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Part 1: Satsaṅga, Dharma, and the Universal Tradition Namah Siddhi Nambaghvana Kiśena Satsaṅga and Dharma. Kiśena, Hari Om, dear brothers and sisters. Hari Om, dear friends. Today we have a small topic about Satsaṅga and Dharma. This summer we also spoke about Satsaṅga and Dharma. When we try to explain satsaṅga and dharma, and about Vedic culture and Vedic tradition, people may always think it is something about India and Indian tradition. But we must try to start thinking in another way: that satsaṅga and dharma are not Indian culture, but an ancient tradition and ancient culture which is everywhere in the whole universe and on the whole earth. It is above all, the ancient tradition and culture which was for the whole world. What is the meaning of satsaṅga and dharma? It is not religion. It is a relation between the human and the whole universe—human and society, family. It is a real connection with the whole nature and universe. It is the relationship between man and the universe, between man and society and family. Because we are talking about that connection and relationship between the human and the whole universe and nature. That is not only Indian. That is for all humanity. Now in Europe begins what Swāmījī said yesterday: the dark part of the year. And also, for us, begins one very big festival. Somehow we think that festival, Christmas, is only our festival and that it is only 2,000 years old. But that festival, the winter solstice, is very, very, very old. I will say that from our first understanding of nature and the universe, we started to celebrate that festival. That festival was not dedicated to one person, but was dedicated to the sun. Because the sun is the source of our life. Without the sun, we would not exist on this earth. But let us start again with Satsaṅga Dharma. All the ṛṣis in ancient times were just observing nature, observing cycles in nature and also in our human life. We know that in our life we have four parts, four āśramas. First, we are in brahmacarya āśrama. We are young, we are children, we are starting to learn about life and how we will live. After that, we have gṛhastha, family. After that, you have grandchildren, and you are somebody who gives advice and support to your family and to society with your knowledge and your experience. And after that, you go into vānaprastha, where you will dedicate the rest of your life to your spirituality, and also give your support, with your knowledge and with your wisdom, to society and family. And then you will go to sannyāsa, where you will give up your life to spirituality, even though you are still a support and a source of knowledge for society. When you look at the cycle of nature, you will also find four seasons there: spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Put something in the earth and expect that you will have nice fruits and nice vegetables. Only in the right season are you able to get fruits. The same thing is in life. If we are observing nature and from nature learn how to live, we know that exactly in the part of our life when we are able to have a family, we are able to have a family. If we are like a child and start to have a family, it will be a disaster. In a certain period of our lives, we are able to do some things so that we can get the fruits of that activity. So if we want to start a family, we have to start it in the right period. If we wanted to start a family when we were children, it would be a disaster. We speak about four yugas. After that, if we are completely free of some prejudice—if we are free of our prejudice—we will see that all festivals in human society, in every human society, are the same. We will see that they occur at approximately a similar time. Okay, it depends on the southern or the northern hemisphere. But maybe in a few days or weeks, there is a difference. In India, we have Dīpāvalī. For us, Dīpāvalī is a really great festival, especially for Yoga in Daily Life. Dīpāvalī is Christmas, New Year, and all these festivals that we have now in Europe. Because it’s also in the dark part of the year. And also, we say that light has come on the earth. We put little dīpas, candles with dīpas, and for us in Yoga in Daily Life, it is a day of the incarnation of Mahāprabhujī. But also, we know that at that time, Rāma again came back to his kingdom. But Rāma is from the dynasty of Raghu-kula, the dynasty of the sun. And that is the same. The sun is again starting, and light is coming into our life. Symbolically, it means the new year; symbolically, it means that now light is again coming into our life, and darkness is vanishing. Festivals always have a few levels. First, we observe only what is in nature. And what Swāmījī usually said is that, after some harvesting and after some hard work in the fields, people have a little rest with the festivals. Second, we have in the festival something that makes our society become stronger. We have, through festivals, a bond within society. How will you connect people and all your family? And not only your family, but your village and more villages