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Part 1: The Lost Timetable and the Wisdom of the Heart It is a great pity that we have lost many things in modern life. We have lost many symbols. We have lost the timetable of our day—the dinacharyā, the day's schedule, the program for the day. As humans, we should know that God has given us intellect. This intellect should be developed for the benefit of all creatures, the environment, and humanity. To learn something is never too late, and there is no end to wisdom. Even in the last minutes, or with the last breath of our life, we can learn many new things. Real education comes from your parents, wise people, elderly people, and in satsaṅg. School, college, and university education is only for your existence, for learning how to earn money or bread. That education will not lead you to the fulfillment of your human life. This type of education will not lead you to the pinnacle of your life. No grandmother will be angry with a young daughter-in-law unless the daughter-in-law knows nothing and constantly makes mistakes. Every household has two sets of parents: the parents who gave you birth, and the parents of your partner, with whom you share life. You become a part of their life and family. Therefore, one should not take it negatively if a mother-in-law is strict. Except for some individual cases, generally, your parents-in-law love you like their own child. To listen to them is a great wisdom. In certain things, of course, they can be wrong. But do not become immediately angry; afterward, explain to them what is incorrect. They are also human; they can make mistakes and have limited experience and knowledge. There is a story. A lady told her daughter-in-law to stay home while the rest of the family went to the Gaṅgā, which was nearly two thousand kilometers away. The daughter-in-law was cooking chapatis for her mother-in-law and herself. After cooking, she was washing the pots. She had such great love, devotion, and longing for the Gaṅgā. In the big pot where she had made the chapati dough, she was washing with water and thinking of Gaṅgā. Suddenly, Gaṅgā appeared in her pot. A great fountain came forth from it. Where there had been only half a liter of water for washing, thousands of liters of water gushed out, and both she and her mother-in-law bathed in it. So Gaṅgā came to them. The others who went to the river returned very tired, exhausted, and ill. In India, we say, "Man change taka chauti me Gaṅgā"—if in your mind there is devotion, confidence, and love, then Gaṅgā will appear to you in this world. There is a story about God Rāma and Hanumānjī. Hanumānjī was a great devotee of God Rāma. When Rāma left this world, everyone went with him to Vaikuṇṭha, Svargaloka. But God Rāma told Hanumānjī, "You will stay here on this planet and take care of the bhaktas." Hanumānjī was the incarnation of Lord Śiva. Some people said, "Rāma left; he didn’t take you with him." Hanumānjī replied, "No, he didn’t leave. He is here; he is in my heart." He always said, "My God, my Lord, my Rāma is in my heart." You know, all people are not equal. Some accept, some do not; some believe, some do not; some try to abuse the beliefs of others. There was someone who did not believe and challenged Hanumānjī: "It is very easy to say God is in my heart. How should we know? We cannot see Him in your heart. We only know the heart contains blood and muscles." Hanumānjī said, "Rāma and Sītā are both in my heart." They said, "Then show us." So Hanumānjī tore open his chest with his strong nails, opening it about twenty or thirty centimeters. What people saw inside were Rāma and Sītā sitting and blessing them. Then they all surrendered, and the chest closed automatically. You will see many pictures and paintings in India of Hanumānjī opening his chest, revealing the Lord inside. Rāmāyaṇa Siddha Siddhi. So we say, please believe me, I am your devotee. But I am not that Hanumān who can open my chest and show you that you are within me. Yet Hanumān was such a devotee that he offered his heart to all. This symbol is described in the Bible, with Jesus giving the Sacred Heart. This is from Hanumānjī. There is another beautiful story. In a small village, there was a tiny temple dedicated to Lord Kṛṣṇa. This story is from Rajasthan. The village had mostly old farmers. One day, the priest, the pūjārī, had to go somewhere and could not find anyone to perform the pūjā, the temple worship. A young girl of about ten to twelve years came to the prayer daily. The priest asked her if she could do the pūjā. She said yes. He told her she must offer food to Kṛṣṇa three times—what we call Bhog Lagānā. The Divine accepts only very sattvic nourishment: flowers, milk, honey, nuts. Blood, meat, bones, and alcohol are for negative forces. The Pandit used to make good halwa, nice parāṭhās, pūrīs, kachorīs, and samosas to offer. He would place it before Kṛṣṇa's statue, close the curtain, say prayers inviting the Lord to accept the food prepared with love and purity, and a few minutes later, open the curtain, take the plate, and eat it