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Hari Om. Welcome, everyone. Today is a very special day because, as we know, it is our holy Gurujī’s birthday. Vishwa Gurujī has a personal matter he is attending to at the moment, and he requested that I come here to speak. So, let's start with a greeting. As always, I do not know what I will talk about, or whether it will be good or bad—it is all in Gurudev's hands. Vishwa Gurujī asked me to perhaps talk about my experience of meeting him, my experience of teaching yoga in America, and the experience of yoga around the world as I have seen it while traveling with him. Let me introduce myself first. My name is Amrit Sāgar. I was born here in this beautiful part of the world, in Moravia. By a twist of destiny, when I was 19 years old, I went to America for two weeks. I never wanted to be in America; I wanted to have children, be married, and live in a little village in Moravia. I ended up in America for two weeks, and now I have been there for 31 years. I have spent 31 years on my own, learning about American culture, American values, and life in that part of the world. I live in a very unique place I am starting to understand—California, which I sometimes call the Wild West. It is truly wild over there. Sometimes I still do not understand how I ended up there. I have asked Gurudev, even telling him it was a mistake in my destiny and that I should be back in a village in Moravia. With his mischievous look, he gazed at me with his Śiva eyes and said, "But there is really something you like there." I have limited time to talk about my experiences with Viśwa Gurujī, so I will skip many chapters. I will perhaps start with how I came to yoga in this life. I never liked yoga and was never interested in it. I did not even know what yoga was when I was 20. I was very active, competitive, and loved sports, mountains, and being one with nature. Then, when I was 30, things happened. After many years of sports training, I had a spinal injury. Gurudev also laughed and said, "You had a midlife crisis." So, it was a spinal injury, back pain, and a midlife crisis. I found myself in a very challenging time in San Francisco. My profession contributed to this crisis. I work on Wall Street, in a very interesting environment with very interesting people, surrounded by money and the wish to have more and more. That brought a crisis into my life because I started to realize I was in the "cream of society," as they call it, but I could not really become that. I could not be that. I started asking many questions, trying to figure out what to do with the enormous physical and mental pain I was in. I had a herniated disc and a slipped disc. When I was about 32, doctors wanted to operate on my spine. I told the doctor, "You are not going to touch my spine until I am maybe 80 years old and cannot move. I will figure it out myself." So, I took that condition into my own hands. My body, my kośas, became an object of my study. I started going to yoga classes, which were really boring to me at that time. Because of my condition, many yoga teachers in San Francisco told me, "You cannot do this, you cannot bend forward, you are going to get injured." I was always in child's pose in the yoga class. It was very hard for me, as a former gymnast and tennis player, to have this debilitating injury and not be able to do much. It was very challenging. I was searching for a good yoga teacher. Living in that society, I was also searching for how I could be of help to the world, how to continue without becoming what I saw all around me. I remember an interesting experience from when I first came to America at 19, right after the wall came down in Germany in 1989. I got my university education and, even though I did not want to work for a bank, my first job was in a bank. There was so much money everywhere. Coming from Czechoslovakia and remembering how things were in 1989 and how I grew up, I found myself surrounded by so much abundance. I used to go to people and say, "You have so much money here. We can do so many good things with this money for people around the world." I really could not understand why people did not grasp what I was talking about. They thought I was strange. I was always different, with different ideas. I tried to open them up to different conversations, but there was never a real understanding between my values and theirs. It was very frustrating that they could not see how much good we could do for the well-being of the world and nature. While dealing with back pain and my life crisis, I decided to go on a trek to climb to the base camp of Mount Everest and to do some orphanage work in Kathmandu, Nepal. I feel I had a blessing of Alakpurījī or our paramparā somehow during that time. When I returned to San Francisco from that trip, about two days later, I woke up one morning with the strong thought: "I want to be a yoga teacher." It was such a powerful idea, even though I hardly practiced yoga—maybe one class a week. Because I was ambitious, I found the best school in San Francisco and signed up for a very