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Living as Sannyasin

The spiritual path transcends worldly distinctions of gender and origin. Ātmā has no gender; a woman's spiritual capacity equals a man's. Sannyāsa Dīkṣā is the highest initiation, a serious step not to be taken lightly. Being a disciple is beautiful yet difficult, as is being a sannyāsī. The connection felt with the Guru during initiation is indescribable, experienced with all one's being. The initial joy is like a honeymoon, followed by the real work of integration. True sannyāsa means living as a renunciate before the formal rite. The orange cloth is the color of fire, burning away mistakes and offering protection. A sannyāsī's home is the āśram, realizing the whole world as home. Authentic knowledge is not merely heard but experienced in the heart. All paths, whether as a sannyāsī or a parent, require full embrace without reservation. The essence of yoga is transformation, beyond body, gender, or nationality. The only boundary is one's practice. The core of everything is the relationship with the Guru and one's sādhanā.

"To renounce just for the sake of doing it is not the way that can lead us."

"The only boundary is the one we make, whether we’re practicing or we’re not practicing."

Filming locations: Zagreb, Croatia.

I want to share my experience from a woman’s perspective. For me, it was a completely new experience that on a spiritual path—on our spiritual path—a woman can be on the same level as a man. Ātmā is not feminine or male, so a woman does not only clean here. Women hold very important positions, are very strong in the spiritual sense, and have many students. That was something completely new for me, considering the culture from which I come. Sannyāsa Dīkṣā is the highest initiation into sannyāsa. It is the most important step, and one should not decide on it lightly, God forbid, merely out of desire or just for the sake of it. Being a student, you all know, is simultaneously the most beautiful thing that can happen to you in life, but it is difficult. To be a disciple is one of the most beautiful things in life, but it’s not always easy. In the same way, to be a sannyāsī is the best possible, but it’s also not easy. From my experience, I was not consciously looking for a Guru in life, but my Ātmā was searching, and finally Swāmījī found me. The same happened for me with Sannyāsa Dīkṣā. Swāmījī, you know... I don’t know when my time is. So it was like this. It is hard to describe Sannyāsa Dīkṣā, even though you, like me, may not be inclined to experience spirituality primarily through emotions. You will hardly hear me describe things through visions or dreams. But I must admit, during sannyāsa dīkṣā you can feel it not only in this physical body, but with all of your bodies. The connection you feel with your Guru during that time is something indescribable. I think everyone could see it because of the constant smiles on our faces those days. We had no need for food for two days, really no need. And that was the whole Kumbh Melā, of course, the time around Sannyāsa Dīkṣā. Everyone who was there saw it. You also feel the responsibility towards the ākhāṛā and paramparā to which you belong. Even as a disciple you are responsible, but as a sannyāsī, this responsibility goes to a higher level. My first meeting with the fact that I am a sannyāsī happened the next morning. I woke up and I saw an orange cloth near my bed. I was a bit shocked. I realized this is my cloth, and that the same cloth was my Gurudev’s. Again, how beautiful is that as a realization. That first month, I often like to describe, was a honeymoon. But as everyone knows, after the honeymoon comes the marriage, with all the issues and all the work you have to do to keep it going, so you have to work on it. My first realization of that reality was at the airport in Zagreb. It wasn't the same anymore. The whole time I have been a sannyāsī, the happiness that exists on a deeper level remains the same, regardless of difficulties. It is constantly on a high level. What is important to say is that sannyāsa should come in a natural way. In a way, you should become a sannyāsī before sannyāsa dīkṣā. Renounce and enjoy, not renounce and suffer. As you might know, I often say in the Zagreb āśram: to renounce just for the sake of doing it is not the way that can lead us. The way it should be is to make your life first the life of a sannyāsī, and then to have sannyāsa dīkṣā. I will tell you one story about how knowledge constantly continues, and learning constantly continues. It’s not a level where now you are a sannyāsī and you know everything, and this is it. You can even say that the issues and experiences you are having are now on a higher level. Swāmījī said during our sannyāsa dīkṣā—and he often talks about it—this cloth has the color of fire. Of course, each mistake that a sannyāsī makes, this fire will burn him down. At the same time, this is protection. And the same thing works in two directions. It only depends on you. Somehow, the next time I came