– That will do, eat no more! – and the spoon stopped in my hand, just as I was about to dip it into the honey pot for the second time. I looked at the mas­ter in sur­prise: why was he med­dling in what and how much I ate?

– Is honey not good? Or is it for­bid­den to eat honey? – I asked, try­ing to be polite, though I did not take kindly to being cor­rec­ted. I already knew that cer­tain foods were not recom­men­ded, but I had heard of no rule whatever about honey. I would have been sorry to give up its sweet, even honey-sweet, taste…

– No, it is not for­bid­den, but it is to be taken in mod­er­a­tion. Twelve drops of honey is the por­tion for one day – he said, and fell silent without any fur­ther explan­a­tion. Nor could I find any­thing to say to that. Twelve drops? Why pre­cisely that many? I put the spoon down empty, all my rel­ish for the whole thing gone. If you can­not even eat honey here, then this is not the place for me after all…

– One whose con­duct is undis­cip­lined, who eats or sleeps too much or too little, can­not be a yogi – my teach­er explained, and I sensed that he, too, was tak­ing him­self in hand, prac­tising patience.

– But why pre­cisely twelve drops? – the words escaped my lips.

– Because twelve is exactly one less than thir­teen… – came the con­vin­cing, or rather sober­ing, reply. I had not got halfway through my ques­tion before I felt I should not have asked it. It was not the ques­tion that was wrong, but the con­trar­i­ness that was driv­ing me. These twelve drops seemed so fool­ish. And only the day before I had learned that a fool­ish man can ask far more ques­tions than a sage could ever answer. I had walked right into that trap.

– Mod­er­a­tion! When you are ill, it mat­ters far more to heed the advice that heals than when you are well. If you have an acci­dent, fall ill or per­haps have an oper­a­tion, you are given saline solu­tion – have you ever thought about that? If someone forced you to drink salt water, you would protest, but in hos­pit­al they pump salt water into your body. It builds up your strength, and slowly you heal. And once you have fully recovered, you begin to crave the sweet taste. First the salt, then the sweet – do you see?

My con­trar­i­ness had flown, so inter­est­ing was his explan­a­tion. And I must admit – he was right. Now, a little more meekly, I put the same ques­tion again:

– But why pre­cisely twelve?

– Everything is con­nec­ted with everything. For one thing, who­ever is mod­er­ate in eat­ing, sleep­ing, work­ing and rest­ing can dis­pel any mater­i­al pain through the prac­tice of yoga. If you dis­cip­line your­self, you can draw strength from it. This is what it takes to heal, to recov­er from mater­i­al ill­ness… And then, bey­ond this imme­di­ate bene­fit, the twelve drops of honey will always remind you of import­ant moments in your spir­itu­al striv­ing…

– I am listen­ing… – I said, and felt that now I truly had to listen, for at last I was receiv­ing not advice on diet but an import­ant teach­ing.

– The first is the secret of attrac­tion, of what it is that keeps the uni­verse in motion. The second drop is the answer: sac­ri­fice. The third is the teach­er, who urges sac­ri­fice, and the fourth is the fidel­ity with which the dis­ciple receives the teach­ing. The fifth drop is the res­ult of fidel­ity: escape from sam­sara, and the sixth is right med­it­a­tion and motiv­a­tion. The sev­enth is the ques­tion of mys­tic powers, which belong to God but may in small meas­ure belong to man as well. Then comes the power and strength of vis­ion, and after it the ninth drop tells what it is like to be face to face with the good Lord. The tenth, this honey-teach­ing, would please you, for the Sun­beam is the honey of the gods, the elev­enth drop recalls the shad­ows of spir­itu­al rela­tion­ship, and the last, what is to be done. Well, is your curi­os­ity sat­is­fied now, your appet­ite stilled? Will twelve drops do, or would you like more…?