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Śrī Mādhav Kṛṣṇa Bhagavān Kī Jaya. Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Maheśvarānanda Purījī Satguru Dev Kī Jaya. Kamalaṁ hṛdayaṁ yasya, kamalaṁ yasya vāṇī, daṇḍopi kamalo yasya, kamalāṅgaṁ namāmyaham. Tṛṣṭiṁ dayāmayāṁ kṛtavān yaḥ paśyati carācaram, dvau kopākāra nirato. Rāgadveṣādeva Jitāḥ Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jai. I appreciate this verse for one small detail within it. It is addressed to the guru. It says to the teacher, "I offer my obeisance to that one whose heart is soft (like a lotus), whose speech is soft, whose words are soft and a pleasure to listen to." And then, "whose stick is also soft." That is my favorite part. When you have a teacher, a master, you do not want them to always be giving you chocolates—you would just get diabetes. You need someone who will also tell you when you are doing something wrong, or put you back on the path when you have strayed. That is the stick. And it is soft because it is acting for your benefit; it is not there to hurt you. "Daṇḍopi kamalo yasya, kamalāṅgaṁ namāmyaham." Whose limbs are also soft—whose hands, feet, and entire being are there to do good for you. And to that guru who sees everything with mercy, compassion, and love, who is not affected by the normal flow of everyday life or swayed by passions, to that guru I bow. That is its meaning. We are fortunate to have such a one. I do not think I can adequately express to anyone, anywhere in the world—even in India—just how special it is that we have someone like Svāmījī, whose darśan we can have, whom we can be in the same room with, to actually experience his teaching. Even within the entire sphere of great saints in India, Svāmījī shines brightly. He is among the most special. If you are within that crowd and are experienced, you realize what we have. Gurujī always sings in the bhajans, "Don’t waste your time, get on with it." Truly, when we have this opportunity, we must ensure we take everything from it that we can. Today I was speaking with Prem Lātā. I needed to get some butter menthols, and we discussed whether to go to the shops or to a corner store. The Kumbha Melā is the other way... but it is up to us what we do with it. You can go to the corner store and practice with something that may not contain the answer. It is different. That is what we have here in this āśram—his energy, his prāṇa, is here inside. In that flame which has been burning now for about fourteen years. That is special. Fourteen years is a very significant number in all the Indian classical texts. Consider the Rāmāyaṇa: fourteen years. And the Mahābhārata: fourteen years. In the Rāmāyaṇa, Rāma was sent into exile for fourteen years. In the Mahābhārata, the Pāṇḍavas—Arjuna, Bhīma, and the others—also went into exile. During that time, they attained all the siddhis, the abilities they later required for the battles that ensued, the conflicts between good and evil. We all walk our spiritual path; it takes a long time. It is all a matter of preparation, and we do not know when the time will come that we will need that preparation. The problem is it may be tomorrow, or it may be this evening on the way home. That is why Gurujī always sings in the bhajans, "My brother, my brother, wake up, your time is passing." You do not know when it will be. Yoga is for that. Yoga is for preparing yourself for those special moments that arrive, where you can realize something or gain something special. It is not about every moment being beautiful and wonderful; it is about preparation. Imagine, in India I once taught yoga classes in Jaipur to a large group of housewives. They came every morning but could not grasp meditation until we talked and devised a meditation where they simply concentrated on a temple to Lord Kṛṣṇa within their Anāhat Cakra. "Mahāprabhujī Karatā Mahāprabhujī Karatā He Kevalam." He is just sitting there on his āsana, with love radiating out. There is no limit to how much of that love is there. You can be as greedy as you like, but it is a matter of being open and pure enough to receive it. That is why we practice: to balance ourselves. Of course, it makes everything we do during the day easier. But situations are always coming and going, and we must readjust, we must go through some tapas. You can call it hard work or enjoyable work. It is better to call it enjoyable work. I just wanted to say that what we have here is so special. It is wonderful to see everyone here. For me, it is so special to have this large family. This is your āśram; it is always here, and it is up to you how much you take from it. We were discussing in Brisbane about the knowledge that comes from the Guru. It is like rain; it falls everywhere. In India, when a drought ends and the monsoon arrives, we prepare the earth. We open it up and work hard to break the soil so that much water can penetrate. It is the same with our practice; that is why we do it. We truly have this great chance to advance ourselves spiritually. Then