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Part 1: Understanding the Guru's Ways and the Path of the Disciple That boat belongs to the mayor of the city. He is a very influential man. Please don’t touch that boat. And the boat on the right side? If you need a boat, you can use that. To whom does it belong? These are just a few poor orphans, some boys, you know. You can use this if you need. So, without any further commentary, Kizar took that boat, the boat of the orphans, turned it upside down, and stepped on it strongly. Part of it broke, and somehow the boat was not usable anymore. Then he went away. Now Moses became really upset. He was angry at his guru. How can you do that? If you had destroyed the boat of the rich man, he could easily get it repaired. The next day, they came to a village. There was a house which was already half in ruin. One wall especially was already like rubble. Kizar stopped and said to Moses, “You know, this cannot remain this way. We must restore it.” And it was hard physical work, and the sun was shining. So in the evening, they were both really exhausted. But that house was empty; no one came to say thank you or to bring some food. Moses again was not happy about that, and he said to Kizar, “Why did we restore the wall here in this house where no one is living? No one has any benefit, and we don’t even get any food.” Moses understood that, again, he had not followed Guru Vākya. Again, he had to apologize, so they slept with empty stomachs. The next day they came to another city. On the marketplace, several children were playing. Kizar stopped and asked the people, “Who are these children? Who are they, and from which family do they come?” They pointed to one boy and said, “Yes, he is the son of the mayor of the city.” “Okay, and who is that boy?” “Oh, he is the son of a merchant here around the corner, quite rich.” Then they pointed to another boy. “He is the only son of a man who is living a truly spiritual life, meditating the whole day, you know.” That was a time when people carried their personal weapons for defense. So Kizar also had such a sword with him. Without any commentary, he took out his sword and, with one swing, he seriously cut the leg of this boy. That was now too much for Moses, and he was so angry. Why did you cut this boy? And now Kizar would not accept any apology anymore. He said, “I told you from the beginning that you are not fit to be my disciple. You leave.” Moses was so upset that he easily accepted that. Yes, I don’t want to follow you anymore. But Kizar explained: “When I destroyed the boys’ boat, that was because in a few weeks a big army will come here with a king, and they will take away all the boats—except that of the boys, because it’s not usable. So afterwards, there will be no boat anymore. Only the boys have a boat. Within a few hours, they can repair it, and then they will make good money because everyone who wants to cross the river will rely on their boat. “When we repaired this wall of the ruined house, it had a very similar reason. Because this house belongs to a group of orphans also. When they grow up, this will be their property. Inside this wall, there is a hidden treasure which they will find. This belongs to them. But the problem was that this wall was already so broken that within a short time this treasure would be exposed. It would become visible, and people would steal it and take it away. So we had to restore this wall so that this treasure would stay there, and it’s for the boys. “And the boy whom I hit—he has very bad karma and a very bad character. In his karma was to become a thief. So I wounded him on the leg so that he could not run away quickly, and he could not become a thief. Thus I saved him from that bad karma and his father from suffering.” So this was his explanation for his acts. I think each of us could feel very much like Moses. It is often not easy to understand the acts of a guru. But we should never judge. So often Guru Vākya is not clear for us, not understandable, not acceptable. Put it on hold, as I did when Swāmījī said it. Going through many experiences, slowly, slowly, it becomes ripe in us, and then we will understand more and deeper. This was no longer all about worldly matters, the acts of the Guru. I will tell you a second story, which some of you might know, because I am not telling it for the first time. It’s about Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, guru and disciple. According to the tradition, the guru is traveling around and giving satsaṅgs, getting invitations from the householders. When Kṛṣṇa came to one city, there lived one rich merchant, and he was very happy, and he came immediately to welcome