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God has given humanity a very important tool to fulfill our Dharma: Buddhi, the intellect or mind. This powerful tool is essential for recognizing and carrying out our Dharma. Our actions and work in this world should align with this Dharma, which here means our duty or task. What duty, then, has God—or cosmic will—brought us here to fulfill? Whether one believes in God, other principles, or even believes in nothing, one must acknowledge existence in this world. Thus, human Dharma is clear. As the saint Tulsīdāsa said, the root and foundation of our Dharma is mercy and kindness, Dayā. All living beings have been given Dharmas according to their nature and feelings. Animals act on instinct; some protect their young, while others, like certain reptiles, may even consume them. An animal may show great loyalty and love to its master or family but show no Dayā to a stranger. This is animal consciousness. For people, however, the foundation is Dayā. Tulsīdāsa said, "Daya dharma kā mūla hai." What is the root of Dharma? The root of our Dharma lies in the earth, and this earth is Dayā. When Dayā no longer exists, the earth loses its moisture and nourishment, and plants die. Similarly, when love, compassion, and grace are absent from the human heart, the beautiful plant of human existence dies, leaving only a body like a machine, consuming fuel, food, and sleep. Compassion is the root of Dharma; the root of sin is ego. The opposite of Dayā is Pāpa, sin. Where there is Dayā, there is no sin. Where there is sin, there is no Dayā. Sin has many forms, including killing other beings. For the sin of killing, diligence in eating is also implicated. If one had not consumed with such diligence, the being would not have had to die. Dharma is a duty. The God who created nature and humans is first a Protector, a sustainer of situations. One must protect situations—one's own and others'—and should not act against Dharma for selfishness. There is a story of a hunter pursuing a deer through a forest. The deer was faster. The hunter, armed with a bow and arrow, came upon a yogi meditating in a hut and asked if he had seen the deer. The deer had run past the hut. The yogi was in a conflict. In such a situation, one must immediately use Viveka, discriminative intellect. When you say yes or no beyond emotion and nervousness, it is too late. Sometimes to say no, you need several reasons; sometimes to say yes, you need many words. He used his Viveka: if he said yes and revealed the deer's direction, he would be responsible for its suffering and death, acting against his Dharma of non-harming and non-betrayal. If he said no, he had seen nothing, he would be lying, which is also a sin. So the yogi said, "My dear, one who has seen cannot speak, and whoever can speak cannot see. What am I to tell you?" The hunter thought this madness and left. The eyes have seen but cannot speak; the mouth can speak but cannot see. It is always very important to protect Dharma. We should protect all situations—our own and others'—with Viveka and Dayā. Compassion is the foundation of Dharma. Ego is the property of sin, Pāpa. It is better to say "Father" every morning, not "Pāpa." Tulsīdāsa said, "Tulasi dayā na chhoriye," do not abandon compassion, even when life breath (prāṇa) diminishes. As long as prāṇa is in the body, there is life. This is the first Dharma of a human. "Daya dharma kā mūla hai, pāpa mūla abhimāna. Tulasi dayā na chhoriye, chhute juga prāṇa." Compassion is the root of dharma, sin is the root of ego; Tulsī never abandons compassion even when faced with the loss of life. If we learn to protect this in life's situations, our life is saved. The second Dharma is Self-Realization. God has given us the golden opportunity to liberate ourselves on earth through our actions and karma. For our liberation, we need to practice a great deal. That is our Dharma. It is not simple; we cannot attain Mokṣa immediately. It is the work of a lifetime. In Satyayuga, lifespans were thousands of years, allowing for deep meditation. In Kaliyuga, lifespans are short—meant to be 100 years, now averaging 50. Why? Because people have forgotten their nature, have not followed Dharma, and have disturbed all of nature. In yoga, a very important and best practice is to continue Self-Inquiry Meditation. This is a Kriyā Yoga to be practiced continuously, 24 hours a day, not just for 10 minutes. Many people meditate, pray, and do Kriyās, then go and act in opposition. That does not help. In yoga, this is called Ekāntavāsa. Ekānta means private, separate, isolated—not a prison, but a state of being with your own Self. Nivāsa means to reside there. Many withdraw. Now there is a question: do you want to fall into Prapañca? Prapañca means all worldly work, stress, and complications. But perhaps these too have a purpose. If they have meaning (Bedeutung), then it is no longer mere Prapañca. Consider the highest will: why did God send you here as a human? To be free in this world. That is what you must realize. Otherwise, the end of life will come, and it will be too late. You arrive at the airport to find your flight has already departed. Days will come when you say, "My God, I have created so much Prapañca, and no one is there. Once again I am alone. What will become of me? I have known nothing of your will, nor followed it." A saint said: A leaf falls from a tree, and the wind takes it away. The leaf hopes, "Will I return to my branch?" It is gone, lost forever. If reality were so, the leaf would not return. Perhaps recycling occurs in some forms, according to principles of reincarnation. The vessel returns to this world but forgets. That is why this human life is a unique opportunity to realize the goal. Do not be held back by any mentality, religious conflict, cultural conflict, or national conflict. It is not about your culture or nation; it is about your own Divine Self. Oh Lord, may your will be such that my life does not pass without meaning. All criticism, jealousy, envy, fears, complications, and selfishness must be dissolved. For whom you fight, weep, or are jealous day and night—it is all meaningless, like soap bubbles gone. "What will be with me alone, my Lord?" You will be nowhere in it. This is the second Dharma. As a protector of the environment, creatures, and society, Dharma is a path of life. For this path, you must use your Viveka so your life does not become unnecessarily complicated by difficulties. Use what God has given you between your two ears: a precious brain. For other animals, God has given two ears between which they can insert things. But not man. Man takes to heart. No matter what you have done, I hold you in my heart, I embrace you, I forgive. Because Dayā is an ocean. When a hundred thousand rivers flow into it, the ocean does not overflow. When much water goes away with clouds, the ocean does not sink. It is always Pūrṇa. "Pūrṇamadaḥ pūrṇamidaṃ pūrṇāt pūrṇamudacyate. Pūrṇasya pūrṇamādāya pūrṇamevāvaśiṣyate." That is full, this is full. From fullness, fullness proceeds. Taking fullness from fullness, fullness alone remains. Pūrṇa means completeness, perfection. When perfection is in your heart, love flows. From your lips you will only say, "I love you," not "I hate you," even to an enemy. Because the ocean is there, full of mercy. Dharma Rakṣita. If you can protect your Dharma, Dharma will protect you. If you cannot protect your Dharma, Dharma cannot protect you either. And what is our Dharma? Dayā, mercy. This beauty, this ocean of mercy, is a fountain of joy and bliss. Swami Śivānanda composed a beautiful bhajan. The ego is the root of all harm. Grace is the foundation of Dharma. The foundation of impurity is the ego. When ego is present, your Viveka is clouded, fogged so dense you cannot see ahead. Your own emotions, greed, longings, and feelings reinforce your ego. Kill this little ego, remove it, and live the divine life. This is written by Swami Śivānanda, sometimes half in English, half in Hindi, beautifully written. Yoga is Ekānta Nivāsa. The yogi goes to solitude. Why? Because Saṃsāra, Prapañca, is so much that he withdraws. But where is his Dharma? That is again a consideration. It sounds beautiful: "Hari Om, we take our backpack and go to the snow mountain." But it is not so simple. What about your children, your spouse, your parents, your family dog? You have a strong Dharma towards these beings. The Vedic system has four Āśramas, four stages of life. In Kaliyuga, these are ideally divided into 25 years each. The first Āśrama is Brahmacharya-Āśrama, the student life, from birth to age 25—a time to study and secure a future, to attain wisdom and knowledge in your intellect, following the Dharma of a student. From 25 to 50 years is Gṛhastha-Āśrama, the householder stage—the time for marriage, having children, raising them, and practicing your profession. From 50 to 75 is Vānaprastha-Āśrama, the time to prepare, withdraw, and give everything to your children. It is Ekānta Nivāsa, practicing Vairāgya, non-attachment. Attachment is the second problem—attachment to grandchildren, home, meals. I heard a joke about a Viennese man who went to heaven. In the morning there was meditation and beautiful walks, but he was hungry. Breakfast was only the fragrance of sprouted soy. Lunch was only the essence of Pañchāmṛta and flowers. He asked, "Where is my schnitzel?" He was told heaven does not serve schnitzel. So he said, "I renounce heaven," and returned to Vienna—just for his schnitzel. That is attachment. Attachment pertains to the Indriyas, the senses. You are the king of this state, and the Indriyas are the subjects. You must trust. The second problem is our attachment; you cannot withdraw easily. There is a beautiful bhajan: you can run away from everything, but you cannot run away from your mind. In your mind are the attachments and feelings. You sit and have other desires: "I can have this, I can have that." A second vision arises. A traveler walks through a desert wilderness—only sand, sun, hot sand, stars, cool sand at night. He sets out early at three o'clock, walking until ten, the sun strong and hot at 35 degrees. Suddenly he sees a beautiful, lush green tree. He goes and sits beneath it. It is 44 degrees, but under the shade it is a little cooler. He wishes for water. Suddenly, next to him is a beautiful clay water pot with cool water. He drinks. He wishes for a good meal. Suddenly, a served plate of food appears. He eats. After the meal, he wishes for coffee. Suddenly, beautiful coffee appears. He drinks it. Now full, he wishes to lie down. Suddenly, a beautiful bed appears. He thinks it is too hot and wishes it were cooler. An air conditioner starts. He thinks, "Am I crazy? Is this imagination or reality? Who brings all this?" He looks around; no one is there. He says, "My God, perhaps a spirit dwells in this tree." He looks up, fears the spirit will kill him. This tree is called Kalpavṛkṣa, the wish-fulfilling tree. Kalpa means what you desire. All your wishes come true under this tree. Every thought is realized. The human body is this wish-fulfilling tree, standing in the desert of existence. The soul, with its intellect, can realize everything, even foolishness. It is the human mind that can kill the human. You cannot run away from this mind. You can run from the body, but not from the mind. You can run from this world, but not from your mind. Mind is with you. Thus, Vānaprasthāśrama, the third stage, sounds easier but is difficult. This attachment, this clinging, is too strong. It is like a soft cheese pizza stretching longer and longer—a soft bridge of connection. You sit in the forest, but your thoughts are caught in attachment. Ekānta Nivāsa is not simple at all. For that, we need practice—about 25 years in Ekānta Nivāsa. It is very important to observe your Vṛttis, your thoughts, and then it comes automatically. If no one is there, your highest technique comes: the 24-hour Kriyā. What I have said from the very beginning is Mauna, silence. Silence is the best, strongest practice. Silence triggers all your emotions. Silence dissolves and purifies your depressions. Silence will answer your many unanswered questions. Through this Mauna, you then prepare for Sannyāsa.