you must consider: do I really want to be watching The Bold and the Beautiful, or could I be doing some practice? Could I be doing something for someone else? Could I be doing something wholesome for my inner self? Whether that is serving, helping, saying something kind, or reading something special... "Siddha Purījī, Siddha Purījī..." It gets rough. You do not go out through the white water; you go in, because it is more peaceful there. You go down beneath the surf, into the heart of the wave, and it is calmer there. One of the most treacherous things in yogic practice is that when you enter a rough period, you try to stop it or escape out the other side. That is precisely the time when, if you go in a little deeper, it becomes easier. If you try to go out further, it gets very rough because you become stuck in the white water. Know that you should emerge on the other side. If you hesitate, it is worse. And know that in the moment it is happening to you or to me, it is hard to remember that. It is just a fact. In those moments, you must hang on and try to go a bit further. Trust yourself. Trust your practice. You have been doing it for so long because it can help you at that time. Have faith in it, like a child. When a child does something wrong, it might run away from its parents. Trust what you have done. Trust your sādhanā. Trust your prior practice. It is there for you; it is part of you, and it will help you. If you cannot find the answers within yourself, then trust those around you who are part of your community. You will find that everyone has had the same experience at some point. If they have not, they likely will at some stage, so they will be glad you spoke about it first. Another point is just like in that śloka. It says that this heart is soft, these words are soft, this discipline is soft, this body is soft. That refers to the guru, the master, and it also refers to your inner master. When you are practicing, you need to be soft with yourself, patient with yourself, disciplined—but not with a hard stick. Disciplined with understanding, like a parent with a child, constantly guiding. To become angry is counterproductive, and to become angry with yourself when you do not get something right is counterproductive. Patience, patience, and love. You are trying to develop good qualities. Trying to force them by pulling out your bad ones does not work. If you want to feel that love generated inside you, if you want to feel that inner light, then you must generate it with love, which means you must give that to yourself: patience, love, compassion, and understanding—for everyone else, and for ourselves as well. In Mahāprabhujī's golden teachings, there is one śloka that says: try to love everyone else at least as much as you love yourself. That is very nice, but in that case, we should also love ourselves more so that we can love everyone else more, at least. Of course, if you can give more, that is excellent. But to love means to love unconditionally—not just you or you, but me as well. You cannot divide these things. It is simply love for everybody and everything. That is what we seek, and that is the light that arises within. It comes from sādhanā, from practice, and from purification. It is already there. The practice is merely removing the curtains around it so it can begin to shine. It is there in every single one of us. Some have heavier curtains, some lighter, some have holes in their curtains, and some have brick walls. But they are all removable. It is just a matter of time, patience, and continuity. Titikṣā, they call it—to be steadfast, to persist again and again. It is also about practicing as a group, having that community, drawing energy from others when you practice in classes. And it is about practicing at home, having a personal practice. And it is about practicing in your daily life—that is why it is called Yoga in Daily Life. "Purījī, Siddha Purījī..." It just explodes somehow, with different things happening. The school has become completely different from before; it is vibrant. The hospital has started to function. As I heard yesterday, there are now six doctors there: a gynecologist, an orthopedic surgeon, a pediatrician, and others. It is amazing how quickly everything is moving and flowing. It is as if the brakes have been released, and it is full speed ahead on all fronts. People come, the community is part of it, Svāmījī is there often, many attend his satsaṅgs, and it is just vibrant. It is incredible. It was vibrant before, but this is something else. In its development, it is like Rajasthan after the rain: it grows so fast you might think nature has gone crazy—so green, so quick, and so abundant. In that same way, the āśram is blossoming. We were discussing in Brisbane the difference between reading a satsaṅg from a book and hearing it from the living master's mouth. I thought about Jadan when it rains and the difference it makes to the grass. We have grassy areas where people can sit in winter. This year we had quite a drought. We