around become friends with each other. The best way is a festival. You have some songs, but through those songs you spread and teach a young generation your tradition. Through stories about ancient times and ancient heroes, you teach the young generation about old heroes, how to have the strength to survive and the strength to stay on the right path. And that is the Purāṇas: stories about great heroes who were their whole life on the right path—truth, wisdom, and staying honest without lying. All good qualities. You will see that all these stories are the same. Are you looking to Europe? America, ancient America, India—all the stories are the same. Because we have the same principle in life, and that is the Sanātana Dharma. Maybe the name is different, but everything else is the same. When we realize this—that everywhere, everywhere you go, all the stories you hear about the great heroes are the same stories—if you look a little deeper into the festivals, you will see that all festivals are the same. And that is the Sanātana Dharma. Okay, now in Western tradition, we lose our old tradition, and we have something new. What is it? I said we have only two things: we have Sanātana Dharma or Vedic tradition, or no tradition. Why did I say this, that now we lose tradition? I will tell only one, not a story, but it’s true, about an elephant. You know, there is the main elephant in the herd. Here is the lady elephant, the female elephant, the old female elephant. She has a lot of knowledge about tradition: where is the water, tradition, what food is available, where is the food available in which season, and also, very important, how to raise little elephants. But the problem with the old female elephant is that she has very big tusks, and you know that people are very greedy for money. They kill first the old elephant. And what happens? Tradition is lost. Knowledge is disappearing, and those elephants are completely lost. They don’t know where the water is or how to raise their children. The same situation is now with the human. We are not killing our old ladies and all that, but we are killing in other ways. We lose respect for them, and when we lose respect, we also lose the ability to learn something from them. And also, now a new tradition starts that all the ladies and old guys, who must be 70 or 80 years old, are still in some crazy relationship with ladies and women, and changing and making lifting and all these plastic operations because they want to be young. Today a new tradition begins, that old people and men, who are 70-80 years old, are with young women, or they try to look young, and so they go to plastic surgery. They start to behave like a teenager because it’s in the media. It’s now forcing you to think in that way. And that is killing the old elephant—killing the tradition and the old knowledge. But thanks to God, thanks to Mahāprabhujī, we have here Swāmījī, and Swāmījī inspires all of us to think about this old tradition, about our tradition—not Indian tradition, I will say our tradition—to understand this and try to lead our life according to Sanātana Dharma. Also, to educate children in the Sanātana Dharma tradition. And only through this is it possible to preserve our tradition. Why all the time did I say our tradition? Because maybe sometimes some people have a complex about, yes, we all the time speak about Indian tradition, but what is with our old tradition? Really try to understand our old tradition, 5, 6, 10,000 years ago. It’s really the Sanātana Dharma tradition. We are not changing something. We are coming back to our origin. Once more, really, try to understand that this tradition, and all this that we learn from Swāmījī about tradition and behavior, is something that will preserve not only our life, but our whole earth. And once more, thanks to Mahāprabhujī that we have an opportunity to come back to our original tradition, Sanātana Dharma. It is only a little, short saying about Sanātana Dharma—how I start to think about festivals, Sanātana Dharma, and all this. Because once Swāmījī said that in Europe there was also a tradition of Sanātana Dharma, and that is the Celtic tradition. I was a little, you know, yes, but… And I started a little dig. And I dug, dug a little… and I saw that it’s true. Our old tradition is Sanātana Dharma, and if you don’t believe in this, just start to dig. So you can start to grumble about it. Dear friends, Swāmījī asked me to talk about Vedānta Darśanas. Usually one says it is one of the six philosophies. Normally, people say one of the six philosophies. But the word philosophy doesn’t really fit. The word philosophy doesn’t exactly fit because, as we understand philosophy, it is something made from the intellect, some intellectual approach to interpret the world. It is a way of intellectually explaining how to get closer to the world. But Vedānta is not an intellectual speculation. Vedānta comes out of realization. What the saints have realized as the highest realization—what we call samādhi, nirvikalpa samādhi—what they experience, they try to share with us. That is basically an impossible task because what