himself as prasāda. The girl observed this daily. The temple was very small. When the priest left, the girl came with some soup and rice. She sang a bhajan, but Kṛṣṇa did not come to eat. For two or three hours she tried; the food remained. At lunchtime, she brought new food; Kṛṣṇa did not eat. His statue was of stone. In the evening, she offered again, and Kṛṣṇa did not eat. She also did not eat. She thought, "My God, he must be very hungry. I made a big mistake. What will I tell the priest when he returns? He will complain. Kṛṣṇa will complain to him." The next day, she brought very simple food again. She realized there was no curtain; she had no cloth. She said, "That is why you didn’t eat, Kṛṣṇa." She was sad and angry. She said, "If you eat only behind a curtain, then I will make my skirt into a curtain for you. Eat now." After ten minutes, she saw the plate was empty, with only a little Mahāprasāda left for her. She was overjoyed, full of tears. But she said, "I think you must be very hungry; yesterday you didn’t eat." She brought more food and again made a curtain from her skirt. Kṛṣṇa ate. In the evening, the priest returned. She said, "Here is your key to the temple and your pūjā things. Do not give me such a duty again. Kṛṣṇa gave me such a hard task. He was so offended, he didn’t eat. But after two days, he was so hungry, and I had no curtain, so I hung my skirt in front of him. Then he ate everything." The priest looked at her in astonishment. "What? He ate?" She looked back, "What do you mean he doesn’t eat? You give to him every day and he doesn’t eat? Now he ate from me?" Her name was Karmā, Karmābhāī. There is a beautiful bhajan about her. Where there is love, God appears. There was a cosmic parliament. All deities gathered to decide one thing: which God should be first celebrated or remembered? In a big conference, there is always the question of who should be the first speaker, who should open the ceremony. Similarly, among the deities, there was a big question: who should be first? Viṣṇu wanted to be first, Śiva wanted to be first, Śakti wanted to be first, Brahmā wanted to be first, Jesus wanted to be first, Kṛṣṇa wanted to be first. So they created a task, an examination, a competition: they should run around the Earth. Whoever returned first to the starting point would always be the first God. There was a long queue of many deities, from small to big. The marathon began. They all ran. Gaṇeśa was also among them. Gaṇeśa is the symbol of buddhi—intellect, wisdom, viveka. Gaṇeśjī had a heavy body, a big stomach, and a long trunk. He tucked his trunk in so it would not swing. Then all began to run. Gaṇeśa did not go. He went with folded hands. He went around his mother. He made a circle around his mother and stood there. Some of the others arrived last. Gaṇeśa was standing there, blessing them with his trunk. They said, "Gaṇeśjī, you are here already?" He said, "Yes, I have been here for a long time." "Did you run around the Earth?" He said, "Yes. I did not need to run; I went comfortably. Mother is the Earth, and I performed a parikramā around my mother. I made a prayer circle around my mother." From that time on, in every nation, we call her Mother Earth. Mother Earth is Śakti. We come from this Earth, and we will return to this Earth. So we must know what our mother means. We should respect her as holy. You have two mothers: your birth mother and your mother-in-law. It depends on you how you behave. If you have a good relationship with your mother-in-law, you are creating it. If you do not have a good relationship, you are creating it. Otherwise, mostly, mothers are afraid that some girl will come and take their boy away, or that some boy will come and take their daughter away. This separation is not easy for parents, and it is natural. We must accept it. But if we give proper education to both sides, then both families can be happy. As a person gets older, attachment to children grows because they know that in hard times, their children will be there. We have forgotten many things, the meanings of the days: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and so on. These planets have an effect on our consciousness and nature. Also, the moon days, from the first new moon to the full moon, and from the full moon to the dark moon and again to the full moon—every day has its particular spiritual meaning on our planet. Our great saints, the ṛṣis, who brought the science of astrology and astronomy, performed experiments to determine which planet creates what kind of constellation at a particular time, and that is individual. Therefore, whenever we begin new things, even a journey, we should respect this cosmic law. This is a cosmic principle. Every creature, including the human and the Divine Incarnation, even God Himself, is within these constellations. He also waits to incarnate under a particular constellation so that His life will be easier among these humans. These feelings have been lost in modern education. We have lost the feeling for such things. Rivers, mountains, lakes, deserts, stars, the moon, the sun, the