And we love these words while they remain words, no more. Should they unfold in real life, we will doubt the hell out of our situation, all good words and commandments forgotten.
We like our grace coming from masters posthumously, after all, don't we? Who trusts people these days anyway? We won't let strange people smile at us without doubting their motives, a master is surely a far cry! Imagine a real life Donald Shimoda. And he may not even fit your definition of a master in the conventional sense. Or he may be as conventional as can possibly be, crushing your hipster expectations. Sorry, no plane flying. But maybe rudraksh mala wielding. Then what?
A master has zilch to gain from turning you into a devotee. And a master need not even fit your idea of what a master should be to flip your life around. Because remember how Eklavya mastered his art? We think very little of Dronacharya as a master - terrible guy. And yet, if it were not for him, would we have known that supreme archer at all?
I have known my master for fifteen years now. And it's taken me fifteen years to ask him how I can be of use to him. And it's taken fifteen years for me to hear a real, direct answer on what could possibly lie ahead of me should I choose to walk down that path. And of course, I have already chosen. You do not ask "how can I be useful to you?" with total surrender unless you have already readied yourself to be hauled into a life that you cannot plan for.
That's the thing about plans; they do not factor in the unexpected. And masters are ridiculously unexpected. Being ridiculously lucky to have a living master basically says in fine print that you are now open to the absolute unexpectedness of life and learning.