they say is, it is indescribable. And now they try to describe that. Therefore, it is just for us as an inspiration. All the books are basically good as an inspiration. They can give us an idea: yes, there is something, go for it. I have realized it, and you also can. But we must be aware: when we just study the books, we cannot realize in this way. So, what have they realized? In a short formula, which you know: "Brahma Satya, Jagat Mithyā." Brahman, the divine, is true, is real. And this world is perishable. It is not real, it is not lasting, not eternal. So whatever changes in this sense is not real. And most important for us is the question: what can make us happy? Our normal concepts of how to strive for happiness are always going for something that is actually not real. All these are concepts which cannot succeed because it depends on something which is itself not real. So we must be disappointed, because it depends on something which is not real, so it cannot be successful. Therefore we search for that where we can really find the lasting, eternal happiness, and this is a mark of a saint. He radiates this bliss from inside. He doesn’t need anything. Vedānta comes out of this realization: "Yes, I have found the One." Once in a satsaṅg with Holī Gurujī and Swāmījī, someone asked Holī Gurujī a quite intelligent question. And he said, "Why does God make it so complicated? First, he separates us from God, and then we have to struggle to unite again with God." And then Holī Gurujī smiled and he said, "You are never, ever separated." And he gave as an example the wave on the ocean. Is the wave ever separated from the ocean? This is a very good starting point to understand a little bit the point of Vedānta, or the point of what is self-realization. So you can say we, as a poor suffering wave, come to the Guru with three problems. The first is that we feel so separate from all the other waves. The second is that we feel so separate from this big ocean. And most troubling is that we see the waves in front of us, how they come to the shore. And then, at the shore, they break and disappear. You understand? This is our fear to die. So now, what would we tell as a wave therapist? My dear wave, you have only one single problem: you don’t know who you are. That’s the question of questions. Who are you? Self-inquiry meditation. As long as you think you are a wave, you have trouble. But what are you really? What are you in essence? What is a wave? It’s just water. And what are the other waves? Also water. So where is the difference? Where is the separation? So, we just have to give up our wave identification, and already we are one, or we realize that we ever were one. Now let’s look at the ocean. What is the ocean? Also water. The ocean symbolizes God. So we can say self-realization is when we realize the water quality in our wave. On this level, we already realize our identity with all others. And in the end, we realize the whole ocean is also water, and that is then called God-realization. So it’s a very fine step from self-realization to God-realization. So what happens now to the wave when it breaks at the shore? The wave disappears, but the water does not. So that means immortality. As long as we identify ourselves with a wave—that means with our body and whatever is connected with this body—then we are suffering. But once we have realized the essence, the eternal essence in us, which cannot die, which was never born and cannot die, then no troubles anymore. For example, in the bhajan "Hathakiri Turiyapatenirva O yogīs, O fakīrs," the highest state of consciousness, the fourth, turīya, that is called nirvāṇa. These fakīrī bhajans are very beautiful because they express this joy, this victory, very strongly. So they try to inspire us. Yes, there is something. Go for it. Then we have bhajans, for example, like Śivo’ham. Swāmījī used to say, "Śivo’ham, Śivo’ham." That’s actually not a bhajan. It’s like a meditation. Śivo’ham, Śivo’ham. Śivo’ham, Śivo’ham,… Vahīya, Siddha, Amara. This is a meditation, this is a realization. "I am Śiva" means I am the divine consciousness. I am Śiva, I am divine consciousness. Formless, eternal, nirguṇa. Parameśvara, nirguṇa. It is the realization of the formless aspect of God, which means what we call Brahman. And it is called sat-cit-ānanda, as we have it in this bhajana. Sat, what is true, what is real, what is eternal. Sat-cit-ānanda. Cit, that means everything is known, the divine light is everywhere. And ānanda, the bliss. Out of this bliss, the saints try to inspire us, "Go for it." In Vedānta, we have different streams, you can say. In Vedānta, we have different branches: Dvaita Vedānta, Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, Advaita Vedānta, even Bhakti Vedānta. These are the ones. But we can somehow neglect that, because for us, according to Swāmījī’s teaching, Vedānta means actually Advaita Vedānta. Advaita Vedānta is essential. That means the Vedānta of non-duality. The Vedānta of oneness. Vedānta unity. As Śaṅkarācārya, Ādi Śaṅkarācārya used to say, and many other saints before and after him: I am the one without