sky, clouds, lightning, trees—all have very great meaning and a powerful, holy influence. This is a part of our life. Since we lost this spiritual meaning towards nature, we began to abuse it. We destroyed nature, and now we are standing here. The biggest problem throughout the world is pollution. The most dangerous pollution is the human mind. The first pollution is created in the mind. When your mind is polluted, you will pollute the outer world. When you are angry, jealous, greedy, or selfish, you are polluting your mind. Through your anger, greed, and jealousy, you will pollute the outer world. One who is jealous is a machine of pollution. One who is angry is a volcano of pollution. One who is greedy is a flood of pollution. One who is angry and jealous is a hurricane of pollution. That hurricane, after a while, also destroys itself. So, how can we think that in this situation our spirituality will improve? It cannot be, because it is polluted. Kāma (passion, desire), Krodha (anger), Lobha (greed), Moha (attachment full of ignorance), Mada (pride, ego, ahaṃkāra)—these are the mental pollutions. This has polluted the human mind. Whatever you do in your life, you should think: "Now which qualities are involved in it?" This pollution is created by these qualities. You can purify this pollution through love, forgiveness, understanding, kindness, and humbleness. Where there is love, there is no kāma (passion). Where there is humbleness, there is no krodha (anger). You must try to neutralize your inner negative qualities with positive qualities. Neutralize them with these positive qualities. No one can do it for you; only you yourself can. Part 2: The Slippery Road of Temptation Our problem is that we do not ask anyone if something is good or not. We only go to someone when we are in trouble and do not know how to get out. To be a yogī means to master life's circumstances. It means steering your life through slippery roads, as if on snow. When the road is slippery, windy, dark, and going up and down, the best driver can carefully bring you to safety. Temptation is that slippery condition. And when temptation is there, certain possibilities also appear. Seeing a possibility means the path is slippery and you risk going upside down. When temptation is present, you can become so greedy that your brakes fail. Can you imagine going downhill on a slippery heel with failed brakes? Of course, there is still a chance to survive. Especially in that situation, there is one mantra which helps you 100,000 percent: Mahāprabhujī Karatā Mahāprabhujī Karatā He Kevalam... Mahāprabhujī Karatā He Kevalam, Mahāprabhujī Karatā He Kevalam... When you are caught by temptations, it is very hard to come out. There is a very old story. There was a ṛṣi. He had vowed, "My whole life I will be a brahmacārī," and it is not easy to be a brahmacārī. Brahmacarya means not only abstaining from sexual life, but also guarding your energy mentally, in speech, and in many other ways. He was living in a forest—a very nice forest at that time, unlike now. Throughout the year, there was something good to eat: so many dried fruits and many things like jīvalcak, bodhok, yeṣmik. He began his tapasyā. First, he ate only once a day. Then, slowly, once a week. Then slowly, once a month. Then only liquid, then only water. Eventually, he used to eat only once, biting on some bark of a tree. With one bite, whatever came, he chewed slowly and drank water—that was all. His body became very penetrated, transparent. You could see through it. No desires. From where should desire come? There was nothing. But desires are in the mind, not in the body. So mentally, he was finished with all desires, focused only on God. When he began to meditate, his body began to levitate one and a half meters from the earth. One day in meditation, he opened his eyes and said, "Oh my God, I’m one and a half meters fluttering." This was a siddhi. And this siddhi is a temptation. If he becomes proud of it, it will go away. Desire would then arise—the pride itself—and his brahmacarya would be gone. Indra thought, "Now this yogī will take my place." What to do? Indra couldn’t sleep. When someone else wants to become president, the present president does his very best to remain president... This is also an addiction. Like a workaholic, alcoholic, opium, or hashish, politics is also addictive. You can’t go forward, backward, left, or right. Indra was very afraid. He sent the yogī a second siddhi. When the yogī was walking, he walked above the ground, one meter high. Again, he became proud. He thought of going to Slovenia and Croatia to appear on television to show he could levitate—to display his siddhi. Indra was still very powerful, but he was afraid. So Indra called Kāmadeva, the god of passion. Kāmadeva said, "Yes, my Lord, what can I do?" Indra said, "You see, there is someone sitting, torturing himself. Go, give him a lesson; enter his body." Kāmadeva said, "Yes, Lord, it will be like this." The Lord of Heaven, King Indra, said, "Kāmadeva, you must be successful." Kāmadeva went to the hut of that yogī, that