In the beginning, the aloneness that we feel in ourselves is most unhappy, most unwanted, and grief is the nature of that aloneness that we feel. "Oh, nobody wants me." Everybody wants us, if we only want everything. The world reacts upon us in the manner we react towards itself. But, we have no feeling for things of this nature, and our feeling is in respect of social associations only.

Our intrinsic strength does not depend upon any kind of social contact, because that is brittle and it can break at any moment. It may be there; it does not matter. Let it be there, but we cannot depend on it always. There is no one in this world who finally wants us, and really wants us. Any condition which is unfavourable will reveal this fact. Do you believe that always there will be favourable conditions prevailing everywhere?

The so-called favourable circumstances, in the midst of which we are living, are supposed to be the product of some of the karmas that we performed in our previous lives. We must have done some charity, some good deeds, some service to people. That potency of good action that we performed, in respect of the society around us, brings to us now, in this world of human relations, a satisfaction of being in the midst of friends, relations, and cooperations. But as karmas perish, together with their fruit, their results also perish; that which has come will also depart.

 The Mahabharata gives a concluding message: "Any kind of accumulation, whatever be its nature, will end in the dissolution of that accumulation. The collecting of things will end in the dismemberment of the parts of that collection. All who rise in authority and power in society will end in fall unto the lowest level. All relations end with bereavement."

Samyogaha viprayoantah: "As logs of wood incidentally meet each other on the surface of the ocean due to the wind blowing in one particular direction," says Sri Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa in the Mahabharata conclusion, "they become friends, not knowing that their friendship and coming together on the surface of the ocean is due to the wind that blows in a parti­cular direction."

We meet each other; we are friendly with people; we have got relations. We come together in a fraternity of relationship in the same way as logs of wood meet each other on the surface of the ocean. But the logs have no independent thinking process in their minds. The logs cannot control this connection. The wind must be blowing from somewhere. Some super-operation is active in bringing us in contact with certain things in the world, but it can operate in the other direction, also, because nature has no friends and no enemies.

When the biting winter is making us feel very uncomfortable and a little sunbath in the winter is very pleasant, we cannot say that the sun is our great friend, because he is giving the warmth when we are shivering with cold in winter. And in the hot summer, if a person has sunstroke and is about to collapse, we cannot say that the sun is an unkind person. The sun was neither favourable to us, nor unfavourable to us. Some operation is there, superintending beyond human control, which makes it appear that things are of a particular nature.

No one can escape death. It is not necessarily after twenty-five, thirty, forty, or fifty years; it is at any moment. The length of life of a person, the duration for which we will be alive in this world, the experiences that we will pass through during this duration of our life, and all the experiences of pleasure and pain connected with that, are already inscribed on a plate even when we are inside the womb of the mother. Our future, how tall and how wide we will be, how wealthy and how poor, and how long the life will be, with what kind of health and what kind of illness, with what relations or with no relations - everything is decided. Inside the womb itself all things are written, and we cannot change it afterwards, because that which is written inside the womb is actually a result of what we have brought with us from previous births. We will not get anything which we have not actually deserved. Undeserved facility is impossible.

All the facilities that we enjoy in this world, and all the suffering also to which we are subjected, are what we have brought with us. We have sown the seeds of joy and sorrow both in one life, and those seeds will crop up into the joys and the sorrows of our daily experience. There is no use complaining, "So and so is giving me great joy; so and so is causing me great unhappiness." We have ourselves created the joy by some good actions that we have performed in the previous birth. We have miserably failed, and done something which is most untoward; that has reacted upon us. Everybody deserves, and then receives.

We are not given a grace or a gift by anybody. No charity is given by nature to us. There is no such thing as charity, gifts, and just giving for nothing. No; that cannot take place. There is no charity in nature; it will give us what we deserve.

Our cooperation with nature, with God Himself, and our inward communication of our own being with the being of that which is supposed to be blessing us will decide the extent of the blessing that we will receive from nature and God Himself.

Ye yatha mam prapadyante tams tathaiva bhajamyaham, says the Bhagavadgita: "As you think of me, so I will think of you. As you describe me, so I shall describe you. Whatever you have given me, I shall give you back. The only thing is, if you give a small quantum of goodness to nature or God, it will come back to you in large measure, because of the pervasiveness of nature and of God. We may give a little thing, but a large thing comes."

Sudama brought one handful of chura and was hiding it under his armpit in a niggardly fashion, tied in a ragged cloth, which he wanted to offer to Sri Krishna in Dwaraka. He did not want to open it because of the glory around - the large golden plate that was placed before him. Sri Krishna asked him, "My dear friend, what have you brought?" He could not say that he had brought a wretched thing. He was hiding it in his armpit and never wanted Him to know. But Sri Krishna said, "No, you have brought something." He pulled it out. He pulled one handful. When it fell on that large golden plate, it started mountain-like overflowing.

We may give one grain, but we will be given back a mountain of grains in return by God. Give, and it shall be given unto you - pressed, shaken, overflowing, not in the niggardly way you gave.