to India, I was having quite a difficult time. Basically, when you come back to the West, you feel, or they look at you, like you betrayed the religion that was there. And when you come back to India, for some Indians, you are like a foreigner that is playing with their religion. As Jāstrajī said yesterday, I was not overwhelmed by homesickness. My question was: where is my home? What should I strive for? Where is my home? You always hear that a sannyāsī’s home is everywhere, and at the same time, he doesn’t have a place to stay. It seems nice. But in reality, to accept it and to live it, it’s not so easy. Thanks to God, Swāmījī works with this experience in a way that he makes it deeper, so we learn from it. So this was one interesting game, Līlā. At any place we came together, it was a game like: "No, no... here only male sannyāsīs are sitting. After that, male disciples should sit." There was a situation at one point when I was standing in the middle of the group, and I didn’t know where to sit and where my place was at all. At that moment I looked, there was a dog lying there in the dust. And even he looked at me. So, you know, female sannyāsī, no home, no place to sit, no nothing. It was a really hard time for me. I was so depressed, I was so sad. I felt really, really bad. I forgot to speak in Croatian, so I started speaking in English... and I will continue in Croatian. On our way, we came to Katua. I came out from the bus in the state I was in. There was, of course, no place in the bus for me to sit. I got off the bus and I came into the main entrance of the āśram. And then I felt physically the hug, and I heard the words, "Welcome home." And this was the answer for me. The home of a sannyāsī is an āśram. And then I understood what it means that the whole world is a home for a sannyāsī. All the time, knowledge and tad (that)—this is the difference. To hear something beautiful is only one level of understanding things. The next level is to experience it. Only the knowledge that you experience in your heart is really the knowledge you have. From there, my only prayer is to Mahāprabhujī and to all our paramparā: Please, let me stay. That’s enough. Nothing else is needed. You should stay, and you should, from your heart, put yourself into their hands. I renounce myself. I make my label on my shirt or whatever, but from the heart. Not declaratively, but from the heart. That would be it. I remember once talking with my brother about when he got his first child, his first boy. And it reminded me of what Ānandājī was just saying about arriving at Croatia’s airport. He said that he’d been through all these classes explaining how to take care of the baby when it would come, and what to do, and this and that. And it was so beautiful in the hospital, and everyone was there and helping, and it was such a wonderful experience. And then he said they got home, and suddenly he and his partner realized, "Hang on, this is for real." Now we’re on our own. Now we’ve got to do something. Now we’re alone. What now? I think it pretty much sums up the same feeling. This is a similar feeling that perhaps all of us experience when getting back from the Kumbh Melā after taking sannyāsa. It’s very different to be with that child in the hospital, where there are so many nurses with so much experience giving advice. And the same in the Kumbh Melā, surrounded by that energy of sannyāsīs and everything. But once you get home, then the practice starts. I remember the same last year after the Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Dīkṣā. It was beautiful until afterwards we got back to the camp. And suddenly these cameras were waiting there, and I thought, what am I going to say now? I’m not ready for this. Nothing can prepare you for that. I don’t think anyone can say the same about being a parent. I don’t think anyone can really say that they’re ready until it happens and they start to have to deal with it. Although you can prepare yourself as best as you can to be a sannyāsī and really start to live like that, when it really happens, it’s something different. Ānandājī was saying a little bit about this difference that people perceive between men and women being sannyāsīs. Last year, I would say I can relate completely to that because I got to experience the same thing. "How can a foreigner be a Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara?" But you know, if you don’t believe that’s possible, or if you keep these differences based on our bodies and our origin, then you’re basically saying that yoga is rubbish. Because the whole principle of yoga is that you can transform yourself. As in all those bhajans, it’s written that it turned the crow into the swan. I agree. I think I’m a pretty good crow. But that power of yoga can change any crow into a swan. It doesn’t matter if it’s a male crow, a female crow, an Australian crow, a Croatian crow... from wherever, from India, whatever, what’s the difference? Yoga can change anything. And that’s something that touched me about the Kumbh Melā, with the fact