sādhu. There was no door, nothing to knock on. So he made noise on the grass like this. The yogī was meditating one and a half meters above the ground. The yogī asked, "Who are you?" "I am Kāmadeva." "What are you doing here?" He said, "I want to be with you." The yogī said, "Disappear. Otherwise, if I look with both my eyes, you will burn. Go to someone who is doing bodybuilding, every day looking at his figure. Minda Napo Forma Jat, Viṣagha Gaccha, and eating many creams, nīta." Kāmadeva went back. While going away, Kāmadeva said, "Mister, be careful. I have ridden many people like you. I have ridden them like a horse." Kamde vissavonul, de azt mondta neki, hogy uram vigyázzon, mert sok emberen lovagoltam én már, mint lovakon. The yogī thought, "Lord, disturb my meditation." Kāmadeva went back to Indra, and Indra was angry. "I will kick you out of my kingdom." Kāmadeva said, "How is it possible? Please give me a little time." So Kāmadeva devised a plan, observing the yogī's routine—which tree he bit every day to eat the bark. Kāmadeva put nice halwa on the tree. All desires begin from your tongue, from your mouth. All problems stem from the tasting senses... Kāmadeva said, "Now I got the technique." The yogī went to bite the bark and came back with nice, sweet halvā. After fifty years... The next day, there was kachorī. He was surprised. "What is this miracle? Is this my siddhi that produces halwa, cakes, biscuits, chocolates, and this?" He began to bite twice, then twice a day, then three times a day—a big bite. He thought, "Someone must be putting this here." So that day he didn’t meditate. He watched from the hut, meditating on mantras, looking to see if someone was going there. Kāmadeva thought, "Oh, I am already in his blood." Kāmadeva took the form of a nice young girl. She carefully ran, put halwa and everything there, and ran away. The yogī thought, "Who is this girl? Why is she doing this? I should tell her to serve it warm and fresh." When she came, he ran to ask her, but she ran away. This is a nice movie, a documentary. He told her, "I will do nothing to you, but please tell me, let me have your eating fresh, don’t put it on the tree." So, his diet increased. Instead of one bite, it became several bites. He asked her, "Why do you bring food here? Where are you coming from? Who are you?" She said, "I live with my mother a few kilometers away, and my mother wants me to bring you food every day." He had weighed about 48 kilos and now became 60 kilos. He asked her, "Are you married?" She said no and went away. He thought, "Enough, I have finished with my sādhanā; I have achieved everything." He asked if she wanted to marry. She said she could not tell him; she must ask her mother. All the time he sat waiting, thinking she would not come and put food and run away, because how would he get the answer? He couldn’t meditate; only she was in his mind. That beautiful sādhanā place, beautiful meditation place, beautiful tapasyā, divine thoughts—everything was polluted now. Sādī bilo zagađeno to prekrasno mjesto za meditaciju, gdje prekrasne misli i sveta sādhanā bilo zagađeno. Az egész gyönyörű meditáció, sādhanā, tapasyā, mind-mind besenjezöldött. Yoga Braṣṭha—it means now fallen from the path of yoga. She came the next day late, five or six hours late. He was nervous, walking between the hut and the tree and the water, looking for when she would come. He was nervous all the time. He walked around the house, to the river, to the trees, looking for something to eat. Then she came. He said, "Sorry to be late." He said, "It doesn’t matter, but what is the answer? What did your mother say?" "My mother finally came and told me she had come. Later on, she asked me what my answer was. I said, 'My mother said yes.'" He said, "How great! So, when should we marry?" She said there must be some ceremonies, traditions, rules. He said, "I don’t know any tradition, any rules." "I will tell you. Tomorrow we go to my house. There will be nobody, and we will make two colors: green and black. You have to make your whole face totally black. Your legs and hands should be green. After the ceremony, you can wash with a good shampoo, no problem. Then, you have to stand like a horse in Marjārī, you know. I have to put sugar in your mouth, like a horse. And sit on you. Take a belt in hand. Take a stick, a chabuk. Symbolically, you have to walk around the whole village. I will guide you. This means the whole village witnesses that you are a good husband, and we can marry." He said, "This is a little bit hard. Should we walk around the whole village, or just in one street and come back?" "My dear, life is not easy. Life is hard. I am sorry, but this is a ceremony, tradition, or we are not married. Finished?" "No, no, I will survive." So he made his mouth black. When your whole face is black, it is shame. It means shame. And green color on your legs and hands means more shame than anything. That’s called a Patañjali. You know what’s a Patañjali. Now, from the Uttān, he came to the Patan. They went into a house yard, a garden, and he himself took the black color