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Bhajans and poems are personal experiences. They contain experiences, inspirations, questions, and answers. There is also kīrtan, which means repeating one name, singing one name again and again—just the name of God, your mantra. But bhajans have teaching. They contain explanations, information, motivation, questions, answers, and clarities. Though bhajan is also part of bhakti yoga, it contains more than kīrtan. One has to experience this. When you sing, you are not singing for others, but for yourself, and to express your happiness or unhappiness to others, to express your joy or sadness. There is a beautiful bhajan written by Gurujī. Gurujī had a complete, full realization of Mahāprabhujī, was one with Mahāprabhujī. In it, Gurujī explains his happiness, his union with his master—the way and the how. Gurujī is expressing his unity, his joy, with his teacher: "Now I have attained happiness by the shelter of my master, with my master." The happiness which I was searching for. The happiness which every creature is searching for, consciously or unconsciously. Every living being searches for happiness. No one wants to be unhappy. Why do we seek happiness? Because our real nature, our real self, is happiness. Our true nature, our own property, is happiness, and that happiness is divine. God is happiness. That happiness is also our own nature, and we are searching for it, yet we tragically forget it. It is said: Eko-Brahma, Dvitīyanāsti. One is the reality, the Brahman; where there is two, duality, that is mortal. The one reality is Brahman. Where there is duality, that is mortal. Mortal is the ignorance, duality. Immortal is the reality, the oneness. Mortal is duality, and immortal is unity. We are all part of that universal one, and we would like to become one with the universal again. We are living in that cosmic self, but still we are divided. We live in that cosmic property, but we are still separated. Consider the ocean. Through heat, steam rises from the ocean. With the help of heat, the water of the ocean evaporates. It is a limitation of a few meters or centimeters—that is already a separation from the ocean. That steam, when it goes higher and wanders a little farther, we call it fog. And the same fog, when it rises thousands of meters high into the sky in the form of a gas, we call it clouds. Again, due to temperature, the atmosphere changes, and the clouds turn into drops and begin to rain. We call it rain. We don't say the cloud is raining or the cloud is falling. If the temperature changes the atmospheric relationship and the rain falls, we don't call it a storm falling. Because of temperature and atmospheric reasons, when it starts to rain, we say it's raining, and we don't say it's a cloud. This rain from the clouds doesn't fall in another direction, toward the moon. It could, but it will not, because the origin of that cloud is on the earth—the ocean. So that cloud, which is a part of the ocean, again would like to become one with the ocean. What we call gravity is love. Gravity is love—a love between two, Ānśī and ānś. Ānśī means the Self, and ānś means the part of that Self. Our origin is the strongest, biggest, and we are a very tiny part of it. Every drop begins to unite. The union has power, and when many drops of fog or clouds come together, they become a big drop when they fall as rain. Many drops come together and they begin to flow. Every river makes its way toward the ocean. Yet sometimes, before merging into the ocean, a drop is drunk by a bird and flown away to a far distance. It was very near to merging, but its destiny changed. That is why we say in nearly every country: do not celebrate the day too early; the day is not yet finished. It means, do not think you are already holy and wise, for it can happen again and again; you may have to return. Holy Gurujī used to say: anger is that thief which will steal from you at your door before you can enter your house with treasures. It will take you away from the door; you can't bring anything in. But when a drop enters the ocean, then no one can take it away. It's like a vibration becomes one. If you try to take it away, you will take it with the ocean, not alone. So it is like that water which went from the ocean as steam, fog, and clouds, then as rain and drops, becomes a creek, flows into a river, tries to come near the ocean, and is taken away again. It is a lifelong, lifelong work for us. But when unity is there, that is called bliss—paramānanda. All other kinds of happiness are temporary, but paramānanda, the bliss, is permanent. That is what we are all searching for in our life, not only humans but all creatures. Gurujī is expressing that unity with the cosmic self he realized when he met Mahāprabhujī, and he saw that Mahāprabhujī was the cosmic self. That joy when he met Mahāprabhujī, and his soul became one with the Cosmic Self—you should be sure that Mahāprabhujī is the Cosmic Self. That unity with