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Part 1: The Sound Within: Community, Sādhanā, and the Inner Peace Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jai, Śrī Śrī Devpurījī Mahādeva Kī Jai, Dharma Samrāṭ Paramahaṁsa, Śrī Svāmī Māravānanda Purī Jī Mahārāj Kī Jai, Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa, Śrī Svāmī Maheśvarānanda Purī Jī, Satguru Deva Kī Jai. I love it when Swamījī says, “How I was giving a report.” In Strīlky, he was saying that Jasrāj will be watching and giving a report on everybody who is there. I immediately got nervous, because I thought, “I’m one, but there will be 700 reports about me.” So I’m sure they will come. This is like acclimatizing for India again. Nice to be here. I’m a bit speechless tonight. I think Swamījī saved the best till last. I’ve been around Europe now for two months. The most amazing experience for me was, as I was telling last night in Rijeka, that I have been in India for the last fifteen or sixteen years, and I hear so much about Europe and what is happening in the āśrams. But nothing I heard prepared me for what I now experience. Such a special atmosphere everywhere. I knew about Strilky and Vienna Ashram, and I’d been to Vepa, but I couldn’t have imagined how many places there are with such strong yoga communities, and such an atmosphere in the ashrams during satsaṅg. Every day was like a new surprise—in Slovakia, Hungary, the Czech Republic. The most unbelievable thing to see. When you come from outside, you see things from a different perspective. Tourists come to Sydney and say, “We want to see the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House,” and we just say, “Oh, yeah, okay.” It’s normal when you see it all the time. Perhaps for people who are here all the time, you also think this is normal satsaṅg, this energy. The experience of seeing people who have been practicing for so long, who have been with Swāmījī for thirty-five or forty years, and seeing their energy and the way they are, is just special. For me, it makes me appreciate what it is to be with Swāmījī even more than I ever appreciated before. I say this so perhaps we can all think about what we have and enjoy it more and more. In Jaipur, many of you have been to the Jaipur Āśram. It’s quite a high building. Some of you may have seen how it started. Premanandjī always says, “I don’t know how it’s standing up,” because the foundation underneath is only about this deep—it used to be a garage. And with Swāmījī, he just said, “Oh yeah, build one more story,” and then another. But it’s still there, standing. I suspect the neighbors have the same foundation, and the ones behind, and on the other side. How does it all stay up? Premanandjī and I often discussed it, and we decided that if anybody took their house down, the next one would probably fall sideways. They’re all holding each other up, so close together. That’s satsaṅg. That’s this satsaṅg community. When someone is having a hard time, the rest of our satsaṅg holds that person up. That’s what we’re here for as a family, a yoga family. Sometimes it will be my hard time, sometimes Ānanda Jī’s, Vivek Purī Jī’s, or anyone else’s. But because the community stays together, when one person is struggling, another is doing well, and we hold each other up. That’s the beauty of such a community—to lift each other to a higher level. That’s why it’s so special to gather, to have weekly satsaṅg, to be in programs together as much as possible. The feeling in Strilky during the Anuṣṭhān and seminars was one of togetherness, enjoying each other’s company. Where do you find such beautiful people who can all come together? In today’s world, where can you get so many special people gathering? Don’t forget that joy, that specialness of satsaṅg, which Swamiji has created by building these ashrams and communities and giving his guidance. Sometimes it will be our turn to have a hard time, but to keep coming inside is so special. This past few days, swimming has been my theme, and it always makes me think of surfing. The only thing missing from the Adriatic coast is some waves. I’m worried about falling asleep. I told this story last night in Rijeka, so I apologize if you heard it. It’s a childhood experience. I was a little boy out in the surf, and a big wave came toward me. I tried to run. If you ever go into the surf in Australia, don’t try to run—it does not work. I tried to run from the wave, and it got higher and higher. Waves are a bit like our mind’s vṛttis. They cruise across the sea, and you hardly notice them when your sādhanā is deep and you are strong in it. They just go along and don’t really matter. A wave only shows its true size and force when it reaches shallow water. In the same way, our vṛttis really show their force if we start to lose our connection with sādhanā, with Swāmījī, or with satsaṅg. When that wave came to the shallow place where I stood, the bottom part hit the sand and stopped, but the back of the water rose up above my head. Then it took me, threw me into the air, and slammed me down. I hit the sand so hard, I lost my breath, had back pain. They took me back to the shore, and after ten minutes I recovered, stopped crying. Then a lifeguard grabbed my hand and took me back out. I screamed, “No, no...” I was scared. But he held my hand firmly, and we went. I never knew that man, never saw him again, but he did me a great service that day. He took me back to the same place, and the waves came again and again. I was terrified. He just said, “Now sit down.” That seemed a bit against logic at that moment—the wave