a second. This is a statement just to think about. What does it mean? Śaṅkarācārya’s main scripture is called Viveka Cūḍāmaṇi, about the crest jewel of viveka. There is a part in it where the disciple, now after he heard the whole teaching from the master, starts to realize it. And then he realizes, and when he comes back with his consciousness out of supreme bliss, he spoke as follows: My mind has vanished, and all its activities have melted away by realizing the identity of self and Brahman. And then he says something very funny: "Where has the universe gone? Who has removed it? Just now I saw it, and now it’s gone." So this is the realization of the oneness. This is Vedānta. So it can be a very good inspiration for us. But it can also be dangerous, because when we hear it, then we like to say, "OK, this is now my path." And when we speak about the yoga path, then this would mean the path of Jñāna Yoga. You know about the four yogas, or many, but four main yoga paths. And you know the four principles of Jñāna Yoga, starting with Viveka, Vairāgya—the renunciation and the discrimination. Then the six qualities which we should try to develop, and most importantly, the longing for God-realization. These four principles you find exactly here in this Vivekacūḍāmaṇi, right in the beginning. So now we can say, "Okay, now I practice Vedānta. I am Brahma. I am immortal. I know everything." Now, who says? Our ego. And wonderfully, it grows and feels very good with it. So this is now the problem with Vedānta. Without the guidance of a guru, Vedānta is a wonderful trap to sink very deep. Now, Swāmījī used to say, Vedānta is the highest philosophy. And of course, we always want the highest. So, but here is the danger. And we have to look a little bit at what is now our path to get there. Vedānta is the realization of the formless God, Nirguṇa. Now comes the other part, the 12th chapter of Bhagavad Gītā. Arjuna asks Kṛṣṇa, "There are two types of devotees to you: those who worship you in a concrete form, saguṇa, as a living guru, and those who worship you formless, nirguṇa. Please tell me, who are the better yogīs?" And Swāmījī also very often refers to that. So Kṛṣṇa’s answer: "Both are my beloved devotees." Both paths are correct. So, concretely speaking now about the two paths of Jñāna Yoga and Bhakti Yoga. But because we are here as a human being, it is easier for us to concentrate on form, on saguṇa. Therefore, as Kṛṣṇa said, Swāmījī constantly repeats, the other path to worship God in formless form is for us very hard. So therefore, our path goes through Saguṇa to Nirguṇa. Through bhakti to the highest realization. One can see this maybe a little bit as a contradiction, so what now? How now? For me, always the life of Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa is a great inspiration. Whenever we have dualism in our mind, it’s good to look in the biography of Rāmakṛṣṇa. He was worshipping in his life different gods, even following different religions. In the beginning of his life, I don’t remember exactly, I think Hanumān also. Then, for many years, he was active as a pūjārī in a temple where there was Goddess Kālī, and he was in love with the Divine Mother. But at times, he also became a Christian and realized the oneness with Jesus, and at a time, he even became a Muslim, and then he came back to his bhakti to the Divine Mother. And then a Vedānta teacher came to him and was teaching him the concentration on the Ājñā Cakra. To help him concentrate better, he took a piece of glass, broke it, and pressed it here on his Ājñā Cakra. That’s actually the point of this Tilak, to help the concentration on the Ājñā Cakra. Part 2: The Harmony of Bhakti and Jñāna: Reflections on Ātmā, Karma, and the Guru's Grace Ramakrishna realized the highest truth. His teacher later remarked, "What took me 30 years of my life, he realized in two days." Now, a question arises: what does this mean for a devotee in love with the Divine Mother, one who practices bhakti? Ramakrishna himself speaks to this. He said, "Every time I gathered my mind together, I came face to face with the blissful form of the Divine Mother." To attain the highest realization, he had to go beyond even this bhakti to enter Nirvikalpa Samādhi, the state of oneness with the Absolute. Yet, every time he returned to normal body consciousness, his bhakti immediately arose again, and he would bow down to the Divine Mother. This is a perfect example showing there is no contradiction between bhakti yoga and jñāna yoga. Satyam Nārāyaṇa Govindam. I am myself. I am my, my I am. Nija ātmā. My citizens—the Czech citizens, the Czech president will say proudly, "My citizens of Czech." So, my ātmā and your ātmā—here, duality appears. My ātmā, thy ātmā, but this refers to jīvātmā. Jīva means life. Life means life, no death. Even the body does not truly die; the elements merely fight to separate. Water wishes to become water again, earth to return to earth, space to space. These five elements struggle according to their own nature; they do not wish to remain bound together. But who suffers? The awareness of "I"—that is what