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Some people take an extreme view, saying, "We don’t need bhakti-yoga, we don’t need rāja-yoga, we don’t need prayers; we only meditate." They say "So'ham"—"I am That." But this realization comes after salvation, after liberation, after mokṣa. Without the preceding stages, no one can attain complete realization. Mahāprabhujī said that complete realization comes through love, and that love is bhakti. The entire universe is filled with love, filled with bhakti. In one bhajan, Mahāprabhujī said, "How dear are the words to me, only I know." No one else will understand. When your beloved says to you, "I love you," only you know what it truly means. Others will understand it only intellectually. Similarly, that love must grow and come from the mother's body and from the mother's mouth—what we call the mother tongue. You must be born there and grow there to understand. Otherwise, it is impossible. An Indian will not understand why you would go with shoes into a temple. But in a church, you go with your shoes because of the climate, the cold. They say even if it's cold, you cannot go into the temple with shoes. So you do not understand their perspective, nor do they understand yours. You might think, "How inhuman! It's terrible. I am suffering from the cold, and I cannot wear shoes?" They do not understand your custom. There are so many things we must understand. You can study Indology, Germanology, Czechology, or Slovakology—there are many "-ologies." But you will understand only intellectually, always trying to find points for critique. To understand the taste of a particular apple, you must eat it. We all know the taste of butter, but you cannot explain it. Certain things cannot be explained; they do not translate into mere feelings. No matter how much fat you eat, whether it is oil or butter, your tongue will never become fat. That is the nature of direct experience. The same principle applies to understanding Guru Bhakti, understanding a Guru Bhakta, understanding Guru Seva, and understanding the Śāstras. Only those who understand can dedicate themselves; they can surrender. In Sanātana Dharma, it is said this understanding must be in your blood. Therefore, always try to understand from the heart. With the intellect, you can make thousands of arguments. You ask one question and get an answer, but that one answer will awaken hundreds more questions in your mind. Why does an elephant have such a long trunk? If we imagine an elephant without a trunk, you would say, "This is not an elephant." An elephant must have a long trunk. Yet if it has a trunk, you are not satisfied, and if it does not, you are also not satisfied. That is the nature of the intellect. When you converse on an intellectual level, it is like the blind leading the blind. As the saying goes, among the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Therefore, all arguments are ultimately futile. As long as a snake has curves, it is still alive. Similarly, as long as you have arguments and doubts, ignorance remains. Jñāna Yoga is quite different from what some people think. Many say, "I don’t like bhakti-yoga; this is not the way for us. I want mokṣa; I want to become one with Brahman." But have you seen Brahman? Without seeing Him, how can you want to become one with Him? You are not even able to become one with your wife; you have many problems at home. If you cannot be one with your mother, father, wife, or husband—whom you can see, feel, and speak to—then how will you become one with Brahman, whom you have never seen? Therefore, in one bhajan it is said, "Gurudeva, what should I do with that face of God, which I have never seen?" For this reason, we must awaken bhakti itself. Without it, there is no way. The intellect is good for our daily life—to exist, to work for our bread, to drive carefully on an icy road. That alertness is good. But to read a book, to read words and know a language, does not mean you know the reality. You may know a person, yet still not know their true reality. The great scientist Einstein said, "Tons of theory is nothing compared with a gram of practice." Consider an artist in the circus. Their act looks easy. They hold a rope, swing, let go, and another artist catches them by the legs. It looks nice and clear: you must leave the rope and hold the hands. Now, try it yourself. Jump from one tree to another. You cannot. Ask the artist how many years and how many hours per day they practiced. There, theory cannot help; only practice can. Therefore, what some call Jñāna Yoga is, in that sense, merely theory. Jñāna Yoga has four principles: Vairāgya (dispassion), Viveka (discrimination), Satsampati (the six treasures like śama and dama), and Mumukṣutva (the longing for liberation). All four of these points are full of Bhakti Yoga, and they cannot be pursued without a Master. Of course, do what you feel inclined to do, but be practical. There are four yugas: Satya-yuga, Tretā-yuga, Dvāpara-yuga, and Kali-yuga. We are now in Kali-yuga, and in this age, there is only one way: bhakti.