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Oṁ kṣiroti kalyāṇam arogyam dhanāśam padah, sattva buddhi vināśaya, dīpa jyoti namastute, Dīpa Jyoti Parabrahma Dīpam Sarve Mohanam Dīpanam Sajate Sarvam Sandhyā Dīpam Sarva Satyam Oṁ Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ... Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavānkī, Dev Purīśamadeva kī Jai, Satguru Svāmī Madhavānandjī Bhagavānkī, Satya Sanātana Dharma kī Jai. Dear brothers and sisters and very dear Mahāprabhujī devotees, it is a blessing to be always together. We should never separate, and to be together means love. The human heart, human thinking, human intellect, and human memories are always together with us. The body is not the reality; the body does not determine whether we are together or not. If there is love, physical distance means nothing. If you love someone living in Japan and you have only five or six days of holiday, you will take an earlier flight, go meet them, and come back. If we lack love, then even the neighbor’s door is very far. Love brings together; ignorance and hate divide. We should not live in ignorance. Everyone has a longing to come together again. Even a bird, ultimately, flies back to its nest in the evening. I recall a story I heard around 1976-78. I have been in Austria for 40 years now, a beautiful country where I met dear friends, like the former U.S. ambassador to Vienna, Mr. Jonathan Dean, and his family. I was learning German at the time, living with a retired Austrian English professor. She became a devoted disciple, a motherly figure to all of us; we called her Matajī and still keep her picture. Matajī, Catherine, would watch children's programs on television to help me learn the language. I mention this to explain the context of my feeling today. This two-year distance felt like a very big distance, or like no distance at all—as if I were here just yesterday. At that time, there were no color televisions, only black and white, and later a system called Super 8 mm with very short recordings. There was a story set in Mexico, in the mountains. A couple lived in a small village; they had no children. The man had good farmland. One morning, while riding his horse, he saw a newborn calf whose mother had died, being attacked by a wild cat. Jīva jīva bhakṣate—life eats life. The cowboy protected the calf, brought it home on his horse, and presented it to his wife, Maria, as a birthday gift. He said, "Look, I brought you a present. We don’t have children, but now we have a boy." She loved him deeply, feeding him milk and food. She had a kitchen with a big window where she made tortillas and would give him some through the window. He was a spoiled boy. He grew to be two or two-and-a-half years old, very strong, and was then taken with other cattle far into the mountains, hundreds of kilometers away, for grazing. One cold morning, he dreamed of Maria giving him tortillas. They had named him Sanjo (or Sanjoy). He woke up, smelled the air, and became homesick. Not only humans feel this; animals do too. He looked around, and the film showed him seeing his home, the green cornfield where he could eat freely. He decided to go home. He began running. He encountered an old ruin where wolves attacked him, but he survived. He came to a place in deep winter, on Christmas Day. He liked children, and some children playing in the snow hauled his tail; he played with them, pulling them. The children brought him home. The people were happy and said, "Good, thank you. After we come back from church, we will slaughter him for meat." The children heard this. During the Christmas evening prayers, two brothers ran home, took the ox, and urged him to run away. It was cold, and he had nice shelter, but they managed to make him go. Whenever he faced difficulties, he would close his eyes, see Maria, and run in that direction. Meanwhile, Maria was sad every day, missing her Sanjo. She collected tortillas and stood at the window, looking for his return. This is love on both sides. You were looking for when I would come, and I was also looking for when I would come. This is the connection: ātmā and jīvātmā, the soul-to-soul connection. It doesn’t matter if it is an animal or a human. To break this connection or create conflict is the greatest sin—to steal those beautiful feelings from someone’s heart. He ran away, listening intently, putting his ear to the air. It was a beautifully made film. I tried to get a copy from the Austrian television archive but could not. The title was "An Ox is Homesick." He heard Maria singing, calling him: "Come, quickly, run, don’t worry, come, I am waiting for you." And he ran. One day, on Sanjo's birthday, Maria was making tortillas, looking out. He imagined the yard, the nearly dry trees, the chickens moving about. Around 11 o'clock, as she prepared lunch for her husband, she saw something running in the cornfield. She thought it was her imagination, but he came home, listening to her call: "Sanjo, come quickly, you are not so far, come, waiting for you." He came, and both were immensely happy. A happy ending. Prāṇī mātrā—every creature needs love. Animals feel love even more deeply than humans. It doesn’t matter what kind of animal; they need attention, especially from humans. Humans have a very aggressive, receiving radiance. Humans are the most dangerous animals; the enemy of the human is the human. The destructor of the human is a human. All wars are against humans, not animals. What we call humanity, we have not yet realized. Envy, greed, ego, longing for position and power—these dominate. If you see a tiger or lion, we dare not come near. A lion has