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A lonely journey…

A lonely journey…

“Institutionalized religions, considered from their historical formation, are founded on a misunderstanding that not only runs through them, but constitutes them from their very foundations. When confronted with mystery, the disciples were unable to sustain the tension of a quest that demanded solitude, silence, surrender, and radical exposure. Unable to inhabit that wilderness, they sought in the proximity of others the illusion of a certainty they could not yet find in their own experience. They confused closeness with clarity, group cohesion with a lucidity that can only be achieved individually. They clung to each other like blind people who, holding hands, imagine that contact can replace vision, clarity. From there, from that impulse to alleviate vertigo, arose the institutional machinery of the sacred: temples, doctrines, theologies, superstitions, beliefs, hierarchies, and authority. Not as the natural unfolding of a shared truth, but as protection against the impossible to define.
However, truth does not circulate through accumulation or contagion. It is not inherited, transferred, or sustained by numbers. Its appearance is always singular, unrepeatable, and belongs to the non-transferable realm of the inner self. It is not born of the relationship between disciples, but of the fire that each one, in the solitude of their presence before the master, decides to light—or not. For this reason, it is imprecise to speak of community or collectivity in this context. There is no established brotherhood among disciples, but merely a convergence. They are not linked horizontally, but share a direction. They advance separately, without proclamation, guided by a common light that is not shared, even though they all walk toward it. And if they cross paths on that journey, they do not hold back: they recognize each other, perhaps smile, and continue on their way. There is no bond that ties them together, no form that organizes them. What remains is a discreet, real resonance that does not fix identities or raise emblems. Only that deserves the name sacred. Everything else—systems, creeds, institutions, doctrines, hierarchies—is administration wrapped in fervor. It is only domination and control disguised as spirituality or religious enthusiasm.
The true disciple does not found organizations. He does not build structures, institute traditions, or leave schools or organizations. His last gesture is simply to disappear.”
Prabhuji
When the figure of the Master dissolves…

When the figure of the Master dissolves…

“It is inevitable, at certain stages of the inner journey, that the figure of the Master becomes charged with a symbolic density that borders on the sacred. It is not merely a gesture of admiration or an emotional response to gratitude. What takes root in that bond is a form of ontological resonance: a silent communion with someone who, at a decisive moment, knew how to translate confusion into guidance, disorder into direction, and short-sightedness into clarity. At that point, the mere presence of the Master not only illuminates—it reorders. Under their influence, we find direction, a channel, our will is refined, and meaning, previously scattered, takes shape. However, this same ability to structure experience makes them, when the time comes, an ambiguous figure. What initially acts as a catalyst can ultimately immobilize. There is no contradiction: the same gesture that awakens can later contain.
The bond that is established does not have the profile of naive dependence or the exalted tone of doctrinal fervor. Rather, it is an elaborate fidelity, rooted in a living memory of what that presence was capable of unleashing. But precisely because of its legitimacy, this loyalty can become the last refuge of a “self” that, having renounced everything else, still resists disappearing. Where there was once momentum, there may now be a pause laden with nostalgia. What functioned as a threshold then becomes a limit. And although the Master no longer operates from outside, his image remains active within, not as an authoritarian figure, but as a subtle echo, a glow. Even so, preserving that glow is tantamount to postponing the final leap.
Separating from the Master, even if it involves a highly symbolic break, is not an act of denial. It is, in truth, a more demanding form of continuity. The authentic Master does not seek to occupy the center of the journey, much less perpetuate his authority beyond his role. He points to the threshold, but does not cross it for anyone. Clinging to those who showed us the way becomes, at that point, an involuntary strategy to stop us, to stagnate us. As long as their figure retains its inner status, the journey remains unfinished.
In the most delicate stretches of the path, the Master ceases to be “someone.” Their presence dissolves into a form of quiet radiance, a residual clarity that persists when everything has been dismantled. But even that radiance—however faint it may be—retains structure. And where there is structure, there is separation: between the perceiver and the perceived.
Full realization does not tolerate fragments, it cannot bear parts or portions. It requires complete extinction: no subject to yearn for, no object to project, no trace of a journey. It is not a matter of rejecting but of letting go. The gesture does not point to negation, but to the closing of a cycle.
The Master is not abandoned out of indifference, but out of fidelity to his most radical impulse: to free us from all dependence, even that which is cloaked in gratitude. Only when he is no longer needed has his work been completed. And that conclusion does not mean loss, but consummation. Where his figure dissolves completely, his meaning is revealed in its fullest.”
Prabhuji
The smoke of the marketplace…

The smoke of the marketplace…

“The commercialization of the spirit transforms the disciple into a customer, a client or consumer and the Master into a merchant or trader. The smoke of the marketplace extinguishes the flame of that which, because of its great value, is priceless.”
Prabhuji
There is no disciple or master

There is no disciple or master

“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

The dignity of being oneself.

