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Welcome, all of you. Blessings of the Siddha Pīṭha, Alakhpurījī, to all dear sisters and brothers here and around the world. Yoga in daily life is a system that encompasses a complete philosophy, science, and realization. Many of you have been with me for more than forty years and have gathered much knowledge. Yet knowledge is endless. There is a bhajan, and holy Gurujī, in a lecture we have on video, gave an example. Imagine a water well about two and a half meters wide, four meters long, and twenty meters deep. When you look inside, there may appear to be only one or two cubic liters of water. Yet we expect it to serve entire villages, and we say it is more than enough. The whole village can drink from this well, the water suffices for kettles, laundry, and the kitchen garden. But if there really were only two cubic liters, it would not be enough even for two families—eight family members and five or six cows, plus goats. If it were just a limited tank, two cubic liters would fall short. However, the source of the water in the well is endless. So is the principle of yoga: practice and follow the principle of yoga, and you can drink this water lifelong. A mother breastfeeds her child for at least eight months, several times a day. Where does the milk come from? From her endless love. In the same way, yoga in daily life is like drinking the milk of immortality, the knowledge of jñāna, Brahma jñāna. We must practice it constantly. If it remains only intellectual, it will be lost, because the intellect perishes with the body. But the knowledge you pass on from your intellect will continue further. That is called the Guru Paramparā. Paramparā gives rise to what is called Sanātana, or Sanātana Dharma. Sanātana is a living lineage; others are no longer so, because in Sanātana Paramparā the Guru Paramparā keeps moving forward, passing on knowledge. Guru Nānak stated in the holy book, the Guru Granthā, “After me, there will be no guru.” Why? He felt perhaps no one would be able to follow those rules and regulations. So he said, “No more guru comes,” but for permanence he gave the Guru in the form of the book. Therefore he compiled the Guru Granthā and said, “Take this Guru Granthā as the Guru itself.” After he wrote the Guru Granthā, there have been great Gurus in the Sikh tradition who uphold its teachings. Guru Granthā Kojanīye, Prakṛti Gurūon Kī De—now consider this book the very embodiment of the Gurudev. “Jiske hirde sattye he, khoj usi mele”—in whose heart is truth and devotion to the Gurudev, he will find the Guru within this book. Similarly, in Christianity, it is said there is no further revelation; the Bible is closed. In Islam too. But in Sanātana Dharma, it continues. And that is the well from which milk and water flow. This is called Kāmadhenu, the wish‑fulfilling cow who forever gives milk. Kāmadhenu means that knowledge. The knowledge of Guru Kṛpā and Guru Paramparā flows continuously. But if you break away and try to dig another well, you probably will not find that water. There is a beautiful poem or bhajan, perhaps by Sūradāsa, which Gurujī shared in a satsaṅg one year before he passed away. There is also a translation; one evening we will explore it. From time to time, we must remind ourselves and begin from the beginning. So let us return to the philosophy of yoga. All six traditional philosophies of India are included within yoga. The highest is called Yoga Vedānta—not merely Vedānta, but Yoga Vedānta. We began our studies in Austria and Czechoslovakia with Yoga Vedānta philosophy, and then integrated everything into yoga. I was once asked, “Is there any system in yoga?” I replied, there is no better system than yoga. You can see this in Patañjali Yoga, Samādhi Pāṭha Yoga, and many other aspects. The Bhagavad Gītā has eighteen chapters, each beginning with yoga and ending again with Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. According to the Bhagavad Gītā, there are eighteen different kinds of yoga—not only four like Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Rāja Yoga, and Jñāna Yoga, but many, and ultimately they all converge into one. Gurujī used to say, “One in all, and all in one.” That is what Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa said: it doesn’t matter which path you take; ultimately, I will be there at the end. These are Kṛṣṇa’s words, not mine. So it doesn’t matter which path is good for you. You have come from Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Georgia, Romania, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Germany, Austria, Italy, Slovakia, Croatia—the whole of Europe is sitting here, coming to oneness at the Mahāprabhujī Satsaṅg Foundation in Strilky. In the same way, this hall, our ātmā, our jīvātmā, comes through that divine path—what we call the nervous system. That is why every master who belongs to this paramparā is hailed as: Guru Brahma, Guru Viṣṇu, Guru Devo, Maheśvara, Guru Sākṣāt, Parabrahma Tasmai Śrī Guruve Namaḥ. All three—Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva—are invoked, and finally the Guru principle: Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Deva, Maheśvara, Guru, Sākṣāt Parabrahma. This is the title given. Sākṣāt means “itself,” Parabrahma. So the Parabrahma principle, that energy, is called Guru—leading from