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All of you know about Yoga in Daily Life. I will tell you about a few things within it that are very, very important, and perhaps a little different from what we commonly see in yoga classes in our cities. Today, when we speak or read about yoga, we mostly find yoga for physical health, for stress, on a purely physical level. But we hardly find a school that has a paramparā—a lineage of teachings transmitted from master to disciple. Two months ago, on International Day of Yoga, the embassy in Zagreb asked me about traditional schools of yoga in Croatia. It was very hard to name one. There are many "schools of yoga," but traditional, ancient schools with an unbroken paramparā are very hard to find. Why is this lineage so important? Let me tell you a story. Perhaps you know it, but for me, it beautifully explains why we must always have this teaching passed from a living master, a living guru, to a disciple. In ancient times, a master lived in a forest ashram with his disciples, teaching meditation. A cat also lived in the ashram. You know a cat's behavior: when you sit to meditate, it might slowly come and jump onto your knee or shoulder. This disturbed the disciples' meditation. Imagine sitting in deep meditation and suddenly something jumps on you—your heart starts beating faster. A disciple finally said to the Master, "Please, do something with the cat; it disturbs our meditation." The Master said, "Alright. Before starting meditation, catch the cat, tie it to a post in the garden, and then sit in Padmāsana and begin." So they did. Time passed, and the Master left his body. The disciples continued their practice. Before meditation, they would catch the cat, tie it up, meditate, and then release it. Eventually, the cat also died. What did the disciples do? They brought a new cat to the ashram. More time passed. New disciples came who had never seen the original Master. They were taught: "This is our tradition. Before meditation, you must catch the cat, tie it to the post, and then you can meditate." This is the problem. When a school loses its living master—its head—the disciples begin to have many fantasies and misunderstandings. The knowledge is not just lost; it becomes spoiled and starts to go in a completely different direction. Without correct knowledge and understanding, the nearest path is to fall into fanaticism. Our ego starts to play, imagining all sorts of nonsense. Therefore, it is crucial to have a traditional school where an unbroken paramparā exists, transmitting knowledge from master to disciple. If I speak nonsense today, you know what will be said tomorrow morning. That is the beauty—we always have a loving correction. Yoga in Daily Life protects us from such fantasy and the spoiling of real knowledge. For everyone who begins to teach, it is important to start with the mantra "Nāhaṁ kartā" ("I am not the doer"). This mantra is our protection—a protection from our ego—and it opens the door to that ancient knowledge. When we started practicing yoga, we were seekers trying to find a real school, a real system. It depends on our luck, our karma, how long we will seek the real master. In yoga, we often hear that it is not we who find and choose the master. We may try, but it is the Master, the Guru, who finds us. When that moment comes, what you think and say is very important. You might get confused by one mantra, a second prayer, a third avatāra, a fifth picture... and become completely frozen. Imagine having five masters—on which form will you meditate? Imagine that moment is the last moment of your life. It is said that where your mind goes at the last moment, there you will go. That is significant. When you find your path, stay on it. This is protection for us. It is not about numbers or the size of a school. The Master always says this for the protection and benefit of the disciple. Yoga in Daily Life is truly from ancient times. When we start a prayer or lecture, we say "Śrī Dīpna, Bhagavān, Kīja" and name our entire paramparā. For those who don't know, this means we pay our respect to the great masters who gave us this divine light of yoga. If you read the books and go a little deeper, you will find that in Yoga in Daily Life, nothing is dogma and nothing is fanaticism. All the teachings from Viśva Gurujī have a beautiful explanation. Sometimes we lack the knowledge or don't fully understand. In those moments, start to ask: why and how? Research and learn. Through this, you will see that everything we practice at every level is deeply connected. Some things take more time to understand, but through practice, we will comprehend and truly adore this system. We will find everything we need within it. It depends on what we seek and why we start. Most people begin yoga for health. I remember Viśva Gurujī once said there are four times in life when we start to think about spirituality and life's meaning: 1. Around 14-15 years old, when we try to understand the world and our place in it. 2. When we have health problems—issues with the spine, stress, or other physical ailments. 3. When our friends start to die and we attend funerals. In that moment begins the vairāgya (dispassion) of the graveyard. We think, "What is life? You can have all the money, but you still die." Yet, right after the funeral, we often forget and return to eating and loving. 4. The moment of our own death, when we might say, "Oh God, please give me another human life to do something meaningful." It depends on which moment we begin. If you start due to physical health problems, that is excellent. Thank God for some illnesses, as they make us think and act. We start at the physical level but later find something deeper—the real knowledge of yoga. If we start only for meditation, that is also excellent, but practicing the physical aspect is vital. Only through balancing the physical and mental bodies do we find harmony. Neglecting either level creates problems. The beauty of Yoga in Daily Life is that we always maintain this balance from the start: āsanas, breathing, meditation, satsaṅg, and bhajans. Since many here are yoga teachers, it is important to consider how purely we received this knowledge and how purely we try to pass it on. When leading a class, remember the story of the disciple and the cat. Ask yourself: "How do I teach? How do I lead a yoga class or Yog Nidrā? Through my own fantasy, or through the real knowledge