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Good morning once more to everyone. This is the final session for now, though you will often have access through live webcasting and YouTube programs for both practice and theory. I observe that many people still do not understand, or perhaps do not want to understand. These are three distinct things. When the same mistakes are repeated, one cannot develop. You must be disciplined and practice that discipline. The greatest human problem is communication. Some people complain excessively about others. But do you know what you are complaining about? Do you consider yourself better than others? How much time have you spent in satsaṅg or in an ashram? Complaining about someone, an organization, or any person is a grave mistake. It is a sign of your own incapacity—an inability to communicate, to help, or it reveals sheer selfishness. Do what you wish, but know that selfishness is a primary enemy. It is the root of conflict and all troubles in the world. We know our own feelings; others have feelings too. What we desire, others also desire. A person who is selfish, who constantly wants more and speaks ill of others, is lost. For within the stomach, the womb, of selfishness lies dormant a great anger. When your selfish desires are not fulfilled, that selfishness transforms into intense anger and disappointment. You may even declare your dearest one an enemy, simply because you cannot feel or see beyond yourself. This is the problem. Therefore, practice in both ways: theoretical and practical. Theory means to lead life according to the instructions given. Yet we often do not. We make our own rules, we break rules, we make mistakes, and then we blame others. That is wrong. During this weekend, I have given many examples of how to lead life. After three or four lectures, I still see the same issues. So what did you learn? My question is this: Yesterday, when you received sweets and tea, you were so loud that neighbors in their rooms could not sleep. The noise reached the third floor. Is this the nature of a yogī? Is this what you learned? You may drink your tea, coffee, or juice; you may buy cake, chocolate, biscuits, or fruit; you may share with friends—all this is no problem. But you must not scream. That is sound pollution, which is very harmful. We must avoid physical, sound, and mental pollution. You must learn to respect others. Can you imagine being very tired and ill, wanting to sleep, while people scream outside your door? If you would feel disturbed, so do others. Aṣṭāṅgayogānusāsana—yoga requires discipline. I hope that by our next meeting you will better yourself by at least fifteen percent. This is not directed at any one person. Observe how much noise you make outside after this session. If it is excessive, it means you have learned nothing. If you meditate at home and a neighbor uses a hammer, a washing machine runs loudly, someone plays the piano, or a dog barks, how would you feel? Others feel the same if we make noise. Peace begins in one’s own heart. Charity begins at home. A better world begins from one’s own side. Speak only what is necessary, and speak slowly. Do not scream. When one person speaks too loudly, others cannot hear, and everyone wants to speak. Speaking loudly also causes a loss of prāṇa. To speak for one hour in peace is very tiring, requiring months of preparation. When you step onto a stage to speak, your whole body reacts—blood pressure rises, the heart rate increases. Some people have a nervous breakdown on stage; others cannot begin. Speaking consumes great energy from the solar plexus and the brain. This is why the technique of mauna, silence, is so valuable. Therefore, meditate every day. If you wish to be happy, meditate. Meditation leads you to inner peace, relieves stress, makes you aware of your mistakes, opens your heart for communication, develops your spirituality, lets you feel better, helps you understand your life circumstances, and gives you strength to endure the world’s challenges. Meditate with a mantra. Without a mantra, you are lost. You listen to every lecture, yet still you do not learn. You carry much aggression, complaints, and jealousy toward others. Is this a yogic nature? No. For what purpose did you come here? Merely for a holiday? You could have gone elsewhere. Reflect: What did you gain from this weekend’s seminar? Consider how many people you are angry with and why. What have they done? Yes, they may have made mistakes. Now you have the chance to use your wisdom to forgive and understand them. You can say, “This mistake happened; next time we will do better.” At this moment, look around this hall. Whom do you not like? You may find you cannot identify anyone because the ego is so high you