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Oṁ Guru Radeva, Īśvara, Sākṣī, Parabrahma, Tasmai Śrī Gurve, Dhyāna Mūlam Guru Mūrti, Pūjā Mūlam Guru Pādam, Mantra Mūlam Guru Vākyam, Mokṣa Mūlam Guru Kṛpā, Oṁ Śānti, Śānti, Śānti Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Śrī Śrī Dev Purīśa Mahādeva Kī Dharma Samrāṭ Guru Svāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān Kī Satya Sanātana Dharma Kī Pravṛtti and Nivṛtti. We were discussing parāvidyā and aparāvidyā, as well as lakṣārthī and vācārthī. These are the principal aims in life. As long as we have not realized and mastered this, we cannot proceed further. Yes, meditation. But what is happening in your meditation? You all know: you try to meditate, you sit and repeat mantras, but the vṛttis—various kinds of mental modifications—persist. It is easy to quote, "Yogaḥ citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ." It sounds beautiful and is great to say. But how do you achieve it? Consider an artist, a young child of 14, 15, 17, or 20. In the Olympic Games, such young individuals jump on a wooden platform, execute beautiful postures, and land standing. We watch and feel we could do it too. Yes, we can jump twice—the first and the last jump—and see it as beautiful and very comal (gentle). But it requires practice, practice. Similarly, we wish to meditate, but what is truly occurring in your mind? It is nice to speak of, nice to hear, and nice to say. Yet, with this approach, we cannot advance in meditation. Thus, we have the two paths: pravṛtti and nivṛtti. Pravṛtti is the state where our senses, thoughts, ambitions, and desires remain engaged with the external world. We are occupied with the outside. When we sit for meditation, we are besieged by many thoughts—anger, disappointments, pain, pleasure, drudgery, or sleep. That is all. Let us understand awareness and consciousness. Awareness is akin to alertness, though 'alert' carries a military connotation. Awareness, in the yogic sense, is gentle. Consciousness is the fundamental consciousness itself. As long as pravṛtti dominates, we have countless vṛttis we cannot control. But a yogī should be like a turtle. As Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa said in the Bhagavad Gītā, a yogī should be able to withdraw the senses inward at any time, like a turtle retracting its limbs, or expand and become extroverted at will. This signifies control over the vṛttis: yogaḥ citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ. Yet, the whole day feels like a burden. A burden can take many forms. You read a book and see the words "O God"—that becomes a burden. You receive a letter—"O God"—that becomes a burden. Mosquitoes come—"O God." So many burdens. And all these burdens invade your meditation or pūjā. You perform a ceremony, but your vṛttis are elsewhere. Many people perform pūjā—it doesn't matter to which deity—but while doing pūjā, their business continues, their work goes on. Thoughts arise: "I need a job, O God. My child... when my son grows up and passes his exams... not for a girl. If he passes for a girl, I say..." For a boy, there will be struggles, not because he is a boy, but because he is an Adhiyaskop. Thus, during pūjā, one does not surrender completely. One prays, "O Prabhu, O Mahāprabhujī, my child should pass the examination, my son should have a good profession"—not the daughter, the son. Everywhere in the world, there is more focus on boys because it is known that girls are very smart; they will survive and often have a better life than boys. That is true. If they do not have a better life, it is their own mistake. God has given all girls and women the potential for a very happy, joyful, and good life. If they do not feel it, it is their own error. Boys have a hard life, yet parents pray more for boys. But this is not our subject now. The subject is this: What are you thinking when you pray? How many wishes do you hold? When you make praṇām, how many desires accompany it? What are you doing when you offer praṇām? This is a very important question: What are you asking of Mahāprabhujī, Devapurījī, Gurujī, or any divine being when you bow down? When you go to prayer, with what feeling do you approach? When you go on pilgrimage, what do you seek to realize? When you perform Navarātri pūjā, what is your desire, your wish? We are beggars of the beggars' beggar. Bhagavān says that at least once you should bow down with niṣvārtha (selflessness). But we are beggars before Bhagavān's beggars. Thus, even in prayer, we harbor such restless, selfish thoughts. What transpires during your meditation? Vṛttis. And these vṛttis are killing, destroying, and obstructing our