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Part 1: The Lakṣatī and the Vācārī: A Story of Hidden Instincts The animal heart, however, cannot be awakened by our conscience, for it operates at an instinctual, animal level. You can command your cat not to kill mice, but as soon as a mouse appears, the cat attacks—the drive is embedded in its senses. An animal heart has no experience of such love, and an animal intellect cannot comprehend or recognize cruelty. Even when samādhi happens, they feel fear; they become afraid. How deeply are these qualities hidden? There is a story. I believe I told it thirty-three years ago, and it suddenly came back to me now. I did not prepare a written lecture for today. But, as it is said, this is how my Gurū Dev speaks to me—spontaneously. When you surrender to Gurū Dev, He sits upon the holy throne of your heart. He used to say, “In every heart is my God, from the ant to the elephant—in every heart, in every heart.” No heart is empty; God dwells in every heart. Yet my respect goes to that musician in whom He manifests and through whom He speaks. It is said that a heart without love, understanding, conscience, or kindness is nothing but a piece of stone. A thought devoid of kindness and love is like a thorn on a tree. And an intellect lacking wisdom is mere darkness. Such a person lacks human qualities and is like an animal. Dhyākṣar Premkā Padeysu Paṇḍit Hoī. For those who read these two and a half letters of love—Dhyākṣar Premkā—these two and a half letters of love. Voi Paṇḍit Hoi, that one becomes the wise one, the great one. Therefore, there are two kinds of people. One is called Lakṣatī, and the other is called Vācartī. The Lakṣatī has a clear aim, a clear destination—Lakṣya. The Vācārī merely want to read, re-read, and keep developing the intellect. Reading is not bad if you can control your intellect. But the intellect must be steeped in bhakti and jñāna. It must be colored with devotion and wisdom. If you have only intellect—though you may know about wisdom, love, kindness, mercy, and humility—when you speak of these, what does your heart tell you? Do you truly possess these qualities? If yes, then you are the greatest. Then, look at your actions. Look at your behavior. Examine your thoughts and your social relations. Do you act according to those principles? If not, then that intellect and that heart are animal hearts. Vācārī—just reading and reading. But you must descend from the level of the head to the level of the chest—the heart. Then you will truly enjoy the wisdom you have read in books. This is what Rāja Yoga calls Svādhyāya: study, reading. Yet svādhyāya means reading your own chapter of life. When you close your eyes and look within, read those chapters—the chapters of your actions, your speech, your tricks, all of it—your love, kindness, and your efforts to spread peace, harmony, and love. Many people around the world work for love, harmony, and peace. But a person who does not apply their intellectual knowledge to themselves loses everything. Then their thoughts and actions turn destructive. It becomes a kind of illness: you become fixated. In English I’m not sure of the term, but in German it is “Verfolgungswahn.” Does anyone know the English equivalent? It is an illness. Paranoia—yes, something like paranoia. So, thanks to God, not all humans are like this, but some paranoid people destroy and spoil, while others do good. This is part of your Svādhyāya. Look within yourself—the self-enquiry meditation of yoga and divine life. And the Lakṣatī, those whose aim is Self-Realization, Pramjana, Ātmajana, God-Realization, peace, and love—they will achieve. This life is a journey, not a destination. Do not imagine that being human now is the final stage and that you will not be born again. In German they might say, “You can write three times hat, ha, ha, ha”—that’s what self-thinking is like. Now, even if you meditate, pray, and do all that is good, if you have not purified those inner qualities, you will be mistaken. So, the story. You have been waiting: Swamiji will tell the story. Stories are beautiful and good, but you must present them with focus—like a PowerPoint. Otherwise, I can tell it very quickly, within half a minute, and then you won’t remember it. So, the story. In those times, there were many peculiar rules and peculiar things. It was the age of the kings. First came the time of the ṛṣis, then the time of the kings, and now the time of the ministers—things are becoming smaller and smaller. What next? Let’s see. One king was powerful