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Jñāna Yoga has four principles, and there are four kinds of practices for it: viveka, vairāgya, ṣaṭ-sampatti, and mumukṣutva. The first principle is viveka, the cream of your intellect. Viveka makes the division between reality and non-reality. It is like a knife moving through cheese, cutting it into two halves. Similarly, viveka tells you what is reality and what is non-reality. Reality is that which never changes, and unreality is that which is constantly changing. This world is known as non-reality; nothing is permanent here. Your body changes every second, your thoughts and feelings change, the earth changes, vegetation changes, seasons change, night and day change—everything is changeable. We live in a world of changes. Where there are changes, there is duality. Where there are no changes, that is the reality. Therefore, viveka concludes: "Brahma Satya, Jagat Mithyā"—Brahman, the Supreme Truth, is the truth, and all this is unreality. Now one might say, "Bhaktānanda ate all the mangoes." No, he did not eat the mangoes; it is not a reality. Perhaps his body consumed some mangoes, that is all. Bhaktānanda cannot eat mangoes, and if he eats mangoes, he is not the reality. Therefore, there is nothing one can do; one is beyond karma, actions, and everything. Mahāprabhujī said, "I am my own essence, the essence of the world; I do all things that are mine." This is Jñāna Yoga, viveka. When you come to know what is the truth and what is not, then how do you come out of it? You need a knife to cut the cheese in two. Sometimes the cheese is so sticky, like when you cut pizza slices and take one off, the cheese stretches like rubber. It has its limit; sooner or later it will break. This sticky, rubber-like attachment is called attachment. It does not matter if you are happy or unhappy; this attachment has stuck us together. Some attachment is so strong, like super glue. Just one look and a smile, and hurry—oh, finished; you are stuck. It is very hard to remove, and if it happens, it hurts through and through until you are resolved. This is the main cause of our suffering, our problems, confusions, psychic issues, and many other emotions that awaken in our consciousness. To cut this, that strong knife is called vairāgya. If you can come through vairāgya, otherwise you remain stuck on that slice of pizza, and it grows cold, uneaten, thrown into the garbage—and you go into the garbage. Hari Om. Attachment, moha, means ignorance. You know very well about attachment and what can happen: how angry you can be, how sad, how happy. After that, when you have vairāgya, it is said that for a vairāgī person who is truly on the path of Brahman, jñāna, or self-realization, without vairāgya you cannot enter the door of self-realization. Indeed, Ādiguru Bhagavān Śaṅkarācārya said that from this world up to Brahmaloka, the highest supreme world, all kinds of enjoyment for you are deniable. You should deny it like the dirt of a crow. When a crow drops something, will you take it with your finger and lick it like ice cream? Śaṅkarācārya describes this Māyā attachment as the drop of a crow. How ignorant people are, taking it like tasty cream, like ice cream. So, when you see it, you have a tendency to deny it; of course you will clean it, but you will wash your hands. Similarly, one is either in this Māyā or in Brahman. These two such things exist. This is expressed by the great saint Kabīr Dās Jī. Kabīr Dās is known as the weaver of God's name. Once he went for food, as he was a monk who lived by begging, though a householder. He saw a lady grinding wheat for chapati flour. With her right hand she moved the mill clockwise, and with her left hand she put in the grains. She put in grains that were complete, pūrṇa, and they came out as ground flour; they were crushed between two stones, nothing remained whole. Kabīra began to cry, "Oh my God, none of them came out complete." All were crushed; he wept. "Chalati chakki," the mill is moving. "Dekh kar diya Kabīra roi," Kabīra began to cry. Why? Between two stones, between two stone plates. "Sabat bacha na koi," none remained complete. He went to his master, who said, "Yes, Kabīra, you didn't observe properly. There are some which remain complete." Kabīra said, "Master, I can't lie; I tested and showed with my hand, nothing remained complete. All was ground into powder." The master said, "You should take these two plates, these stones, apart. They lie on each other. Previously it was like this. Between them, each plate has a hole, and into the hole comes a hook, a wooden pole, on which the upper stone rests. If you want the flour very fine, you manually tighten a screw so the stones lie closer together. If you want it coarser, you loosen the screw and they lift slightly. But," the master said, "those seeds which remain near this piece of wood, the axle that holds them, there they are still complete, undamaged." Similarly, the master explained, "Brahma and Māyā are these two plates. The upper one is Brahman and the lower one is Māyā. Those who are between them are crushed. But that which holds the balance is God. Those who hold themselves to God, no stones can crush or grind them." Thus, a Vairāgī must become detached from everything. Holy Gurujī often said, "Enter the kingdom of the Lord through the gate of sacrifice." And Mahātmā Gandhījī said, "Renounce and enjoy." If you want to be happy, give up everything. If you want to be unhappy, collect many things. There is a story: one bird found a piece of meat and took it. This crow flew away. Two other crows saw this and chased him, flying up and down, this side and that. Soon, three, four, five crows began to hunt him. The crow with the meat in his beak thought, "My God, why are they behind me? What have I done? Why are they my enemy? God, help me." A sound came, "No one is your enemy." "Then why do they chase me?" God said, "Drop what you have in your beak." So he opened his mouth and dropped it; all the crows chased the piece of meat, and no one was interested in him anymore. He was so happy and relaxed, sat on a branch and said, "Thank you, God." So, "duniya teri damri se pyar karte hai, chamri se nahi." People love your money and property, not your skin. Māyā is sticky. Those stuck in it will be ever unhappy. Vairāgya, detachment, is happiness, and attachment is unhappiness. Where there is detachment, there is love; where there is attachment, it is not love, it is desire and Māyā. For where there is love, there is freedom; and when there is no pure love, then there is jealousy and suffering. The third principle is called ṣaṭ-sampatti, the six kinds of treasures within you. You are not poor at all. Within you lie six great treasures. If you open them, you will be very rich, and they are within you. No one can take them away or steal them. Just open them. They are: Śama, Dama, Śraddhā, Titikṣā, Uparati, and Samādhāna. These are the Ṣaṭ Sampatti. Śama and Dama mean control: withdraw your senses from the external world and observe your mind and senses. Your senses are like wild horses; do not let them run wild. Withdraw from the external world and control them so they do not run away again. This is the work of the master; it is your work. It is no one's mistake, and no one has made you unhappy; it is you who run away from yourself. Your senses let you run. As said in a bhajan: "O my inner self, you are the king of your mind and your senses. Do not be their slave." So Śama and Dama you learn in yoga: limit your needs, limit your desires, and control. Be king of your feelings. You have the freedom and the right to say no to yourself. Have you ever said no to yourself? It is very hard. Imagine you are a bad singer and have to perform, but you have a throat problem. The doctor says, "Do not eat something cold, no ice cream, do not drink very cold drinks." Then your friends invite you, and everyone takes a big bowl of ice cream, while you, poor one, sit with a little warm water and lemon. They say, "Ah, you can take two spoons, take it." This temptation is so big. You think, okay, I will keep it longer in my mouth and then swallow. This temptation shows how hard it is to say no to yourself, and it requires faith and confidence. Never lose your faith; no matter what happens, it is your faith that will liberate you. If you lose faith, you lose everything. Losing faith is like a bird without wings. The cat—Māyā—approaches. The cat wants to kill and eat you, but you, the bird, want to fly. Your muscles move, but you have no wings to take off because the wings are cut off. The wings are lost. So, śraddhā, viśvāsa. Śraddhā viśvāsa, mera kāma nai ho. O merciful Mahāprabhujī, listen to my prayers, please. My śraddhā and viśvāsa, my confidence and belief, should not decrease. Din din prem mera adhika badi jo, day by day my love should increase. O my Lord, bless me with satsaṅg and protect me from kusaṅga. You lose faith, you lose everything. Next is titikṣā. Titikṣā means tapasyā, austerity, endurance. Learn to endure: endure heat, cold, tiredness, happiness, unhappiness. Try to stand through. But some people have great fear. The doctor comes with a needle—now, thanks to God, there are thin needles for injections. At the dentist, he says, "We have to give an injection. Open your mouth." You open because you cannot say no; you need treatment. Imagine seeing the needle, which for dental injections is a little longer and thicker because if it breaks, it can be dangerous, and the brain is very near. You, poor and helpless, lie there, opening your mouth and closing your eyes. In that second, you say, "Dīp Nirañjan Sab Dukha Manjan, Dīp Nirañjan Sab Dukha Panjan," and the needle goes in. Fear. We are not afraid of death, but we are afraid of two things: how we will die—suffering, painful, in war, fire, etc.—and second, where we will go. We did not reserve anything anywhere. We did not send an email. And if you do not like the accommodation there, you cannot come home and knock on the door. After death, when your body is under the ground, if you do not like the residents and come home at 11 o'clock in the evening, and your children and wife are crying, "Oh, Papa, oh my beloved, my husband, why did you go? We want to see you again," and you knock on the door, "Hello, kids, I'm here. Open the door." Oh, my God. Half of them would die immediately from a heart attack, and you would find police or someone. No one will open the door for you after that. So we do not know where we will go, what will happen. Hey Prabhu, mera kyā hogā? Endure pain, pleasure, happiness, unhappiness. All that you think is yours is nothing; nothing is yours, no one and nothing. The joy of the joy will be less joy than the sorrow of that joy which you think is your joy. The sixth is uparati. Śama, dama, śraddhā, titikṣā, and uparati. The fifth is uparati, meaning be above everything, like a lotus flower in the water. These are the four sādhanās you should do: Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān kī sādhanā.