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Rāja Yoga. Everyone is initiated by Rāja Yoga. This means you had an education. You studied. You have spiritual, ethical, and moral principles. They constitute a perfect social education. Those who lack this social education can harm others. It means suddenly speaking harsh words and then feeling sorry for it. But such a person will never have a permanent friend. This tendency is developing now in this Kali Yuga. Those who have a social education act differently. For example, you are traveling on a city bus, and an elderly person boards who looks a little ill, has a fever, or is exhausted from hard work, carrying bags in both hands. The socially educated person will say, "Please take a seat." The other might say, "No, no, I’m okay." The first will insist, "No, no, please, you take a seat." That’s it. That’s called a gentleman—or, for ladies, a gentle or kind person. Therefore, in yoga, we must first learn social education. Especially the yoga teacher should have a language; that language is called social education. What is that language? Be kind. Be humble. For example, consider the hostess on an aeroplane. You are in first class, business class, or economy class. How do they behave? "Yes, ma’am. Yes, sir." Even when the flight is about to land and they have closed everything, if a person in first class says, "I want to drink Coca-Cola," they will say, "Yes, sir," and quickly open up and bring it. They are very polite and educated. But after you get out of the aeroplane and the luggage is coming, and you are walking ahead, they are in a hurry and will overtake you and go. That is a temporary education. For a yogī, however, it is lifelong: kindness, humbleness, surrender. A yogī, a bhakta, a good person, a good neighbor, a good colleague, a good friend, has such a good attitude and behavior. As it is said: Yogī, bhakta, dobri kolega, dobri suset, dobri priyatel, ma takke sprava niyye so. And in Hindi: Lagutā se prabhutā mile, aur prabhutā se prabhutā dūr, kīṛī sakar khā gayī, hāthī ke mukh dhūl. It’s a very nice poem. Lagutā se prabhutā mile, prabhutā se prabhutā dūr, kīṛī sakar khā gayī, hāthī ke mukh dhūl. Clear. Therefore, a jñāna yogī, a rāja yogī, a karma yogī, a bhakti yogī should be without ego. Lagutā se prabhutā mile. Lagu means small. Lagutā se prabhutā mile. The more humble you are, the more respect and glory you receive. Always say, "No, please, you come, you are first." Then they may say, "No, no, please, you." But there are some who will just walk ahead. People will always say, "My God, what a person." That is humbleness. Prabhutā means to become small, meaning humble. Prabhutā also means God, glory, respect. But if you show that you are great, you will not get anything. Prabhūta se prabhūta dūr—if you show your ego, then for you that divine development, that divine knowledge, everything is far away. You become very proud, saying, "I am the guru." People come seriously, but even if they don’t give you time to speak after the lecture, they disappear. If you want to see them, talk to them, there is no time. It takes six months to get an appointment, and you call this a very great master. It takes months to get an audience. And the elite goes into his hotel room and watches a football game, or cricket, or tennis. That means he or she is showing, "I am great, but you are not great." The greater you are, the humbler you should be. There is a saying in India. There is a tree in a warm climate; in India we have many. A few we have in Jadan also, with beautiful, very green leaves. In wintertime, when the hot sun comes, it loses all its leaves. With no leaves, you cannot enjoy the shade. When it’s cold, you don’t like to sit in the shade, so you go sit in the sun. That is the time for that tree to blossom and give fruits—very fine little fruits. The tree branches go up like this; we call it the naked tree. At night it lets these fruits fall down, little ones about one centimeter. They taste bitter, and mostly they make alcohol from them. That tree has its ego. When it gets the fruit, it goes completely naked, and that produces the alcohol. At the same time in the summer, when the hot sun comes, another tree gives blossoms and fruits: the mango. Its branches go down and are covered with beautiful leaves. The mango is covered beautifully, respectfully, meaning nicely dressed, and that is a nice, sweet mango. This is a saying there in India. So, when you are more humble, you have knowledge, symbolically, the knowledge of the mango. You are a humble