and had a vast kingdom—from here to Kyiv. “Who will win the game with me?” she asked. Many princes came and lost. Experts came, but they lost. The game was this: the cat must not move, or the lamp will fall and she loses. Many tried, all failed. Then another prince said, “Alright.” He obtained a beautiful bamboo flute. He placed a small mouse inside the flute and tied it to his belt. Why not? It was his flute, and the mouse sat inside. The cat sat opposite. As the game was going on and it seemed she would win, the prince sat quietly. Gradually, he loosened a thread, and the mouse slipped out of the bamboo. The cat leapt. The lamp fell. And she accepted him as her husband—thanks to the mouse. Why do I tell this story? Because our inner qualities, feelings, and ambitions have not yet been cleansed. You may think you are safe, that everything is good, that you are holy. But when something triggers you, you become like that cat. A negative quality awakens within. You wish to be loyal. You wish to be good. But that mouse is temptation, a negative vṛtti. That is why Mahāprabhujī said, “Manasabh Khoyore Kushangyokishank—O my mind, you lost everything with the Kusaṅgīs, not with the Satsaṅgīs.” Paramahamsa Yoganandajī said that if one eats an egg, one cannot meditate properly for ten days. And if you hear a single negative sentence or word, you cannot meditate properly for two or three months. You may close your eyes, but there is no meditation, no sleep. Your thinking keeps going back to that point, just like a spice stuck in the cavity of a tooth. You clean your mouth thoroughly, but what is stuck remains. Your tongue keeps returning there. There are thirty-two teeth, but the tongue doesn’t go to the thirty-one; it only goes to that one thirty-second tooth. That is a negative point. So in your life, my life, or their life, there are many, many good things. But one Kusaṅgī’s words irritate you day and night. As Mīrābāī said, “Daytime, I feel no hunger. At night, I have no sleep. In this viraha, this fire of love, my heart burns.” We all have responsibilities toward ourselves. If we have a destination and are on the right path, then we must keep that destination clearly in mind. I originally intended to speak about Mantra Anuṣṭhāna, but our children came and introduced a new subject—a subject born from the hearts of our beautiful, pure-hearted children, the flowers. Satsaṅg is the best way. You may practice many mantras, many methods, but it must come alive within you. I am very happy to see you all, many of whom I saw just a few months ago. Yet it feels as if I was here only yesterday. You see, when you have nothing to do, time becomes boring—“long-viling” as some might say. “Vile” is the moment, time itself; different languages have special words that cannot be exactly translated. Wherever I have been for the past fifty-six or fifty-seven years, my life has been full of satsaṅg. Gurujī was there, and before that my father was deeply spiritual. Especially now, through modern technology, every day I have Skype satsaṅgs with people from different parts of the world, including with you. It is so personal. You see me like this every day, just as you see me now, and I see you also as you see me now. So four days a week, it sometimes goes until three o’clock at night, and then the morning program begins at 5:30. The next day, the day after, I am traveling—by airplane, car, train—welcoming satsaṅgs, giving lectures. There is no room for loneliness. There is no room for boredom. There is no “long while”; every moment is beautiful, the most beautiful moment of life, filled with so much beauty. The world is also stunningly beautiful, especially in the divine Himalayas, the holy Himalayas, where you can behold the sacred mountain range of Annapurnā. Through the kṛpā of Divine Mother Annapūrṇā, her divine shelter, many bhaktas have blossomed. Every day, the children do prayers in the street because they don’t have a big house or large space. Every day in Pokhara, where I lived, children and people gather at the house where Swamījī stayed. They telephone—so beautiful. The world is beautiful; everything is beautiful. As Paramahansa Yogananda said, “O God, beautiful.” Everything is the racanā, the creation of our mind, simply a projection of our thoughts. And so, you can have a good racanā or a bad racanā. It doesn’t matter how you think; wherever you are, you can be happy. Follow the principle of ahiṁsā—non-violence—in thought, emotion, intellect, and social conduct. It is written in the Qur’ān that if you kill one