that the āśrama actually listened to what Swāmījī requested, and what some of the other Mahāmaṇḍaleśvaras had said, that yes, let’s do it. It was a really beautiful acknowledgement from their side that yes, that is yoga. It’s not about me; I may be the worst choice they ever made. But it’s an acknowledgement of the possibility that that can happen, that anybody can make it. Any one of us, any one of Swāmījī’s disciples, it doesn’t matter where you came from. And it doesn’t matter which cloth you’re wearing, but that transformation, that is possible. That’s real, and somebody like Swāmījī has that ability to be able to make that happen. So at that time, I was stocking up on little phrases, which Swāmījī was also supplying me with. There was one particular Śaṅkarācārya who did not at all like the fact that a foreigner was made a Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara. In the beginning, the media were quite intimidating about that. But after a short while, it ended up that there was one function, and on the stage was Swāmījī and a few other big names of sannyāsīs, this Śaṅkarācārya and me. Of course, as we walked in, Swāmījī sort of went, "Oh, look, your friend’s here." He was really enjoying it. I don’t know if you know, with these Śaṅkarācāryas, they have in front of them the Caraṇa Pādukā, and they’re made out of silver. It represents the original Śaṅkarācārya Jī’s sandals, and the pūjā is actually done to those sandals. I was sitting there in the function, thinking away because the introductions were going on, and I started inside to laugh. Because it’s made of a substance called German silver. I thought, look, everyone’s doing pūjā to the German silver here. What’s the problem about which country it’s from? Obviously, Germans are pretty good. They’re getting all the pūjā. I looked at his chair, and it’s also made from the same stuff. And then I was looking at his car. And I thought, well, that’s like his chariot, you know, and what he rides on. It was a Chrysler. It was from America. I was also thinking about, you know, in all the temples there, the best marble which they get for making the mūrtis in the temples. Where does it come from? Italy. Again, they’re doing pūjā to the Italians. And for all of these things, all of the mūrtis, you know, it doesn’t matter if it’s made out of lead or it’s made out of stone or cement or mud. It doesn’t matter. Once the prāṇa pratiṣṭhā is done, when they put the prāṇa inside that mūrti, it’s no longer a marble statue or a cement statue. It’s Kṛṣṇa, or it’s Śiva. And once Swāmījī gives you that mantra dīkṣā, you’re no longer a man from Austria or a lady from Croatia, or whatever. You’re a yogī. And as long as you’re practicing, you’re a yogī. There’s no sex to that, there’s no country to that, anything, it’s without any boundaries. The only boundary is the one we make, whether we’re practicing or we’re not practicing. There’s one beautiful saying in Hindi. It says, "Don’t ask a sādhu which caste they’re from. Ask them about their knowledge." When you’re doing... then it talks about a sword. It says, when you’re purchasing a sword, check how sharp the blade is. And don’t look at how much decoration is on the cover. Because what good is that decoration going to do you if you are using your sword? It’s what is inside, it’s the way that we practice that is so important. It is the relation that we have with the Master and the relation we have with our sādhanā. In Śrīla Kriyā, I was singing the Guru Aṣṭakam, the Śaṅkarācārya’s eight ślokas. And at the end, Śaṅkarācārya jī says one line: yatir bhūpatir brahmacārī chāgehī—the family person, the king, the brahmacārī, and the sannyāsī. Everyone can benefit from that understanding of the guru. What Śaṅkarācārya jī is actually saying is that the actions which you make in your life, the lifestyle which you have, are not all-important. So, again, it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or if you have a simple life. What’s relevant is that relation and that practice which you are doing. And whichever is your lifestyle, embrace it fully. Not as in just forget about any discipline and do whatever you like, but to embrace it as a yoga, as a sādhanā, as a practice. As sannyāsīs, we embrace that life fully. It’s not part-time. This evening, you forget about being sannyāsīs for two hours. It’s 24 hours. And as a parent also, just to embrace it fully, the children are your sannyāsa. When children are young and a parent is really being fully a parent, then they renounce everything for that child. You work, you live to give something to the child. And every moment that you have spare, it goes to that relation with your children, to giving them love, and to giving them the knowledge which you have. And every movement which you make, you do with awareness that your example is affecting them. So it means that your whole life somehow becomes a yoga class for your children. And if you’re living with that type of awareness, then what a beautiful path. But again, in that situation, there’s no time off. It’s 