one. The more wisdom you have, the more spiritual energy you have, the more humble and kind you become. That is the quality of a yogī—be it a jñāna yogī, rāja yogī, bhakti yogī, or karma yogī. That’s called yoga in daily life. So, lagutā se prabhutā milī. When you are humble, you attain higher states. Prabhūta se prabhūta dūru—but if in the beginning you show your ego, you will not get that. For example, every poem has a question and an answer. The best poet provides both. Otherwise, you leave somebody hanging lifelong, not knowing what it is. Therefore, it is said very clearly. There was a competition—we are all in competition, no? A competition between a little ant and an elephant. Who will be the winner? The elephant is big, and the ant is so small. They took a little kernel of sugar and threw one grain into the sand. The challenge was: who can retrieve only the sugar? The elephant went and, with its trunk, brought more sand than sugar. So, one whose ego is like an elephant gets nothing. Ego, pride. Recently, I read something: two persons cannot hug. You know who? Two persons, each with a great ego, each with a big stomach. Clear? But then Her Majesty, the ant, very gently walked, took the sugar, and while the elephant was smiling, the ant got the crown. Have you seen an ant with a crown? Oh, yes. So, humbleness, kindness, pokora, dobrota, respect, social education—that’s it. Now, if you tell someone, "Please be kind," or say "Thank you," they might say, "Why? Why shouldn’t I be kind?" They don’t say "Thank you" in return. They should learn to come to Austria. This is Rāja Yoga. I am teaching you Rāja Yoga. This is a chapter of Rāja Yoga. In 1989, during the communist regime, I had many disciples in Hungary. There was one couple; the husband was a driver. He used to drive his boss from Budapest to Vienna and back, parking the car in the garage under the Vienna Opera. Sometimes he took his wife with him, having asked his boss for permission. I asked him, "When you are in Vienna, what do you like most?" He said, "We like to visit the shops. We just run from one shop to another." I said, "Why don’t you buy?" He said, "We don’t have that much money. But we love to go in and out of the shops." I asked, "What's in that?" Because Austrians are so friendly. When you go into a shop, they say, "Grüß Gott, bitte, kommen Sie herein." They welcome you, smiling, "Good, please come in." And when you go out, they say, "Dankeschön, kommen Sie wieder. Bitte kommen Sie wieder. Thank you and come again." But for what do they thank you? You didn’t buy anything. It doesn’t matter. That is social education for the people. Now, I went last year, or two years ago when I was in America, to a very big shopping mall to buy a suitcase. It was a big department with everything: shoes, etc. But for the first time I saw there were no humans inside. There were suitcases lying down. A person comes and puts items back, that’s all. Whatever you want, take it. How nice. My God, we don’t need to pay? Nobody is there. But at the counter, someone is sitting. There, you have to use your credit card. You put your bill in, the machine shows how much to pay, your credit card goes in, the credit card opens the barrier, and you take your goods and go out. Even at the counter, there is nobody. If you try to take something without paying, immediately a guard and the police are there. There is no human. The machine doesn’t say to you, "Thank you." The door opens and doesn’t tell you, "Welcome, please, how are you?" Slowly, slowly, humans go away from humans. Soon, in a household, the wife and husband will have different departments at home. You press a button; the wife will say, "What do you want?" She will say, "I want this and this." Then press that button. Life will be like this. This is not yoga. Even animals come together. Social education makes the human great, not merely high education. That education connects the heart and the brain: respect, humbleness, kindness, devotion, spirituality—many things. So, Rāja Yoga begins with coming to Ahiṃsā Paramodharma. Ahiṃsā, non-violence, is the highest principle. There are two very big volumes called Dharma Śāstra. Dharma is religion; Śāstra is the scriptures. One man wrote them. His name was Kane from Maharashtra, near Mumbai. While alive, he received the Jewel of India award. He researched every word, tracing who spoke it first. When the Mahābhārata battle was over and Bhīṣma was lying on the bed of arrows, the Pāṇḍavas came. They had fought on opposite sides, but now they came and