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Who does not speak ill of others? Who refrains from negative talk? If one has no person to criticize, they will speak badly of the telephone—"My God, it does not function!"—or the car, or the parking place. Constantly, we hear negative words, meaning negative vibrations. These enter through our ears, causing tension and polluting our consciousness, which in turn gives rise to negative thoughts. The words we call positive are Guruvākya. But slander spreads quickly. When you plant seeds in a garden, the weeds grow faster than the cultivated seeds. If someone says, "Do you know what Swāmījī told her about her nails?" another will immediately ask, "What? Tell me, what did he say?" It spreads rapidly. But if someone says, "Swāmījī said we should practice every day," there is no interest. Both are types of speech (Vākya). How does this influence our mind? There is Vācanāmṛta and Jñānāmṛta. Jñānāmṛta means the nectar of wisdom. Where there is wisdom, there is nectar, and nectar means immortality. It leads us from darkness to light—tamaso mā jyotir gamaya. Then there is Caraṇāmṛta, the holy water from Gurudev's feet. It is said that even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Māheśa long for that Caraṇāmṛta. It is true: wherever Gurudev walks, in that house or shop, prosperity follows; Lakṣmī follows. In Āyurveda, there is a special science of the soles of the feet, with different signs indicating prosperity and wisdom; all negative black magic and negative powers disappear. Therefore, there is a beautiful bhajan by Kabīr Dās: fortunate are those in whose house Gurudev comes and steps. Through his mercy, he lets us cross the ocean of ignorance, this worldly ocean. When a saint comes to your house, you should welcome them with a warm heart and respect, offer a seat, wash their holy feet, and partake of that water, that nectar. Those who know the meaning of Caraṇāmṛta enjoy it. There is also Pañcāmṛta, five different kinds of nectar used in pūjā. Patañjali, in the second sūtra, said that yoga practice begins and becomes successful when you can control the restless thoughts. But every day, we receive countless words and sentences through our hearing, which create an immense number of thoughts. You cannot see sound, but it is there. We cannot see the waves from a remote controller, but the waves are there. Imagine you are standing in front of a television, and someone turns it on with a remote. That ray passes through your body like a very gentle bullet, damaging healthy cells. We know that mobile telephones, cordless telephones in bedrooms and children's rooms, are most harmful. A microwave oven, when turned on, is like a volcano. Research centers have made pictures showing that sitting near a computer is like sitting before invisible flames. They say if you place two cordless phones together with an egg between them, the egg will boil after some time. Someone demonstrated this to me just four or five days ago. Can you imagine? Between two active computers or telephones, you cannot see with these eyes, but something is happening. Similarly, there is sound pollution. Whatever you hear creates tension. Therefore, the Upaniṣads say: do not hear bad things; keep your ears closed; do not see bad things. Whatever we see creates a thought. That is why in meditation we close our eyes—to block the possibility of more vṛttis entering the mind. As you see, so you create the world around you. As you hear, so you act. These are two jñāna indriyas, senses of knowledge: hearing and sight. If you can control these two, you have mastered a great deal. They are a primary cause of citta vṛttis. The third sense, which is more intensive, is like a remote controller. Yesterday, driving from Vienna, I turned on the radio. There was a program titled "I Smell You." They said everyone who can smell perceives a minimum of 300 different smells daily. The sense of smell is so subtle and intensive; though gentle, it is very awakening. It reminds you; it awakens memories you had forgotten. On the radio, they said, "You remember the particular smell of your grandmother's cooking." When you get that smell of good food... Grandmothers cooked good food. Now, mothers rely on fast food; they do not know what to cook. It is funny that ladies go for cooking courses. Oh, God. Ladies, by birth, are the best of the best at cooking; they learn automatically at home. But if you did not see it at home, of course, you must learn. We have sixteen branches of knowledge (kalās), one of which is Pakṣāstra, the science of cooking. Every mother, every woman, is born with the talent to cook perfectly. When I first came to Europe, they asked me, "Swāmījī, can you teach a cooking course?" I replied that by the age of five, I could cook everything. It is the easiest thing, ladies, but you have lost that knowledge. That particular smell may remind you of your grandmother, your small dog, or your deceased husband—so many things I will not elaborate on. Smell awakens memory, meaning citta vṛttis. So among the jñāna indriyas, sound, sight, and smell are very hard to control. One yogī said: "Tan mein indriyas das hai, koi pūre yogī ke vas hai." In this body, there are ten senses, but rare yogīs have them all under control. Two senses you still cannot fully trust: śvādendriya (taste)—"I like this ice cream, yummy, yummy"—and sexual feeling. These two are there; the feeling is there, the taste is there. But you can say yes or no; you are not a slave to them. The most powerful, however, are the three: sound, sight, and smell. Smell can be beautiful—"Ah, this tree, that flower." But on a very hot day, you are sweating, you get