intensive, physically demanding six-month training. During that whole training, there was maybe only one hour's mention about chakras. I had never heard about chakras, but it intrigued me. I went home and googled "chakras." On the computer screen, the book The Hidden Powers in the Human appeared. It had a beautiful picture on the cover. I started reading more about the person who wrote it and about yoga in Czechoslovakia. I thought, "I am from Czechoslovakia, but I have never seen yoga there." I wanted to get the book. Googling where to find it, the only place that appeared was our ashram in Wellington, New Zealand. I called the ashram, and a very nice lady answered. I introduced myself, said I was in San Francisco, and asked if they could send me the book. I also asked for it in Czech. She said, "Of course we will send it to you, that's not a problem," speaking in Czech. Then we started talking, and she said, "You know, once a year, this person who wrote the book actually comes to Wellington. Why don't you come?" I told her, "I'm in San Francisco; I'm not just flying across the world to meet this person." Lo and behold, two days later I bought a plane ticket and flew to New Zealand for three or four days. I flew to New Zealand to get the book. They gave me the address, and I went to the ashram. There was a small group of about 30 people awaiting Swāmījī for satsaṅg. I was there, looking around at these strange people waiting for someone to come. It was a very strange experience back then. I understood how important it is to welcome someone when they come, especially when they are not part of yoga in daily life. The people were so welcoming; they really embraced me as the newbie. Viśwa Gurujī arrived. I stood in the corner as he walked around greeting people. He came to me, looked at me, and asked where in the Czech Republic I was from. I looked at him, wondering how he knew—I had not said a word. I answered, "I'm from Moravia." He looked at me and said, "We have met before." I looked at him and said, "Sir, I'm sorry, I have never seen you in my life." Viśwa Gurujī just walked away. It was evening satsaṅg, but I did not stay. I left the room, had coffee somewhere, and then returned to the ashram. The lady at the ashram said to me, "Swamiji was asking where you are, and you are supposed to come and get mantra tomorrow morning." I asked her what a mantra was, and she explained. I told her, "I don't want any mantra, I don't want anything, I'm just fine." Somehow, again, I really did not plan to go for mantra. Yet, in the morning I went to the āśram. She was already there, gave me an apple and flowers, and said, "Just have these in your hands and go for mantra." I was there, Viśva Gurujī came, and I had no place to run. I received my mantra. I spent about two days there, staying for satsaṅg. I had a very special experience with Viśva Gurujī. It was an experience of just being with him for a couple of days, where he took me somewhere with my consciousness—something I am still trying to understand. When I was about to catch my flight back to San Francisco, Swāmījī said to me, "We will meet in India in summer." Again, I said, "Sir, I'm sorry, I have no plans to go to India." Lo and behold, two months later I was going to Amarnāth with Viśva Gurujī. That was my meeting with Viśwa Gurujī. Even before that transpired, I was already a certified yoga teacher in San Francisco. I continued studying yoga with various teachers like the Iyengars and Dharmamitra—some names that perhaps still teach what yoga is. I was receiving a lot of training, a sort of preparation to meet Gurudev. When I met him, I did not even know what Yoga in Daily Life was. Just a few months after meeting him, he told me I should give a lecture on meditation. I said to Swamiji, "Swamiji, how can I give a lecture on meditation? I don't even meditate." But he said, "No, you go, organize something, and do a lecture on meditation." So, a lecture happened in a library. I gave a talk on yoga and meditation back then. When I eventually opened the Yoga in Daily Life book and read about the different levels of meditation, I started to discover that, through my life, I had already been asking many of those questions on my own. I was not calling it Yoga in Daily Life, but I was sitting with my eyes closed, asking many questions, doing a lot of purification of my mind, emotions, and physical body as I went through many difficulties. With the Guru Kṛpā, with the blessing of my Gurudev and meeting him, it was almost as if he had awoken some knowledge from the past. I just had to find the words for it so I knew how to teach and share it with others. As I read the books—Yoga in Daily Life, Hidden Powers in Humans—it was always, "I know it, I know it, but I don't know how to say it." After meeting my Gurudev in 2007, about eight months or a year later, he told me to open an ashram in San Francisco. Again, I said to Swamiji, "Swamiji, I have different plans. I am not staying in San Francisco. I am not opening an ashram there." I started telling him about my other plans, saying I did not plan to stay. I was kind of running