TV Channel

Time waits for no one. No matter what remedies we adopt—diet, sports, yoga—the continuity of our life does not pause. Like the sunrise and sunset, we may do whatever we wish, yet night will surely come again. I have related this story a few times before. It concerns a poet from Calcutta. He stood on the bank of the Gaṅgā, which near Calcutta is so wide that at times it resembles a great lake. He had gone for a walk. Every person, whatever their profession or habit, is perpetually absorbed in that very habit or profession. When you have trouble with your wife and go for a walk, you think continuously of your wife; your wife thinks of her husband. What of spirituality? A farmer thinks, “When will the season arrive? I must prepare my field for harvest or for sowing seeds.” So too, that poet beheld the beautiful blue sky and poured his entire being into the sun. He wondered: at the end of the day, what is the sun thinking? Similarly, elderly parents contemplate their final days, and very soon we too will ask ourselves, “What shall I do?” Our president, Mansukram, was sharing stories about the room, the information and so forth, concerning Śrī Svāmī Madhavānand’s world umbrella. He may think that his own time has passed and another will become president; he does not worry about this. Why not? Yet he thinks, “For how many years did I care for this umbrella with such diligence and neutrality?” His thought is: what will happen? When will the next committee come? Parents, in the same way, observe how their children will tend to their belongings, their work, their house—everything. The name and fame of my family. The poet, looking toward the sun, projected his intellect, his thoughts, to the sun. It was a bright day, a bright sun. But now the sun is growing mellow, its light a little less. Many of you, many of us, are young, and we believe we can do everything. Yes, but the day will come when you will remember your days of ten, twenty, thirty, twenty-five, fifty years. All that you accomplished with your own hands is slipping away. We think a great deal about youth, but very little about the old. Even doctors do not provide proper treatment; it is considered a burden. Let the old people go. There are countries where, after a certain age, an injection is administered. They come to the home; the old person is simply living, having breakfast with the family, washing the dishes, and then the doctor comes and says, “You should give this injection.” We do not need them anymore—like your old dress. You discard a dress, constantly changing into different kinds of attire. That does not make you young. So until a thing is still serviceable—same color—leave it. What is needed is strength, love, and values. And for that, many admire these things. What will you think? Next time I might come wearing jeans, cut here and cut there. You will stand up and say, “This is not a Swāmījī.” But such things do not make us young or old. Wisdom is what matters most. The moment grey hair appears, how proud one should be! After hard work and a hard life, after passing through so many situations, I have finally become a wise one. It was very difficult to earn this white or grey hair. Yet those who color their hair are still hiding. Let your reality emerge. White or grey hair holds wisdom. You may apply color, now white, but the skin will reveal it is not right. Or when you apply black color, the skin will not announce that you are now young, twenty-five or thirty-five years old. We call this “Nakra”—a kind of glitter, but it is not reality. It is not real gold; it is only color. In any case, wisdom—what we have done, what we have gained in our life—that wisdom will go with us. And if you have not gathered your wisdom, you will be terribly afraid to die. And so the poet looked to the sun. The sun was about a meter, or half a meter, above the horizon. Soon it would dive into the darkness of the night. The sun said to the poet, and the poet was speaking to the sun, “Why are you so sad?” He said, “I took care of this world the whole day.” Yes, the old man with white hair on his back, walking. In the Śiva temple, the bell is ringing for prayer. There was beautiful light, the dīpak for the prayer. And the poet gazes at that flame. Now the inspiration arising in his mind is that the sun has found a support. So he looks at the flame. And the flame said to the sun, “I cannot illuminate the whole world.” But this tiny flame will give you the way, the light. And the sun said, “My child, now I will go peacefully into deep sleep in the dark night.” And we are living with this light. Now we have electric light, but this is that very same principle. Similarly, why do you bring forth children? For what? Why do you suffer? Some ladies are happy, some are not. Pregnancy is not easy—pain, changing hormones, so many things. All women know that the bravest in humanity is woman. They endure a level of pain that men cannot. So her condition is like the setting sun. She asks, “What will happen now?” Yet we beget children for what? For our dignity. For our children. Children means our paramparā—the lineage that continues. Yes, and now everything is mixed up. It is not a question of caste or such, but we need the quality. Those who live in forests and mountains possess that life; and those who live in the city… there were, as you had here in Europe before, the Romans, who made these great buildings and so on—and where are the Romans now? I do not know. Yet something of them is in you, in European blood, but it is no longer that same thing. It has become mixed. To give an example: imagine this is the German dog, what you call the German Shepherd—a true breed of this dog. And another dog is simply wandering the street here and there. Both have the ātmā, the soul. Both are dogs; we call both “dog.” We love them both. But the lesson is easy to understand: that dog is different from this other one. And now everything is intermixed. When this is the case, you no longer have the same feelings toward your children. If you are genuine—I would not