immense strength. Yet a bird dares to sit on the head or back of a lion or tiger. But a bird does not dare to sit on a human’s shoulders or head because of the negative energy radiating from us. To purify these energies is not easy. We should be like a holy friend, a ṣiṣya, or like Devpurījī, of whom it is said that when he spoke, all birds and animals would come and sit, listening to satsaṅg. There was one Swāmījī in India, near Allahabad. When he gives satsaṅg, people come. From the forest, a wild deer comes, sits, and listens until Swāmījī finishes speaking, then peacefully walks back. It does not come for prasāda. This was witnessed by my disciple Swami Premanānjī. When we have such positive energy, positive radiance, and love for every creature, they love us in return. That love is God. That is why we say: God is love, and love is God. If we develop such feelings, we are very near our destination. If we lose them, we are very far. Through ignorance and greed, a brother is ready to kill his brother. There are even children against parents. This happens because the right education is not given. We need spiritual education to understand. There will be a United Nations World Conference, focusing on sustainable development. One subject is that sustainability cannot exist without spirituality. All development done without love, spirituality, and feeling is temporary; it will be destroyed. The seed of spirituality is planted in the human heart, but unfortunately, the seed of greed is planted in the human brain. Spirituality and greed do not go together. As Gandhījī said, "Mother Earth has enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed." Greed has no end. When someone plants blackmailing thoughts in your brain, it becomes very dangerous. There is a story in the Mahābhārata from the time of God Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇa’s grandfather was a king, very spiritual, humble, and kind. He had a son named Kaṁsa, who was aggressive, bad, and terrible. He created wars, confused and separated people, and instilled fear. Such people have friends who feed their ego to see destruction. One friend told Kaṁsa, "You are a great warrior and strong person. Only one thing is missing: the crown on your head, to be the best king." This was blackmail, entering his brain. Kaṁsa thought, "My father is still the king." The friend said, "Sooner or later, the crown will come to you. Why not earlier?" These words—"this head needs the crown" and "sooner or later, why not now?"—changed him. Kaṁsa returned from battle, blood on his dress, and went straight to his father, who was consulting an astrologer for his daughter’s marriage. The king said, "My son, at least wash and change your dress." Kaṁsa replied, "Don’t give me a lesson, give me the crown. Give it, or I will take it." He had soldiers with him. He said, "Take this king to prison. He is no longer worthy to be king." The king took off his crown and said, "My son, if you are happy, here you are." This king was the uncle of Kṛṣṇa, brother of Kṛṣṇa’s mother. Later, Kaṁsa organized the marriage of his sister Devakī. As they departed on a chariot, a sādhu stopped it and said, "Kaṁsa, your end is here. Your sister will give birth to a child, the sixth one, who will kill you." Kaṁsa then imprisoned his sister and her husband. He told the guards, "Whenever she bears a child, inform me." He would take each newborn and dash it against the wall. It was painful. Even watching the Mahābhārata video is moving; it shows what goes on within humans. You should watch an episode or two daily in satsaṅg; it is a great lesson. When Kṛṣṇa was born, everyone fell asleep. A divine voice told Kṛṣṇa’s father to take him across the Yamuna to Nanda Bābā’s house, to Yaśodā. After Kṛṣṇa was taken, the guards woke up. He had brought back a baby girl. The prison doors opened and closed automatically. The guards heard a baby crying—a girl. They informed the king, "The last child is born." Kaṁsa came and said, "It will be a boy," but saw it was a girl. He said, "It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or boy," and threw her against the wall, but she flew up to heaven. A voice declared, "Kaṁsa, your enemy is already born and growing." That enemy was Kṛṣṇa, who later killed Kaṁsa. A human, through ambition and ego, can become like Kaṁsa. Then there are no borders—not father, mother, friends, sisters, newborn, or grown child. What has been planted in the human intellect? Greed. It must be rooted out through viveka (discernment) and knowledge. The love planted in the heart must be cultivated through faith, bhakti, and devotion. Only then can we prevail. Otherwise, this Kali Yuga, this temptation, this Māyā, will suck us back into a dark hole. You see many bhaktas who, through bad associations (kuśaṅgas) and certain words, lose their faith and are sucked into darkness like a vacuum. May God protect our faith and confidence. Holy Gurujī said, again and again, "I ask only for one thing, O Mahāprabhujī: in every life, please accept me as your servant, as your bhakta." The happiness, joy, and security found in the presence of the Gurudev cannot be found anywhere else in the universe. When you walk out of that shelter, your enemy waits to destroy you. This is understood by those who utilize and cultivate the implanted seed of love. That seed is God. The seed of greed is the material world. Decide what you want. It is so nice to see you again. If you know this story or find this video—a very old black-and-white film called "Sanjo" or "The Ox is Homesick"—it is very beautiful. Thank you. It was nice to see you. I will be here for two more days.