away from him. In the beginning, I used to run away a lot from Swāmījī. I was very honest, always telling him how I felt in my heart when he said something. It almost felt like he was holding me like a little baby in his arms, awakening the baby with so much love and kindness. As I was running away, he would remind me every time he saw me, "How is it going with the ashram?" I think it was during my first visit to Střílky here that Viśva Gurujī asked me again, "So, have you opened the ashram yet?" He actually raised his voice, looked at me with his eyes, and said, "I have already told you three times to open an ashram." That really did something to me. An energy went through me, and it just did something. I returned to San Francisco from Střílky, and things started happening. A place appeared, an architect appeared, and I started designing and building an ashram. I told the architect it should be a small house somewhere behind San Francisco in the mountains, like a cottage. The ashram opened. If any of you have visited, it was our first commercial space, and it was the most beautiful place to enter. For me, it was my home. I remember when Vishwagurujī came once, looked around, and said, "There is so much love in here." It was, and still is, an ashram where anyone who walked in felt the love, mercy, and energy of Mahāprabhujī. Because Mahāprabhujī was there, is there. Teaching yoga in San Francisco in that society was not easy, especially teaching Yoga in Daily Life. I think a lot of people found it almost frightening to walk into a place like our ashram, which was so welcoming, loving, and open. You come in, the teacher greets you with a smile, you get chai, you get some muffins as you leave. Also, when teaching the system, they all wanted to do one posture after another. In an hour-long class, they would say, "We should have done 20 postures, and I have only done five." It was kind of boring to them. The yoga practice there—and there used to be so many yoga centers, which are now all going away during coronavirus—was just gymnastics. I would describe the state of yoga in America as gymnastics. It is interesting to see what is happening now. All these yoga centers are going away, bankrupt and shutting down. What is sprouting now, what people are looking towards, is something like Yoga in Daily Life. People are looking deeper. Before I came here, Vishwagurujī called me this morning, and we sat together for a while. We talked about what I should speak about. It is hard to describe in words, and I do not want to generalize the entire American society or the state of the West, but as I am there and have been observing the situation this year, everything in America is crumbling. The values are crumbling, society is falling apart. The government and country do not know how to take care of their people. The society is very much based on individualism and the pursuit of material wealth. Now, that has all been taken away from the people. As I observe the situation there—which is different from what you experience here—it is like birds being caught and put into a cage. Imagine what that must feel like for someone to be in that state since March of this year. I am mainly speaking of my experiences in California, San Francisco, and the Bay Area. It may be different elsewhere, but I speak of California because I think there is very interesting karma in that part of the world. Imagine what someone must go through—not just adults, but children, who are now closed in their homes. Parks are closed, beaches are closed. It is summertime, and you cannot even go outside. I think it is an Anuṣṭhāna. When coronavirus came, I stopped teaching. Many students wanted me to do online classes. I used to tell them, "Look, I fly across the ocean, I go and do anuṣṭhāna, I have to pay money for it. Now you are at home, you don't have to pay anything, and you have your anuṣṭhāna for free. Enjoy your anuṣṭhāna; it does not cost you anything, and it's in the comfort of your home. You can stretch your legs whenever you want." So many people in that part of the world nowadays are looking within. There is a saying: there is always something good in anything that is bad. As I teach classes, even here, I truly believe we can transform anything. We can transform ourselves, our beliefs, our minds, the way we think. It is really just cultivating a habit, a good habit. Viśvagurujī often says that education is missing. He talks about education that starts with the first guru, which is the mother, then the father, then society, and then comes Gurudev. Here in this part of the world, I rejoice when I see mothers and how they tend to their children, how they relate to them. In my life, I had a beautiful childhood with truly amazing women: mother, grandmother, aunties. These women taught me and gave me a very strong foundation. That foundation is really something lacking in the part of the world where I live now. Without a foundation, everything crumbles when things become difficult. For example, when coronavirus started in California, there was a lot of panic in families, with women not knowing