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Oṁ Namaḥ Kārata Prabhudeep Kārata Mahāprabhudeep Kāratahi Kevalaṁ Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ... Śrī Dīpnāreya Bhagavān Kī Jai, Śrī Devaśvara Mahādeva Kī Jai, Dharma Samrāṭ Śrī Paramsvāmī Madhavānandajī Kṛṣṇa Bhagavān Kī Jai, Viśva Guru Mamandaleśvara Śrī Paramsvāmī Jīmeśvara Ānandajī Gurudeva Kī Jai, Satyāsana Tandarma Kī Jai. Hari Om. Good evening, dear brothers and sisters, here in this beautiful Strelky Hall, Strelky Ashram, and to those listening on the internet. Some of you were here in March when Svāmījī asked me to say something in the morning lecture. I began that lecture by saying I hadn't slept all night and was in the library looking at books. Tonight, I slept very well. Pokrok (progress). But anyhow, it is not easy to begin to talk. Yesterday, Svāmījī had a Skype satsaṅg, then after, my big orange brother spoke, and now me. So somehow we will manage. When I was thinking what to talk about, I reflected on Swami Prema Rañjī’s beautiful and deep lecture yesterday about the Sadguru, the Ātmā, the Guru which is not visible. It exists, but somehow all of us creatures here in this loka, 99% of us, are searching for it. We are truly searching for our inner ātmā, our inner joy and knowledge. The reality is that everything already exists within us. Whatever is going on in our outside life is coming out of us, whether we know it or not. When someone comes onto the spiritual path, if we look back, we can see our changes, our progress. Maybe not every day in our daily life, as we are occupied with outside things, but there are moments when we look back and can recognize it. Today, in my morning meditation, the memory of my first meeting with our Gurudeva came to me. I think I can say this publicly; I have never shared it before. Perhaps you will be interested. I was a teacher in a secondary school. A few colleagues said there was a yoga class and that it might be for me, so I should come. Within two months, I found myself—you Czech people can help me remember the place, as it was nearly twenty years ago, near Poland. Libelice, or something like that. Three teachers from our school went to Svāmījī’s seminar. I didn't know it was Guru Pūrṇimā time. We drove for about eighteen hours by bus and arrived late in the evening. In the morning, Svāmījī had said, "Everyone must be on the evening program." As a teacher, I followed instructions: everyone should be on the program. So at 6 a.m., I was there. The morning meditation was led by one person, with whom I later became very good friends. But that morning, it was too much for me. He sang "Oṁ" and then said, "Repeat mantra, finish." That was all for one hour—no other words. I sat for ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, twenty-five minutes. I began to look at my watch. I didn't have a mantra; I had no idea what this was. I couldn't lean anywhere; I was somewhere in the middle. This continued for the full sixty minutes. At the end, I began to look at what the other people were doing. Where did I come from? What is this? Finally, the person sang three times: "Oṁ, Nahaṁ, Karata." Morning sādhanā finished. Eating time. Then my two colleagues, who hadn't come to the program, found me. One said, "You know, whenever I go to another country, I must go to a shop for sweets. You should come with me. We should take a bus." She knew the bus number, and we should go to the city center. But at 9 o'clock, Svāmījī had a lecture. I was thinking about the first meditation and now this second idea. I said, "Where are we? Which eating? What do you want now?" She said, "Don't worry. I know everything. I have watched. The bus will come in five or ten minutes." I said, "Okay, but when we go back, do you know where we should get off the bus?" I thought, Oh my God, today will be a special day. Anyhow, they were very insistent. "Go with us, don't talk, go. We are losing our time." The three of us went, ate some sweets—I didn't, but someone was happy. The second colleague said, "You know, what should I say to my family about where I was? They will ask me. We are in some student blocks. I must buy something." We should go to some shop. I said, "I don't like this. I came here eighteen hours by bus, and now... There will be a lecture. I am a teacher; I should be in class at this time. At 9 o'clock, Svāmījī will..." They said, "Don't make trouble. I will just go and buy something to tell my family. I promise we will take the bus back." It happened that the bus didn't come in ten minutes but in half an hour. We arrived back around nine o'clock at the sleeping quarters. But there was another problem. Svāmījī's lecture was on a football pitch, on a stadium, and it was a twenty- to thirty-minute walk from the bus stop. Then I began: "What did you say? You both said we would come back, and now Svāmījī has already started. I don't know how to get there." Suddenly, a group of people came from the direction of the lecture. For me, this