the Divine is what Gurujī expressed when he met Mahāprabhujī. "Now I realize the happiness in the presence of my Gurudeva." Later, samaya, like the waves of the ocean, again becomes calm, becomes one with the ocean. There is no difference between the ocean and the waves. No ocean, no waves. All creatures are just waves—the waves of Ānanda, the waves of motion—and we will become one with it. So, how did he express what this happiness means in the presence of Gurudeva, Mahāprabhujī? It expresses what kind of joy it is to be in the presence of Gurudeva, in the presence of the Mahāprabhu—like when waves become one with the ocean. When you sing this, feel your heart. Observe your thinking process. Automatically, all vṛttis come down. You experience this happiness. Gurujī has put this permanent happiness of His unity, of His union, even in the form of a bhajan, so that whoever will just read and sing will experience it, at least for as long as they are singing. So observe your thinking, your breath, and feel your heart. Goṇḍalātā, Iḍā vṛttī, Iḍā śireṣa dasī ved. Observe your thoughts, your vṛttis, and observe your heart. A-ba-ha-ma-guru-chara-la-su-ka-pa-ya... Sa-ga-ra-la-sa-ma, sa-ga-ra-la-sa-ma. While singing, you feel the waves of bliss from the heart to the Sahasrāra Cakra, and from the Sahasrāra Cakra to the heart. It is a beautiful feeling if you observe this carefully. You can watch while you sing how the feeling of bliss awakens from the heart and goes to the Sahasrāra cakra, and then back to the heart. And that ocean is in different forms. The reality is also in different forms—like the clouds I explained before. Nearly half of the ocean is in the sky all the time. So, what does that mean, the reality of that Brahman, the Supreme? That is knowledge, ātmā jñāna. Gyān Ghāṭāle, Satguru Āyā, Amṛta Jala Barasāyā... Amrita nir pya man varkes, amrita nir pya, nirbhaya chala, nirbhaya, sa, sa, gata. Like heavy clouds you saw today at noon—that is called gata. Gat means a pot, and gata means heavy clouds. Gyān means wisdom or knowledge. "My Gurudeva came with that ghatā of wisdom." When it is very hot, and then comes a nice, cool breeze bringing heavy clouds, not only humans but even a small blade of grass is happy, looking forward to the rain. Gyān gatalī, satguru ājā. Amṛt jhal barasā. And he let rain—the rain of nectar. You know, when direct rain falls on a garden or vegetation, it has a completely different color and brings a different happiness than water given otherwise. One drop of rain has more energy for plants than one liter of water taken from your tap. That is amṛt, nectar. Amṛt means that when you drink nectar, you become immortal. Here, nectar symbolizes the wise words, Guruvākya. With the master comes immense wisdom. Amṛtā nīr, pijāmāna bharake, nirvāyene calāyā. Amṛtā nir—nir means water, very pure, clean water, without any qualities mixed. It is direct knowledge, first-hand information from the original fountain, the original source. When you give that to the thirsty one, they will drink until their thirst is quenched. Amrit nir piya mand bhar ke—until my mind was completely satisfied. Satguru charno me laagi, jabse charno kamal. All the vāsanās, all desires of the mind, were purified. Amrit nir piyā man bharakī nirbhaya ne chal payā. Nirbhaya means fearless—now no more fear. Nehe chala. A chala means unmovable, motionless. Now, no more movement. Movement exists with emptiness. In technology, in a mechanical system, you need tolerance space to move freely. But in wisdom, there is no tolerance; it is completeness. If a glass is full, there is no movement in the water inside. If it is empty, there is movement. When it is completely full, there will be no movement. So it means when you get this complete knowledge, there is no more longing, no more wondering here and there. Nirmal Nesalthaya became fearless, one with you. Abhayam Guru Charan Sukh Pa. Sagar Le Rishamah. Parasahe Gurudevahama. Loha Kanchanakara Parasahe Gurudevahama. Paras, the precious stone, turns iron into gold. Similarly, Gurujī compares himself, saying, "I was like iron, and by the touch of Mahāprabhujī, he made me like gold." "So’ham" śabd diya śravan me—and he spoke the mantra "So’ham" in my ears. What happened? Kauā haṁs patāyā. Now the crow became the swan, the Paramahaṁsa. Through what? Through that mantra of the Gurudev which he gave to me. Like a tree, a tree that changes the wood into gold, Gurujī compares himself to the wood that Gurudeva Savāī, Mahāprabhujī Savāī, used to adorn him. The Soham Mantra was placed in my heart, and this is how the Vahariya became Hathuva, by means of the mantra, by means of Gurudeva Savai. Like the precious stone paras turns iron into gold, in the same way, Gurujī compares himself: "I was iron, but through the touch of Mahāprabhujī, he turned me into gold and said the mantra of Soham in my mouth. Now Vraṇa has become Labud Paramahaṁsa." Through what? Through the mantra of Gurudeva, through the mantra that he gave me.