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Good morning everyone. Nice to see you all. And welcome to those who have arrived this morning as well. Our subject is always: body, mind, soul, and ātmā. Body, mind, soul, and ātmā—this is very important. And our main concern is how to reach the Ātmā. Theory is one thing, practice another. With theory alone, we can do very little. You can mentally think you are a millionaire; no one stops you. You can think you are the richest person in the world—fine. But you are not. Or you can think you are centered—how beautiful, but it is only your thinking. That is why it is said: tons of theory are nothing compared to a gram of practice. Practice is very, very important. Practical experiences and practical realization depend solely on the individual self. You may have someone with you who practices and attains God-realization, while you do not. Why? You live in the same room, the same house, eat the same food—everything. But that person practiced, and that makes all the difference. So in this hectic, stress-filled world, although we would like to practice, sometimes circumstances prevent it. Still, we must try our best, as much as we can, to remain in practice. There is another kind of practice we can do even when very busy. It is called Śānta Bhāva, Seva Bhāva—the attitude of saintliness, of service, and equal vision. Śānta Bhāva is humbleness and thinking with wisdom. Seva Bhāva means voluntary service; in the modern world we call it volunteering. Otherwise, it is being a supporter, a karma yogī. And sevak means bhakta—a devotee. A devotee of God serves in many ways: through mind, words, and actions. Śānta Bhāva implies satsaṅg—keeping the company of truth in our thinking, our living, our behavior. Bhakti Bhāva is devotion, seeing the divine in everyone and respecting all life. That is very important. So we should embrace both kinds of practice. As I mentioned yesterday, when we meditate, repeating our mantra with prayer is the best way to release all the stress and mental pollution accumulated during the day’s work. That is vital. At the same time, physical work harmonizes the body’s energy. Some people do excessive stretching and force themselves into postures—what we call extreme. That means you do not love your body; you try to squeeze everything out of it. That is not good. We should be very gentle with the body, never force it, and practice balanced exercises from yoga in daily life. Likewise with eating: do not force your body to eat certain things or too much. The body knows how much it needs. When we overdo, the body cannot manage. These are yogic principles. Therefore it is said: ati sarvatra varjayet—excess is to be rejected everywhere. We should remain balanced in the middle. If you cannot practice āsanas and prāṇāyāma seven days a week, then at least five days. But the Śānta Bhāva—the mental satsaṅg, Mānasik Pūjā, the inner ceremony carried out with body, mind, and intellect—will keep you in a beautiful, balanced, harmonious life. Otherwise, your body, senses, intellect, and mind will go out of control, everything working against each other. That is unacceptable. Thus, theory alone is negligible compared to practice. We acknowledge both kinds of practice: physical and mental. Meditation is mental, prayer is mental, and mantra is very important. For a yoga practitioner, mantra is like the balancing rod of a scale—the stick that keeps the two pans in equilibrium. It maintains balance among the physical, mental, and emotional dimensions. To keep this balance is not easy. When balance is lost, you start searching for something outside. Suddenly a feeling arises that you are missing something; you want to do different things. Then everything is out of control. Therefore, Śānta Bhāva means satsaṅg. Sat means truth, saṅg means to be with. Not only externally, but internally. Hold on to your inner truth. Brahma satyaṁ, jagan mithyā. So, when you repeat your mantra and accompany it with exercises, it creates physical, mental, and emotional balance. It brings your entire being into one-pointedness—especially when you practice physical postures and exercises with mantra. Otherwise, you might be practicing while your mind is at the beach, in a riding school, or caught up in business. Mantra brings your vṛttis—your thought-currents—back to yourself, to feel your life, your aim, and everything. So both practices are essential. Physical and mental practices bring experiences. Theory alone does not bring many experiences. Experience turns into real knowledge, and that is why it is called self-realization. That is very important. Merely reading books and thinking, “I am not this body; this body is only matter and will pass away,” or “Ātmā is eternal; the mind is just a process; the intellect is just experiences”—yes, it is true, but