name it caste, but use now this word—if it is truly you, if your thoughts are pure and you are pure, you will care for your child and your wife; you will not get divorced. They will not get divorced. Even the Austrians, who were once kings, still have their children. Of course, sometimes they say they make real caste distinctions. I will not tell you more of what I heard concerning this. My dear, this is what Vivek Purī was sharing. Śāntī was talking, she was speaking… Now I am sitting here, and for the last five years I am not thinking of spreading more and more. But I tell you the truth. Now, how will this yoga be spread in daily life around the world? How will it go further? Do not think of your money. Many are there because of money; they take yoga classes and change the systems. You can only be that one if you are in the paramparā of the Alakhpurījīs—the teaching of Devpurījī, the teaching of Mahāprabhujī, Lalanandjī, Śivanandjī, Mahāprabhujīs, Holī Gurujīs, and so on. It is not a question of the crowd, but a question of that quality. Attain your own self-liberation, and let your successor be on the path of liberation. It is not a question of successor or no successor; you are all successors. You all have this knowledge. But if one diseased fish can destroy the pond, it means that those who turn toward kusaṅga, who go into kusaṅga, become lost. Therefore we must practice; we must go to the teaching of Mahāprabhujī, the Gurujī of Devpurījī. That is why one bhajan of Mahāprabhujī, which he himself wrote: “Satguru Satsaṅgyārī Onu Avere, Onu Avere Nen Bharjavāre, Satguru Satsaṅgyārī Onu Avere.” There are so many people sitting around Mahāprabhujī, but they are not that Satsaṅgī. I am searching for that one who is a real person, who is on the path of satsaṅg. When I think of that, my tears come, because I love them—they are my satsaṅgīs. And then, for those who understand these spiritualities and paramparās, there is also a bhajan from Gurujī Mahāprabhujī. It is a very beautiful bhajan. When we sing it, everyone feels it very deeply in the heart. It says: let me go, Gurudev, with you. What is that bhajan? Yes, Guruvar. Guruvar means my Lord. “Guruvaram Guruvaram… Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān, Kī Jaya, Alakhpurī Jī Mahādeva, Deva Dī Deva, Deveśvara Mahādeva, Śatguru Svāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān, Kī Jaya, Oṁ Śānti.” It is as we said: in spring, beautiful apple, cherry, and pear trees are all blossoming. How many lovely flowers! But not all of them become fruit. When the fruit is already there, do not hope that every one will last; some will fall. Only what remains until it ripens on the tree endures. Likewise, this is a continuing process. Where the path of truth is, it is a continuum. From the Satya Yuga time, the Gaṅgā is flowing—the Alaknandā is flowing, and the Gaṅgotrī River. We saw a beautiful river together with the place of Ādiguru Śaṅkarācārya. He came to meet his Gurus. The Narmadā River—a mighty river. So it will flow; it will go on. And when we bathe in that river, we cannot bathe twice in the same water. We dip in and come out; that water is gone. You stand there, you dip again, but it is other water. And so day by day it goes, coming from far away, from the Himalaya, merging into the Hindu Mahāsāgar, the Indian Ocean. My dear, we are all very advanced practitioners. But now it is your duty to see how you can hold it. It can happen that some trees will dry out, and termites will attack them. A very healthy tree, but the termites enter—termites and certain bugs inside, worms. A big, great, healthy tree, yet these small creatures are within twenty-four hours a day, eating it. In the same way, inside there is kusaṅga, and that kusaṅga works in you. It does not matter how strong you are, or how much you have practiced and are practicing. When that kusaṅga has entered you, you will be destroyed—your body and everything will be destroyed. That is what Mahāprabhujī said in the bhajan: “Phirnei Jñānamādhare” — again, when I attain this, there will be no more birth. How greatly we suffer in life! Much suffering, from birth until now: accidents, falling, heat and cold, pleasant and unpleasant, good friends and no good friends, everything. We humans protect ourselves somehow. We have a beautiful hall here, a heater inside, windows in the transparent wall. How happy and pleasant we are! But for how long? And what can animals do? We do not know if we will come again as a human. This is the chance. Do not run after desires—after clothing, the color of clothing, all kinds of perfumes, different foods, so many things. This is only temporary. One day everything will turn to dust. It does not matter what jewelry you possess—what kind of jewelry; it will all remain here. So, my dear, according to this Western calendar—the Christian calendars, the Yahudī have a different one, the Jewish have a different one, Muslims have a different one, Buddhists have a different one, Chinese have a different one, Indians have a different one—so be it. But what we actually count is when all this descends here onto the earth, and when it will ascend again. We came to this earth. Time is not measured only by this sun, by evening and night and day; it is counted from when all this descended onto the earth and when it will return, ascending. That is what will be counted, although we now count according to this calendar. So, Christmas according to Christmas—we can take the calendars and work by them. I wish you all the best. And if we do not see each other again before Christmas, I wish you a very blessed Christmas with your parents, grandparents, children, and so on. If you have no one like that, then go to friends, or to the ashrams, or to a church, anywhere. And those who are going with me to India, we too will be there. So, I wish you all the best, and see you again, wherever Alakhpurījī sends us together. Śrī Dīp Nār Bhagavān. Devpurīśa Mahādeva, Satguru Svāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān, Alakhpurījī Mahādeva, Oṁ Śānti, Śānti, Śānti.