human being, it is as if you have killed the whole of humanity. Such words appear in all the holy books. So you can kill mentally, emotionally, intellectually, socially, politically, professionally. You may have a good job, and someone may criticize you, blackmail you, saying, “Don’t keep this person in your office; he behaves in such and such a way.” Then you lose your job. For many people today, existence itself is threatened, and a job can be lost just like that. Not all of us own a large farm where we can grow our own food. We depend on many things. Therefore, it is said: if you cannot speak well of others, at least do not speak badly. If you cannot help someone, do not trouble them. We all know this. So, Mantra Anuṣṭhāna. When you take your saṅkalpa, that is your lakṣya—your aim. It is a mini anuṣṭhāna: during these few days, I will become one with myself, and I will embrace the whole world in my heart. Everyone will dwell in my heart with love, happiness, and peace. And read your own chapter of life—Svādhyāya. Sva means the self, Adhyāya means a chapter. Enjoy the presence of your Guru brothers and sisters. It is very beautiful that after a long time, you have all gathered here in our beautiful Ashram, Strilky. Welcome, and bless you in the name of Alakhpurījī Siddha Pīṭh, the blessing of Devpurījī, the mercy of Mahāprabhujī, the guidance of Holy Gurujī, my own love, and the teaching of all these beautiful Swāmīs present here. I am very happy that Swāmī Gajānanda Jī is here. For about a year—nearly one and a half years, one year and eight months—certain changes came to Gajānāth, and he could not understand. I said, “Be happy.” He replied, “How can I be happy?” It was a German quality, you know. I told him, “Who knows except Mahāprabhujī why this happens?” And now he understands how happy he truly is. It is said, when trouble comes, prepare yourself to be happy, because happiness is soon to follow. And when happiness arrives, be ready, for troubles will come again. Therefore, in the twelfth chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa says: In both situations, those who maintain equanimity in the heart are true bhaktas, and they are very dear to me. Devpurījī said, “Gurudev takes upon himself the destiny of the devotees.” So circumstances change. I am happy that Gajānanjī is here, and that last year Swāmī Jasrāj Purījī was also here. And now we have with us Pārvatī, Sādhvidyā. What more do you want? Part 2: The Essence of Dayā and Sādhanā What more could one desire? Dayā—that is everything. Deep compassion, grace, Dayā. Dayā is that which never doubts and never becomes angry, for nectar abides only where there is no trace of poison. Thus, Dayā exists only where there is no ego, no jealousy, no hatred, no longing—nothing at all. Tomorrow I will share a beautiful story. God once told a person, “Take this assigned place.” And what is the reward or goodness in it? God said, “That’s all—you simply sit there. No movement, no eating, no drinking, no talking. Just be there, that’s all.” Such is dayā. If doubts exist, dayā cannot be. If there is preference—"I like this, I dislike that"—then dayā is absent. Mercy is simply mercy. That is what we call the holy heart: merciful Mahāprabhujī, merciful Gurudev, and what we call the mercy of Holy Mother Mary. Such mercy extends equally to every creature. So, those of you bearing the name Dayā—now you must embody Dayā. Even if your husband is stern with you, you have no right to be stern, for you are Dayā. That’s all. I can congratulate your husband that you possess dayā, and where dayā is, jñāna must follow. So the husband must be jñāna. If there is no jñāna, then you may have to act with discrimination—and that is why we have viveka. That is why we have Viveka, Swami Vivek Purī—just so. Develop viveka, realize viveka. And we have Rukmiṇī, a beautiful name. Her name even appears in the mahāmantras: Tryambakaṃ yajāmahe sugandhiṃ puṣṭivardhanam, urvārukam iva bandhanān mṛtyormukṣīya māmṛtāt. Among its many meanings, it signifies non-attachment. Not “my” duty, no—when a sannyāsī is a hundred thousand percent dedicated to his āśram, that āśram will blossom. Pour everything into cultivating your āśram. It is not about “my duty.” I am not here to provide answers. I do not seek this. Gajanand will tell you a story. There were five monks. The condition of their monastery was extremely poor. Then a wise monk from another monastery spoke a single word—one sentence—and completely transformed them. The monastery became so beautiful that pilgrims flocked to