24-hour. Because every move which you make, everything is perceived by those children whom you have, and they are learning from it. That is another form of sannyāsa because you renounce yourself for those children at that time. On that family path also, later on again comes the renunciation, because at one stage you have to let go of those children and let them be themselves. To let them express their understanding of what they got from you, and then to learn themselves from the world. Our path is beautiful. There’s no doubt it’s such a beautiful feeling to be a sannyāsī. But every path is beautiful, depending on how you apply yourself to it. We restrict ourselves by holding back, by not giving everything to the path that we have. Half of our energy is lost holding ourselves back, to not let ourselves go into that. Sometimes I hear parents with young children say, "But now I have no time for myself." I don’t understand what’s negative about that. Of course, you have no time for yourself because you have something so beautiful which you can give time to. What else would you do with that time of life? It’s ticking, it’s going past so quickly, they’re growing up so quickly. And afterwards, you’ll have so much time, you’ll wish they were young again. Now, whatever path we have, whatever we’re doing, just give it fully. Give what you can as a yogī with that awareness. And give it with love and just let it flow. Gajananjī in Strelka was translating the bhajan "Chakalena Musafir Gundagiri." And it talked about this nectar which comes through yoga. And the fact is that as much as you drink, it just keeps coming and coming and coming. As much love as we give to other people, as much as we give to our family, to our friends, to our yoga family, our children, whatever... if you let that flow, it’s never going to be empty inside. It just comes more and more and more. But to let it flow without nervousness, just to let it flow. Just give it, don’t expect it back. Give, give... More will come. It will come from inside you; you don’t need to get it from outside. And when you can give like that, it comes anyhow back. Ambole Sridhik Narayan Bhagwan Niki Shadiram Chitram Dhanam Meru Tuliam Manas Chhena Kalatram dhanam putra potrādi sarvam graham vandava sarvam etadi jātam, Śraddhāṅgādi vedo mukhe śāstra vidyā kavitāvādi gaḍayaṁ supadhyāṁ karoti, manas chenalagnam guru raṅgri padme, tathākiṁ tathākiṁ... Pīdeśe śūnyā, svadeśe śūdhānyā, sadācāra vīteṣu matto na cānyā, manas cenna lagnam, guru raṅgre padme, tathākim tathākim... tathākim, kṣamāmāṇḍale bhūpa-bhūpāla-vṛnde sadāsevitam yasya pādāravindam manas-cenna-lagnam guru-raṅgre-padme tathākim tathākim... Yashome gatam tikṣudāna prajāpad yaśas charu chitram param devas adāt manas chena lagnam guru raṅgri padme tatakim tatakim... Na bhoge, na yoghe, na vāṇijye rājo, na kāntām uge, neva vitte śuchittam, manas chena lagnam, guru raṅgri padme, tathā kim, tathā kim,... tathā kim. Āraṇyena vā svasya gehe na kāriye, Nadehe mano vartate me tvarṇāgye. Manas cenna lagnam gururaṅgre padme, Tatakiṁ tatakiṁ... Gururastakam yatipatet punyadehi yatir bhupatir brahmachari chagehi labhedvanchi tatham param brahma sanjna guru-rukta-vakya manoyasya-lagnam, guru-rukta-vakya manoyasya-lagnam. There’s one line in there that saved me in the Kumbh Melā. It says that you may have all of the knowledge of all the Vedas. And you may speak the śāstras as if they actually came from your own mouth. And you may be the most perfect poet that ever came on the earth. But if you haven’t come to an understanding of your guru and the guru’s words, and understood what his feet mean, then what is it? What is it? What is it? Nothing. But if you don’t understand the words of your Guru and what your Guru means to you, his feet, what does he have? The whole lot of ślokas goes on about that, the different qualities which you can have, wonderful things which you can have, but still, without that understanding and without that relation with the Guru, it doesn’t get you there. So, of course, in the Kumbh Melā they were saying, "But you don’t know all the Vedas." He said, "No." Why I learned that before the Kumbh Melā, I have no idea, this śloka, because I found it beautiful. And there was one camera stuck in my face, saying, "You don’t know all the Vedas." And there was one other Mahāmaṇḍaleśvarjī with me. And there was another Mahāmaṇḍaleśvarjī next to me. And that verse came to my mind, and I just sang it on camera. And Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara laughed and said, "Oh, great!" He hugged me and we just left. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

This text is transcribed and grammar corrected by AI. If in doubt what was actually said in the recording, use the transcript to double click the desired cue. This will position the recording in most cases just before the sentence is uttered.

The text contains hyperlinks in bold to three authoritative books on yoga, written by humans, to clarify the context of the lecture:

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