“I am not one to forbid anyone from considering themselves my disciple, just as I am not one to prevent others from rejecting me. I hold no titles, nor do I grant permissions or credentials. I neither approve nor disapprove. I do not name myself, defend myself, withdraw, or promote myself. I am where I am—without center, without edge—and whatever anyone does with my name, my words, or my image belongs to the world, not to me.
Some present themselves as disciples, with respect, affection, and devotion, spreading my books, building websites, sharing quotes, images, moments. Others, with the same fervor, claim that I am a fraud, a charlatan, or that what I write is empty. Some praise me, others condemn me. Some call me wise; others, an impostor. Some believe I am a blessing; others, that I am a problem. Meanwhile, I do not intervene.
What authority could I claim to stop someone who wants to consider themselves my follower? And what right would I have to silence someone who needs to position themselves as my detractor? Let each person navigate the relationship they need to build with me—whether it be one of reverence or repudiation—because both bonds, though opposite in appearance, are born of the same desire: to find a place in their own narrative. If by naming me someone manages to calm their search, whether by blessing or defaming me, who am I to interfere?
The books I wrote years ago no longer belong to me. They are not mine. They were written through me and moved on. Texts circulate, are quoted, distorted, glorified, or forgotten. And that’s okay. Let someone publish them, translate them, or hide them; let them print them or delete them from a website: none of that alters their essence or compromises mine. I don’t protect my work because it doesn’t belong to me. I never guarded a doctrine or cultivated an identity.
I see that some, with generosity, show me respect. Others, with passion, ridicule me. And in both cases, it doesn’t affect me at all. It’s not coldness, it’s freedom. It’s not indifference, it’s confidence. Let everyone seek happiness where they can. Those who find meaning in considering themselves my disciples, let them celebrate it responsibly. And those who find peace in criticizing me, let them embrace that peace with all the strength of their sincerity. Both are welcome to the mystery, both are part of this universal dance.
I do not defend myself because I am not at war with anyone, I have no enemies. I do not prevent what happens because I have not appointed myself arbiter of the future. I do not claim authority over the image that others project onto me, because I understood long ago that those images do not contain me, they do not reflect me. There is no true figure that can be sustained between praise and defamation. There is a point where it is no longer about being seen with justice or injustice. It is about not interfering with the way life is reflected in others.
Those who see a flame, come closer if you need to. Those who see smoke, move away if you prefer. I am neither the flame nor the smoke. I just remain silent, without imposing myself, without hiding. If the image you project of me serves as a refuge for one, hold on to it. If it serves as a mirror for another, look through it. And if it serves no one, let it dissolve.
I do not walk toward applause, nor do I flee from criticism. I do not need to be elevated or understood. I prefer that each person approach or distance themselves from a place of honesty. May gratitude not become obligation, and may judgment not become a chain. May everything flow with the innocence of that which no longer depends on being recognized.
In the end, it’s not about me. What happens around my name does not happen in me. What others see, admire, or attack is not who I am, it is what I reflect. And if that reflection helps them find themselves—even if it is through a misunderstanding—then let them use it. I bless you all equally, both those who come closer and those who move away. To those who are moved when they read me and to those who feel uncomfortable. To those who call me master and to those who consider me just another illusion.
Everyone is free to love or reject, to remember or ignore. All I ask is that you allow yourselves, at least for a moment, the freedom to walk without permission, without fear, and without spiritual obligations. Because in that moment, without knowing it, you may be closer to the heart of all this than in any course, any temple, or any slogan.
And if, on that walk, someone feels that my voice accompanies them, let them listen to it. And if it makes them uncomfortable, let them walk away. Both decisions come from the same place: the dignity of being oneself.
That is where teaching truly begins and ends.”
Prabhuji