This is the inner secret of spiritual performance, by which we must recognise our true friend, and our true source of succour, who will protect us when we are in danger. Can you think of any person in the world who will be ready to protect you when you are suffer­ing? You have seen, before your eyes, that people who held high power in society and administration are cudgeled and thrown into the streets, as it were. They are unwanted elements, like animals. Can you trust human beings?

Today he is Caesar in Rome; tomorrow, he is a target of attack from the very friends that he had around him. Remember the words of Shakespeare: "But yesterday, only yesterday, the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. One word from Caesar would face the whole world. But today, no one is so poor as to do him rever­ence." The king has become a beggar in one minute. And if we think we are also kings, then we should be prepared for that beggarly life one day or the other. We deny a little particle of goodness to God, and we become poor.

I will tell you a humorous story of why Sudama became so poor. He was a comrade and a schoolmate of Sri Krishna. They were studying under the Guru Sandipani as students. Among many other students, Sri Krishna, the little boy, and Sudama, another boy, and many others went to the forest for cutting wood. That was the system of ancient Guru seva. Wherever there is a gurukula, the students are supposed to bring holy firewood from the forest for the performance of yajna or havana by the Guru. The wife of Sandipani Guru gave some fried channa to Sudama. She tied it in a bundle and gave it to this boy: "It may be raining; you may be cold and hungry. When you return in the evening, you will find it very difficult, so I will give you a bundle of this fried channa. You can eat it on the way."

It appears that, due to fatigue, these boys and Sri Krishna, also little boy, were all lying down. Sudama felt like eating the channa. He took some and was crunching it; Krishna heard and said, "Oh, you are eating something alone to yourself." "No, I am not eating. My teeth are chattering due to cold," he said. This deceptiveness that he showed to a boy like Krishna made him utterly poor, and he became miserable throughout his life. And he had to come for help from the very same person to whom he did not give a little channa. This is a story in the Puranas.

We are mightily guarded; this is something that we have to remember. We are not without friends and relations, but they are in the original heavens and not in the mortal world. Mortal friendship will perish, like anything that is mortal. Mortal association, mortal wealth, and all mortal things go by the very meaning of the word 'mortality'; they cannot stand.

We want immortal satisfaction and unending security - not only for a few minutes. That unending security will be possible only if our real immortal nature associates itself with the immortal source of security. Deathless sources of security alone will give us deathless security. But, if you cling to perishable sources of satisfaction and security, they will go, and whatever they have given will go together with them.

Trust in God is not simply believing in something; it is an inwardness that we are accepting within ourselves that everything is well with us: "If everything goes, still I am perfectly all right, and those things which are invisible to the eyes will come and protect me."

Spiritual life is painful in the beginning stages, because of the hard psychological discipline required. The discipline is inward, mental, psychological, and organic. It is not external discipline that can take us to God. We may eat only once a day, or we may not eat at all for some days; we may not sleep; we may take a bath a hundred times; we may go on rolling the beads. These are external disciplines that we are imposing upon ourselves, but the internal discipline is that which is known to ourselves only, and not to others.

Socially oriented disciplines are not sufficient. There must be a spiritually oriented discipline, which is the discipline of consciousness itself. Be sure that you are perfectly all right, and under any circumstances you are all right: "Let everything go. I shall be all right. Let nobody talk to me; I shall be all right." For some reason, you are all right, but you must be really all right. That confidence should arise in you: "Wherever I am, I shall be perfectly all right." Why should you have any suspicions in this matter? Wherever you are, you are on the surface of the earth only. Wherever you are, you are in the atmosphere of the solar influence and the benefit of the stars. Wherever you are, you are inside the universe; therefore, security and satisfaction should flow to you from all sides.

You are spiritually alone, though socially a unit of human society. The soul has no society. It cannot belong to somebody else. One soul does not belong to another soul. There is no belong­ing, because of their indivisibility of character. Our indivisibil­ity of innermost selfhood will guard  us  from  any  kind  of  miscalcu­lated  feeling  of there being security from unsoulfilled externalised associations.

To think like this will bring some unhappiness inside, because one may feel that spiritual discipline is an abandoning of the joys of life; it looks like that. That is, you are prepared for the bereavement of all the satisfactions that you may have in this world. One day, they will leave you; this is a fact, and that very thought is agonising. But that which is really yours will not leave you; that which is going to leave you is not yours.

That which really belongs to you will not leave you, and that which leaves you does not really belong to you. When you leave this world and go to another realm, you will take with you what really belongs to you. What is it that actually belongs to you? It is what you have thought, what you have felt, and what you have actually been contemplating upon in your mind. That will mightily produce an immortal effect, as your true property, finally telling you that you are your only property.

Your property or belonging is yourself only. You have to carry it wherever you go. With that you must be happy. This is the great aloneness that I was trying to explain to you in many ways, so that this mighty inner spiritual aloneness will take refuge in that Absolute Aloneness of God Almighty.