watered it regularly with the best water we could find regarding salt content (there was a lot of salt in the water), and it just managed to stay alive. It was half green, half yellow, and it received plenty of water—not too little. After the first rain, which was not heavy and provided less water than usual, it turned a vibrant green and grew so quickly that after four days you had to cut it. It was not more water. For me, that is the difference. When you read books or watch programs about spiritual matters, it sustains you. But there is a difference when someone like Svāmījī is there and can tell you something specifically meant for you, something related to your experience. When that kind of knowledge comes, you grow very quickly, just like that grass. That is why in India they always say, "Serve the masters and be with them whenever you can." They do not specify that you must be your own master. Of course, when he is there, you should be with him. Seize the chance to receive the knowledge. On another level, practicing at home is one thing. Then, coming together as a satsaṅg group generally has a different vibrancy and energy. That gives you a different lift in your satsaṅg. Wherever you can find it, you should take the opportunity. Sydney can be quite tough in some places. I was in the city today and felt as if I had batteries and a neon light on. Everyone else was in black; I stood out like a sore thumb. You walk across at traffic lights and people stare... But that is it. The energy there is very, very different. It is not just about the color—for them it might be—but for me it was the energy, which was so different from what you become accustomed to when you are always in an āśram or in India. I was also looking around thinking, "What is that person on about? What are they doing?" I do not think you need to record the bhajans. Where is the other one? This is too fancy for me; I am used to the village harmoniums, all battered and beaten. We were sharing a story from school the other night, and it is quite inspiring, so I must tell it again. We had one boy this year. People ask, "How do you get funds?" This boy, from Austria, was ten years old last year. He had been to Jadan before. He called a family meeting—all his brothers are older; I think there are four older brothers. He said, "This year at Christmas, we will not have presents. We will collect the money and send it to the school." How does that come from a ten-year-old boy? I am so inspired by that. It is amazing. He also collects chestnuts and sells them by the roadside for the same purpose. Last year we had him at the school in Jadan, and I immediately took him to meet the children so they could appreciate what people do. Mahāprabhujī says... How on earth can I express to you just how much you can gain from satsaṅg, from being in good company, from being with good people? Do not miss the chance. You have it here—this place, this āśram. It is yours; it is everybody's. Svāmījī was in Jadan recently and said at one point, "All I want is for everyone to care for this place as if it were their own." He was speaking of Jadan. It is not his, not mine, not anybody's—it is ours. And this place is also ours. It is a place where you can come anytime to receive something, to get that vibration, that blessing, and that peace which comes from all such people gathering together. Therefore, Mahāprabhujī sang it: "Svāmī Dīpakaraṇa karatā kevalam." How far can I tell you? How much can I convey about the power of satsaṅg, about what it can do for you, what it gives to you? In India we say, "Jaisā Saṅg, Vaisā Raṅg." As is your company, so you become. The bhajan also tells the story many of you know about the insect that transforms into a bee because it is always near the Brahmī plant. That transformation is what happens when you consistently attend satsaṅg. In India, it is tradition that when you meet a Svāmī, people ask for a blessing. The best blessing I can think to give parents when they bring their children is: "I hope your child becomes a satsaṅgī"—someone who always goes to satsaṅg, who is with good people. The rest will take care of itself if you are around good people. Satsaṅg, satsaṅg. Not going off, but remarking to the locals about the fact that Svāmījī was in Jadan and you did not come. Are you crazy? If a Bollywood actor were in the āśram, they would come; they would not just watch him on TV that day. And when they say, "Yes, but I was at home watching Svāmījī on YouTube," I just think... we do this for someone who is being foolish. What are you thinking? When you can be there live, when you can be in that place, when that chance arises—it does not come all the time. You do not know which chances you will have; just take every one you can get. Dharmaṁ sadgamaya, dharmaṁ soma jyotirgamaya, mṛtyormā amṛtaṁ gamaya. Sarveśāṁ svasti bhavatu, sarveśāṁ śānti bhavatu, sarveśāṁ maṅgalaṁ bhavatu. Na’ham Karatā Prabhu Dīp Karatā Mahāprabhujī Dīp Karatā He Kevalam. Om Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ...