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is not for you, that this is not the man you are seeking. But be open -- because if you are open, only then can you know whether he is true or not. If you are closed, already closed, then there is no possibility. In fact, if you are closed, sooner or later you will become a victim of somebody who is a pseudo-Master -- because pseudo-Masters try to convince you argumentatively.
The real Masters are very paradoxical, very contradictory. They are as contradictory as life itself, because they embody life. They are as inconsistent as God himself, because they embody God. They are not logical, they are very illogical -- because they are superlogical, because they are bringing something which cannot be grasped through logic.
In the closeness of a real Master you will feel you are close to an abyss... but if you are open -- only then. If you are not open, you will become a victim to some pseudo-person who can convince you, who can talk you in, who can seduce you in. For example, if you are greedy he will talk about greed. He will tell you how much you are going to gain out of the meditation, the prayer. He will persuade your greed, how much you are going to have in heaven if you follow him. He will promise you much. A true Master never promises anything. In fact he shatters you completely -- your greed, your desire, your idea of becoming somebody, being somebody -- he shatters all in all. A real Master is a rock against which your boat is completely shattered... your whole mind is shattered. He drives you crazy; he does not argue. His argument is more of his being than of his words.
But we are greedy. We live through greed, we are afraid, full of fear -- somebody gives us consolation, we become victims. A real Master is not a consolation, he is not a solace. He is, in fact, death to you. He kills you, he destroys you, he is very destructive... but creativity is possible only when the old is destroyed. When the old ceases to be, the new can enter in.
I have heard a beautiful anecdote. Meditate over it....
The letter from Sean to his old, old mother was heartening. `Dear mother,' he wrote, `I am sending you some pills that a witch doctor
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