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Good evening. Blessings to all of you from Mahāprabhujī. Today we are very fortunate that we are with Mahāprabhujī here in this hall. Due to the warm weather, we had been spending our time in the garden, but today we have the blessing of being here. This hall possesses immense spiritual energy. Every day there is prayer, Guru Gītā, meditations, yoga practices, satsaṅg… When one enters this room, if you have practiced prāṇāyāma as we spoke about this afternoon, or if you have cultivated good energy, you will feel or receive a very divine vibration. So we are the blessed ones, the fortunate, the lucky—that we are here this evening in the hall. I welcome all of you, and also our dear friends, brothers, sisters, and spiritual seekers around the world. You are also fortunate that you have had the darśana of Gurudeva, Mahāprabhujī. A question arises: What to do with fear? But before asking what to do, what is the cause of fear? What is fear? How does fear come to us, and how does it disappear? There is a beautiful story Gurujī told many times—Gurujī meaning our Satgurujī, Śrī Svāmī Madhavānandajī of Rājasthān, Nepal, Jādan, Khāṭū, Jaipur, Kīlās, Bolā Guḍā. There was a small village of farmers. Farmers often have large tracts of land—some 100 hectares, some 200, 500, or 20 hectares. One farmer owned about 200 hectares, and on his property he had a small, beautiful house. In that small village, he also had a big house that could accommodate fifty or sixty people. On the occasion of a family festival, he invited many guests—close family members—and all were accommodated in the house. A newly married young man, the son-in-law, was a little shy about staying with his parents-in-law, as the culture in India and the East is different from the culture here. Yesterday, Swami Gajanan spoke about cultural differences, and digesting such differences can be difficult. So the hosts thought, “This person should have a comfortable, nice room,” and they decided to accommodate him in a farmhouse about three or four hundred meters away. In the evening, they had a nice dinner and sang bhajans, enjoyed satsaṅg. When it was nearly 10:30 or 11 and time to sleep, his brother-in-law guided him to the farmhouse and told him he would be sleeping there. The newly married son-in-law wanted to appear like a great hero—strong, showing no weakness or fear. But he had once overheard some villagers gossiping that in that farmhouse there lived a ghost. That was enough. That is what you might call psychological blackmail. When someone tells you good things and satsaṅg, you may not remember them after some time. But such negative things penetrate through and through; every nāḍī resonates with them. So he had heard this once. He forgot, but as soon as they told him he would be sleeping there, his hair stood on end. He didn’t dare to say, “I am afraid,” but he was afraid. So he said, “Hanumānjī, as you wish.” Hanumānjī is a great protector, a bhakta of Lord Rāma. Wherever the name of Hanumānjī is pronounced, the ghost runs away—just as someone with diarrhea runs to find a toilet. When they see Hanumānjī, all negative energy disappears. The great Tulsīdāsji, in the holy Rāmāyaṇa, wrote the Hanumān Chālīsā. Every day you should read this Hanuman Chalisa. Chalisa means forty; there are forty ślokas or couplets, and it takes five minutes. If you chant nicely, then maximum ten minutes—beautiful. In the Hanuman Chalisa, it is described that when you repeat the name of Hanumānjī, all ghosts, witches, and negative energy disappear. So he said, “Hanumānjī, as you like.” His brother-in-law accompanied him to a nice sleeping room of about twenty square meters, with a very fine ceramic chimney. It was summer, so there was no fire inside. On the chimney, they had placed some blankets and such. He entered the room and saw his nice bed. His brother-in-law explained, “Here’s the water, this, that, everything,” and said, “Good night.” There was no electricity—a farmhouse, where would electricity be? Nowadays, unnecessarily, we have so many bulbs and such everywhere. Before going to sleep, he closed the windows and doors securely. There was an oil lamp, and he blew it out. He lay down to sleep. But that blackmail from years ago was now manifesting in his mind, repeating the thought like a mantra: The ghost is here. My God, ghosts will come. Today is the last day of my life. And he didn’t dare to go back. This fear grew stronger and stronger. He covered his body with a blanket, but every half-minute he would peek out to see if a ghost was there. At 12:30 in the night, the moon was up. Through the upper part of the window, moonlight fell on the ceramic chimney—a nice white chimney. He forgot about the chimney; he was looking from under the blanket. As soon as he saw the chimney in the moonlight, he began to scream: “Ghost! Ghost! Ghost! Please don’t kill me!” Now he had manifested a ghost. He screamed very loudly. Three or four hundred meters is not far, so people heard. About fifty or sixty people ran to the house. But no one dared to enter the room. He was crying, “Please help me, ghost, ghost!” The people outside said, “Open the door.” But the door was double-locked, and the young man was paralyzed; he couldn’t get up. He managed only one sentence: “He’s sitting on my chest!” The people outside said, “My God, it will be horrible if the ghost kills our son-in-law—or whoever it is.” Some strong, well-built boys were there. They decided what to do. They cried, “Hanumānjī, Hanumānjī,” and then: “Jai, Jai, Hanumān, Gusāī, Kripākaro, Gulbev, Kināī, Hanumān, Cālīsā.” They broke the window to enter the room. In a minute, as they broke in, all fifty people plus one were paralyzed. They said to the house owner, “How could you do this? You knew there’s a ghost in this house.” The farmer said, “Well, I totally forgot. What to do?” So they said, “We shall call some priest, a paṇḍita.” The paṇḍit came. He said some prayers and ordered, “Ghost, go away.” The ghost did not go away; everyone still saw the ghost in the corner—big, white dress, head reaching the roof, a long dress. Then someone suggested, “Bring holy water.” So they brought holy water and consecrated it in the name of Brahma, Viṣṇu, Śiva, Holy Father, Spirit, and Ghost, and they said, “Svāhā!” The ghost did not move. Then they took a large pot (loṭā), filled it, and threw the water with a “Svāhā!”