was above my head, a huge amount of water. He said, “Sit down on the sand and go under it.” Down there it was completely peaceful. Underneath the wave, there was no disturbance at all. We lay on the sand and watched it go over our heads. He kept doing it with me again and again. Bigger waves came, and he’d say, “Go under, go under.” I learned my lesson about waves. For me, it’s a good image of what happens in our sādhanā. When those waves come, when our issues come up, when things from within or from outside challenge us, peace is inside—inside our sādhanā. Peace exists within us, in our present moment. It is precisely at those times that we need to go even deeper. That is when we need to use the tools Swamijī has given us: mantra, kriyā, our practice, and satsaṅg. If you try to go over the waves or run from them, you inevitably get smashed, like I did. But the peace is down; the peace is to go in. All of us have those tools; Swāmījī has given them to us. The hard thing is just to use them when we really should—at those most important moments when the challenges come. Swamiji said recently, when speaking on the phone, that he was giving a blessing that everybody should get realized in this life. Let’s do it. I love that Nike ad: “Let’s do it.” We’ve talked a few times about asking Nike for sponsorship for the Om Āśram. They could place where the Sūrya temple is, and Chandra underneath, in the shape of the Om symbol—well, the Nike symbol. Underneath the Om Āśram, you could write, “Let’s do it.” It’s one of those things that’s so big, but as Swamijī said, let’s do it. When Swamiji says something like he just said tonight, why not? What is stopping you? What is stopping me? What is stopping any of us? Swamijī said something in Jadan a while ago, in Hindi: “The only thing that’s stopping you on your spiritual path is yourself.” The only thing blocking that development. He was giving a satsaṅg about Guru Kṛpā. Everything from his side is there—from paramparā, the teachings, the mantra, everything. If we choose to let that happen within us or not, that is our part. There’s a beautiful part in the Matrix movie when Neo starts doing freaky things, and in the control room they ask, “What’s going on?” Morpheus says, “He’s starting to believe.” We have to have that belief. It’s the least we owe to Swāmījī, after all his effort, work, and blessing, that we believe we can make something happen on our spiritual path. As a community, what stops every one of us? And if we’re not going to make it there in this life, at least to start running toward that goal. Gurujī says it again and again in the bhajans: “Baitū Majagore Enchete Cheta Abhijīva Jñānī. Get on with it. Wake up.” Every moment is passing; we shouldn’t waste it. I really feel sorry for translators who have to translate my bizarre Australian-Indian khicṛī, combined with a mouth completely dry from the salt of the Adriatic Sea. Why shouldn’t every one of us have that belief? There is a beautiful story about a master, a sādhu, a swāmī, who came to a town. He was a master of Vedānta. One community there always invited spiritual people to speak, so they invited him to give a lecture on Vedānta. The topic was set, the hall was full, and he came. He sat down and said, “Do you know what I’m going to talk about today?” Of course, everyone knew the topic was Vedānta, so they all said yes. He said, “Okay, if you know what I’m going to talk about, I don’t need to say it.” And he walked out. What could they do? He was gone. They invited him back the next week. Again he came, sat down, and said, “Who knows what I’m going to talk about?” This time, having learned, they all said no. He said, “If you don’t know about the subject, then you’re not ready to hear about it,” and walked out. The following week, they made a plan. He came, sat, and asked, “Do you know what I’m going to talk about?” Half the room said yes, half said no. He said, “Excellent. Those who know can explain to those who don’t,” and left. They really wanted to hear him speak, so they invited him one more time, though they were quite confused about what to do if the dreaded question came again. He came, sat down, and asked, “Do you know what I’m going to talk about?” This time there was complete silence. He said, “Good, now you’re ready to hear what I have to say.” Swamiji’s message is there for us, his teaching, everything. When we can silence our own mind and opinions to hear that message, when we can calm our mind, then we can actually hear the teaching that is inside us. Then it can really start to work. Without meditation, without prāṇāyāma to calm the mind, to be open to hear the secret inside that mantra. There is an incredible Dohā from Kabīr: Kabīr śabadī śarīrame binā guṇa bhajay tantī bahā bitāra rāmirahā tāṭe chuṭī barantī. It means that Kabīr heard inside himself. When he heard that, all his doubts were gone. That sound is what rings within our hearts—the song inside us, a song of love. We play it with our mantra, virtually. We choose to hear that treasure within each of us, the peace inside us. The Anāhat, the word itself, means the sound of something not hit together. What is that sound? It cannot be two sticks, the harmonium, or our voice. That is where the song Kabīr speaks of plays—inside our Anāhat Cakra. We just need to open it and hear that song within us. It is inside every one of us. Can we silence ourselves so that we can hear it? Inside is the message Swāmījī is trying to give us all. I remember a time in Jadan when we had two sticks—the most terrible instrument I have ever experienced. A young boy, Avatārpurī’s