what to do with their children at home. There was panic that restaurants were closed and they had to cook. I have yet to meet someone over there who knows how to cook. Many times, I would cook, bring some food to the ashram—very basic, simple, sāttvic foods that we eat here, with some spices, chutneys, and mixed vegetables. Simple. People would be amazed: "Wow... what is that?" This year has been very interesting for Yoga in Daily Life in California as well. It was a very interesting event in March. Just as the pandemic started, Vishwagurujī was supposed to have a program in San Francisco that was all organized; we were just waiting for him to arrive. For me, it was very interesting to observe the timing. The visit never happened physically, but it was the most powerful visit I have ever experienced. I also somehow found myself teaching yoga, and things have changed in the last couple of years. Most of my students or people who practice Yoga in Daily Life are Indians—the Indian community. I found myself in that community and have been learning a lot from them. I have been chanting Hanumān Chālīsā, Bhagavad Gītā, and Guru Gītā with them. They have given me a lot from their culture. I learned a lot from them. We sang Hanumān Cālīsā, Guru Gītā, Bhagavad Gītā. I learned the culture from them, but they did not know yoga. So, I started teaching yoga for Indians. Interestingly again this year, with what is happening, and because Vishwagurujī speaks so much about Indian culture being lost, I am seeing an awakening of culture and interest in their culture amongst Indians, and also an interest in yoga. Many of these Indian practitioners I have encountered in the last couple of years—and it has really increased this year—value Yoga in Daily Life. In their culture, there is the aspect of spirituality which Yoga in Daily Life offers. I am very happy that Yoga in Daily Life is perhaps starting to grow somewhat in America again. I just wanted to share some of that journey. It is very hard to speak about it in the short time I have, because since I met Gurudev, my life with him—and not just since that time—I feel my life has been a fairy tale. It has also been a fairy tale to be born in this part of the world, in the kingdom of perhaps Mahāprabhujī, Śrīdev Purī, Jalak Purī. I have traveled through many parts of the world and always return here because what you have here is really something special. There are still roots, traditions, and good education. My wish for this country is that this never goes away, that we maintain these traditions of our ancestors, which in many ways are traditions of the Vedic culture. It was interesting when Gurudev and I were talking about America today. I asked Vishwagurujī, "Everything is just crumbling; how can it get any better?" Gurudev just said, "Put it in the fire." Tapasya. So, I am actually very happy for my other home, where we are going through a very strong tapasyā and very strong anuṣṭhāna. My wish for that part of the world is that it becomes beautiful again—a beautiful, happy, peaceful, healthy society. You cannot imagine the state of health of the people there. Health is influenced by a lot of stress and the environment. There is a lack of home-made food; a lot is processed. There is much cancer in people already in their twenties and thirties, and many diseases in children. You cannot imagine the health situation. Over the years, when I would speak with someone about health, it was not easy to explain that they could improve many things themselves. They lack the inner strength to believe they can help themselves. There is a lot of reliance on medications for everything, operations on very young people. I often ask myself, what does it mean to teach yoga? Many times, it is just having a conversation about food—cooking something, bringing it to them, sparking an interest in eating healthy. Or having a conversation about their health condition and offering them one little sarvahitā āsana that could help. I am learning what it means to live, practice, and teach Yoga in Daily Life. It is not just coming to a class and doing one asana after another. It is the purification we have to go through of the different kośas—purification of our thinking, of our mind—so we can be healthy human beings for ourselves, our families, society, and the world. I sometimes think, as I work on Wall Street, that I practice Yoga in Daily Life. That is my job on Wall Street. I am kind of the consciousness of the corporations. Somebody actually said to me, "You are the consciousness of the corporation." I interact with very stressful people, and they always remark how calm, kind, and peaceful I am. Sometimes in my job, when they are stressed and want to do so much, I just say to them, "Just take a few long, deep breaths." Or if they complain about something, like their hands hurting, I say, "Why don't you stretch them like this?" This is Yoga in Daily Life. My gratitude to our paramparā, my gratitude towards my Gurudev, our Gurudev. May he guide us, may he remain here with us for a very long time, and may he guide us and the world to Satyaloka.