was completely unbelievable. What happened? Svāmījī had said he couldn't give the morning lecture for some reason. I said, "We teachers couldn't just say we will not go to class." The other two just looked and said, "Something strange is going on." But I was walking, and during that twenty-minute walk, I was talking, not to myself but loudly. "What kind of teacher can this be? He had a 9 o'clock lecture and now says he cannot come. What is this? It cannot be." I was running there. I came to the football place. A few people were there in some groups. I sat down, very, very disappointed. What was this morning meditation? This eating and shopping and buses? This is something completely strange. I couldn't calm down. I said, "Okay, what should I do now?" I lay down on the floor. I don't know if I fell asleep, but these things were going on in my mind. Suddenly, someone shouted, "Something orange is coming; it must be Svāmījī!" Very quickly, I stood up and looked. A small orange point became bigger and bigger. This orange point went directly towards me. I was standing and looking; I couldn't believe it. This orange man was going directly—something was happening. Truly, Svāmījī came with such a big smile. I began sweating. I didn't know why, but he was really very, very kind. He sat down in the same place where I had been sitting, but I had moved three or four meters to the back. Svāmījī began to talk. It was not a formal lecture. A few people were there, and then more and more came. Suddenly, he asked a question. I knew inwardly that he was asking me, in this group. Just half an hour before, I had been talking about what kind of teachers we are. Suddenly, I became very small as a disciple. Inwardly, I knew he was asking me, but I said, "It's not for me." He asked the same question a second time, using his finger. This time I was very smart and looked around to see whom he was asking. But when he asked a third time, he used his finger and said, "You there in this row, with this hair, you." This time, I said something—whatever it was—I had to give an answer. Somehow, the lecture continued, but this moment was very, very strong in me all the time: my first meeting on Guru Pūrṇimā in that place, Libelice or whatever it was. I can say it was my birthday. I was thirty-three years old, but truly it was my birthday. I really came. From that, my first seminar, a small flame ignited in my heart. Of course, then it doesn't matter. This year marks twenty years for me with Svāmījī. Somehow, Czechoslovakia—at that time—marks forty years. This year is forty years of Svāmījī's work. I thought it might be interesting to share my beginning, my first visit to Czechoslovakia and this yoga seminar with Svāmījī. In these twenty years, there have been many, many things. But whatever I can say about these twenty years is like the story about the birds. A lady bird, when it was time, had to lay eggs for the small birds. She made a nest by the seaside, and the father bird was also there. When the sea became bigger, the nest and eggs went into the ocean. They were not happy and decided to ask their friends and other birds for help to dry the ocean so the eggs could come back and the birds could hatch. The French birds were helping. They were very small birds, but with one drop from the ocean, slowly, slowly, they could dry it. I don't know in which yuga, but anyhow. This seems like our daily work, our sādhanā. Day by day, some days a bigger drop, some days a smaller drop. Anyhow, we are on the way, and we are doing, of course, according to Nāhaṁ Kartā. We are not guilty if something goes wrong, but we are doing. We are here, trying. This is not only our work; we cannot do 100%. We do our 50%. But thanks to God, we have someone who does the other 50%: our Gurudeva, with his head, two hands, and two legs, to guide us and show us what we should do better, what not to do, and where our aim is. It is not just to say that we mortal beings are not perfect, we are not pūrṇa. But if we do our part as best as we can—just as we can, not as we would like to or, worse, as we are planning to—then definitely our Gurudeva will do the other part. He will guide us or push us towards Pūrṇatā, not there (pointing outward), but there, inside, to understand, to know. Now, maybe I would like to have a break and some bhajans. Śrībhujādipadāyārudhathāhubharaṇaḥ, Bhujādipadāyārudhathāhubharaṇaḥ, Diggajī banānewāreṇa, Diggajī banānewāreṇa, Asānī avatāra liyā, Asānī avatāra liyā, O Swāmī Kuleko Bhavan Giyai. Naktaka Prabhu Nāma Badhahai, Nāma Siparāya. Teśāmāru Dhārā Khāṭū Nagarā, jahāṁ Prabhu jī kī sānsadārā. Unne dhāma mā nā hī rād, unne dhāma mā nā hī rād. Kujhe dhīpa rāyā, rāyā putraṁ ko putra dhīyā. Kīputraṁ ko dhāniyān ko dhāvan kīyā, dhāniyān ko dhāvan kīyā. Kodhiyanka Kalanka Mithaya, Kodhiyanka Kalanka Mithaya. Adho Paranam Charanam Chor, Paranam Pujyadi Padayalu, Pujyadi Padayalu Paranam, Paranam. Prabhu Ankhindiyat Kandhon ko Prabhu aankheriya Kandharon ko Hari paanvadiya, Kandharon ko