"In each one of us lies the source of joy. Of fulfillment. That's reality. That's the true reality."

"Heaven? Where is that heaven? Drop the glasses of arrogance and you will see that heaven is not away from you. Heaven is in you."

"Get with it! Be alive! Live! There is something inside each one of us that says, ARISE!"

"Choose! Make that choice. Those of you who want peace inside, you have to make that choice. What do you choose?"

"We have mastered the art of provoking what is bad in people. We have not mastered the art of provoking what is good in people."

"Dignity. Peace. Prosperity. Without dignity it is hard to be in peace. Without peace, it is hard to prosper."

Excerpted from Innerlink
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"You want to know the truth? The truth resides inside of you. Where else would it be?"

"You are here. It's on! It's happening. The beautiful music you hear -- the orchestra is not just warming up."

"In my downs, I want to remember the up. And in my ups, I want to remember the up, up!"

"Everything that is necessary for you to truly enjoy yourself is here. Make the connection."

"You want to know about karma? Pinch yourself. Do you feel pain? Karma. If the person sitting next to you screams, you pinched the wrong person."

"When you don't know, even answers are questions. And when you know, even questions become answers. How cool is that?"

"I have the tickets to the best show in town. And you want them. If you want those tickets, I have them."

"Don't try to make every day the same. But see the same beauty in every day."

"Whatever you decide to do, be at peace. Experience dignity in your life. Experience peace in your life."

After great performers come to the end of a great performance, it is not uncommon for grateful audiences to give them a standing ovation. They clap, they cheer, they focus all their attention on the one who has just opened the door to magnificence. Think Pavarotti. Think Martin Luther King. Think anyone you've ever stood your ground for and loved.

What I find amazing is this is how Maharaji's presentations begin.

Before he utters a single word, audiences are on their feet, applauding. And when he's done? Pin drop silence.

Somehow, through his own unique alchemy of humor, wisdom, and delight, he finds a way to bring everyone in the room to a place of perfect stillness... back to the very beginning -- where there is nothing left to do, but be.

If you knew how much you already had, you wouldn't waste a second wanting anything more. The entire universe is yours and still you are longing for something else. The world is a milkweed pod. The more you try to grab it, the further it floats away. Stop for a second. Extend your hand. Receive your inheritance. All the legal work's been done a thousand years ago. Throw a party! Invite your friends and a hundred people you don't know. Feed them. Give them something good to drink. Dance until you cannot stand.

The sun is setting. There is precious little light to write my song of praise to you -- only the glow from the dashboard of a 1983 Toyota taking me deeper into the sudden mountains of Mexico.

Victor, the driver, sees what I'm doing and turns on the overhead light, but I prefer the glow of the dashboard.

It's softer on the eyes and my heart rejoices in the romance of needing to write in order to see.

More on longing
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Growing up in New York, there were three things I found utterly amazing: the accents of people from other places, baseball, and snow days.

If you're from California, Mexico, or Hawaii, you probably know what the first two are all about. But the third? Allow me to explain.

A snow day, for those of you who have never experienced winter, is an unexpected day off from school granted by a benevolent universe. You go to bed at night, dreading your history test the next day, and wake up with three feet of snow outside your window -- your mother telling you (having just heard it on the radio) that school is closed.

It's a snow day!

When you walk into the room,
all the poets
feel a sudden urge to praise,
all the dancers want to move,
singers ache
to raise their voices high
for all those times
they foolishly chose silence instead.

This impulse to express,
this surging forward into form,
is absolutely involuntary, tidal,
primal, pure.

The poet's fingers twitch,
the singer clears her throat,
the dancer moves inside her shoes,
already receiving roses
from the grateful choreographer of her heart.

Here is the great mystery:
My thirst is quenched
as much by my longing
to have it quenched
as it is by the waters that come.
Tell me, oh digger of the well,
which do I drink first?

Dear Heart of the Matter Reader:

First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read this blog. Without you, there would be no reason to do this -- so keep on logging on and spreading the word to your friends and family.

And second of all, there are a lot of postings that you probably haven't seen yet. If you have a few minutes (or a few hours or a few days) and want to dig deeper, click on any of the links below.

Video
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"Never, never, never, never give up." -- Winston Churchill