suffers. It is like in a family where husband, wife, and children all have different opinions and want to separate; the family splits. In business, if you rely only on learned economics, you will fail. All systems in the world have failed—the mighty Soviet Union, Napoleon. Many systems have come and disappeared. But the system of Sanātana Dharma does not fail. It was, it is, and it will be. However, you will not understand this sanātana as long as you have "teeth" in your mouth. You must become Vedānta. In common language, Vedānta means "without teeth." As long as you have teeth, you have arguments. When there are no teeth, you can peacefully eat a soft banana, halvā, or a nice soup—no trouble for teeth, jaw, gums, or stomach. It goes in peacefully, remains peacefully, and passes peacefully. That is Vedānta. If in Vedānta there is no bhakti, as Gajanan said, then you have developed only ego: "I am. Come and discuss with me." That is why in the modern world there is always dialogue—and this dialogue is often a conflict because there is no true understanding. The higher you develop spiritually, the more humble you become, and devotion awakens. Many organizations call intellectual people and claim they are higher. If they say they are higher, I understand they are higher only in the quality of non-believing, higher in their thinking. A crow sits on the peak of a church and thinks, "All are praying to me." But they are not praying to the crow; they are praying to Jesus. Today we are having a Christmas satsaṅg, and I was surprised there is no Christmas tree. But I know the Czechs are not so intensely Christian, so we must remind them to bring the tree. Intellectual knowledge alone dries your heart. When there is no love, compassion, or bhakti, everything is lost. Even Śaṅkarācārya—I think Gajananjī was quoting Śaṅkarācārya—so even Śaṅkarācārya, right at the beginning, said: Śrī Hariṁ Paramānandam Upadeṣṭam Īśvaram Sarvābhyāpi. First, I adore that Hari, that God, that Īśvara. I invoke, I worship God Hari, Īśvara. Bhagavān Śaṅkarācārya was also a great devotee of the Divine Mother Lalitā. So both Gurudev and the Mother, the Shakti. Lalitā is great, even more than Lakṣmī. There is the Lalitā Ṣaṣṭranāma, the thousand names of Lalitā. If you believe in astrology or face mental disturbances, fear, depression, or anxiety, you can chant either the Hanumān Cālīsā or the Lalitā Ṣaṣṭra; it is powerful. Many obstacles will be removed, and suddenly Lakṣmījī may come to your home and say, "You have no money, why? I am here." But if you do wrong, it is destroyed. In mechanics, when working with electric tools in a workshop, a small mistake and your finger is gone. The running belt or high-speed disc will not warn you, "Take care of your finger." It is all one: your finger, hand, leg—anything. Therefore, we need Gurudev's guidance and must follow it. If you think, "I know what I can do myself," then suddenly something may happen, and you will be sorry for lifetimes, not just one life. It is not that Gurudev wants this; Gurudev does not want anything bad for us, but it is not in his hands. You know, it is that principle. The power is in the stamp, the rubber stamp. Many presidents have been in this country; they are not active presidents anymore because they do not have this stamp. Only a valid president has it. Anyone who goes into an office, takes the stamp, and uses it is not valid. Similarly, all—Śiva, Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Gurudeva, Lakṣmī, Tārā, Lālitā—are one. There is one car standing. It is a car. But you see the tires, wheels, seats, steering wheel, chassis, engine. How many things are there? All become one car. So we must take support from all these divine energy principles. After that, Vedānta says, as Gurujī said, "If you do one thing, you will master everything. But if you try to master everything, you will lose everything." It is like finding the roots of a tree and watering the roots; all leaves, blooms, branches, and fruits will receive water. Uproot the tree and merely spray water on the leaves every day—will the tree survive? We have water, we spray the leaves and branches, but we have lost the root. That source is Guru Bhakti and the Guru Principle. Through that, we go further. The ātmā is one. But as long as we live in this body, physically we are different because we perform different physical actions. Destiny is our individual destiny; this is jīva ātmā. Jīva means the soul. Ātmā is beyond the soul. When we speak of the soul, there is duality—we all have a soul. But the light of the soul is the ātmā, and that is in everyone, without duality. It is very difficult to understand, but the ātmā sees everything. It is written, I think, in the Old Testament: "Which have eyes you should not eat, who has eyes." Because the jīvātmā sees everything through the eyes. We call the eyes the window—you call it "okna," and "okna" means "akṣa" in Hindi and Sanskrit. It has many names—netra, etc.