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O Gurudeśvara, Puruṣākṣara, Parabrahma, Tasmai Śrī Gurave Namaḥ. Dhyāna-mūlaṁ Guru-mūrtiḥ, Pūjā-mūlaṁ Guru-padaṁ, Mantra-mūlaṁ Guru-vākyaṁ, Mokṣa-mūlaṁ Guru-kṛpā. Oṁ Śāntiḥ, Śāntiḥ, Śāntiḥ. Harade Bhagavān Śrī Deep Nārāyaṇ Mahāprabhujī, Devādhi Deva, Deveśvara, Dev Purījī Mahādeva Kīje, Satguru Svāmī Madhvānandajī Bhagavān Kīje, and Alak Purījī Mahādeva Kīje. Good evening, all dear sisters, brothers, Yogīs, yoga practitioners, and teachers. And to all great saints and ṛṣis, I receive and send blessings all around the world. I respect everyone, and together we shall make our Earth always beautiful—green, with ample water, fruits, and many other creatures. From my heart, I contemplate what we should and should not do. Of course, each person has inner feelings guiding their actions, and this collective will shapes human life on Earth. Ultimately, we all worship the God who created the entire world. We must reflect deeply. When I was with my holy Gurujī—sitting, meditating, walking, or traveling—I learned to always remain humble towards Gurū Dev. This applies to all gurus, not only in India but across the whole world. In this Kali Yuga, "Kali" signifies something not good, a darkness. This blackness is not an external color but resides inside, in the heart, mind, and thoughts. We are all different within, and we strive earnestly to purify ourselves, to turn that black into white. Yet it is not easy. Throughout the day, various thoughts and feelings arise—what some might call negative or black. However, people are mostly doing good things. Wherever I have traveled on Earth, I have always seen good people, very good people. The negative aspects are not as prevalent as we might think. Therefore, I believe humans around the world are fundamentally happy and good. When I sit in meditation, use my mālā, or observe the world day and night, I feel there are many, many good humans. Our differences lie in language, culture, and environment—very hot, very cold, and other conditions. We Yogīs should come together with other people. Even if they do not practice yoga or know what it is, they are great humans and we should respect them with folded hands. In the end, we will all be united, like countless raindrops merging back into the ocean. Daily, we encounter different situations. We gather dust, and we also get clean. This dust is not merely material; it is mental—affecting our mind, thoughts, feelings, and interests. This creates a kind of pollution over our body and inner self. Consider washing a car meticulously with water and soap. It becomes spotless, but after driving to our destination, it is no longer as clean. Similarly, throughout the day, our actions and experiences—both good and painful—leave an imprint on our heart and mind. It is said that a true yogī, a genuine spiritual or religious person, returns home to family, children, and parents, and a positive change occurs. There is a story of a European president. When he leaves home, his driver brings the car, and guards or police accompany him. They assist him in his duties. But upon returning home, they stop at the gate. The president says, "Okay, you go, I'm entering my house." Inside are his wife and children. He is no longer the "president"; his wife does not call him "Mr. President," and the children say "father." At that moment, he says, "I am not president; within this house, I am for one family." He feels relaxed and happy, freed from the day's hard work. At home, we seek to relax and wash away the dust and sweat of the day. But this cleansing is external. We talk with our families, yet each person—wife, husband, children—harbors different feelings, thoughts, happiness, and disturbances within their mind. We can clean our body and clothes, but we cannot so easily clean our thoughts. These thoughts persist. The family sleeps, and each member experiences different dreams. What will the president dream? Why does his wife dream differently? This is the crucial point. Where do these feelings, good or bad, reside? And for what purpose? We know what is in our mind—the thoughts, the window of dreams—but how do we clean that inner realm, the thoughts within our dreams? Even the president goes to his office unable to cleanse his dreams. It is the same for anyone—a lady, our children, our friends. Only you know your dream. How do we purify our thoughts to ensure good dreams? This is what I wish to convey. A yogī, a practitioner, a student, or a teacher—all are doing their work, yet they continually absorb impressions from outside. This brings us to the point of meditation. We cannot give meditation to a thousand people, or even to one person. There is a technique, a way to say, "Yes, now I can meditate." My experience, particularly in Western countries, is that all our yoga practitioners and disciples are very special and important. When I go to India or when people there listen to my lectures from Europe, there is a day-and-night difference. Which side? Europe or India? I would say 99% of Europeans learn and appear very peaceful and receptive—99%! As for our Indians, I hesitate to say, lest they become angry with me, but perhaps only 10% truly listen. The next day, they may not return, or they come again after a few days. Of course, if ministers or government officials request it, that is a different matter. In the past, all Indians were very concentrated in their meditation, pūjā, and practices morning and evening. But now there is a mixing from one part of the world to another, like different waters blending. Whenever I teach āsanas, prāṇāyāmas, yoga nidrā, saṅprakṣālana, concentration, meditation, bhajans, or prayers here, people are very concentrated. That is why in this part of the world, I give so much of what I have, and they receive it. These are the yogīs. These yogīs who come are chosen—not by me, but by God. Our destiny chooses, as it was ordained from a past life. Now, in this life, they have these deep feelings. It does not matter which country you are from; after death, you may not return to the same country but go to another. It is different. Who will come? It is said that parents give us birth, but they cannot give the child its destiny. That comes independently, like an arrow shot toward its target. The jīva, the soul, always moves in that direction. For this, one may still lack sufficient good qualities. Imagine standing at a crossroads in a forest with paths left, right, and ahead. Where should one go? Today we have many techniques, but in the forest, there is nothing. Our heart and mind contain our kismet, our destiny. The mind may make a choice, but the inner destiny ultimately guides us. Therefore, among all who meditate or receive teachings from great gurus and disciples, perhaps only one or three percent truly learn and grasp it; the rest cannot. Thus, a true guru does not give you mere philosophy or elaborate discourse but directs you straight to the essence. Therefore, Mahāprabhujī said that without Gurudeva, we will not catch it, we will not get it. We engage in many techniques, but whatever we do, we will not cross the ocean of existence (bhava-sindhu) by ourselves. We need that guru. Guru Nānak Sāhib said: If you wish to cross the ocean, be in a big boat. The captain is inside—only one, controlling everything. Many people on board may be laughing, drinking, or doing various things, but they must remain in the boat. If you fall out, other creatures will swallow you. Remain in that boat, and Gurudev will bring you to the shore. There are beautiful things there. Meditation, you have to attain it yourself. The destination exists, but we must walk the path. So, how does one know meditation? Many masters and gurus try very hard to give it to disciples, yet they may not understand. We will speak more on this next time. My dears, all the best and blessings. See you tomorrow.