him. He invited him to come for a meal and to stay in his house. Kṛṣṇa accepted. In the evening, when they came for the meal, it was not just a meal; it was like a feast. Tables full of the most delicious food. The whole house was decorated. Music and dance, everything was beautifully arranged. So Kṛṣṇa and, of course, his disciple Arjuna, they enjoyed, and they also stayed overnight. In the morning after breakfast, when Kṛṣṇa left, he turned to the merchant and told him, “I thank you, it was very nice, everything was arranged, and I give you the blessing: whatever you possess now, within one year you will have double.” The merchant was very happy. He was counting in his mind, “Now I have one house, and I will have two houses. Now I have 50 cows, and I will have 100 cows.” His mind was really, oh, it was so great. And Kṛṣṇa left. The next day they came to a small village, and on the second day they came to the village where an old woman lived. She lived alone, a simple life, a spiritual life, doing her sādhanā, doing meditation, mantra, and prayers most of the day. She lived alone; only one old cow stayed with her. It no longer gave milk, but she cared for it with love. When she heard that Kṛṣṇa came, she was so happy. She prostrated to Kṛṣṇa and said, “Please, I have only a humble hut, but please come, I would like to invite you.” Seeing the bhakti of this woman, of course, Kṛṣṇa accepted. Now, she tried her best, but of course it was only a simple meal because she was poor. She even had to borrow dishes from the neighbors to be able to serve it properly to Kṛṣṇa. But it was done with love. Kṛṣṇa enjoyed the meal and also stayed at her hut overnight. The next morning, when he left, he told her, “Thank you very much. You did everything with a lot of bhakti. And I must tell you one thing: tomorrow your cow will die.” Then he left, and now it started working in Arjuna. He started to figure out, what is my guru saying? He couldn’t understand, and after some time, it really broke out of him. “Gurujī, why are you so unjust? This merchant, because he gave you a big feast, you gave such a blessing? And this woman, because it was only a small meal, a simple meal, you gave such a curse?” Kṛṣṇa smiled. He smiled and said, “I see you don’t understand the way of a guru. This merchant, he is my devotee, sure. But you know, this old woman, she has gone through all stages of life. She has enjoyed all that, and she has renounced all that. She has no desires anymore; she has no attachments anymore. Half of the day, she is already thinking of me, of God. But there is still this cow. She will forget the cow. And then there is nothing anymore to distract her mind. Then her whole awareness, her whole love, will go to me, to God. And where you think, there you go. She will get enlightenment.” The way of a guru is really different from our thinking, mostly. If we don’t understand, it’s not the mistake of the guru. That means we are not yet fit to accept, to understand. It is not only that we have to try to understand the acts of the guru; it is not only about understanding what the Guru does and the Guru Vākya. But even deeper, to understand what is the Guru. That is really our life duty. That’s why Swāmījī said, whatever we practice, it aims at understanding the Guru. Holī Gurujī emphasized the same point, which was the last sentence he spoke in his life. After Holī Gurujī’s Mahāsamādhi, Swāmījī spoke repeatedly about that. Does someone remember that? The last sentence of Holī Gurujī? I guess Swāmījī will know; he is out of the game. Does anyone else remember this? When somebody understands the Guru, he becomes the Guru himself. Yes, exactly. So “Guru pahachān lītā hai, vah svayam guru ban jātā hai.” And that means exactly as you said: who really understands the Guru, he himself becomes the Guru. That’s what Swāmījī always emphasizes, why this symbol with a pāras stone does not really fit. The pāras transforms iron into gold. But it does not transform the iron into another pāras. The guru, however, can transform the disciple into another saint, into another guru. When we think about that, it is obvious it’s not a small task. It’s not something that requires just intellectual understanding. It is something that we cannot speak, but we can realize. That’s why yoga is a practical path, not just a path of philosophy. Through our sādhanā and through opening our hearts through bhakti, more and more this wisdom grows in us. And as it is my own experience, when we go through our life experiences, through the different training phases in our life, more and more we get here and there a glimpse about what is a guru. According to my own experience, the more we get life