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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
Voices and oppinions

Voices and oppinions

“Other people’s opinions are like an echo: they sound loud, but they don’t always say anything true. Listening to them carefully can be sensible; living to please them can be destructive. Inner freedom begins when we stop asking the world for permission to be who we are. Other people’s voices—even well-intentioned ones—rarely know the whole story behind our decisions. They speak from their limitations, project their fears, repeat what they have heard. In many cases, they are not talking about you, but about what they would do if they were you. But they are not you.
Socrates, questioned until his death, never allowed the opinion of the majority to displace the voice of his daimon. He listened to everyone, but obeyed only that which did not contradict himself. That integrity cost him his life, but it gave him something more valuable: consistency.
The Buddha taught that living for approval is like trying to fill a bottomless bowl. Something will always be missing. Serenity comes when you stop seeking validation and start seeing clearly. Those who constantly need approval have not yet found themselves.
Even Jesus of Nazareth was rejected by those closest to him. “Ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι οὐδεὶς προφήτης δεκτός ἐστιν ἐν τῇ πατρίδι αὐτοῦ.” “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his own country.” (Luke 4:24).
Misunderstanding does not invalidate the message. Sometimes, it confirms it.
Living according to the opinions of others is giving them control of your life. It is allowing those who do not understand your journey to decide your course. No one else knows your inner currents, your secret wounds, your silent motives. Only you can hear them faithfully. But ignoring others does not mean despising them. It means distinguishing between advice and manipulation, between criticism and conditioning. It’s not about closing yourself off, but about anchoring your compass at a point that doesn’t waver with every compliment or judgment. It’s very difficult to live authentically without disappointing others’ expectations. Being true to yourself sometimes requires appearing strange. Those who never make others uncomfortable or angry have probably given up on saying what they think or living what they love.
Be silent. Listen. Decide. External voices have their value, but the only one that should be irrevocable is the one that doesn’t need to shout: the one that, when everything else is silent, still says what you already knew.
That silent agreement with yourself—that non-negotiable center—is the highest form of dignity. And perhaps also the most precious.”
Prabhuji
Freedom

Freedom

“Freedom is not inherited, taught, learned, received, or granted: it is conquered. It is not an external possession, but the result of an internal process that requires clarity, courage, and the ability to give things up. It does not consist of satisfying arbitrary desires or mental demands, but of aligning one’s will with what deserves to be desired. It is not defined by the absence of limits, but by the conscious recognition of those that protect our integrity.
Epictetus, born a slave and became a Stoic teacher, taught that no one is free while dependent on what they do not control. In one of his most quoted maxims, he stated: “It is not things that disturb us, but the opinions we have about them.” His philosophy does not seek external emancipation, but mastery of judgment. Only those who free themselves from knee-jerk reactions can access the serenity of discernment. Much later, Baruch Spinoza reformulated the notion of freedom as knowledge of necessity. The more we understand the causes that determine us, the more capable we are of acting according to reason. Freedom does not reside in arbitrary choice, but in consistency with our essential nature. In his words: “The free man thinks of nothing less than death, and his wisdom is a meditation on life.” His freedom is not a denial of necessity, but an active understanding of its laws.
From the East, the Buddha taught that the root of suffering is attachment. Freedom is not achieved by accumulating objects, experiences, or power, but by stripping ourselves of the impulse to hold on. As the Dhammapada states: “He who conquers others is strong, but he who conquers himself is powerful.” Self-discipline does not repress: it reveals the unnecessary and frees us from the illusory.
Lao Tzu, in the Tao Te Ching, conceived of a freedom that is not imposed but manifests itself as harmony with the course of the world. His principle of wu wei—action without forced effort—does not represent inaction but careful adjustment to the unfolding of events. “The wise man does not show off, and therefore shines,” he wrote. Free action flows with discretion, without friction, without the will to control.
In an age that confuses freedom with the unlimited expansion of desire, opinion with knowledge, and reaction with thought, it is urgent to recover the wisdom of those who thought of freedom as a form of maturity. It is not achieved by raising one’s voice, but by cultivating listening. It is not realized through the indiscriminate denial of all authority, but through the recognition of that which is born of reflective and serene judgment. To be free is to remove oneself from noise. It is affirming with integrity, denying without violence, thinking without dependencies, speaking with restraint, and inhabiting the present without nostalgia or anticipation. Freedom is not a place to arrive at; it is a way of being in the world with undivided presence.
In its highest expression, freedom is revealed when all identification with the body or the mind ceases. Those who understand that they are not form or thought, but pure consciousness, attain an emancipation that transcends the psychological and the social. This clarity is not achieved through argument, but through direct experience. Meditation allows for this recognition. It separates the transitory from the essential, the conditioned from the permanent, until only that which cannot be observed because it is observation remains: consciousness itself. It is here that desire, the longing for freedom, is transcended. This silent clarity has rightly been called Moksha or absolute freedom.
Prabhuji