progress toward spirituality. Listen and digest this. If someone tells you one word, you become angry like popcorn on a hot pot or a chapati fan. Place one popcorn on a hot surface, and within no time it pops up. This indicates that within your vṛttis, in your inner self, there exists such explosive energy that it takes a long time to calm down. A long time. Explosion, anger, feeling offended, ego—these waves take a long, long time to subside. By then, the opportunity is gone, far away. Your spiritual development remains behind, far away, gone. Therefore, we must understand pravṛtti and nivṛtti. Pravṛtti encompasses all our daily engagements. That is fine. But when you meditate, how can you withdraw yourself? That is the time for nivṛtti. For example, your mother cooks, serves dinner for all the children and her husband, eats herself, then cleans the dishes, tidies the kitchen, puts everything in order, and only then comes to sit with the children. She has finished her work. Similarly, a sādhaka, a spiritual aspirant, should know: until what time do I work, and now I have finished. The rest is for tomorrow. Then you sit down to meditate. But it is easy to wash dishes and tidy a kitchen. How will you clean and tie up your emotions—being offended, jealous, hateful, angry, egotistical, thinking "I know better than you"? When someone says, "No, you are wrong, this is better," you may outwardly say, "Mm-hmm," but inside there is an explosion. The explosive bumps are bubbling up. In meditation, you will confront them. Thus, nivṛtti involves indriya nigrahaṇa (sense control). Nigra means awareness. Observe your vṛttis. Where is this vṛtti going? Therefore, in the self-inquiry meditation, or ātmā-anubhūti according to Bhagavad Śaṅkarācārya, that is the way to the Self, to self-realization. First, you must attain ātmā-anubhūti. Anubhūti means experience, anubhava. It means to realize, "Yes, that I am. This is real, and this is unreal." The meditation we teach in yoga and in life is a self-inquiry meditation. But people practice and then add their own imagination. Many yoga teachers in their life meditate and give meditation instructions. Yet, they impart their own emotional feelings. They ask, "What are your emotional problems now? What is your imagination? What do you think could be good?" They give instructions based on that, which is not correct meditation. Therefore, it is sometimes better to meditate without such a teacher. Teachers who possess too much ambition, fantasy, and imagination—psychologically, they transfer their mental tension onto their students. It is your tension, your problem. You may want to see the sunrise. I may not want to see the sunrise. You instruct, "Now imagine morning, dawn." Oh God, I want to sleep. How do you know that everyone wants to see the sunrise? It is a beautiful picture, but not for all. If there is a blind person in your class and you say, "Now imagine the sunrise," that blind person will ask, "What?" How can a person blind from birth imagine how the sun rises? For a yogī who has never seen, sunset and sunrise, night and day, are the same. That teacher is blind, giving instructions that are not authentic, not first-hand. What is authentic? The realization of Śaṅkarācārya, the great ṛṣis, Mahāprabhujī, Devapurījī, and Gurujī. This realization took long, long years. Therefore, a teacher should observe and should not close their eyes while giving instructions. Teachers should not close their eyes and guide yoga nidrā. This has happened to me many times, which is why I do not give afternoon yoga nidrā. If I give yoga nidrā and close my eyes, I might say, "Right hand... hands... now, left hand," while I was still focused on the right hand. The student becomes stuck on the right hand, and I am instructing to awaken the left hand. Therefore, the teacher must be alert, aware, conscious, and an observer of what is happening. It is possible that someone could have a sudden heart attack, a sudden, permanent yoga nidrā. You open your eyes and say, "What? Move your body." To whom are you speaking? That person has gone away. So the teacher must observe all situations, every kind of movement in the class, and the vṛttis must be controlled. This is the essence of pravṛtti and nivṛtti. Nivṛtti means setting aside all obligations: physical, mental, social, political, spiritual—everything. Now you are only with your Self. That is meditation. You may use different words, but still, do not inject your own imagination. That is the problem. So, nivratī and pravratī. Pravratī is extroverted engagement with the world. Nivratī is the inner world, the inner self, our inner vṛttis, all our thoughts and