darkness to light. That is why we have the mantra: Tamaso mā jyotir gamaya, amṛtam. When the master forgets, the disciple reminds. Long ago—when we do not know the exact years, we say “long ago” or “once upon a time”—there was a Siddha master, established in samādhi. Such masters have no fear. They say, “If dogs bark, let them bark. When an elephant walks down the street, many dogs will bark, but not even a Doberman can approach the elephant.” That is called Śāntabhāva. When one attains it, the vṛttis change even a kilometer away. It is like the story of Garuḍa. One day, that master was sitting with his disciple, and suddenly he said, “I must go to my room—a small room, barely ten square meters, like a cave.” (They did not build huge ashrams like the one Maheśvarānanda is doing, though he does it not for himself but for the many disciples, and even that is too small.) The master said, “I have to hurry.” The disciple asked, “What happened, Master?” The master replied, “A bhakta of mine is in the middle of the ocean in his boat, in danger, calling out, ‘Gurudev, protect me! Bring my boat to the shore!’ So I am going to save him. Do not open the door; do not disturb me.” And he left. How? With the astral body. Today you had an examination: how many bodies? Many said one, but that is only the Annamaya Kośa. The master does not need anything; he simply went and saved the disciple. But in his hurry, he forgot something. When he returned, he did not know how to re-enter the physical body. So never try such samādhi here; you might not get back in, and the body would remain in what doctors call a coma. There the master was, traveling in the astral body, trying to enter. The disciple, with eyes closed, spoke to the master’s astral form: “Gurudev, through the nābhi, navel, pūpik.” In an instant, the master re-entered his body and exclaimed, “O mṛtyor mā amṛtaṁ gamaya!” The master then said to his disciple, “My son,”—for the disciple is the son—“your name is Nabha, and there is a book called Sant Mālā, which means ‘garland of saints.’ It contains accounts of many saints. Some saints were written about before this book was completed, so I had no chance to be included, because the book is closed. Otherwise, I would have put you in. But we are happy that we are not closed in.” The Bhakta Mālā is a very thick book that records many, many ancient sādhus and siddhas. That is paramparā. There are countless gurus, each possessing some siddhis, but they all follow the paramparā. If you break away and jump from one to another, you are nowhere—neither here nor there. Now, about the bodies. Annamaya Kośa: anna means nourishment; this physical body subsists on food and drink. If we do not eat and drink, we die. Yet some live on prāṇa, the solar prāṇa. I can tell you about a person who wears a woman’s dress. He received the blessing of the Divine Mother, Ambā. In the very beginning, Śiva and Śakti were married. They were the first to give human creation. But there is a long story. Satī’s father, King Dakṣa, had a dispute with Śiva, even though his daughter was married to Śiva. Her name was Satī, meaning faithful. Dakṣa once performed a grand yajña. He invited Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Nārada, and many others, but not Śiva. So if there can be a dispute in the family of the gods, what about us? Do not be unhappy; this is saṃsāra—the world where nothing is permanent. Satī was furious. She received word that her father was holding a magnificent yajña, like our Paṇḍitjī performs, and she knew that if Śiva did not attend, it would not be successful. She said to Śiva, “My Lord, this is injustice. My father did not send an invitation.” Śiva replied, “Śakti, no problem. Maybe he forgot.” She retorted, “How can my father forget?” King Dakṣa’s daughter insisted, “I will go and tell my father to invite you.” Śiva knew everything, but Śiva is Śiva. He said, “No problem. If you come to me, welcome; if you go, welcome. If you do not come, let the crowd be.” But Satī insisted: “No, Haṭha Yoga, Bāl Haṭha, Triya Haṭha, Rāj Haṭha, Yoga Haṭha.” So she went. Śiva said, “My dear, it is not good to go.” She replied, “But I will go.” He said nothing more. When she arrived at the yajña, at her parental home, she entered the sacrificial area. There were many ṛṣis and others present. She confronted her father: “Why did you not invite Lord Śiva?” Dakṣa told her to leave, to get out. She persisted, and many things happened. The atmosphere turned turbulent; it was no longer a yajña atmosphere. When a woman comes and creates a storm—it might have been like Draupadī or others, I do not wish to mention—that is called triyāhaṭ. She was in the right; she was not fighting for wrong, but they perceived it wrongly. She declared, “I cannot return to Śiva. You have humiliated my husband, my Lord Śiva. And when you humiliated my husband, I have no reason to live any longer.” So a faithful wife would die for her husband, and a true husband would never let her die; he would liberate her. Satī sat in the fire of the yajña. She immolated herself. They brought Satī’s body to Śiva. Śiva was grief-stricken. He took her on his shoulder, seized his triśūla, and vanished into the universe. Śiva departed from the earth for ages upon ages—not just a day or two. All activity on earth came to a halt. Brahmā, Viṣṇu, all the gods and goddesses, the