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There was a doubt about the vṛttis. When we were born, and as soon as we received some kind of intellect as a child—and a child has a very good memory and everything—there are different levels of life. You see, when we are inwardly awake, we know what we are, what we did, and what we are doing. This is the same as what I have always quoted from Ādi Śaṅkarācārya: “Who am I? From where do I come? What is my purpose here? For what did I come, and what am I doing? And where do I go?” A few days ago I read that some prophet from a monastery, perhaps a Greek seer or someone from many centuries ago, expressed the same truth that I have been speaking for many years: the truth remains truth. Therefore, it is said, “Jīsī śastra na kāṭe” — no weapon can cut you. “Jīsī śastra na kāṭe, na agni jalāve” — fire cannot burn you. “Jīsī śastra na kāṭe, na agni jalāve, na bujhāve na pānī” — and water cannot destroy you either. I am that Sat Cit Ānanda. Sat means truth. Cit is our inner self, and Ānanda is the joy. So, Sat, Cit, Ānanda. Now, Sat is not only this worldly truth; it is what we are talking about. People say, “I did it,” or “No, I did it,” arguing about everyday matters. But Sat is like the sky. The sky is the truth. We can shoot bullets into the sky and then look through a magnifying glass — do you see a hole in the sky? We throw a stone into the sky; that stone will fall back on our head, but the sky is never injured. So whether out of ignorance or by mistake, the truth is the truth. Saying “I am good, you are not good, they are not good” — that is ignorance. Ultimately, we all come to the same grave. We have one walking stick that accompanies us from the cradle to the grave. “Brahma satyaṁ jagat mithyā.” Only Brahman is the truth, and this jagat is mithyā. This world is not reality; it is temporary. It is like soap bubbles blown through water — how long do they last? If you try to touch them, they burst. They are temporary. “I am good, or he is good, they are not good” — one who speaks only of himself and not of others is not good; there is ignorance. Neither you are right, nor am I. And what is your right, your truth, and my truth? These will be judged only when we have ātmajñāna. Who are we to judge someone? Who are we to judge anyone? There is Dharmarāja, the Divine Justice. He will judge justice. He will judge our karmas. That is all. So satya, brahma satya, jagat mithyā. This world, this earth we see, is not unchanging. It is said that it drifted from one landmass to another over great distances. Australia was once connected to the Indian Ocean region; now it is thousands of kilometers away but still touches the Indian Ocean from the west. Scientists have shown that the genes of Australian Aborigines originate from India. How did these people come from there to here? At that time the lands were closer; they went fishing and gradually, slowly, the landmasses separated. There was a time when our entire globe was under water. The one who first lifted our Earth out of the ocean was Varāha, a huge boar with a mighty tusk; he brought the globe, the earth, out of the deep — the first incarnation. Twenty-four incarnations, changing with every age. And now, changes are occurring in our own lives too. Who here is very old, perhaps ninety years? Maybe two or three are above ninety. How many things have changed in that time? So, what is changing is not reality, and what is not changing is reality. Therefore, it is said: what is visible and touchable is not reality, and what is not visible at all is reality. Science and jñāna converge on this truth. The ātmā jñānī, one who has become one with Brahman, has no duality. They feel discomfort only because they still have a body. Thus the truth is that which is everlasting — believe it or not. Believing or not believing changes nothing. It is like that sky: we can send rockets into the sky, reaching a few planets, but this is nothing. For that Yogī who incarnated as an avatāra, he asked a king, “I want you to give me just three steps.” The king agreed. He placed one step and covered the whole earth. With the second step, all of endless space. Then he asked, “My dear king, where can I put my third step? Everything is mine. There is nowhere left to go. Give me your head.” And he placed his foot on the king’s head. This means the entire kingdom is his, yet still there is no end — he desires more because of the promise. At that time, we are the worms of Kali Yuga, like cherries: you never know when one little bite will take everything away. “Brahma satya, jagat mithyā” — that is Satya. In this, Satya is the reality. Now, the vṛttis, our thoughts — what are they doing? Within us there are four actions, and these four function inside us; they are called antaḥkaraṇa. Antaḥkaraṇa means the actions within ourselves, our inner processes. There are different kinds of actions: physical action, mental action, verbal action, thinking action, and so on. Through these we commit sin. So what is sin? It is when our antaḥkaraṇa is not purified and we think that we are great, that we are great yogīs. When we start to think of ourselves as great yogīs, that is the problem. Man, buddhi, citta, and ahaṁkāra — these are the four. Manas is mind. Buddhi is intellect. Citta is our awareness, and ahaṁkāra is our ego. If we can purify these four, then we are liberated. Otherwise, in the Holy Rāmāyaṇa it is said — the Rāmāyaṇa is written about Lord Rāma. Lord Rāma’s incarnation took place 153,000 years ago. Before Rāma’s incarnation, a great ṛṣi named Vālmīki wrote this biography in Sanskrit: the life of Lord Rāma, what happens, when it happens, in which yuga it happens, and with whom. It unfolds until that king, Daśaratha. Because Rāma’s will had to pass through those actions. It was written in detail, every day, what would happen with him, before his birth. This is called Trikāla Darśī — the knowledge of past, present, and future. And we do not know. Patañjali says — what was it? Yesterday I mentioned, “Bhad Karatā He Kalkā” or “Patañjali Kā” — you talk about tomorrow, but you don’t even know what will happen in one second. And that is ignorance. This ignorance is a dark curtain covering the present and future, and the past is gone. Do not cry for the past. Do not run after it. The past is gone. When one dies from the physical body, that flame-like soul goes out of the body at such high speed — as swift as your vision: you open your eyes and you see the Tatra mountain, five hundred kilometers away, with extraordinary clarity. The moment we open our eyes, we are there. So too does the soul depart the body. In no time it is gone; we are left crying, making ceremonies, performing funerals for this physical body. That is the jīva. So, as I used to say, what Mahāprabhujī said: “Love each and every entity. If you cannot love that much, then at least love them as much as you love yourself. And if you cannot love all other creatures and humans, if you do not love anybody, then you are ignorant.” Something in your brain is not controlled — a disturbance in certain glands. Every little ant has the same soul as the elephant has. It is not a quantity; it is a quality. A tiny flame can burn a whole house, a whole village, a whole forest. In that small being is that power, and that is the soul. So do not think that your soul is pure and another’s is not. Every soul is pure, but it is coated by karma. Like the chocolate given to children here — it is coated with a little chocolate, and inside is something made of yogurt. So every soul is coated by destiny. The soul is pure, but contained by that destiny. And that destiny is what we are creating. Some days ago I read something an ancient Egyptian prophet said: “Every soul is equal.” The holy book says, “Here we are.” I did not read it before. How do I know? Because I have a relation with every soul. Those who have love for all creatures are connected to every soul. Citta, manas, buddhi, and ahaṁkāra — these are the four inner actions. Manas is mind. Buddhi is intellect. Citta is our vṛttis, and ahaṁkāra is our pride: “I am great, I am right, I am this, I am not.” Therefore Dharmarāja says, “Oh, stupid human, you do not even know why you talk like that. Judgment is in my hand.” So the judgment is in my hand, which means in God’s hand, Mahāprabhujī’s hand. So this antaḥkaraṇa is not purified; there is still danger. There was a man who went to another country to get gold. He and his son were there. The man took about thirty or forty kilos of gold and walked through the forest at night. He said to his son, “My son, now you carry some; I’m tired. But take care — it’s gold. Be careful; the forest is very dangerous.” While walking in the pitch-dark forest, they passed a deep well. The son threw the forty kilos of gold into the well. The father said, “Walk quickly, it’s dangerous.” “Father, dangerous? Not anymore here.” “Yes, my child, quickly. Oh, you are good, you are walking very nicely. It is very dangerous — danger and fear are behind us.” Morning came; they reached home. The father said, “Where is the forty kilos of gold?” “Father, you said it was dangerous, so I threw it into the well.” “Oh my God! I struggled so long — all my work, all my efforts, you lost it.” He said, “Yes, father. Now there is no more danger.” So similarly, we carry fear within ourselves, and that fear makes us more fearful. And when we are guilty, we have fear and try to project it onto others. But others will not give you any more solace than your gold bag would, somewhere. In the Holy Rāmāyaṇa it is said, these are the four — your four good friends. But are they all real? First, Dharma. If it is your true dharma, then it will protect you; otherwise, dharma will not protect you. Second, dhairya — patience. When someone shouts at you, you should become more peaceful. That means you are the winner. Otherwise, it is like dogs barking: one house dog barks, another barks, yet another, then three, four, five dogs — a