I'm alright." Little by little he closed the gap between him and the third man, while the storm got worse. When he passed the third frightened man he said to himself, "So far I'm alright. Nothing has happened to me. I can go a little farther." So little by little, an inch at a time now, he went towards the barn. He got there at last, and just before he touched the latch he said, "So far I'm alright. I can go a little farther." Then he put his hand on the latch.

Instantly the storm ceased, the ground was steady, and the sun shone. The man was astonished. From inside the barn came a munching sound. For a moment he thought it might be a trick. Then he thought, "I'm still alright," and opened the door. Inside he found a white horse eating oats. Nearby was a suit of white armour. The man put it on, saddled the horse, rode out to the king and the magician, and said, "I am ready, Sire."

"How do you feel?" asked the king.

"I'm alright so far," the man said.

You are ready for sannyas. Believe me or not, you are ready for sannyas. Hence the question, hence the fear. In those who are not ready, fear never arises. Those who are ready, they start trembling because of the possibility of so many changes. You have hard me: your heart is already seduced. Now move inch by inch, slowly -- but move. And you will find that as far as you go, "So far, I am alright." You will go on finding -- to the very end, more and more, you will find that you are becoming an insider in this tremendous beautiful existence.