friend Rājendra Purī, was always with him. Some of you may have been in that satsaṅg. Swamiji wasn’t there, and someone had bought these two sticks, an instrument wider at one end and thinner at the other, making a funny sound. No one could master them; nobody could get the rhythm. But one night Rājendra Purī was playing them, absolutely in bliss. The singer was not in bliss because he was completely out of time. It was terrible, and you could feel the tension building. Nobody could sing, he was so far out of rhythm. I didn’t know what to do—I thought someone would explode and tell him to stop, but he was in such bliss, how could you? Then I called him over, thinking of that Kabīr Dohā. I said, “Rājendra Purī, have you ever heard one stick playing?” He said, “What?” I told him, “Just sit there, hold the stick like this, and try to hear the sound of that stick playing.” Rājendra Purī is a legend. He went and did it, sat there for about three bhajans. Afterwards I asked, “Did you hear it?” He said, “Yeah, it was fantastic.” I thought I better go and try it myself. In Zen they talk about the sound of one hand clapping—well, that is the same thing, Anāhat. Part 2: Let Your Light Shine and Don't Let Go Two things that weren't fitting together—the sound of something not quite clicking. The best part of that story came the next morning. Avatārpuri hadn't been at the satsaṅg. And you know, he never likes it that Rājendra Purī has something he doesn't have. So he comes to me in the morning and says, "Can you show me how to play that stick?" "Which one?" He said, "The one that Rājendra Purī was playing last night." This one stick, what to do? Fantastic. Do we believe? Are we prepared to listen to that? It's not special to any person; it's inside all of us. When Svāmījī gives us a mantra and the blessing that comes with that dīkṣā, as they say in Jyotiṣ, he lights the jyoti within us. He was saying in Strilky, in one of the Skype satsaṅgs, "Now I've lit the light inside every one of you. Now is the time for you to let it shine. To take it out, and everywhere you go, to let people see that light." So, I would say, in a way, that is our seva we have to do for Svāmījī: to let every one of our lights shine. To take the time, as much as possible, to be in that inner satsaṅg. To let that light shine when we do seva, when we come to the ashram, when we teach, when we practice. When we go to work, when we care for our children, when we're with our friends. It doesn't involve any force towards anyone; it just shines there. It's just there. About that trust—trust in the teaching, trust in your mantra, and trust in that blessing which Svāmījī has given with that mantra, that it can take you there, that it can make that happen. If Svāmījī is saying that he wishes all of us get realized in this life, he is not saying it just for the sake of it. Just realistically think about it for a moment, just think: it's possible. He's saying it because he thinks that you can do it. He thinks we can do it. So at least half of the equation thinks we can do it. Do we think so also? That's the other half of the equation. In order to pass an exam, you need 51%. So if we've got fifty from Svāmījī's side, we only need one. At least that much we can manage. As it says in the Nike commercial, let's do it. The other thing I wanted to say—I also wanted to say this again, although I said it at the start—your satsaṅg, your community, is so special. Everywhere I go, I see faces that link together, that are there from here or from there or wherever, wow. I can't describe how it feels for me. I mean, really, at the start, I would not be capable of speaking because there was such an energy here. Don't take it lightly; don't waste it. Be part of it as much as you possibly can. And, as we were saying last night in Rijeka, there is one beautiful system in India on Diwali. On Diwali, the day after Diwali is called Rāmasamā. On Rāmasamā, everybody goes around, they visit their relatives, and they visit their friends and people who are close to them. And it's one of the most important days of the year. Everybody goes to visit, meets, and has a cup of tea or sweets or something, and then goes to the next house and to the next house. That's the day of the new year. And the principle of the day is that everybody goes around, and between the two people is an agreement that what happened last year is gone. Any petty arguments, any disagreements, anything that was said wrong, or even any business deals that were done wrong—they leave them in the previous year, and they start anew. Now, in Jadan we have a community that lives together all the time. It's not always peaceful. But if you're going to stay hanging on to those disagreements you have between each other when you're living together, you can waste so much time, and we don't have that time. For me, it's such a beautiful concept; every year we just leave it behind. Now, what is ahead of us? Let's get on with it as a community and also within ourselves in our sādhanā. The same principle applies to the individual. What you've done before, can you change it now? No, it's done. Maybe you did something you didn't like, or you were lazy, or whatever. But you can do something about what you are doing now. You can make a change from what you were doing before. For me, that's such an important part of living a spiritual life—to constantly be forgiving to yourself. Was it good? Because, you know, we're on a path, and it is difficult. If we make mistakes, so what? What we do next is important. Can we learn from that mistake? Can we progress from