Indras, wondered what to do. They realized that out of attachment to his wife, Śiva had renounced everything. That is love. Many people, girls here and there, stay together for a year and a half, maximum, and then separate. That is not love; it is emotional attachment, and it can never be equal. True love is heart to heart, oneness, not physical attachment. If you want to marry, find such a partner; otherwise, better not. All the gods—Viṣṇu, Brahmā, Nārada, Dakṣa, Indras, Kuberas—approached Bhagavān Viṣṇu. Everywhere there was darkness; they did not know where Śiva was. They understood He was somewhere in the Brahmalokas, and no one could find Him. Who would dare separate Śiva from Satī? This is not a fairy tale. Do not think Swamījī is merely telling a nice story. Read the Mahāśiva Purāṇa. Bhagavān Viṣṇu had to do something. He held the Sudarśana Cakra in his hand—the very Sudarśana Cakra that Śiva had given to Viṣṇu. That discus shows you where to go, what to do, and what not to do. (A long story, but I will not give you all of it now.) Bhagavān Viṣṇu released the Sudarśana Cakra into the universe. It took ages—their timescale differs from ours. We would get a printout tomorrow or the day after, and you could read it yourselves. The Sudarśana Cakra traveled until it struck Śakti’s body. And the Sudarśana Cakra cut Śakti’s body into how many pieces? Fifty-two pieces. Wherever a part of Śakti’s body fell on this earth—on mountains, in deserts—that place became a Śakti Pīṭha. On the border of Rajasthan and Gujarat, there is a place called Ambā. Satī’s heart fell there, on a mountain hillside, inside a small cave. For many, many ages, from Satya Yuga, an oil lamp has been burning there as an eternal light. You can go and have darśan. There rests the heart of the Divine Mother Satī. There is a man, a sādhu, living somewhere down the hill. He received the darśan of Satī. Now he wears the dress of a woman—a nose ring, bangles, everything. He is very thin, thinner than Haripuri, looking like a young woman. What is his special quality? He does not eat or drink; he sustains himself only on light, sunlight. Many scientists and doctors have researched him. They humbly gave him a nice large room, but with no food or water. Days, weeks, months passed; he remained exactly as he was. There were many cameras checking if he had something to eat. He is still living. A documentary film was made. If you wish to see, one day come with me and I will arrange a darśan. India is full of festivals; almost every week there is some celebration. That is why India is called colorful India. The Hindu religion is a religion of happiness. Our goddesses are beautifully decorated. But dhyāna means “I am happy, joyful, without sorrow”—no wonder. When you dance, you become so happy—“tanchui, tanchui, tanchui.” Dhyāna, Satguru Namah. Kabīr says: “Kaheli, be parvā fakīr”—I have no worries, I am like a fakīr or sādhu. “Gagan opa ma ghera kahiye”—my beauty is like the sky. “Gagan opa ma ghera kahiye, jīu dharṇī jīu dhīr”—and like the earth. Our Mother Earth, no matter what we do to her, she does not become angry. “Jīo dharani jīo dhīr. Gagane opma kahaya, ghera kahaye jīo, dharani jīo jis dhīra. Amṛtā jaisā mīṭhā kahāye.” And that saint’s knowledge is like the nectar of immortality. “Amṛt Jyosā Mithakā Ye Viparvā Pakīr.” She does not give lectures, nor does she come forward to touch people. But sometimes, when they are dancing, she dances with them. If we are fortunate, we will go and have her darśan. It may happen that she sees us, and we enter her cave. We might wait two or three days, but finally we would have to return to eat something. She does not eat, so leave it to me; I will facilitate the darśan. So, this Annamaya Kośa—our body exists on nourishment, solid and liquid. We consume too much physical nourishment: salads, chapatis, ice cream, coffee, and so on. If we depend only on that, we get energy, but that energy is not highly effective on the body. Some people today undergo training to live without food and drink. I had a disciple in Vienna who went to such training without telling me. She really did it—she did not eat or drink for some time. But then she started eating again because it was so boring; when someone invited her, she could not eat or drink, and they felt sorry for her. So she resumed eating. But we must understand the deeper truth. Thus, this is the bhajan of Bhagavān Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇ Mahāprabhujī. After Annamaya Kośa comes Prāṇamaya Kośa. The sādhus enter into the Prāṇamaya Kośa. Then Manomaya Kośa—the mind remains as long as you live. Then comes Vijñānamaya Kośa—our knowledge, our intellect. Then comes Dhyāna Māyākośa. And finally, Ānandamaya Kośa. Ānandamaya Kośa means desire, feeling—not the supreme Ānanda—and it manifests like an astral body. Sometimes our ancestors remain in the Ānandamaya Kośa. Let us, therefore, understand how such a saint exists and lives in this world. We can only listen, so come for the company of singing. Devānā Satguru Akhāṛā Mātā Kī Jai! (Oh, I was so absorbed in the lokas—which lokas was I in? I was in the other lokas, with Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān. Kī Jai! Devpurīśa Mahādeva Kī Jai! Sanātana Dharma Kī Jai! Satguru Swāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān Kī Jai! Alakhpurījī Mahādeva Kī Jai!)