I'm telling you that life is just random. We like to believe that there is some higher purpose to life. And that's why we pamper the idea that some day we will understand what that purpose is, and maybe anticipate it.
But what about people like gurus and stuff? They seem to know something we don't. They seem to be in on life's secrets. They are like hackers who understand life's source code.
That's all lies and illusion.
How can you know for sure?
Look, take it for what it's worth. But I can tell you a story about a friend of mine. She once told me about this guru in India or Nepal or something like that. She used to think the same as you. Well, at least she was curious. Eastern prophets in western countries may be all about carnival tricks, but she thought that people who take on a life of isolation far from civilization had to understand something she did not. And so she went to some guru during one of her travels. This was about ten years ago.
She told me it was like stepping into a Hollywood set. There were these random religious figures, I think it was Buddha on one side of the door and Krishna on the other. I guess she thought what the hell, two religions have to better than one. The whole place stank with incense and cinnamon flavored candles. She recalls this brown light entering the room from a clothed window. And at the center there was a man. Apart from the whole setting, he was basically an old man in a turban. He was sitting on a rug, legs crossed, and get this: he had a long white beard. Could he be any more predictable? And this wasn't your ordinary western all show guru. This was the real thing, a true honest to god native.
Fist thing she asks him is the key to happiness. He tells her some random instant-self-help-catchphrase like “it's within you”, “just learn how to be with yourself”, or something like that. Naturally, it was then she started to doubt if anything good was ever going to come out of that fantasy world. She's really smart, you see. But not very attractive. So then she asks him the real question she would like to know the answer to: would she ever find true love? And this is the really good part. Out of nowhere, the old man grabs a velvet bag which was laying around in the set. He grabs something from inside the bag. It's an ugly polished gray stone. He takes her hand, puts the stone inside and closes it. And he says “when the sacred rock changes color, so will you be married to your one true love”. An what's more is he didn't let her pay. He said “when it happens, you come here with your husband and pay whatever you want”.
She admitted to me, that was intense stuff. She doesn't know if it was how dead certain he looked, the building up to the dramatic moment, or just the incense, but she felt like she couldn't take it anymore and left. That's the thing with elaborated and theatrical bullshit. You may rationally reject it, but it still gets to you. You may know it's worth next to nothing, and yet you can't shake it off from your mind. And so she began walking around with the stone, taking it to first dates, in some secret hope that it would switch colors. That would be a sign that she had found love. And she rationalized it: after all, isn't love an erotic alchemist that transforms you on the inside? It's far easier to transform a rock than a person.
Years go by, and she forgets the stone. But now get this: she's cleaning the house a couple of months ago, and she finds the stone. But now it's red, it's almost rusty. This confuses her, because there's still no trace of love or marriage in her life. She tells me now that she felt so stupid. She knew it was all a scheme, and yet she wanted it so much to be true that the rock blinded her. She gets mad for her own childishness. And she plots revenge. She goes to this art or design fair or something like that. She looks for the strangest pieces possible. Nothing was as farfetched as she hoped for. Until she found a young guy in a corner selling small white geometric models. Kind of what kids use in maths class. She pics one up and asks him “what this?”, “that's a white solid cube, ma'am”. “Well, what does it do?”, “it's just for decoration, your know...” So she takes the small cube and pays.
Her next vacations she goes back to India, or whatever country it was. She goes to the same guru, who is in the same place. Buddha and Krishna seem to have switched places, but apart from that everything is the same. Even the guru didn't seem to be one day older. But then again, it's a sad irony to be able to freeze time only when you're an old man.
He did not remember her. So she sits next to him, gives him the rusty rock and tells him she didn't find love as he'd promised. His feeble reply was something like “well, I am not god; I am human like you”. She told me she was infuriated by his answer. She felt betrayed. She goes all the way there expecting a good answer and he finds it suited to make funny remarks. He knew nothing more about life than her, but he was nevertheless as human as her. So why isn't she the guru?
So she reached the inside of her backpack, and grabbed the cube. Attached to it were a prepaid telephone card with her phone number written in blue ink. She took his right hand, put the card in it, and closed it while telling him “I only demand one answer from you today: tell me what this is”. And the great sage flinched. He raised his eyebrow. He gave no reply. So she continued “when you understand the secret of the rock, you will know the truth, and then you will call me. But since I trust your ability to understand, I will pay you right now.”. And so she takes his left hand and places a very generous sum in it. Then, she just leaves. Imagine it: the old man, completely stunned, with his two hands held up. In one, a ridiculous white cube, and on the other money.
She didn't expect him to call. Men rarely call her when she gives them her number. This one did, a couple of months later. And you know what? He called to say that he had journeyed through his land and meditated deeply on the meaning of such an odd artifact. “It is a key to open the door to great treasures, yes?” No, she replied. And he tried again, “it is the coveted philosopher's stone, to inspire reflection and dream, yes?”, and again she just replied “sorry, no”. She finally got what she wanted. The guru finally quit.
And then, over the telephone, she stepped up to the part of the western bitch and told him something like “it's not so fun when it's other people who challenge you with impossible riddles, is it?”. Dead silence from the old man.
So what? She made fun of an honest, poor old man who was only trying to make a living. That still doesn't prove anything.
Wait, there's more. As she terminated the call, she solved the enigma. She said something like “you gave me a rock that would signal me marriage. But it was a rock, plain and simple. There was iron on the surface, and so it rusted. And it was my knowledge and not yours that led me to be enlightened by this truth. As for the cube, well... it's also just a cube. Nothing more that a simple white cube.”. And she finished with a great touch: “so let this be your first lesson in Western philosophy: sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”. And she hung up.
So what do you mean?
Look, nobody can hack life's code, even if they honestly believe they can. Sometimes a liar is just a liar. No matter how seriously he takes himself.
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