—but generally akṣa. You see, my eyes are gazing upon Gurudeva's holy lotus feet. Who is gazing? This jīvātmā. The windows of our body are these two eyes. Through the eyes, you can communicate. When someone tells you, "Look through my eyes and say it," if you are guilty, your eyeballs will roll down. Why? Because the jīvātmā does not wish to see. Or they dart here and there. That is why we say, "Please keep it confidential, between the two of us." These are our ancestors' real experiences. But now we are blind. We say, "Yes, yes, of course," and can hardly remain silent for fifteen minutes. With so many telephones and SMS, honesty is gone. So, your jīvātmā and my jīvātmā see us together. Once I saw a horrible documentary. They were breeding beautiful ponies, then loading them onto trucks and trains for slaughter. The man who owned a horse came near it. The horse loved the man like a father and was happy. The man took the hair hanging in front of the horse's forehead, lifted it, and with a needle-like nail, drove it into the horse's brain. The horse collapsed. The eyes of the horse saw its owner—honor, love, happiness—and that one shot the nail. Any animal you hold, their eyes look at us, seeing what we are doing. This is the cause why humans today suffer, struggle, and fight so much. When one dies, you can look into the eyes; there is no reflection anymore. While alive, you can see your reflection in our eyes, but when the soul is gone, the ātmā is gone, the elements separate and return. Therefore, intellectual knowledge alone is not enough. We must always come from the head to the heart, from the brain to the heart. God gave us beautiful organs, each with its function and strength. Our entire body is sanātana—meaning "holding." When we see a pomegranate, beautiful from Croatia, Slovenia, or Greece, and open it, inside are beautiful pearls like red rubies. Outside is one skin, and inside all seeds look equal in size, juice, everything. That outer skin is the sanātana. Within the Sanātana, many spiritual ways and religions exist. Everyone has a place, will get a place, and will develop. The 15th chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā says: "I live on this planet, Earth." Where the jīvās are in that world, I am. Because jīva, bhūta, sanātana—all these are my self, my essence. If you take a seed of that pomegranate to Mexico, that seed will not give up its dharma. If you plant it in the earth, it will sprout, become a beautiful bush, and bear the same fruit. So you should preserve it, take care of it, support it. Do not try to change it. That is why in Sanātana Dharma—the name "Hindu" came later, during British times—Himsa means violence, Dhu means away. Those who are away from violence are Hindu. Gandhijī's favorite song: "Vaiṣṇava jana to tene kahīye, jo pīṛ parāyī jāṇe re." Vaiṣṇavas, the devotees of Bhagavān Viṣṇu, are those who understand the pain of others. You do not need a stamp declaring you Hindu or Muslim. They are those who understand others' pain and difficulty. If you criticize someone because you do not understand their pain, you are still not a Vaiṣṇava. The Hare Krishna people call themselves Vaiṣṇava. Ask them: do they feel the pain of others? It is said that if you keep a seed at its origin, Mother Earth will not lose the seed. But if you manipulate it, that seed may one day not grow anymore, becoming seedless. It will produce a plant only once or twice, then finish. You must always produce more seeds. Now, we are eating seeds that are seedless; they grow only once or twice, maximum. Such nourishment damages the masculine and feminine essence. That is why some people strive hard to protect original seeds for our coming generations. We should support them, be alert, and eat organic food while knowing its origin. Previously, it was easy to preserve: Germans remained German, Czechs remained Czech, and Slovaks remained Slovak. Now we manipulate. A German mother, a Chinese father—a nice, mixed daughter. Her husband is a Native American. Then the child goes to Africa, the father is African, the mother is Chinese. What a beautiful blending. Some people like different colors, but the origin is lost. This is not against any nation. Japan has a beautiful, great culture and philosophers. China has great culture and knowledge; they live near the Himalayas. Africans have beautiful knowledge of living with nature. Native Indians adore the earth as a real mother—forests, birds, everything. Germans also preserved well. It is not a question of being against any culture, color, or nation. A German Shepherd and a Doberman are both good, but they have different natures and duties. Why should we destroy these natural qualities? They try to cross a donkey with a horse; it becomes neither a horse nor remains a donkey. It becomes a mule, only for working. We all become mules now—work, work, work. So, the ātmā is one. The jīvā is different because the jīvā carries the karmic reflection from the parents. The jīvā is bound to the destiny of the dynasty. It takes twenty-seven to twenty-nine days to become a full moon, and again a full moon. Over twenty-seven generations, you may become free from your parents' influence. But often you take new parents, so you are never truly free, because each time you have new parents, new