to put on his face, completely black, and green color. He was ready for riding. She put the horse chugal... What do you call it? Chugal? In English? Rinse? She sat on him and held tightly. With a chabuk, she struck his buttocks a few times. Then she pulled his face so strongly that his neck turned. And what he saw on his back was not a girl, but Kāmadeva—the same Kāmadeva who first came to his hut. "Mister, I told you, I have been riding many like you. Go into the forest and do your prayers." These are the desires, longing for anything. This is a calm day. Kāmadeva, ego, pride, greed, selfishness, anger—khaṁna ati sarvatra varjayet—when it is too much, then it becomes dangerous. Therefore, know thy limitation. You can do everything, but these should not ride you. You should not become dependent. You should not be the slave of your desires. If something is gone, be happy. Pollution in the mind can destroy everything. Zagađenost u umu može sve uništiti. Kamo ste došli kod Indre, gospodara neba? Rekao je, Gospode, eno tamo tvoje žrtve. Indra, rekao, odlično. You will get nice coffee. Therefore, mental pollution is bad. When you begin to think, "Yes, now I have, only I and I will," then the pollution begins. This is pollution. And this kind of pollution in the beginning is so pleasant, so sweet. Like biting, eating on the tree, just the bark of the tree, chewing a little, drinking water, and living. And then came the halwa, pudding, cakes, apple strudel, and they made you already strudel. It made you dull out of strudel. Achievement is not easy. It is hard not to be open. It’s so easy, it’s not. Therefore, it is said in the teachings, in the Upaniṣads: you have to die in order to live. First, you have to die in order to live. This means that Kāma, Krodha, Madha, Lobha, Moha should die in you. They should not ride you. You ride them. There were three holy children, very great. Unfortunately, their parents died when they were very young. But they were, especially one boy, so wise, so holy; he became very famous. These three were: Muktāmāṇḍ (that was her name), Jñāneśvar (that was another one, brother), and Jñāndev. At that time, there lived a yogī, a very great Siddha yogī. He used to ride only tigers or lions. For a chabuk, he used to have a few snakes hanging around his neck. When he heard that Jñāneśvar was so wise, so holy, he thought, "I want to see who can be greater than me." So he went with some disciples, riding on a tiger, sitting on the tiger. A few tigers were following him. These three brothers and sister were sitting on a wall, on a fence, talking about something and playing. When they saw the yogī coming, riding on a tiger, Jñāneśvar said to his sister and brother, "Look, he is riding some living creature. We will ride our dead wall." So he said to the wall, "Let’s go to welcome him." And the whole wall moved. The yogī brought the tiger forward, came, and greeted them. He said, "I believe you are a great divine." He came, bowed down, and said, "Now I know how great you are. Godly." And Jñāneśvar gave the commentary on the Bhagavad Gītā. One of the best Bhagavad Gītā commentaries is called Jñāneśvarī Gītā. In English, you can also get it. He was in Maharashtra. He was incarnate in Maharashtra. Like this, there were thousands of great saints, countless ṛṣis, munis, yogīs, sādhus, miraculous beings. Where are they now in Kali Yuga? Maybe some of them are incarnated in you. Who knows? Don’t hide. But it’s better that you are hiding, otherwise you will not be able to live peacefully. There is one beautiful bhajana of Kabīr Dās. This is a house of love, not a house of playing, a club. First, you have to cut your head to put it at the Holy Feet of the Lord, and then you can enter into the house. It means ego. You have to cut off the ego. Doubts, desires, anger, jealousy—these you surrender. This means you have to give up your ego, your desires... Śūradevī Śiṣa Arpañjankārī, only rare heroes can give their head... Parimka Marag Bankarai, the path of love is very peculiar, very different... That love is like Mahāprabhujī said in one of his bhajans: "How dear to me are the words, only I know. Only I know. What can I explain to you?" Therefore, pollution, mental pollution, will destroy humanity. It will destroy the human itself, and it will destroy all—not only humans, but all creatures and the whole planet. Human mental pollution. You are unhappy, you have problems, and you are discomforted. It is nothing else than your mental pollution. But the goal is not only to filter mental pollution, but to dissolve it forever; the pollution is gone. That’s what I told you this morning in meditation, these points about thinking: what am I thinking, what did I think, what should I think, why should I think, what am I thinking. And think before you think about that thing: what I think, how people will think about what I did out of my thinking. So before you think anything, you should first think: what will be the effect on others and on me? What will be the reaction? That’s it. Before action, clearly and transparently, you should see the reaction.