experience, the more we go through the training, we get more and more glimpses of who the Master is. Sometimes, rarely, the Master speaks quite openly and quite clearly about that. For this, I especially love Swāmījī’s old lectures, many of which we find in the book Meetings with a Yogi. I found out, meanwhile, that there is never any Czech edition of that. I really suggest translating that book into Czech and Slovak languages, and so on. There you find one chapter: What is a Guru? A guru like Mahāprabhujī. Swāmījī says, you must recognize a guru like Mahāprabhujī. You call me a guru, but I am nothing. I don’t have as much power as a speck of dust from Mahāprabhujī’s feet. But his light, his message, that inspires me and lives in me. Therefore, do not call this physical form the Guru. Do not call this human mind the Guru. Do not call me the Guru. But, what is the Guru within me? The Guru within me is that power. I think with this, Swāmījī gives us clear guidance on what it means to understand the Guru. And that when we really understand the Guru, that means at the same time we really understand ourselves. I feel myself quite close to Buddhism. Sometimes it’s interesting to get inspiration from there. In some Buddhist books, they use the term Guru Yoga. I love it, because just think on Mahāprabhujī’s bhajans. It’s already hard to choose any bhajan in which he does not speak about the Guru. If you deeply understand Swāmījī’s teaching, it is all about that one point. If you try to understand Swāmījī’s teaching, it is deeply related to this single point. And they say the guru is your spiritual friend. That sentence is quite acceptable, no? And this one is quite acceptable. But straight away, the next sentence is, “And the duty of your spiritual friend is to attack you.” About this, we have to think a little bit. That means not to attack me, but to attack our ego. That’s the duty of a guru. Now, think: put yourself in the position of a guru. So, how to do it? That means, basically, the master all the time has to find a way he wants to help us, but that we are not too offended and just run away. When the Guru attacks you because he wants to take out your ego, that hurts. Sometimes it happens that we cannot accept it. Then we turn against the Guru, blame the Guru, and go away from the Guru. It doesn’t matter for the guru. Gurujī knows anyway, but it matters for us. That means just one chance lost. Swami Sivanandaji said that previously, before he became a saint, he was a medical doctor. He puts it in similar words. Like a doctor removes the ill organ from the body, in the same way, the guru makes the operation to take out the ego from the disciple. And sometimes he forgets this, how is it called, narcosis. Sometimes it hurts. That is the process in which we are, but once it is done, we will be happy. We will be happy and healthy, and our life changes. That is a promise, the promise which we gave to Swāmījī, to follow him till the end, and the promise which he gave us to guide us till the end. So we should not stop halfway. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān, Kī Jai. Before I start, for two days I’ve forgotten to ask one question. Does anyone have, or did anyone have in the last two days, a birthday? Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday dear Guru Sista... Happy Birthday, dear Paramahaṁśrī Swāmī Maheśvarānanda Purījī, Satguru Devakī Jeho. Before, Gajananjī and I were discussing what was going to be the topic, and I told him we’ll do like in ballroom dancing, that he will be the lead and I’ll just follow. He will be the dancer who will do it, and I will just follow him. This morning someone asked me a question. It was asked, actually, about what is the difference between worshipping the god with form or the formless god. But perhaps you could ask the same question: do you need to have a guru or not have a guru? So as Gajanandjī is leading, I will just dance with him on his last point. I guess, in theory, you could get mokṣa without having a guru. But it would be the equivalent of doing that operation yourself without anesthesia. And if you think that you can remove your own organs, looking at a mirror, with no painkiller, I’ll go with the guru and request narcosis. Another thing Gajananjī was talking about was the pāras stone, the pāras, this stone that turns lead into gold. I actually find that if you become a disciple, on the days when you are actually managing to be a proper disciple, every good thing that happens, every difficult thing that happens, every painful thing that happens, and every time that nothing happens, they are all gold. Because they’re all teaching you something. When you become open as a disciple, then