I received?" Of course, we always aim to teach purely. We often have a problem: we never see our own problem. We always think we are right and others are wrong. Isn't that true? "I am always right"—that is the problem. Thank God we have seminars and satsaṅg. If we don't have satsaṅg in person, we have Swāmījī TV. We are always updating. But more important than updating is the "antivirus program." When you go online to update or find information, in 30 seconds you might catch 30 viruses, 40 Trojans, and worms—not just on your computer, but on your inner computer (the mind). When you search online, how do you know which page is true? People copy and paste information. The grass always seems greener in the neighbor's garden, especially if they talk about siddhis, energy, and kuṇḍalinī. We copy-paste this into our minds and start talking about it in class. Therefore, purity in teaching is essential. Who is to say what we think is good is truly right or wrong? This seminar for teachers is like an antivirus program. Try to be open. What does "open" mean? It means to be flexible. "No, I am always right, I know"—in that moment, we build a wall, and nothing from the satsaṅg can enter to change us. Try to be flexible, not just physically but mentally. Have the wish to learn more. In yoga, there is always kāla and deśa (time and place). The knowledge does not change, but the explanation may differ slightly. Thirty years ago, when I started teaching, if we said an āsana was good for those who work with a "mouse," people would think of the animal. Today, everyone understands the computer mouse. Who knows what issues we will have in 20 years? Perhaps problems from moving only our eyes. We need to be flexible with kāla and deśa. You will see Swāmījī always uses modern language in his lectures. I remember when he first started using computer analogies; it seemed strange then. Imagine if he only spoke about sheep and cows—today, some children might not know what a sheep is. This is the beauty of Yoga in Daily Life: we always respect kāla and deśa. The light of Śrī Alakh Purījī, Mahāprabhujī, and Devpurījī does not change, but the language of explanation may adapt. For us, it is very important to keep this knowledge pure. Do not introduce into class something that is not from Yoga in Daily Life. It is also crucial to only teach what we have experienced. If you have never practiced Śīrṣāsana (headstand), how can you explain or teach it? You can read from a book, but you must have the experience. Purity means not adding anything from outside the system or from our own fantasy, but teaching what we have practiced and realized. Thank God, if someone in class asks something we don't know, we can say, "I don't know, but I know who does." We can direct them to the next seminar. In this way, we maintain pure teaching. For yoga teachers, it is vital to keep learning and understanding more through practice. We must be like a Renaissance person—like Leonardo da Vinci, who was not just a painter but researched many fields. However, there is a danger in learning about "a lot of stuff" and becoming completely confused. The key is to connect everything. From art, philosophy, agriculture—you will find different pieces. When you compile them, you gain complete knowledge. Today, we often become Fachidioten (specialist idiots), experts in only one narrow field. But if we connect knowledge from different areas, we get a much broader picture. That is yoga. Sometimes listening to Viśva Gurujī, you will hear him explain a spiritual principle through agriculture or building a house. Yoga is not just āsana, prāṇāyāma, and meditation. Yoga is in every aspect of life. In everything, you can find yoga—even in a seemingly stupid song. If you look deeper, you will find guidance on what to do and what not to do in life. We must be compilers of knowledge. "Vyāsa" means compiler. In our spiritual life, we must compile knowledge, and we are constantly trained for this. Be aware that Viśākhā Gurujī is always training us. If we are attentive and try to remember all we hear, we will have a broader picture. If someone asks about Svara Yoga, for instance, one might say we don't practice it much in Yoga in Daily Life. But try to recall everything you've heard from Swāmījī—you will find amazing information about it scattered across many lectures and stories. It's time to recall that information, to compile it. It's time for the next step in our practice. We often hear about jugād (resourceful improvisation). Jugād is what your grandfather did when the car broke down: open it up, use a lady's sock, some dirt—find a cheap, functional solution. It was a mental training in flexibility. Through physical exercise, we gain physical flexibility. We also need mental flexibility and must be that compiler. Try to recall all knowledge, not just information. Today we are flooded with information, but from Viśva Gurujī we receive real knowledge. Now, recall it and try to form a complete picture through the purity of your practice and path. We must not become like some former sports coaches who get a big stomach and only talk about their past glory. To be a yoga teacher, we must simultaneously be the coach and the player. We must continue our own practice. How can we lead a class if we cannot practice ourselves? It is very important to lead by the principle of "follow me." If we say we will do eleven rounds of Kaṭupranām, we must do them ourselves. If I sit drinking tea while telling you to practice, it loses all meaning. We must practice, understand, and not just parrot teachings. We must compile, not mix, and remain on one path. Be honest with ourselves. It is crucial to have purity—in our thoughts, deeds, body, and in preserving the purity of Yoga in Daily Life. Once more, I tell you: we are the lucky ones to have this ancient system, this traditional school. It is not so easy to find. Look around at the many studios and schools. Every year, there are fewer traditional schools and more new innovations and names. Some even say that while practicing āsanas, you will eventually create your own. I've seen things that look more like choreography or ballet than yoga. It might be good for physical health or concentration, but it is not yoga. Thank God that on International Day of Yoga, the accent is on traditional yoga—not Bollywood or Hollywood yoga. We are on that path, in a traditional school. Be aware of this and strive to preserve it.