“I have one more thing to add. I know you are worldly enough to understand there is always a corker—a mad one, more barbaric than his brethren — there is always a lunatic looking to make his mark. The corker’s advantage — in tennis, this is called ‘add’—is recklessness. And I, my friend, through a skein of intelligence maintained by Baba loyalists, am now privy to the identity of our greatest threat…
“This is the longest and shortest of what I am saying: You must sit in that chair. Swallow your stubborn pride and muddle through a month of satsang until you have sea legs! Accept the momentous responsibility of that which has fallen upon your shoulders by divine plan! If you continue to give weight to cautious indecision — which as you know has its roots in that distinctive American trait called neurosis—if you continue to fly in the face of your guru himself, you shall find there is a terrible price to pay. I tell you the guru-thuggees are out for blood! When your fanny hits that seat and not before shall you be safe and under new protectorship: that of the masses. Already, the guru-thuggees know who you are — oh yes! They have been boning you up for some time. Have you not seen them, hanging ’round outside your apartment? Of course you haven’t, why would you be looking? You’re blissfully unaware. Not a care in the world! A little baba in the woods… well they are not interested in your autograph, sir. We’ve all been looking, all but you! They know you were Baba’s favorite; they used to fear you. But each day they fear you less and less!
“Let me be frank. We’re both well aware Baba had no fixed ideas on the topic of successorship per se; he was of a mind the whole business was poppycock. But it is imperative you approach any ideas you have about what your guru would have ‘wished’—you must approach any such fantasies of ‘knowing’ what actions he may or may not have taken if he were still with us — you must destroy this notion that something about you is so special that it is actually possible for you to apprehend his philosophies enough to speak for him — you must consider this entire line of thought to be purely chimerical. The certitude that accompanies, sponsors and endorses any thought, no matter how trivial that thought might be, must always be thoroughly examined and approached with great caution. And then that certitude must be vanquished. For the mind is the enemy, my American friend! Guard against arrogance! If a person ever imagines it possible to know the mind of his guru, that person has set himself on a course to Hell! To believe oneself privy to a pandit’s thoughts — if one may even call them ‘thoughts’—it seems to me that to call them anything is another presumption — to believe one can truly know the ‘mind’ of a living master, let alone a dead one, providing of course that the guru is authentic… that, my friend, is to enter perdition. A triumph of Mind and nothing else. This is not to say one can never have a feeling or energetic inkling… but to suddenly be in prideful possession of such inklings or feelings is as delusional as the belief one has full knowledge, for the mind interprets them in the same way. To have inklings about one’s guru’s intention is a meaningless obscenity! Far better to admit to knowing nothing! At least with the latter, one lays claim to an ethical morality. The guru is not your friend! To presume intimacy is the sheerest of vanity. This is not America! The guru is not your Daddy nor is he your bro’. He ain’t your ‘buddy’ either… You — all of us — are simply unfit to interpret the concepts of the Great Guru, who lived in Silence, who was—is—unknowable! Dare to indulge such presumptions and you are no better than the guru-thuggees! True, one feels an aching closeness to his teacher and misses him grievously when he is gone… that cannot nor should be denied. Yet in the shortest time, the mind transforms sorrow into the Cyclops of narcissism. You believe your hesitance to sit in the chair is indicative of humility, to ‘refuse the mantle,’ but the opposite is true! You’re wearing your obstinance like a peacock!
“You hesitate to sit because you have the notion that somehow your guru would not approve. But there is a fly in the anointment of your logic. My husband was neither politician nor strategist so how would it be possible for him to get lathered over this figment now causing you such distress? He is no Dear Abby in the sky. Because I know what you’re thinking, I know the beggar’s mind, you have the idea he would not approve of you taking the chair, or worse, that you’re not worthy. I say ‘worse’ because of the monstrous egotism involved in such a sentiment. Need I remind you what intrigued Father most was energy itself and how it manifests, which is precisely why the Source ‘arranged the dance,’ and why he was so tickled by your presence. And don’t forget! It is the same Source that designed the predicament you are in today! That is the cosmic joke, my American friend! Baba delighted in your energy, plain and simple. He knew that if your energy could be disciplined, contained and manipulated, you just might have what he called ‘the chance of a chance’… to be liberated from the Wheel!
“Look. There is no question you’re a charming fellow. You’ve been a careful, obedient student. You are a practical man as well, and know how to make yourself useful. But surely you cannot have thought he kept you around for your skills! Do you believe he considered you indispensable? The Wizard of Oz behind the drapes of the tobacco shop, riding in on his horse to save the hi-yo-silver day? That he wrung his hands and cried to the gods, ‘What would I do without him?’ No! He did not give a whit and a hoot about the books you made, the ponies you played, the women you consorted with, or anything else! Surely, you know this — and if you do not, I shall be quite surprised and disappointed. Though I’ve been surprised and disappointed before… but I am telling you now. Baba had no need of friends, favorites, cohorts. If you don’t know this, then you know less than nothing! He was no longer human that way. He certainly didn’t need followers… Your guru gave satsang out of filial piety to the Source whence he came. In weaker moments — human ones! — he allowed himself a small, trembling excitation upon encountering those whose energy delighted him — such as you — with whom he might brush against the bodhisattva’s dream: to free all sentient beings from their cage of suffering. Usually the ones he felt an affinity toward never stayed too long on Mogul Lane. He never thought you’d stay but you did, and that was a bonus, a very unusual occurrence! That was why he kept you close, because your energy was familiar. Fraternal. Unrefined yet similar to his. And it tickled him that you never had a clue what was ‘in your wallet’!”