feelings. Thus, meditation is very important. Prāṇāyāma purifies the energy in the body. Through prāṇāyāma, you approach the cakras, which harmonize our vṛttis and energies. At that time, the ascending and descending breath—consciousness, prāṇa and apāna—will touch the maṇipūra cakra, and then thoughts will ascend toward calmness and peace. That meditation, even for five minutes, is something divine. Otherwise, it will not come. What quality do you possess? How many layers of impurities do you carry? Mala, vikṣepa, and āvaraṇa. Mala are impurities: impure thoughts, doubts, jealousy, anger. These are all impurities, and we know what they are. Vikṣepa is that which creates distraction; it is the citta vṛtti with no nirodha. The vṛttis are running—this, that, this, that. Āvaraṇa is the curtain of ignorance that prevents you from proceeding further. Perhaps you hold anger toward your father, mother, son, daughter, wife, husband, an uncle, your school teacher, or your master. "You don't know how much I know." You do not know how many students are shooting mental arrows. Yes? It is not easy to be a master. I am not a master. Mahāprabhujī's Gurujī is a master. I am a disciple. But Mahāprabhujī, Mahāgurujī have placed a kind of shield, a protection. So all the arrows are deflected toward me. I am the victim now. You can feel it. On the day you feel how many are shooting arrows toward you, then you are the master, and then you will know. Bhujaave na paani, na mrityu mitaave, vahiyatama sa chidānandam, amarayatama sa chidānandam eo. You must become bulletproof. No weapon can destroy you. Neither fire can burn, nor death take away. Neither water, nor air, nor any element can destroy that. That is the truth—not the truth and lies of what she said, what he said, and what another said. This is gossip. If you involve yourself in garbage, then you become the garbage in the garbage basket. That is all. Then I rise above. "Brahma satya, jagat mithyā." It is said: "Hameṅ kām satsaṅg se, jagat bākeṅtū bākān. Hameṅ kām satsaṅg se, jagat." Yes. Let them gossip. Let them cry. Let them struggle. I am the ātmā. Sat. Sat Chit. I am pure consciousness. And that is supreme bliss. Ānand. Sacchidānanda mehu. Śivo’ham. That is Śiva. My Ātmā is that Self. When that vṛtti awakens in meditation, then you are truly meditating. You have come to the āśram for 7 or 8 days. You received good instructions on the first day. Now you must know what you have followed and what you have not. You have not followed Karma Yoga properly. You felt you need not inquire further. So what have you realized by coming to this spiritual place? It is very nice, very warm, very hot. Some girls are confused, hanging here and there. They lack spiritual feelings yet seek to be attached somewhere. They search for that kind of glue, but it is not super glue; it is only a sand castle. The rain will come, and it will wash away. What did you come to India for? To go to the ashram, meditate, pray, and observe the inner self. To go into nivṛtti. But you do not have that practice. You lack that hunger; you lack that thirst. In self-inquiry meditation, ātmā-anubhūti, one declares, "No one can disturb me." I meditate. I am here. I am eating. I am with everyone, and I am with no one. Well, time has passed. Night has gone, dawn has come. Wake, my children, wake. Sit in the āsana of meditation. Gaze at my master's lotus feet. That is all. Well, next time, I wish you all the best. Some are leaving tomorrow. Please take something from here—a kind of prasāda that will grow day and night. Like the rising sun, it will become brighter and brighter, light and light. Take spiritual prasāda, spiritual jñāna experiences—not thoughts like, "Oh, it was too hot," and "Swāmījī was very strict. But when he went to his room, oh, we sat in front of the lift and chatted. Suddenly, he comes down in the lift. We are surprised at what he's doing here." Yes. I observe from above, below, the side—every friend, everything. So, nivṛtti and pravṛtti: the spiritual path is not as you might think. I do not wish to make you blind. Merely eating, sleeping, enjoying, coming for prayer, and admiring how nice it is here does not serve our purpose. Well, next time... Let me live long enough until they attain self-realization. As Mahāprabhujī said, "I will overthink." Deepa Niranjana Sabadokaba Prabhudeepa, Shri Dipanjana Sabadu, Shri Dipanjana Sabadu, Jnana Isi Mantras Hove Manama, Jnana Isi Hove Manama, Sridhi Paneera. Jñāna Sabhā Doka Prabhupāda Paneera Jñāna Sabhā Doka Sridhi Pranārāyaṇa Bhagavān Śrī Śrī Dev Puruṣa Mahādeva Satguru Svāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavāne Satya Sanātana Dharma Kī Om Śānti.