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You see, destiny is very mysterious. In our lives, two forces are always walking with us: Jñāna and Kāla. Jñāna is wisdom. Jñāna leads us to immortality, and Kāla is death. Kāla is time. Time is divided into three parts: past, present, and future. The past is known as Bhūta-kāla—'bhūta' is the past, 'kāla' is time. Vartamāna is the present. Bhaviṣya is the future. Now, humans are very intelligent and intellectual beings, but God has not given them one ability: to know the past and to know the future. Why? Why didn't God, or Mother Nature, give us this? Perhaps we could then live in peace and more in harmony? No, we cannot. The problems of this life, the attachments of this life—how our parents are or were, how our children are, how our work is, how our health condition is—all create tension in our mind. We are not able to master this one life. How do you think you will be able to master the many, many past lives? If something happened in your childhood with a dearest friend or dearest one, you are still not able to overcome it. How do you think you would manage the past lives? Therefore, thanks to God that we do not know what happened in the past, so that we can work peacefully and relaxed. Now, the future. If we knew what would happen in the future, we would die already now from a heart attack. We would not be able to work, we would not be able to eat, we would be so fearful that many would have depressions. You cannot imagine what would happen. Therefore, thanks to God that He does not show us these future pictures, nor the past. But between these three times, within the limitation of space, what is playing with us is our destiny. This all is a play of our destiny. And destiny is created individually by ourselves. And now, between this, many things we can avoid and many things we cannot avoid. Though we know and we should avoid, we cannot avoid. Long ago in Greece, one king got a child, a son. He was very happy. But someone who knew something about the future and destiny, or astrology, told the king, "Yes, you have a son, beautiful and healthy. Everything is good with him, but one thing is not good: he will marry his mother." The king loved the queen very much, and when he heard this—what a terrible sin could happen, that this son would have a relation with the mother like a wife—out of emotion, out of ignorance, he ordered them to throw away this child in the forest to kill him. The people did not kill him. They went somewhere in the forest and left him under an olive tree. A small, fresh-born child, hot weather, no water, no one to take care. The child was screaming, crying. Any animal could have killed him. He could have died. But it is said in a beautiful poem: "To whom God wants to protect, no one can kill him. Not even one hair of him can be damaged by anyone, even if the whole world is against him." So the destiny of God is a mysterious thing. A shepherd found him, took care of him, and he grew with the shepherd. And there was in Greece again some lady oracles; I don't know, but I'd say they called her name Sophie, who tells the future. And she told that boy, "Do not come near to me, you are a great sinner because you will marry your mother." The young boy, about 18 years old, very desperate, had gone there to find a happy life and know his future. So he decided one thing: "I will run away. I will not take a particular destination." He stood there, closed his eyes, and began turning, whirling—like the whirling dance from Turkey. There was a great saint in Konya, Mawlānā, and this Mawlānā was a great, wise, sufficient man. He said, "Come to me as you are, it does not matter who and how you are: sinner, good man, ill man, happy man, come to me." And he was dancing in the name of God. They were just moving. If you move for one hour, you will fall down. But there are dancers who do this dance for an hour because they are in such energy, in such devotion. So, how to say? That young man, he was turning and turning until he forgot which direction his face was. Then he stopped and ran in that direction. He opened his eyes, went a few kilometers, and again he turned and turned, praying to God, "Lord, please do not lead me to my mother." But finally, it happened that the queen, when she saw that young man, fell in love. He helped her to fight with enemies, and he married her. And then he realized that it was his mother. You know this. Who was that? Oedipus. That is destiny. Sometimes you can avoid it, and sometimes you cannot avoid it. Yes, he could have avoided it if he would have followed the suggestion, the instruction of some holy man, and stayed there. But he thought, "I will do it myself." And that brought him there. So, we do not know when, where, and how this body will fall on the earth. And we will not even be able to move a small finger. And that will come. We know that we are not immortal. This body is mortal. Sooner or later we will all go. Only thanks to God we do not know the time, place, and situation. Therefore, one bhakta said: "Prabhu irade bhakta rakho Govinda, merī yaha prārthanā hai ki bhūlo na main kabhī tumhārā ye nāma. Terā dina rāta gāū. O Lord Kṛṣṇa Govinda, it is my humble request, prayer, that I never forget your name. Let me sing day and night this name of thine." Kṛṣṇa has many names, and Kṛṣṇa has no names. All names of God—Jesus, Buddha, Rāma, Muhammad, Allāh, Mahāprabhujī, and so on—are names of Kṛṣṇa. Because Kṛṣṇa said, "It does not matter through which way you will go, through which door you will go, finally I will be there." It means God. The name is not important. But it is that God in which you believe. However, you should be sure about that. "Govinda dhāmo dharma dhaveti Dehant kāl tum sāmne ho Bansī bajāte man ko lubhāte Gāte yahī na tan nāth tyāgu." Go in the dharma, the dharma of the Veda, my Lord. At the end of my life, when I renounce this body, I have only one wish: that you are standing in front of me. It means in my thoughts, in my feelings. It is not about any māyā—no house, no property, no money, no wife, no husband, no children—but only one thing: God's name. You are standing in front of me, O Kṛṣṇa, and smiling, and playing your sweet flute, while listening to the sound of your flute and looking at Thee, my Lord. I give up this life. That is your mantra. That is ajapā. You have heard about Mahātmā Gandhījī. He was a bhakta of God Rāma. What is the proof of that? The proof is his last words. He did not say Kṛṣṇa. He said, "He Rām, O Rām," and he gave up his life. And even now, today, every day in India, where Gandhījī died, there is an eternal flame, and every day a fresh flower is placed with the words "He Rām." That is mantra. That is ajapā. Some people say, "Oh, devil." Some say, "Oh, my good luck." Some say, "No." Some say, "Oh, God." It is a very interesting thing, how you hear from people. That is your inner call, what is within you. So, sooner or later, we have to go. But how and when and where are hidden from us. On the day when you will be above all these sufferings, above your jealousy, above your attachment, above your anger, above your doubts, and above your fear, then you will become a trikāla-darśī. Then it will open for you. Your consciousness will widen so that it will widen into the past as well as into the future.