asked, "Grandfather, what is our duty now?" At that time, Bhīṣma attained realization. He said, "Ahiṃsā paramo dharma, O Yudhiṣṭhira"—non-violence is the highest principle. That statement entered the scriptures. That is why the first principle in Rāja Yoga, in Yama and Niyama, is Ahiṃsā. You cannot proceed in Rāja Yoga without it. This is the first step. When you climb a staircase, the first step is non-violence. If you have not mastered non-violence, you cannot come to the second step. To go from the first floor to the second, you must use the stairs or a lift. But sometimes there is a situation: if you tell a lie, it is hiṃsā (violence). If you tell the truth, in some cases it is also hiṃsā. If you lie, it’s a sin. If you tell the truth, it’s a hint. If you go forward, it’s an arrow. If you go backward, it’s an arrow. If you look left, there’s an arrow. If you go right, there’s an arrow. You are stuck in this dharmaśaṅkat—a dilemma of righteousness. This means you are now in a situation where you must protect yourself without harming or damaging. Only a Rāja Yogī can solve this problem. There was a Rāja Yogī meditating in the forest. Ṛṣis were those living in the forest in nice huts, when human population was small. The ṛṣi was sitting outside his hut on the veranda, with his yoga stick for pranayama. He was chanting a mahamantra. A deer ran past quickly. The ṛṣi wondered, "Why is this deer so frightened today?" The deer went away. He continued his mantra, and a hunter came behind him. The hunter, with his bow and arrow, was hunting, but the deer was quicker. Suddenly the hunter saw the ṛṣi sitting there. He came and asked, "Can you tell me, did you see the deer? Which side did he run?" The ṛṣi knew he was a hunter who would kill the deer. If I say, "Yes, I saw him; he ran this side," then I am making a mistake because the deer will be killed. That is hiṃsā. If I say I don’t know, then I lie. This is the second principle of Rāja Yoga: do not lie. So again, I make a mistake. If I tell, it’s a mistake. If I don’t tell, it’s a mistake. The yogī said, "Oh my friend, I don’t know what you are talking about." The hunter said, "Dear, just now it passed here. Well, what can I tell you?" The hunter said, "Don’t waste time. I’m asking you, which side did the rabbit, or the deer, run?" The yogī said, "That’s what I’m telling you. What should I tell you?" The hunter insisted, "Say something, yes or no." This is my problem. What can be the problem? The yogī said, "Dear friend, those who have seen cannot speak, and those who speak cannot see. So what can I tell you?" The hunter said, "Stupid one," and went away. The yogī said, "Thank you, God. I did not lie, because I see, but they don’t speak. And the mouth speaks, but the mouth cannot see. My eyes see." So in both ways, I am right. A Rāja Yogī has viveka (discrimination). Sometimes you use viveka in such a way that for a little while you can become stupid—no problem—stupid here means humble, kind. The ṛṣi tried to engage the hunter yogī for a long time. "He is with me until that deer is gone somewhere else. So I occupied him here with me." Then the hunter wanted to go away. The yogī said, "Yes, but come back. Come, come back. I will tell you something." The hunter said, "Yes, thank you, friend. Tell me, which side did the deer run away?" The yogī replied, "I have no interest in deer. I’m asking you, are you hungry or thirsty? I would like to offer you something." The hunter said, "Yes, I am hungry." The yogī said, "Okay, sit down. I will go to the village and bring bhikṣā (alms). Please take care of my hut. I will come back in about two hours." So the hunter sat there. The yogī went about 100 meters away and came back. He said, "Friend, what will you do alone here?" The hunter said, "Yes, true, what will I do? Then why don’t you do something? A nice mantra. What is this? Some deer? Oh, it’s an elephant. So what? It will, you will get everything. Until I come back, do this." The hunter asked, "So, what will I do then? Tell me, my friend." Earlier he had said, "Hey, guy, have you seen where the deer is running?" Within a few minutes, he was saying, "What will I do, my friend?" He became a friend. The yogī said, "Close your eyes and chant the mantra. It’s a great mantra. When I return with the food, I will call you. Then you can open your eyes and come for eating." The hunter said, "So please, then give me a mantra." The yogī instructed, "Close your eyes and sit like this." So the Rāja Yogī said the hunter sat like that. "Tell me, please, don’t open your eyes. I will do it."