all of those things that were before hidden are revealed. That which was just part of a mundane daily life becomes a golden chance for you to learn something for your spiritual path. So for me, that is that pāras gold. Part 2: Guru Pūrṇimā Reflections: The Inner Flame and the Guru’s Grace That is Gurujī applying it to the disciple. And the next step, as Gajānandjī said—when the guru transforms someone into a pārasmaṇi—that is another matter. Now I have stopped following Gajānandjī, and I forgot what I wished to say. Who will sing afterwards, by the way? I do not know. Guru Pūrṇimā, Guru Pūrṇimā, Guru Pūrṇimā… It is the time when the moon is full. It is the time when we try to make our understanding full as well. The moon is always there. We may see half of it, or a quarter of it, or it may be dark. Yet it is always there, and the same is true: the Guru is always inside us. That light which Gurujī kindled within us when he gave us mantra—it will always be there. I was thinking this morning: you can imagine the Guru Vākya that is inside, the Guru Tattva that is inside all of us, as a loudspeaker. Its sound is constantly there; it is constantly singing. We do not have to do anything to make it sing. But somehow, because of our impurities, our delusion—or in a way, because of our impurities, our deceit, our ignorance—they are like pillows and blankets piled up on top of that speaker, so we simply cannot hear the sound. And the Guru also helps us to remove those coverings from the speaker. In the beginning, that speaker is so covered that you can hear nothing at all. Slowly, the Guru begins his operation, and one by one, he removes those covers. As he starts to remove them, the sound begins to come through very faintly. Then, as you begin to hear the sound, hopefully we all begin to help him remove those covers. And every day, in every part of our life, we must try to keep removing them so that we can hear the full sound. At the same time, we must make sure we do not pile them back on top each time he tries to remove them. But no matter what, no matter how many covers are there, that sound is still there. And it is in all of us. I have a spiritual name, and somehow its meaning is akin to appreciation. Some, when Indians translate it, say it means you will receive lots and lots of appreciation. I actually think the meaning of the name is to appreciate everybody else. Because the beauty that is in all of us—in every single disciple who sits with Swāmījī, in everyone who has that mantra—to simply see that as beauty is indescribable. There is a story from the Jewish tradition. One rabbi and his students were sitting with him, discussing a morning prayer. They were asking, “When is the proper time to say this prayer?” It is meant to be recited exactly at the point of sunrise. But when is first light? What is the definition of that first light? It is said that the prayer should be sung at the moment of the first light, but when is the first light? So the students were asking their master. One said, “Is it the moment when you can see what colour the leaves on the tree are?” He said, “No, that is not it.” The next one said, “Is it the point where, in the distance, you can tell whether an animal is a dog or a sheep?” He said, “No, no, that is not it.” “Is it the point when, if I hold my hand in front of me, I can see the lines on my hand?” Again, no. And they said, “Gurujī, when is it?” He replied, “It is the moment when there is enough light that you can see that everyone around you is your brother and sister. That is the right moment for pūjā.” If we could all see that—not only here, but in the whole world—what a place it would be. As they say in Sanskrit, vasu deva kuṭumbakam. The whole world is our family, but who realises it? And to simply see that beauty in every single person… Next, Gajānandjī was speaking about the Guru giving you repairing. Sometimes I have unusual examples, and this one is a little off-centre. It involves boxing. I always used to feel that Gurujī’s love was so strong, and he would draw me in so close to him. It was as if he would come and say, “Oh, how are you?”