it. Thus, every sannyāsī’s first duty is to care for the āśram. It is hard work. I am looking after all the ashrams—Delhi, Jaipur, Jadan, Nepal, Kathuk, Bola Guda, Strilky, Vienna, and many other places. You must surrender. The Bible says you must die in order to live. And Mahāprabhujī said, “Jīvat hi murdā samāna, na siddha na pīṭha”—living as though dead, neither pretending to be a siddha nor claiming any seat of greatness. He had earned a doctorate, then became a sannyāsī and went to Rishikesh because many sādhus in the Himalayas lacked medical care. Every morning from eight till five, he went from cave to cave, bringing medicine and tending to their needs. In the evening too, he visited the caves, gave medicines, and checked on them as if in a hospital—all free. He would ask others to donate medicines. And for one and a half hours, he would stand in the cold waters of the Ganges, praying to Mother Gaṅgā, meditating. He built small huts for the sick. One day, a man came to Śivānandajī, and Śivānandajī touched his feet. The man protested, “No, no, Swāmījī!” But Śivānandajī was so humble—whenever any sādhu arrived, his first act was to bow and touch their head. His disciples included Swami Chidānanda, who later succeeded him. Thus, Śivānandajī’s first teaching was, “You are a sādhu,” which simply means to serve. If your mind is free from thoughts like “I don’t like this” and “I don’t like that,” you must learn to give continuously—give food, clothing, whatever is needed, without making distinctions. It is rigorous training. Even today, many āśrams and Western sannyāsīs serve people in unimaginable ways. I visited a large ashram three weeks ago. The Swamiji there had several disciples, including some from the West. When I arrived, tired and simply relaxing, they all came forward. Some brought cold water, some began massaging my shoulders, my head—suddenly eight people were massaging me, leaving no more space on my body. I said, “Enough, enough.” They replied, “If our Gurujī asks whether we have served, what will we answer?” This teaches us not to differentiate between my Gurujī and your Gurujī, their disciple and my disciple. We should love, seek to understand, and embrace everyone just as they are. The great Tulsīdās Jī said, “Vaśīkaraṇa mantra eka yahī hai, tajiye bacana kaṭhora”—if you wish to win all your friends, abandon harsh words. Give up harsh words. Do not speak harshly, do not speak negatively. Then that man came to Śivānandajī and declared, “I practice Haṭha Yoga, Rāja Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Jñāna Yoga—every form of yoga. I have read all four Vedas, all Upaniṣads, the Gītā, Bhagavad Gītā, Rāmāyaṇa, all Purāṇas. I perform sādhanā, Kriyā Yoga, everything. I have done it all.” Śivānandajī replied, “Oh, great, great, great. But I think you have not done one sādhanā.” The man said, “There is no sādhanā left that I have not done.” Śivānandajī said, “Alright, I will teach you tomorrow.” The man pleaded, “Please tell me today.” Then Śivānandajī asked, “Have you done the sādhanā of the pañca pota?”—you know, when patients are bedridden and cannot go to the toilet, you have to bring this pot. The man asked, “What is that?” Śivānandajī said, “I will show you tomorrow.” The next day, Śivānandajī took him to some people lying in small rooms and said, “This is the pot. Clean their toilets, clean their buttocks.” The man protested, “Swamiji, I am a Brahmin.” Śivānandajī replied, “And? Do the sādhanā. If you are a brāhmaṇa, you will understand the pain of others even more.” So he did. But at eleven o’clock he said, “Swāmījī, my train is leaving; may I go?” Then Śivānandajī himself took the bucket and broom and cleaned the toilets and bathrooms. A bhakta said, “Swāmījī, we will do it.” But Śivānandajī said, “No, no, it is my sādhanā.” He wrote about this: “Still, something remains—a test: I am not cleaning the toilets; I am cleaning myself inside. Then my sannyāsī life will be successful.” This is what Śivānandajī himself recorded, and people witnessed it. Thus, it is not easy to kill the mind. Kabīr Dās Jī said: Manmarana mamatā marī, marmara gayā śarīra, āsā tṛṣṇā na marī, kaha gaye Dāsa Kabīra. The mind is not controlled because your attachments are not controlled. “My, my, my”—that sense of ownership. He says, “Your mind is not under control because you do not control your desires, your longings.” Attachment. The body may die—marmara gayā śarīra—but hope and burning desires do not die. Hence, sādhanā requires surrender. Practicing āsanas and prāṇāyāmas, sitting straight—that