that mistake? Maybe that mistake is one of the best things that ever happened to us, because we will learn something so important that it will open a new door for us. It's good to look at the mistake, it's good to observe it, it's good to be aware of it. But when you start to be upset with yourself because you made that mistake, or to be angry with yourself because you made that mistake, then, to my mind, you're wasting time. Because you're still living in that mistake, and it's constantly running through your head. Far more important is to get on with rectifying it, doing something different, or progressing from that. If we're going to go through our spiritual path constantly judging ourselves negatively or being upset with ourselves, it's going to be a very, very long road. But if we can constantly forgive ourselves, observe, be aware, learn, and then go—and try in the next moment to do it the way we would like to do it, or the way that would be better—that's what counts. In Patañjali's philosophy, it teaches, really, that there is no right and wrong. There are only things that take you away from your goal, and things that take you toward that goal. Our spiritual goal: things that drag us back towards the māyā, and things that move us away from that. When you look at it in that way, it's not like a judgment: this was right, this was wrong. But if you made a mistake, which means that you went back one step on your spiritual path, one step negative, then try to make that awareness a part of every part of your life. Yoga in daily life. It comes into that awareness, coming into everything that we do. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān kī jai. You know, I was reading one interview with a flutist from India, Harī Prasād Chaurāsiyā. You may have heard of him; he's probably the most famous flute player in India. Eighty years old and still playing big concerts. When I was in Edinburgh, I also heard that Ravi Shankar was playing a concert at the Edinburgh Festival and it was the most difficult ticket in the whole festival to get. But imagine, he's ninety-three and still playing those concerts. Haripuracharya Rasi, when he turned eighty, there was one interview, and they asked him what he had learned about his music as he got older and older, what was different? And he gave the answer, he said, "I have learned over time which one is the most important note." Silence is said to be the thing which gives the whole beauty to what I play. The thing which allows the other notes to have their relation to each other. It's the silent bits in between, inner silence, unutarnja tišina, when we can find that inside ourselves and hear that which is within us. Again, it brings beauty to everything else, all the other things which are playing around. In the Strīloka, one person asked a really beautiful question. Because when you think of these things and start to think that this beauty is within me, the question that came up was, how do you remain humble? When you start to think that you are special, how do you remain humble? I like the question because, somehow, in our Western mind, I think it's a great stumbling block that we think we shouldn't think we are special—that somehow that is ego. I have a little bit different perspective. I think I'm very special. But I also think that everybody else is just as special. That which is inside, that beauty which is inside me, it is inside every single person. We're all special. We're all incredibly special. But, at the same time, as special as I may think I am, I'm not better than anybody else because they're just as special. If I think I'm more special than someone else, that's ego. But what I want to say is, it's very dangerous to think that you're not special because you're scared that that will be ego. We are all potential specialness. You know, it's all inside of us if we let it unfold. And it's inside everyone who's sitting in this room, and everyone who's outside also. How much it's unfolding or not unfolding, that is the only difference. We can't deny our own specialness. Because when you're doing that, you're doing exactly what Svāmījī said at that time in Hindi, that we're blocking our own spiritual development. We're not better than anyone else, but we certainly are all special. And that light, when you light one candle from another candle to another candle, they are all giving the same light. You see in those photos from the peace conferences, when you had all the candles in the circle. Such a beauty when all those lights are together, shining. And every one of them by themselves is just as beautiful as the others. But they're all shining, they're all giving that light. So let's not deny the chance for our own light to shine, because of some mental complex that will give me a danger of thinking I'm great. But at the same time, look at everybody else and see that they are also that same light and that same beauty, and we are all part of that same globe together. Let it shine. Let that which Svāmījī has given us sing from within. Practice, do what he has given us to do—our sādhanā, our sevā, everything—and just let it go. Bhagavad Gītā. I'm under contract to tell one story everywhere I go. It was a cry from me, Krishnānandjī, from Hungary. So, for those who are in IJ, sorry, you've heard this story before. Or if you watch the webcast, you've already heard it a hundred times. But maybe someone hasn't, so I have to fulfill the contract. In Kumbha Melā in 2007, I was sent by Svāmījī to meet one saint, Āśāramjībāpū, and to invite him to our camp. He is big in India. If you can