whole night’s concert. If you have not heard it, come to VEP in Hungary, where the dogs hold a concert all night. Dharam, dhairya, mitra — your friend. Is he your friend? Can you trust your friend? When a friend is in a dangerous situation, will your friend run away? And nārī — your wife, or likewise your husband. When you married, in the church or temple, you gave your word: “I will be for you in every situation. I will be with you.” And the other partner said the same. But after a few years you are like enemies, and your husband is in the hospital; the wife does not even go to ask, “How are you?” Your wife is in hospital, pregnant, had a child with complications; the husband did not come, and she was crying, saying, “My husband promised to save me, to be with me in critical situations.” Where are you? So those words you give to someone — they are very good, very good. But in a critical situation, you may walk away. Police arrive: do you know this person? “No, I don’t know.” But they said it was such and such. “Oh yes, we just crossed paths by chance.” What kind of people are like that? When you go to a funeral — a good friend, husband or wife, and your friends also attend — when the dead body could say, “My friend, lie down beside me, here in the grave,” they would say, “No.” Nobody goes to the funeral to burn their own body together with the deceased. Therefore, you are alone. You are alone towards that truth. Dharma, dhairya, mitra, nārī, āpat kāla prakāśaun cārī. In your critical situation, then you know who is your true friend. Besides these, our antaḥkaraṇa — manas, buddhi, citta, ahaṁkāra — they sit within us. And there are two: our inner and outer worlds. So how can we recognize that truth? This is why the problem is everywhere. Even though we are human, we suffer. Every soul is pure, but it is coated by negative qualities, and we are constantly absorbing qualities from those we touch, from the kind of energy we receive. Now a new development is spreading in this world: we casually say, “Oh yes, goodbye, hello,” but it was always said in a certain manner. It means you and me, we are one in the heart. The system that existed, perhaps still in England, for example, is that an elderly person or a lady does not immediately extend her hand; you approach, and if the lady wishes, she may say, “How do you do?” Then you may dare to put your hand forward and reply, “How do you do? How are you?” But do not immediately grab her hand. Some people think too much; there are men like our Hanumān Purī here, the bodyguard, who shakes hands and your whole hand is crushed, or some strong minister who grasps it so that your teeth rattle. This means such a person lacks social education. We need social education. The person who cultivates it will internalize it, not put it on display, and will give a positive response. Now in America a new system is beginning: you say “Good morning,” you go into a shop or office, you say “Thank you,” and they reply “Thank you.” I am accustomed now to the traditions of Czechoslovakia, Spain, Mexico, and Georgia. When I landed at the airport in Georgia, everyone came out with flowers. I said, “Okay, thank you,” but before I could say thank you, others came taking photos. And then I come to India. But of course Indians understand, because there is a tradition. They mean no harm; they do not cause harm. They mean greatness, respect, love — brother, mother, father, sister, neighbors, friends, you know, that is it. So this is social education. And if you say nothing, it is as if you are standing before a dead body at a funeral. So we should know deśa and kāla — the situation and the place, where and how to act. The antaḥkaraṇa must be purified in this way. And if someone has done one good thing for you, that seed has entered your antaḥkaraṇa and will remain with you lifelong. In this country there was a tradition: when guests came, they were offered salt and bread, piping hot. They said, “Good, good.” And in India we also say, in whose house you have eaten salt, you should never do anything negative to that person. Where has this tradition gone? Look at a very sharp dog — well-trained, but if once you let the dog lick your hand, it will not bite you and will not be your enemy. A tiny puppy, only a few days old, licks your hand, and the same dog after twelve years will not forget you; it will be grateful, will know that this one was kind and offered a hand. A friendship formed by a good deed lasts forever. But what we are doing nowadays: we put out grain to lure the chicken in, catch it, and kill it. That kind of culture has developed in the world. That is why animals do not trust humans — because in their antaḥkaraṇa there is no good quality. Therefore, Satyam, Śivam, Sundaram. Satyam is the truth. Śivam is that consciousness. Sundaraṁ is that beauty. Satyaṁ, Śivaṁ, Sundaraṁ. Śrī Śrī Dev Purīṣa Mahādeva Kī Caitanya, Śrī Svāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān Kī Caitanya, Satya Sanātana Mahādeva Kī Caitanya.