is very good; nothing is wrong with it. Chanting “Guru Deva, Guru Deva” on a mālā, however, is not sādhanā in itself. Every mantra must become a purification process within us. That is crucial. True sādhanā, real yoga practice, begins when you attend satsaṅgs. In satsaṅg there is no duality of religion, culture, or gender, no duality of “my guru, your guru, their guru.” No distinction: “This is my Guru, that is theirs, not mine.” For all possess beautiful wisdom—the Holy Rāmāyaṇa, Holy Bible, Holy Qur’ān, the Upaniṣads, and all holy saints such as Śivānandajī, Kabīr Dās, Mahāprabhujī—everyone. But if I am narrow-minded, I will keep saying “we, we, we.” When you are narrow-minded like this—insisting on only my religion, my culture, and only our Gurudev, nothing else—then it is like trying to escape the frying pan only to fall into the fire. Therefore, the condition of your āśram depends on the sannyāsī—it is your duty, not anyone else’s. Be helpful, grateful, and thankful. Be happy that householders are becoming members and supporting you. Do not just wear this orange cloth and say, “I am a Swami, I cannot do this or that.” No, no, no. You must undergo twelve to twenty years of training in the Akhāṛā; then you will understand what it truly means. Then you have Ānanda. Oh, Ānandī is sitting here—Sādhvī Ānandī, you see. That is it. Otherwise, you cannot achieve. Where there is no mercy, no viveka, no Rukmiṇī, there is only ānanda. But when Ānanda comes together—all united as one—it is Ānanda, “all together” (in German, “Auseinander”—all together). Yet when there is no Seva-bhāva, it becomes “Ausa Nanda”—all separated. As the divine Gurujī said, peace and bliss are the result of satsaṅg. And then Śānti appears—and so she is sitting here. Deep Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān kī jai, Devī Svarūpamayī, Mādhava Kṛṣṇa Bhagavān kī jai, kī jai. Tomorrow’s program continues as usual. There will be two groups: one emphasizing more mantra, the other more āsanas. However, the mantra group will also practice āsanas and prāṇāyāma—āsanas with mantras, prāṇāyāma with mantras. You should know that to sit for long periods, if you lack practice, begin with āsanas. That is important. But once you join the mantra group, do not switch back. Changing is not psychologically good; you will start thinking, “Oh, I couldn’t do this or that.” Better not to. The program is very natural and simple: just sit and practice mantra. Guidance will be there, and they will ensure you are neither sleeping nor crying. There will be universal guidance, and I am here. It doesn’t matter where my physical form is—I am here. You never know from where I might suddenly appear—opening a little door to see who is inside. So, Mantra Anuṣṭhāna will be held in this hall, I believe. Āsanas and praṇāms will take place in the other two halls—Gaṅgā Hall and Yamunā Hall. Please avoid going in and out too often, as the door makes noise. I know fasting is not easy. Getting only a little soup disrupts the system. Then people want to serve Swamījī—while Swamījī is eating, he may say, “Prasād, eat,” and then you receive one more chapātī, and another. Those with blood pressure problems, pregnant women, those with diabetes, or anyone who feels physically weak when fasting should not fast. But if of your own free will you wish to eat less to concentrate better, you are welcome to do so. Tomorrow and the day after, those who wish may fast. I will ask you in the evening whether you want to eat or continue. There will be very thin soup—perhaps a few leaves of kopřiva in one liter of water. Don’t search for anything; there is nothing there. A nice thin tomato juice and similar things. Of course, normal eating is also available. If you don’t eat and become hungry, you cannot sit; aggression arises. It takes two or three years to master fasting. Ideally, you should have prepared a month before coming to such a sādhanā. If you attempt it now, it may not go so well. At least set a limit on eating. Drink water, drink juice, eat one fruit a day—that is the rule for those fasting. Those not fasting will receive nothing abnormal. Fasters should stay away from the eating area during meals and meditate elsewhere. Otherwise, someone will say, “Oh, I am fasting,” then wander to the Śivalā to see what is there, and eat chocolate and nuts. Why not just eat a little rice and be done? Discipline. We have the rules, but we lack the strength. So be happy and practice more mantras, okay? We will explain the remaining techniques tomorrow. Nip Nan Bhagwan Nip Nip...