on a crowded bus and must stand. It so happens that a tall man is standing, holding on, and your nose is right near his armpit. Intensive. So sometimes to smell is not good. Lucky are those who cannot smell anything. Are there any here who cannot smell? What kind of people are you? Is there no one? Okay, very good. You are lucky ones, perhaps. But a person like me, I only know the words 'smell,' 'good smell,' or 'bad smell.' Beyond that, I know nothing. It means I cannot smell anything. You can. Place the most beautiful fragrance near me, I will not notice. Or put the most stinky things around me, I will not notice. Perhaps I might feel like vomiting if something is very bad, but generally, no. So when I go on the bus, I have no problem. One day I asked Mā Prabhujī in meditation, "Mā Prabhujī, what is smell? Why can't I smell?" Mā Prabhujī said, "I wanted you to have a comfortable time." I asked, "Why?" She meant comfort because I have to fly so much. When you are flying in an aeroplane, they open different kinds of alcohol, meat, and fish. Oh God, for one who is a pure vegetarian and does not drink alcohol, to be in an aeroplane is a hell, I would say. Smoking is better, but these different kinds of meat and alcohol are so stinky. Many people vomit; that is why they have sick bags on airplanes. So, vṛttis. Yogaḥ citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ. Patañjali says if you can master your thoughts, then your practice or sādhanā will improve and proceed. If you cannot control your thoughts, you cannot meditate. You sit in meditation, doing your mantra practice, chidākāśa, dhāraṇā, or whatever, and you think, "I hope someone will water my garden." You are at home in the garden with your plants. It is a good thought. Then you think, "I hope my neighbor's dog will not make a mess in my garden again." Thoughts are running. You are sitting here, but your thoughts are there. Once, Mīrā asked the great saint Tulsīdās, "What should I do in my family where I am married? They have no devotion to God at all." Tulsīdās said that where there is no bhakti to Rāma, that place is not for living. She answered, "Yes, but you know, here is only my body. My thoughts and my mind are there where my Lord is." So the physical body is here, but your feelings are there where your beloved is—God, the beautiful, or anything. A mother goes shopping, but her feeling is with the child left alone at home. She wants to return quickly. Thus, vṛttis come and go. When thoughts are there, and when thoughts go out of the body—meaning your aura—then there is nothing. And when there is nothing, your practice cannot be successful. But you cannot block your thoughts; you cannot lock them. Therefore, control the senses. Do not listen to negative talk from people. Even if it is negative, say, "Thank you, that is not my subject; I do not want it." Even if it is my subject, I know; you need not tell me; hurry home. Do not try to see pictures of people or things that disturb you, that awaken negative feelings. And do not go to places where there are stinky smells that remind you for days and days. You know, this morning I saw such ugly nails, and still, when I was eating, I had very unpleasant feelings. Then I rested in the afternoon, and again I saw those ugly nails. Oh God. You see, my consciousness is so clean, so pure, and suddenly when such a thing comes, though we should be above beauty and non-beauty, sometimes it is really disgusting. I was flying from Bangkok to Hong Kong, and then Hong Kong to Oakland. Between Bangkok and Hong Kong, in business class, a couple sat in front of me. They were served small fish, and they ate them like this. Umapurī was with me, and she began to vomit. It took her ten days to recover from that smell. I said, "Thanks to Mahāprabhujī, who told me, 'You have to fly many times,' and took my sense of smell away." There are two things: ego and self-respect. Self-respect is different from ego. Self-respect means you have to respect others. It is not only that you do what you like, but you should ensure others also have a proper impression of you. Nowadays, people are completely different. They go for a walk with dogs in the park, then come home, sit on the chair with both legs on the table, a Coca-Cola in one hand, a sandwich in the other, and they are drilling through the nose. There are people like this. They even sleep with their shoes on. And thanks to God, when they take off their shoes, oh my God, you should not be near. Many people do not wash their socks for days. That is why I always tell people in yoga, "Head to my side." Though I do not smell, I can feel the vibration. Therefore, vṛttis—yogaḥ citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ—Patañjali specifically concentrates on this point: we must take care of our external world so that it does not enter our consciousness and create more restless thoughts. To respect others is to respect yourself. When you are properly dressed, with proper hair, it does not mean just to look beautiful, but you should look beautiful for others too—and do not dress in such a way that others might harm you. That is it. Citta vṛtti nirodha—without this, you cannot master your yoga sādhanā. Health is okay; you have vāsanās, prāṇāyāma, no problem. Good air, enjoy. That is also something. But that is not all in our life. With this, I wish you all the best. Very good appetite. Good dinner. In one and a half hours, we will be in the meadow. There will be beautiful satsaṅg, bhajans, and Śiva Purāṇa. Tomorrow's lecture will be in the afternoon at five o'clock, here in the same space. Thank you. Bless you. Dīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān Kī Jai.