—not physically, but mentally—and he would place one arm on your shoulder, and you would be walking along so close together. Because then, when he had you like this, ready, with a hold on this shoulder, he would go… and give you some spiritual repair. But here is where the principle of boxing comes in. When two boxers are fighting, if they ever get too close to each other and find themselves in that situation, they just grab each other with both hands. Because if you try to pull away at that point, it is really easy for him to get a good swing. But the closer you come, you are just stuck, and it can only be small, small taps on your chin. So when Gurujī is giving you the hardest time, do not try to pull away—get in closer. It is safer there. When surfing, waves may be very big. The quiet place is in the middle of the wave; the quietest place is deep inside. You do not try to run away from a big wave when it is coming towards you. You do not run backwards, and you do not try to jump over. You go into it, in the same way. Similarly, when the waves are high, when the Guru is challenging you intensely, the safest place is to go into your heart, to go into your practice, and to draw close. I wanted to tell two short stories—one about Swāmījī and one about Gurujī. The one about Swāmījī is very recent. They are not incredible spiritual stories in the sense of amazing events, but just small things that show that love. In February, we were at a function with Swāmījī in a small village between Jodhpur and Kathu. Somehow we arrived in the evening at a village where a function had been arranged, and it was not well organised. There were no facilities to speak of: a very thin tent, a very big loudspeaker… The man organising the function was very old, and although he was the head of the village, he was not wealthy. He had been a disciple of Gurujī and Mahāprabhujī, and when he learned that Swāmījī might stay elsewhere, he simply started to weep. He said, “Swāmījī, if you do not stay here in my house, I will kill myself.” From the moment Swāmījī saw him weeping, he said, “I will stay here.” It was extremely cold, and Swāmījī was also unwell, but he was simply saying, “Look, this is my bhakta; what can I do?” We spent half an hour trying to reason with the bhakta and with Swāmījī, pleading, “Please, Swāmījī, for your health…” But there was no question. Swāmījī actually slept in that tent, this far from the loudspeaker. I am quite sure he did not sleep a single moment that night. There were many mosquitoes; it was very dusty. There was just one curtain between him and the satsaṅg. Yet from the very first moment, there was never any question or possibility of negotiating that he would not stay. The other story—this is not a webcast, is it? It is. I have to express the way Gurujī cared. I was thinking last night after satsaṅg: how foolish it is to say one was in Gurujī’s sevā. Because, in truth, he was doing the sevā—taking such care, protecting so much, and giving so abundantly in blessings and love—that it was simply a very good bargain for the sevā. Just an amazing experience. Before we go, I would like us to do one small meditation together. I always like to reflect, as we sing the bhajan jyotā se jyotā, on my own spiritual light. When Gurujī gave us the mantra, he lit that light inside us, that deep light. And although he can keep relighting it for us, actually it is our responsibility to protect it, to keep it burning, and to let it shine. There is a glass around the flame on the altar here, to protect it from the wind; indeed it does protect it. But if the glass is not clear, we do not see the light. That does not mean the light is not burning; it is only that from outside we cannot see it, because of our malavikṣepa and āvaraṇa—because of that curtain and our impurities. And during our daily life, so many things come, like the wind, constantly threatening to extinguish that light. Think for a moment about the first year you were a disciple of Swāmījī. Recall the intensity with which you felt that mantra within you in the first days after you took it; try to retain a small measure of that wonder every day. When you have something with you all the time, you tend to become indifferent to it; you tend to forget about it. And at Guru Pūrṇimā, it is always important to come back and once again notice what we truly have. When mental disturbances and outside situations are really shaking you, our mantra and our guru-bhakti protect that flame. It does not matter how long a candle has been burning—whether five minutes or five hours—it can still go out if we do not take care of it. We must tend it at every moment. Swāmījī can give us everything. But you know, if you have a small child, you can constantly give them toys; if they keep smashing them, after a time you feel a little frustrated. Swāmījī gives us the ultimate gift, and we should simply take care of it. So I ask everyone to close their eyes for a short while. It will only be for ten or fifteen minutes, but please try to be comfortable. Just try to be still and at ease. It is good that the wind is blowing. Be aware for a moment that though the wind may blow everywhere outside, it cannot affect the inside of your body. Your hair may blow, your clothes may move, but inside, one