refuse to see. Thousands may be present, yet you see nobody—at least you see yourself as somebody. You must learn to look with eyes that can see everyone. Learn to communicate. There is a story about two donkeys. They were tied together with a single rope about ten or fifteen meters long. Each donkey was tied at the neck, with about four meters of space between them. They saw grass on both sides, but it was dying. The donkey on the left wanted the grass on the left; the one on the right wanted the grass on the right. Each pulled with all its strength, preventing the other from reaching the grass. If one moved back, it would have nothing while the other ate. They struggled, looking at the grass but unable to reach it. Then a person came and asked, “Are you hungry, donkeys?” They said, “Yes.” “Why don’t you eat?” “Because of this one,” each replied. Asking a hungry being if it is hungry is not wise; it only provokes anger. This was an inner conflict. Then a truly wise person came—like a small guide, a Gītā or Gāyatrī—and said, “Come, I will make you eat.” The solution was for both to come together and go to one patch of grass. Once finished, they could go together to the other side. So, communicate. Where there is conflict, both sides lose. If you harbor negative thoughts, you cannot even communicate with your own mind. You become like popcorn on a hot pan, exploding. Instead, use the “Hungarian technique”: cover the pan, and the popcorn will calm. That covering is the Guru Vākya, the master’s word. Someone must tell you these things. First, communicate with yourself. We meditate to achieve inner communication—to understand our body, senses, feelings, illnesses, thoughts, and inner qualities. Through self-inquiry meditation, you become so clear that you have no enemies left. Do not say, “Ah, all is hopeless.” A man once came to Mahāprabhujī and said, “Mahāprabhujī, I do not believe in God.” Mahāprabhujī looked at him and said, “And what does God lose? Whether you believe or not, God loses nothing. But you lose. You need God.” The man insisted, “No, I do not believe. There is no God.” Mahāprabhujī replied, “Yes, I can believe that you do not believe. But do you know who does not believe? For example, I do not believe.” Mahāprabhujī continued, “Does a donkey believe in God? No. Does a pig? Does a snake? Does a lion? Does a cow? Does a dog? They all say no. But does a human believe in God? He said yes. So now you can judge where you belong. My wife believes.” Mahāprabhujī said, “Of course. If she believes, she will receive. You will not.” The man then said, “Yes, Mahāprabhujī, I did not mean it like that. Of course I believe you. Sometimes I go to the temple also.” You see, Mahāprabhujī’s words slowly cultivated belief in him. The man added, “Mahāprabhujī, when I was small, I believed deeply. I pray to God when difficulties come.” Mahāprabhujī said, “It means you are a good human. Now you will begin believing.” To say “I do not believe” is an expression of ego—an ego shrouded in dark clouds. Ego and ignorance make a person blind. If you truly ask yourself, you do believe, but certain situations may have caused you to lose that belief. It is said that a cut tree trunk can grow again. If you were disappointed in your belief, it can return. Do not think everything is senseless. Nothing is without meaning; it has a purpose, but you may perceive it as nonsense. God would not create anything without purpose. Poison can save a life, and nectar can kill—it is a matter of knowing when and how. Everything has meaning, even a small stone. Imagine a stone lying on a mountain path. Your girlfriend finds it during a walk, pockets it, and later gives it to you as a gift. You may not be a stone lover, but you see in it the compassion and love of your friend. You become happy, place it in your office, and whenever you see it, you remember that person. Thus, a stone lying in dirt becomes a cherished object on your desk, awakening memory and belief in your friend’s love. You must instill love in things so that others will preserve them. Put love into understanding, communication, and harmony, so that others will respect and adore your wisdom. But there are those who constantly complain and speak grand words, yet when given work, they disappear. They only talk; they do not act. There is a story: A poor man with a large family was struggling. Someone advised him, “Go to the beach, meditate, and pray. God Śiva will come and bless you.” The man thought this was comfortable work—just meditate and receive everything. He went and prayed fervently. It is said God Śiva is so merciful that even a little prayer pleases Him. Śiva appeared and said, “I bless you, my son. What can I do for you?” The man said, “Lord, I am very poor.” Śiva reached