secrecy, then, after the first conversation I should not know what I could
write and what I could not write."
"But what are your own ideas on the subject?" said G. "One must not talk
too much. There are things which are said only for disciples."
"I could accept such a condition only temporarily," I said. "Of course it
would be ludicrous if I began at once to write about what I learn from you.
But if, in principle, you do not wish to make a secret of your ideas and care
only that they should not be transmitted in a distorted form, then I could
accept such a condition and wait until I had a better understanding of your
teaching. I once came across a group of people who were engaged in various
scientific experiments on a very wide scale. They made no secret of their
work. But they made it a condition that no one would have the right to speak
of or describe any experiment unless he was able to carry it out himself. Until
he was able to repeat the experiment himself he had to keep silent."
"There could be no better formulation," said G., "and if you will keep such a rule this question will never arise between us."
"Are there any conditions for joining your group?" I asked. "And is a man
who joins it tied to it and to you? In other words, I want to know if he is free
to go and leave your work, or does he take definite obligations upon himself?
And how do you act towards him if he does not carry out his obligations?"
"There are no conditions of any kind," said G., "and there cannot be any.
Our starting point is that man does not know himself, that he is
emphasized these words), "that is, he is not what he can and what he should
be. For this reason he cannot make any agreements or assume any
obligations. He can decide nothing in regard to the future. Today he is one
person and tomorrow another. He is in no way bound to us and if he likes he
can at any time leave the work and go. There are no obligations of any kind
either in our relationship to him or in his to us.
"If he likes he can study. He will have to study for a long time, and work a
great deal on himself. When he has learned enough, then it is a different
matter. He will see for himself whether he likes our work or not. If he wishes
he can work with us; if not he may go away. Up to that moment he is free. If
he stays after that he will be able to decide or make arrangements for the
future.
"For instance, take one point. A situation may arise, not, of course, in the
beginning but later on, when a man has to preserve secrecy, even if only for a
time, about something he has learned. But can a man who does not know
himself promise to keep a secret? Of course he can promise to do so, but can
he keep his promise? For he is not one, there are many different people in
him.
he wants to keep the secret. But tomorrow
wife, or to a friend over a bottle of wine, or a clever man may question him
in such a way that he himself will not notice that he is letting out everything.
Finally, he may be hypnotized, or he may be shouted at unexpectedly and
frightened, and he will do anything you like. What sort of obligations can he
take upon himself? No, with such a man we will not talk seriously. To be
able to keep a secret a man must
"Sometimes we make temporary conditions with people
they are broken very soon but we never give any serious secret to a man we
don't trust so it does no matter much. I mean it matters nothing to us
although it certainly breaks our connection with this man and he loses his
chance to learn anything from us, if there is anything to learn from us. Also
it may affect all his personal friends, although they may not expect it."
I remember that in one of my talks with G., during this first week of my
acquaintance with him, I spoke of my intention of going again to the East.
"Is it worth thinking about it? And can I find what I want there?" I asked
G. "It is good to go for a rest, for a holiday," said G., "but it is not worth while going there for what you want. All that can be found here."
I understood that he was speaking of work with him.
"But do not schools which are on the spot, so to speak, in the midst of all
the traditions, offer certain advantages?" I asked.
In answering this question G. told me several things which I did not
understand till later.
"Even if you found schools you would find only 'philosophical' schools,"
he said. "In India there are only 'philosophical' schools. It was divided up in
that way long ago; in India there was 'philosophy,' in Egypt 'theory,' and in
present-day Persia, Mesopotamia, and Turkestan—'practice.'"
"And does it remain the same now?" I asked.
"In part even now," he said. "But you do not clearly understand what I
mean by 'philosophy,' 'theory,' and 'practice.' These words must be
understood in a different way, not in the way they are usually understood.