can always remain still. Be relaxed. Relax your face and your shoulders. Try to sit comfortably and straight. Make your breathing as soft as you can—so soft that as your breath moves in and out, it would not disturb a flame placed within your Anāhata Cakra. So soft that it would not disturb the flame. Breathe as gently as you can, with no sound. Breathe normally, not deeply. Soft, delicate. Be aware of your Anāhata Cakra. Be aware of that light of knowledge burning there, which came from Swāmījī. It arrived with our Guru Mantra, and it is part of our inner relationship with our Gurudev. Feel it still and steady within you. Breathe so softly as not to disturb it. Let your mantra and your bhakti be the protection that surrounds that flame, protecting the flame just as the glass protects the flame on the altar. Be aware that the light from that flame is not only for you. Let it shine out so that everyone may share in it. Let yourself be just a small, small part of that prasāda—Swāmījī’s love, compassion, and blessing towards us. In our own small, small way, we give whatever love and light we can to the world and to all our brothers and sisters, whenever they need it. For a few minutes, enjoy the presence of a spiritual family—sharing each other’s light and the blessing of being able to sit at Gurujī’s feet, whether he is physically here or not, simply showered by his blessing. And for a moment, remember the saṅkalpa you have taken for this year, and reaffirm it within yourself. Take from Swāmījī the strength that you will be able to fulfil it, and make the conviction that, next year, you will come and lay its fruits at his feet. When you decide that next year you will bring the fruits this saṅkalpa has yielded to Swāmījī’s feet and offer them as prasāda, as dakṣiṇā… Jyot se jyot jagābo, Satguru jyot se jyot jagābo, Merā antar timira miṭāvo, Satguru jyot se jyot jagābo. He Yogeśvara, He Gyāneśvara, He Yogeśvara, He Gyāneśvara, He Parama Sarveśvara, He Sarveśvara, He Parameśvara, Nija Kṛpā Barasāvo, Satya Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo, Merā Antara Timira Miṭāvo, Satya Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo. Ammā baha lākhā tera dvāra pe āye, Sat Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo… Śiṣyajī kyā kare terī āratī, Śiśa jhukāye kare terī āratī, prema sudhā barasāvo, Sat Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo. Antarameṁ yuga yuga se soī, Sat Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo, Mero antar timira miṭhāvo. Sat Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo. Saccī jyot jāge hṛdaya meṁ, So’haṁ nara jagāvo, Sat Guru Jyot se Jyot Jagāvo, Jīvana mukta ānanda amīnāsī śaraṇānā, Śaraṇa la game, Satva Guru Jyotsya Jyotsya game. Jaya Śrī Śrī Dev Puruṣa Mahādeva Kī Jaya, Dharma Samrāṭ Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Madhavānandapurījī Mahārāj Kī Jaya, Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Maheśvarānandapurījī Satguru Deva Kī Jaya. Thank you for the most wonderful experience, and thanks to Swāmījī for being with us throughout Guru Pūrṇimā. Although he may be in Jadan, we know he was here. And because many people will now leave, I would also like to say thank you to all the karma yogīs here in Strilky. Thank you for creating such a wonderful programme, and to Sadhvī Pārvatī Jī, and everyone here, and to Gajānand Jī—it is a pleasure to be with you—and to the translators, the cooks, the gardeners, and everybody. One last little story. When we sing that mantra, Oṁ Pūrṇamadaḥ Pūrṇamidam… I think everyone will have fond memories of Nirañjanānandajī Mahārāj. I saw the photos last week of when he was in Bratislava. The scene was the Kumbha Melā in Ilāhābād, the last time, in 2007. Just as the Kumbha was about to begin, there was a gathering of all the Mahāmaṇḍaleśvaras of the Akhāṛā. All were seated in a large circle, and their brahmacārīs and āsandārīs and everyone else sat in the middle. A microphone was being passed around, and each one was offering his message about the importance of the Kumbha Melā, the month ahead, and his wisdom. Each person spoke for about five minutes and then handed the microphone to the next. One of the last to speak was Nirañjanānandajī. As you know, he has a very deep voice. He took the mic and went, “Om Pūrṇamadaḥ Pūrṇamidam,” and so on, and began to sing. He simply sang this mantra. Then he stopped. There was silence. The Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara sitting next to him asked, “But what about your speech?” He just replied, “Pūrṇam. It’s all there.” Everyone burst out laughing, and it carried on all day. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān Kī Jai, Satguru Devakī Jai.