into the water, found an old conch shell, blessed it, and gave it to him. “Take this home. When you need anything, clean it and ask. Whatever you wish for—food, clothes, money—will appear.” The man was overjoyed. He thanked Śiva, saying he would feed the whole village and tell everyone to stop working. Śiva said, “Is that your choice? Bless you,” and disappeared. Walking the 200 kilometers home, the man stopped at a friend’s house 50 kilometers from his village. He told his friend the whole story and demonstrated the conch’s power by summoning food and money. The friend, though initially disbelieving, was tempted. That night, he swapped his own ordinary sack for the one containing the magical conch. The next morning, the man continued his journey unaware. Upon reaching his village, he announced his blessing and invited everyone to a feast. He washed the conch, placed it with flowers, and prayed, “O Śaṅkadev, be merciful. Provide food for all.” Nothing happened. He tried again, asking for money. Still nothing. The disbelievers in the crowd mocked him, saying, “We told you it was nonsense. There is no God.” Humiliated, the man did not go home but walked straight back to the beach. He threw the conch into the ocean and cried out to Śiva, “If you did not want to give properly, why did you deceive me?” Śiva appeared and said, “My son, something happened.” The man replied, “What? Nothing happened!” Śiva explained, “I know. But why do you ask me? The real conch was stolen and replaced with a false one.” Śiva revealed everything. The man asked, “What should I do, Lord?” Śiva said, “This time I will give you something else. Go again to that man and stay overnight.” He gave him another object. The man asked, “What is special about this?” Śiva said, “If you ask for one kuṇa, it will tell you to ask for one million. It will give you double—in talk. It only speaks; it does not give anything. Ask for food, and it will say, ‘Why only two chapatis?’ It will only advise, not provide.” The man went to his friend’s house again. He performed a pūjā, praying to Śaṅkadev for a warm coat. The object replied, “Why one? We live in an age of fashion. For a ninety-day winter, you should have ninety coats, each a different color and cut.” The man thanked it and put it away. The host, again tempted, swapped it in the night for the last remaining object he had. The next day, the man returned home and asked the object to bring food for his family. It said, “Why only one family? More families! And why so little? You should have an appetizer, soup, salad, and more.” The man said, “Good idea. Please provide it.” The object replied, “I give you advice. I am only a talker, not a giver. The giver was someone else, and you gave that giver away.” The man asked, “What is your name, Śaṅkadev?” It answered, “My name is a ‘gush-up-er’—one who gushes up, a mere chatterbox.” Thus, there are people with great ideas who tell others what to do but do not lift a finger themselves. Such individuals cannot resolve conflict; they only create it through blackmail. Therefore, strive to solve conflicts and meditate. Meditation will make you humble, calm, wise, and spiritual. Then you will realize, “Oh yes, there is God. Yes, it has meaning.” How does one discover this meaning? Through research. Research into meaning comes from science, and meditation is a science. It exists, but you must realize it through investigation. Just because you have not seen something does not mean it is not there. At the very least, you can believe that God gave you a healthy body and that divine nature gave you two good eyes. You who claim there is no meaning: suppose your small finger were accidentally cut off. You who say there is no God and you can do everything—can you create a new, real finger on your body? You cannot even create a fingernail or an eyebrow. You might opt for permanent makeup or a plastic prosthesis, but that is not real creation. There is meaning, divine meaning, and divine consciousness. If you surrender, you will attain it. So, do not be a troublemaker. Do not see only negatives in others. Do not blame or complain. Strive to communicate. And do not just talk—act. I have experience at the Vienna Ashram, where we have a wonderful team. Yet there are certain individuals who always say, “This could be better, you should do it like this,” but when asked to contribute, they disappear for weeks. Such a person is like that dappled śaṅkha—a mere promise, with no substance. Please, look within yourself. Leave all your conflicts from this old year here. Enter the new year pure and beautiful. I wish you a Happy New Year and a divine, harmonious Christmas season. A safe journey home, and all the best. Thank you, Krishnan and the organizers, for making this possible.