genes, new qualities. The soul grows within destiny's karmas, like a snowball getting bigger—losing slowly but gaining quickly. How to dissolve this? There is only one way: a strong sun. The snow will melt. Similarly, that sun is our guide, the Gurudev—the light of knowledge that melts the darkness of ignorance. The Jīvā will become Śiva. The individual will become one with the Supreme. So, merā nija ātma, I am myself. Kartā, hume vandana, I greet, I pray. Merī prārthanā ho, my prayer should be for me, meaning for all my ātmās. I adore all this in my ātmā. In some parts of Germany, and of course Austria is first, we greet with "Grüß Gott"—we greet God in you. In Croatian, when they telephone, they say "Bog"—Bog means God, though they may not know it. Otherwise, creation would be completely different, but they are doing it, which is why they survive. If they did it more consciously, God would be there in your voice. Once I was in Hamburg, walking downstairs. Someone was coming up the staircase, and I said, "Guru, someone came." He said, "With Christy's hand." He said, "Choose the hand. Is it from Vienna, or lives to be from Vienna?" Okay. The next day, again on the staircase—in Western culture, you meet only on the staircase. After talking about the weather, one Hamburger told me, "If you want to make people smile and laugh, bring a dog. Immediately. If I bring a Swami with me, they will look: is there a reality?" I thought I would greet him. In my language, "tīk" means good. He wanted to say "Guten Tag," but even if he lost the "Guten," he meant "Tag," so I said "tīk." We were in a hurry; neither he stopped nor I stopped, so we became a clock—tick-tock, tick-tock. Every country has beautiful things; everywhere there are good people, the best people. Only the bad is oneself. We think others are bad. Guru Nanak said, "I went to search for bad people. I did not find anyone, but when I searched within me, no one was worse than me." Because the bad qualities—first I have to create them in my mind. My mind has to create the smoke of the negative so that I can say another is a negative person. So first you are the bad, then the other is bad. But when you see the bad in others, you must send your energy there to see it. You lose energy, and other energy comes back to you as negative karma. So we become three times the victim just by saying bad things about someone. Therefore, if you cannot speak well, at least do not see the negative. The first rock on our path is the ego. Ego and pride are very close. As long as you cannot fulfill your aim due to your ego, it is still ego. But when you succeed because of your ego, that ego transforms into another form called pride, proudness: "I am the one who kicked the ball into the goal. I was the one who passed to the goalkeeper. I am proud of it." Others are sad. This is ego. Therefore, most sports are built on ego. Modern sports are not healthy. Sportsmen in old age often seek a yogī to practice yoga, but they cannot—their body muscles become like wood. Old, dry, rotten wood cannot be twisted; it breaks quickly. Yoga is the best because in yoga there is no competition, no challenge. In yoga, when two are near a door, one says, "No, please, you go first." But two football players standing near the goal with a ball—will one say, "You shoot the goal"? This is the difference. Ego and pride. There is also good ego and good pride—when you save a life or do something good, you are happy. That happiness is a form of pride too. But to take something from others through ambition and become proud of it is negative pride. Many sports have become torture, a human factory for money, with so many fights. We must slow down. Croatians are very clever; they did not want such competition and challenges. After one play, they said, "No, we do not like it from Rio," and came back. Very wise. After a little play, they said, "Okay, you should." Like this, it should be for all. The victim is the soul. The soul is that football, and everyone kicks it without mercy. Do not let your soul be kicked without mercy by those destinies, those karmas. Sometimes we are happy, but my dear, this karma will torture you many times. A saint said in a poem—I want to remember the whole poem—about Mother Earth: this earth, clay in the potter's hands. He squeezes, beats, boxes it, adds water, and tortures it. The earth has no power to say yes or no. But screaming, it said, "Oh man, why are you torturing me?" Like when you make chapati dough. "The day will come when I will torture you within me"—meaning in the grave. That earth will squeeze you again. "Tu kyā rundemoy? Ek din esā āegā, me rundungī toj." One day will come, I will squeeze you within me. That is karma. That is why Mahāprabhujī always spoke about karma, satsaṅg, and dharma. Therefore, Mahāprabhujī said, after all this, śānti, śānti, śānti. We will continue again. Ego. Ego. Pride. And jealousy. Who is the loser in competition? Their ego turns into anger and jealousy, both grinding parallel like a millstone, scratching. As Kabīr Dās said... At 3:30, how long do you need? The next website will be at 7:30. Thank you.