—half a bucket of water they threw. Now all the blankets and things on top were wet and dripping water. “That’s it. Terrible ghost. Even he’s making urine there.” They thought, “This ghost must be Nugra—a ghost without a Guru.” Do you know what Nugra is? One who has no Guru. So even the ghosts have a Guru: Śukrācārya, the Guru of the Asuras. Everyone was so unhappy. Then they brought someone who could see spirits and tell the future—an energy healer. That healer came and said, “Oh, I recognize him. In our neighbor’s village there was a very big lime tree, and he lived there. I went there and beat him away. Then he hid at the bank of the river. I went there and beat him so much that he ran and entered a buffalo. So I performed a ceremony, and the buffalo made ‘aaaah,’ and the ghost came out. Then he entered someone else. I said the Gāyatrī Mantra, and he disappeared. I have been searching for him for the last fifteen years. I told him, ‘I will kill you. I will not let you be in peace unless you leave my people in peace.’” So the healer was chanting mantras, performing all kinds of hocus-pocus, and throwing water. The ghost was not moving at all. The healer then said, “Now I see an angel coming. And this angel tells me, ‘Do not touch this ghost, because he has a strong supporter.’” Ah, angel, go away. I have a strong supporter—Hanumānjī. So they tried many, many things. He prayed to Allah, he prayed to Jesus, he prayed to many, many different gods—Kṛṣṇa, Rāma, Buddha, all. The ghost remained motionless. It was already three o’clock in the morning, and people did not dare to leave, thinking, “If we turn our back, he will get us.” At three-fifteen, a man came from the village, someone like Gajānand. He said, “People, what are you doing? You are disturbing everyone’s sleep in the village. What are you doing here? Sit down. Come and see your grandfather standing there in the corner.” Gajānandjī asked, “Who?” They said, “Ghost.” Gajānandjī said, “There is no ghost, my friend. Your mind is your ghost. Your fear is your ghost.” They replied, “Don’t teach us here. Give your lecture in the village. If you think there is no ghost, then go inside.” Gajānandjī said, “Of course, I will go in.” So he took a torchlight, went inside, and said, “Look, this is the chimney.” They exclaimed, “Oh, God.” The farmer said, “How stupid I am. Even I didn’t recognize that there’s a chimney.” The brother-in-law also said, “Oh God, I know this is my chimney in the corner.” And the man who was inside said, “It is stupid. I took a blanket from there to sleep. How was I so manipulated? No ghost!” All the village people said, “Oh, my God!” The ghost came out of ignorance, and it gave you troubles born of your own imagination and fear. Then a master like Gajānanda came and gave the knowledge of truth, and fear disappeared. There is no ghost; so this is our own imagination. Similarly, when you think you have fear about your existence, about losing your job or anything, this means you do not trust in God. A small ant gets a tiny grain from the pod; an elephant gets one hundred kilos per day. Not you, O human—it is God who takes care of all. So why are you afraid? Do you trust in God? Do you trust in yourself? If yes, then there is no fear. But that ghost you carry with you—from that blackmail, global crisis, economic crisis. Where did the money go? It didn’t disappear into the sky, nor did it disappear into the earth. It is all still there, but what a big manipulation—like a ghost—and the whole world is suffering, paralyzed. Trust thyself. Trust in your ability. From your hand, anyone can take, but from your brain, what you know, no one can take. Therefore, have confidence. “Prabhu dayā se, Terī Satguru rākhe lāj. Cintā mat karnā, nirbhay raho niśaṅk. Kabhī mat ḍarnā, Satguru rākhe Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān.” Therefore, as Holī Gurujī says in his bhajan, “Terī Satguru rākhe lāj.” The Satgurudev will protect you. “Cintā mat karna”—don’t worry. “Nirbhay raho niśaṅk”—be fearless, without doubt. “Kabhī mat ḍarnā”—never be afraid or scared at any time. Therefore, fear is our own ghost. Read in the Līlā Amṛt book written by Gurujī. In the very beginning, before he meets Swami Bodhānandajī Mahārāj, a disciple of Mahāprabhujī, Gurujī writes about him that Bodhānandajī told him there is no ghost, there is no spirit; it is only your fear. And Gurujī said he made an experiment: he went at night from one village to another for satsaṅg, and truly, he never saw a ghost. So, a ghost is our imagination and fear. Or it is some crazy person who meets you in darkness somewhere. But you know, sometimes you see something: you walk in the night through beautiful snow on a nice meadow, a summer night with the moon shining. In the meadow, some plant has grown tall, about one or one and a half meters, with nice branches. With a light wind, it moves, and the big leaves reflect the moonlight. Oh God, you think someone is standing there looking at you. This is all imagination. No ghost, so no fear. Yes, you should be afraid of doing negative karma—that is a ghost—but when you are engaged in good things, there is no ghost, so no fear. We trust in God, and nothing will happen. So if you have a nervous problem—if you say, “I am scared, I am depressed, I don’t go out of the house,” and many such things—that is psychological fear. Your fear is your problem. Or something happened in the past, but not now. That is gone. So why are you afraid now? The same teaching is given by Ādiguru Śaṅkarācārya in the book Prabodhasudhākara, where he speaks beautifully about the snake. You walk on a road in the evening light, and about twenty-five or thirty meters away, a rope is lying on the ground. Suddenly you say, “Oh, a snake!” Then you look exactly and see it is a rope. So from where did the snake come? How much fear was created? And where did the snake disappear? And where did the fear disappear? It is our own manifestation. So instead of manifesting such fearful things— Sanātana Dharma Kī Jaya! Maheśvarānandajī Kī Jaya!