imagine a satsaṅg, when he goes to Pali, I remember there were 125,000 people. And if it's in a big city like Jodhpur or Jaipur, then there are 200,000 people as well. He's very popular, and in Kumbha Melā he had a tent that fit 60,000. And someone had some contact, and they said, "Yes, you can meet him, but just before he has satsaṅg, because that's when he comes to the tent." So I went there, and it was full. But someone led me around the back to the place where his car would come. And it was partitioned off from the rest of the hall by a curtain. And I was inside by myself, outside were these 60,000 people. Everything was designed so that he could drive right up to the stage, and they would just walk up the steps and come onto the stage. So it was quite surreal for me at that moment. I'm standing there by myself, and outside, this bhajan is going on—60,000 people singing, "Hari Om, Hari Om." But inside, it was just me and alone, nothing. His car came quite fast, with a lot of dust, and he got out and walked toward me with real śakti. He was in his mid-seventies, but he's still quite athletic and really full of śakti. And he just came over and then said, pointing his finger, "You're from Maheshwarananda, from Rajasthan." I said, "Yes, yes." From Pali, he knows Gurujī since Gurujī had an āśram in Gujarat. Because their ashrams were actually quite close to each other in Ahmedabad, in Gujarat. And that's a long, long time ago. I think Gurujī stopped having that āśram in the 70s at some stage. And he also visited Gurujī when he was in the hospital in Jodhpur and spent an hour with him. He came especially from Gujarat at that time to see Gurujī because he heard he was really sick. But anyhow, he obviously knew about Svāmījī quite well. I know that we met two or three times that I know of; I don't know how many times before. So he comes over and he grabs me by the shirt and by the shoulders. And he starts shaking me. And again and again, he's just saying, "Don't let go, don't let go." He's great. Just grab his feet and hold on. Whatever he does, he will try to kick you off. Just hold on to that foot, and don't let go. This is still going on. It was amazing. And then he just said, "What do you want?" And we talked about the program, and I think actually we ended up going to him, and Svāmījī came there. But I will never forget that message: just don't let go. I think we all know the times when Svāmījī is pumping that foot, when it's hard to hang on. But if it's that moment for you, just remember Āśā Rāmjī's message. Don't let go, just hold on. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān kī jai. One more story. This one is also a real story that happened just before I left Jadan. Going back to what Svāmījī said about that obstacle being ourself. We have those who have been in Jadan; as you know, there's a gate man, and in the nighttime we also have two security people who go around the ashram to check the school, the hospital, the gosala. There's one beautiful man, he retired from the army, and he's been working in that security team, I think, since about 1999. And he's from a nearby village, and he's really just this beautiful-hearted person. And he finished his shift; he was on the night shift, and he finished at 7 o'clock in the morning. And at 9 o'clock, he was still waiting for me. And I thought, why aren't you asleep? But he said, "I'm waiting, I'm waiting. I have to tell you this story, what happened last night." He was so excited. He said, "Yes, you're not going to believe what happened." And he said, "There was this drunken man at the gate." He was holding on to the gate, like Āśāramjī was holding on to my shoulders, and shaking the gate and going, "Let me out, let me out!" And swearing, "Guman Singhjī, open this lock." I won't say what he said, I won't translate it properly, but "open this lock, let me out, let me out, I want to go to the village." He said to him, "But you're outside, and I'm inside." And the village is behind you. And, of course, the man is telling him, "Don't lie to me. Open this lock and let me out." He said they spent ten minutes arguing at the gate. This guy is swearing at him, "Let me out, let me out, open this lock!" And it took him ten minutes to convince him to turn around and discover that Jadan village was behind him. I think you get the message. Let's stop holding on to our gates and go. That's it. Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān kī jai. One more bhajan. When I came to Croatia, that guy at the border was very suspicious that I was bringing marijuana inside. He was searching my bags for about half an hour. I'm a bit worried about going back out of the country tomorrow. Because after the satsaṅg, I'll be so high. If I get that same guy, he's going to think, "Oh, I missed it. What did you really have with you?" One more? So, good night. Guru Charaṇam Me Ardha Sat Tīrathāhe, don't let go. That's what those feet are there for, and enjoy. I uživajte. So beautiful, everything we have. If you talk about a good constellation, to have this human birth. If you talk about a good constellation, to get human birth, to have the wish to be spiritual, to have this type of satsaṅg, this community, and then to have the master and to have the paramparā, and the mantra, and the chance to use it—there's no better chance. So let's do it. Just do it. Just do it. Śrī Devpurījī Mahādeva kī jai, Dharma Samrāṭ Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Madhavānanda Purī Jī Mahārāja kī jai, Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Maheśvarānanda Purī Jī, Satguru Deva kī jai.