Hari paanvadiya. Gunge ko subhan diya, Gunge ko subhan diya. Pujya Deepa Dayalu Radha Chiri, Pujya Deepa Dayalu Radha Togijanaka Rogamitaya. Pūtapretaka vaṇḍakattāya binā dukhīyom ko gale lagāyā, binā dukhīyom ko gale lagāyā. Bipujā dī padāyālū, bipujā dī padāyālū. Choṭī gyāsuśaraṇame nāyā, choṭī gyāsuśaraṇame nāyā. Unako jīvanamukta banāyā. Unako jīvanamukha-bhāṇaṁ janamāma raṅrakāro gaha-kraya, janamāma raṅrakāro gaha-kraya, lakor parāṇaṁ caraṇaṁ, lakor parāṇaṁ śrīpūjā-dīpa-dayālu-dātā Śrī Pūjya Dīpadayālu Moṭā, Pūjya Dīpadayālu Moṭā. Tauke Nahi Rake Kota, Tauke Nahin Rake Kota. Lakho Paranam Charanam, Lakho Paranam. Shri Puja Deepadayalodha, Shri Puja Deepadayalodha. Lakho Paranam Charanam. God bless you. As Mahāprabhujī said in this bhajan, a million times I am greeting you, my Gurudeva. You are the only one who can change what is bad or negative or whatever into the positive, into the divine. It is truly the one who has already passed the same path and, of course, the one who has received blessings from his paramparā, our paramparā, who can guide, who can do this. But definitely, during this daily drop-by-drop effort to dry the ocean, we meet many people and many things happen on our path. Sometimes it happens like in a story from the Pañcatantra, about a bug and a mosquito. A bug—I don't know the English word, so let it be "bug"—was living in a king's bed. This small, invisible animal had a feast during the king's sleep. One such animal had lived three-quarters of its life in this royal bed. The king was happy; every night he came to bed and slept normally. The animal was very happy; it felt the warmth of the king, woke up, and began to eat its breakfast. One day, a mosquito appeared. The two animals met. The bug said, "Look, I've been here three-quarters of my life, but the king has never seen me. He's happy, I'm happy. Don't make trouble." The mosquito said, "I never make trouble. I promise you I will follow only your teachings. You are the boss here. I will follow." "Okay, then you can stay. We will become friends, so everything will be okay. But please, I have one request. If you want to stay here with me and the king, you must follow one rule." The mosquito said, "Of course, just tell me which rule. No problem." "You must never begin to suck blood before the king sleeps. Don't make this mistake." "No, I promise." The king came. Everything was prepared. He lay down. He didn't even have time to close his eyes before the mosquito began to think about breakfast. The first bug began to get very angry. He promised me, what is he doing now? Anyhow, the mosquito didn't finish before the king... yes, the mosquito, the king... and of course, the king stood up and called the servants. The entire bed was changed completely—sheets and everything. The first animal was killed, but the mosquito survived. The king slept, and the mosquito stayed there alone and lived. So, from time to time, such... things come on our path. I will not say people, but yes. We can become angry; we can do many things; we can quarrel. But if we think back to our past, we were like this also. We still are, from time to time, so we should understand. As Swami Pramānanjī said yesterday, to be in a bad mood, to suffer, is our choice. But anyhow, if we look at our master, he never gives up. He may stand on one point, and when things change again, he does the same as he did. It is a big lesson for us. So, don't be toward others like... I will finish with this, and then we will have a prayer. I think someone wrote that there were two very close friends. One had some bad habit or something. The second one thought the first one did something wrong and always told him, "Please change. This behavior is not good. Change." Because they were close friends, the first one tried very much, but somehow, you know, our behaviors... Anyhow, it reached a point where the two friends broke their friendship because the first one couldn't change as the second one wished. Then a third person came between the ex-friends and said to the first one, "Look, you are such a good person. Don't worry. Why do you think you must change something? Don't think at all about these changes. Just try to be you." The ex-friends became friends again. Because we people cannot change when someone always tells us, "Do this, don't do that, you should do this." But in reality, we change in one second when we feel love and acceptance for who we are. So, just be on our path as we are. Suddenly, the moment will come when we can see that it is not necessary that we are changing, because we already changed somewhere on the path. But anyhow, great, great thanks to our Master, who shows us sometimes what we should change. And of course, to our brothers and sisters, who are such great gurus and teachers. If sometimes we are not happy with these things, anyhow we can be thankful. Thank you for listening. If something was wrong, don't think about it. If something touched your heart, take it. Oṁ Namaḥ... Śrī Diviśvar Kī Jai.