what then? There is a story about a certain man. He wanted to become the richest person in the world, or at least in his village. He worked hard but could not succeed. He married, earned money, and gave it to his wife. The next day, the wife would ask for more money. Every day she asked for money. So the wife was like a bank where you deposit endlessly. The man thought, “I must earn so much money that even she will not know how to spend it.” Someone told him that only God could grant such a wish. So he decided to go to God. He went and sat on a beach, praying and praying. Two, three, four years passed. They said God would come. Finally, from the ocean, God appeared and said, “Yes, my son, what do you wish?” The man asked, “Who are you?” God replied, “I am God.” “Then why do you ask what I wish? You know everything, God.” God said, “I know everything, but I want to hear it from you. Otherwise, later you will say, ‘I didn’t ask.’” The man said, “I want to become the richest one. Whatever I wish, I get.” God said, “No problem.” He picked up a conch from the ocean—a beautiful one that you can blow—and said, “Anything you wish, worship this conch and ask it. It will give you everything. You may ask for food, clothes, a car, a house—many, many things.” “Will it give gold?” “Yes.” “Money?” “Yes.” “Friends?” “Yes.” Dinner? Yes. The man tried it, and everything appeared. He started the journey home, about eight hundred kilometers away. When he was some forty kilometers from his hometown, he stayed with a close friend. The friend was overjoyed and asked where he had been all these years. The man explained that God had come and given him a wondrous object. “Whatever I wish, this Kaṃsa will give me.” The friend marveled. As they sat together, the friend’s family was hungry. The man said, “Let us have masala dosa—paper dosa, South Indian specialty.” He prayed, “O Divine Lord, Kaṃsa Deva, we are seven people here; let each receive a nice masala dosa with chutney, sambal, salad, etc. And O Śaṅk Dev, also grant everyone a dakṣiṇā, a gift of one thousand rupees each, and a new salve.” Within five minutes, everything appeared. The friend was astonished. “Does it give gold too?” “Of course.” The man then asked for a necklace and earrings for the friend’s wife, and a chain for the friend. All came. Now, it is said that greed can cross the boundary of friendship. The friend began to think, “I shall steal this conch from him.” In life, many good friends become estranged when you do business together, or when you lend money—all is well until you ask for its return. Tulsīdāsajī said: dharma, dhīraj, mitra, nārī, apatkāl, parākhyā, cārī. Dharma (righteousness), dhīraj (patience), mitra (friend), and nārī (spouse)—these four can be tested only in difficult times, to see if they are truly yours. People love your money. That night, the visiting friend, who had the conch, was very tired and slept deeply. The host, who had a similar-looking conch at home, secretly exchanged it from the visitor’s luggage. (This is why you should never leave your luggage unattended—the announcements at stations and airports are well-founded.) The next morning, the man returned to his village and announced that he possessed a miraculous conch that could give anything. The villagers were thrilled. He invited everyone for lunch the next day—nobody should cook at home; they would all gather in the park to witness the miracle. Who wouldn’t want to see a miracle? Even if you are very busy, you might still want to watch. And if your boss doesn’t give you the day off, you tell him—he will probably be the first to run there. All gathered, hungry. The man brought out the conch, performed pūjā, and prayed, “O Lord Kaṃsa Deva, for these three thousand people, let the most delicious food appear: purī, halvā, cream sweets, lasagna, and don’t forget pizza…” But nothing came from the sky. He tried again and again—nothing. The real conch had been stolen. Someone in the crowd, a witty observer, said, “Oh, it’s okay; the battery must be discharged. Let him go home and recharge it.” The situation was saved for the moment. Distraught, the man ran back to the ocean and shouted at God, “Why did you do this to me? If you wanted to give, you could have given me directly, or you could have refused me.” He threw the fake conch into the sea. God emerged, caught it, and said, “This is the wrong one, my dear.” He then told the man the whole story of what had happened to the real conch. “How can I get the real one back?” the man asked. God replied, “I will give you another conch, a khuṅs. If you ask this khuṅs for five thousand, it will say, ‘No, not five thousand—five hundred thousand!’ So that you don’t have to ask again and again. It offers more than you wish. But,” God cautioned, “it will give you nothing; it only speaks. And if you ask, ‘Can you give me?’ it will say, ‘Yes, I kick you’—dakkā denge. Now go to your friend again. Tell him you have a new miracle, and perform a ceremony. When you ask for food for five or seven people, Kaṃsa will say, ‘Why seven? Invite all—seven hundred people should get it.’ Then you should say, ‘Thank you, Kaṃsa Deva. We will consider and ask later.’ The greedy friend, thinking this is an even better conch, will at night put the real one back in your luggage and take this one.” And so it happened. The point is, there are those who only talk. They say, “You are the Ātmā, Sacchidānanda.” But what use is that? You ask, “Show me the Ātmā.” But the Ātmā cannot be seen; it is invisible, like the sky. They say, “Go look in the sky—that is Ātmā.” Yet that kind of Ātmā cannot give you a chapati, nor anything you need. So there are two aspects. That is why the Creator created this material world. We do not deny it, but we do not take it as absolute truth. Brahma satyaṁ, jagan mithyā—ultimately, Brahman is truth, this world is an appearance. What changes is not reality; it is unreality. You buy a gold chain or watch, and after five days the gold is gone because it was only a gold wash. Thus the world is like the waxing moon: only a few nights are full, the rest are dark. Yet this body is an instrument. We are waiting for a train, looking at our watch, wondering when it will come. We have booked a comfortable seat. When we board, everything is beautiful; we like it. But when our destination arrives, without a second thought, we get off and leave. The train and the seat might say, “You were waiting for me, you came and said, ‘How nice,’ but now you are leaving. How selfish.” We do not listen. Similarly, we come into this body, longing for a human form, feeling comfortable. It will bring us to our destination. Then the body, this train, will go on—its elements merging back into elements. Therefore, practice and theory must go together. Theory is for inspiration and motivation, but practice is the real thing. When you start from home, you know your destination. In thought, you are already there, but physically you are not. You can arrive physically only by using physical transportation. So, while thought is not reality, it still points to reality. Life is a journey, not a destination. And this journey cannot be completed without this life—our body. The body is not everything, yet everything is not possible without the body. So we need a healthy body, a healthy mind, and a healthy intellect. Thus, satsaṅg, Śānta Bhāva—saintly thinking—always keep satsaṅg in your mind and perform mānasik pūjā. When you close your eyes, can you imagine that you are with the divine? Consider a cow that has given birth to a calf. The calf is where the cow usually stays; the cow is out grazing in the field. Though physically apart, the cow’s awareness is with her calf. The calf, tired and hungry, sees only the mother. Mother will come and feed me. The mother, while eating, feels the calf. She calls out, and the calf answers. Distance—two kilometers—does not sever this inner call. When the baby thinks, the mother responds, “I am coming,” and when the mother calls, the baby cries “Mā!” That is the inner connection. Even animals feel this inner connection. It is just like your connection with your Gurudeva, with God, with your parents, with the one you love. Close your eyes, and when you eat, imagine mānasik pūjā—everything is present. This is Śānta Bhāva, Bhakta Bhāva, Prem Bhāva—the bhāva of love. So practice both the physical and the mental. Mentally, remain aware like a mother working in the kitchen who is yet mindful of her child, ensuring the child does not put a finger in a socket, touch fire, or fall. Similarly, while we work, our beloved is always with us. God is always with us. Therefore, Gurujī said in his prayer: Sunālī Jog, dīpadāyā kar, kṛpāmoye satsaṅg, kar kṛpāmoye satsaṅg. Dīpa Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān Deveśvara Mahādeva. And it is sung: “Pal pal prabhujī toye pukāru”—pal means ‘Augenblick’ in German, the blink of an eye, just a second. “Pala pala prabhujī, tohe pukārun, dīna durlabha kī pukār suni jo. Dīna durlabha”—the meek and the weak one. I am very meek and weak; O Lord, listen to my prayer, so my heart may calm, my mind may rest. In your hands you have work, and in your mouth you have peace. That is the mānasika practice. Yet mānasika can become imbalanced without physical practice, so both must be in equilibrium. Ultimately, we must go to the mental. The mānasik practice, mānasik pūjā, the inner ceremony, should become stronger and stronger. I wish you a very good afternoon, a good appetite, and we will speak again this evening. All the best. We will now have a little bhajan singing. Some bhaktas have arrived and would like to come forward, offer greetings, or share a bhajan.