“It has been more than 15 years since I decided not to accept new monastic disciples.
And not because I reject company, nor because I have lost the love of sharing. Nor because I deny the value of transmission. If today I stand before that door that others call disciple, it is not out of disdain, but out of a kind of understanding that no longer fits that bond.
Many years ago, I wanted to teach. Not to demonstrate knowledge, but to share a way of seeing. In my initial enthusiasm, I imagined that I could give something, offer a map, draw lines that would help navigate a territory. Over time, I understood that every map is a useful fiction, and that even the most precise of teachings becomes an obstacle if it is not dissolved in time. True learning does not come from following, it comes from passion, from an inner fire. No one awakens by following in someone else’s footsteps. No one is liberated by repeating gestures that do not spring from their core. No one realizes their true nature through imitation. The essential cannot be transmitted, only suggested. What is truly valuable cannot be taught… it is embodied.
Those who responsibly decide to walk alongside me must do so not because they consider me a guide, but because they forget my figure the moment their steps become firm. I am not interested in disciples who wait for answers; I am more moved by those who carry their uncertainty like a lamp. I do not wish to form followers, because the world is already full, saturated with echoes that repeat what others have said without having experienced it directly.
I do not accept disciples because I do not wish to tame the fire. I do not want to mold minds or collect invisible applause from those who call me “master” so as not to face the vertigo of their own abyss. I am not here to legitimize fear disguised as veneration or adoration.
Nor am I interested in being a point of reference. I prefer to be a fleeting shadow, a trace that disappears, an echo that fades just as silence begins to speak.
If someone comes to this server, I do not open the door with titles, roles, or unnecessary rituals. To those who ask, I offer a greater question. To those who seek affirmation, I give emptiness. To those who demand a path, I point to the ground beneath their feet, because there is no other.
I do not accept disciples because I do not want to feed identities that entrench themselves in the security of belonging. Those who need to be called disciples have not yet let go of their need for validation. And those who need to be called guru or master have not let go of their reflexes of domination and control. I learned years ago that the true disciple does not need to be accepted, and the true master does not need followers, disciples, or devotees. They meet, walk a stretch of the road together, exchange a glance, and then part in silence, knowing that nothing has been lost and everything has been said without words.
I stopped accepting disciples because I don’t want to create subtle dependencies, nor do I want to become a destination for those who must leave.
Because each person already carries the entirety of the path within themselves.
Because, in the end, there is no disciple or master. Only being, recognizing itself in all its forms.
Prabhuji
