# The Nectar of God (Part 3) The question haunts us still: what is God? Not the God of temples and prayers, not the God invoked in moments of desperation or gratitude, but the God who dwells in the architecture of being itself—the God of philosophers, mystics, and those who have glimpsed, however briefly, the nature of consciousness itself. When we speak of God, we speak of that which contains all contradictions without being torn asunder by them. We speak of the infinite compressed into the finite, the eternal folded into time, the transcendent made immanent in a grain of sand. This is not paradox for its own sake; it is the very structure of existence. Consider: in the deepest meditation, when the mind grows still as a windless pond, what remains? Not emptiness—that would be too simple a word—but a presence so complete it needs no object to validate it. This is the moment when the seeker touches what has always been seeking through him. God, in this instant, is neither distant nor alien. God is the very ground of the touching and the touched. The mistake of conventional religion is the externalization of the divine. We build temples as though God lived elsewhere, in some distant heaven beyond the stars. But the true temple is consciousness itself. The true prayer is the honest acknowledgment of our own being. The true worship is the full awakening to what we already are. Yet—and here lies the subtlety that separates shallow mysticism from genuine insight—this recognition cannot be forced. The intellect alone cannot bridge the gap between knowing and being. We may understand intellectually that God pervades all things, yet live as though we were separate, afraid, diminished. Understanding and realization are different waters. How then does one pass from intellectual comprehension to lived truth? Through surrender, perhaps. Through the gradual loosening of the ego's grip, the patient unburdening of the heart from its accumulated grievances and attachments. Through love—not sentimental love, but the love that asks nothing, demands nothing, seeks only to merge with the beloved until the distinction between lover and loved dissolves. The scriptures speak of various paths: the way of knowledge, the way of devotion, the way of action performed without attachment to its fruits. But these are not separate roads leading to different destinations. They are spirals ascending the same mountain, and the climber may traverse now one, now another, as circumstances and temperament dictate. There is a peace that comes when you stop seeking God and recognize that you have never been separate from God. When the hunter realizes he has been hunting himself all along, the search ends—not in failure, but in the most profound success. The silence that follows is not the silence of absence but of presence so complete that sound itself becomes superfluous. This is the nectar: the taste of your own deepest nature, sweetness beyond sweetness, home beyond all homelessness.

Many live by justice and goodness. Why do they live this way? Not because such living increases their own comfort and ease, but because their conscience forbids them to live otherwise. Their conduct is selfless and free from personal interest. They willingly embrace all manner of sacrifice and suffering for the sake of justice and the good—yet these very people express deep revulsion at the mere mention of religion, deny the existence of God, and speak disparagingly of God's name in various ways.

What we worship as divine power, they dismiss as the foolishness of the deluded. Their deeds and conduct never once run counter to religion—so these individuals, unknowingly, walk the very path of religion itself. They fulfill every condition of religious inclination. Justice and goodness kindle constant devotion within their souls, and thus their character shines forth with moral strength and reverence for God. They walk the path of righteousness, perform works of good, spread truth, and in this manner conduct their lives along religion's way—though they themselves refuse to acknowledge it. In short, by doing what humans must do, by performing religion's work, they become beloved of the Almighty and dwell on this earth in grace. Irreligion never prevails through force; it prevails through deed.

There are many who labor for humanity's welfare yet never concern themselves with devotion, nor wish to become devout. They say that devotion is merely moonlight—imagination that soothes the heart's tender feelings, yet cannot warm life like the light of day. They grow passionate in their love for humanity, they love people with their whole being, they labor for human welfare, they sacrifice themselves in service to others—yet they do not believe in God, they refuse to acknowledge that divine love dwells within their hearts, they have not even grasped what God's grace means. And yet they are wholly dedicated to humanity's need, and this impulse of love for humanity flows through their hearts like an underground spring, constant and unseen. They have known love only in its limited, earthly expression; they have yet to discover its universal form. They have remained devoted to finite objects of love; they have not yet tasted the nectar of infinite love. Though these great souls themselves may not know it, within them dwells the supreme expression of devotion to God.

There is a person whose soul overflows with profound reverence and love for this world, yet harbors no feeling whatsoever toward God. He loves the beauty and truth scattered throughout this earth, holds the ideals of justice and goodness in his own breast, and when he witnesses that infinite current of love flowing through every corner of this world, bringing happiness to all living beings, he feels boundless joy. And yet, despite all this, nowhere in this world can he find any trace of Him who governs it. The very One through whom truth and beauty have been infused into this person's intellect, justice and goodness into his conscience, affection into his heart, and strength into his soul—he dismisses as mere illusion, a phantom of imagination. It never once occurs to him to worship this One as God, to know Him truly. All the signs of complete devotion are manifest in this person's heart, yet what distinguishes conscious devotion—where all the limbs of devotion converge and crystallize upon the soil of knowledge, becoming a supremely beautiful reality—has found no place in his inner world.

There is no complete devotion here; the symphony remains forever incomplete.

Such unconscious devotion is natural in a child. In childhood, such devotion is generally indispensable. Children practice devotion without knowing it themselves. Therein lies the simple sweetness of childhood. Just as the crimson light of dawn foretells the coming of the noonday sun, so too does this unconscious devotion of childhood herald the full devotional sentiment of maturity. As one grows older, this feeling gradually unfolds and blossoms. Through life's experiences, self-perception becomes ever sharper and keener, and this unconscious devotion of childhood slowly moves onto the ground of knowledge, illuminating everything beautifully. It is humanity's duty: through education and practice, through the light of self-knowledge, to refresh and perfect this natural devotion of childhood; as age advances and knowledge of the Absolute is gained, to properly develop the intellect, conscience, heart, and soul—these four faculties—and thereby achieve the fullness of devotion.

Self-knowledge is superior to ignorance; the judgment of maturity is superior to the natural impulses of childhood innocence. Just so, the unconscious devotion born of the tender mind of a boy is not the highest; rather, the conscious devotion of a mature and discerning person bears the mark of the soul's elevated state. It may therefore be said: if a learned person loves truth merely because it is true, yet cannot perceive through the power of his own intellect the truth-nature of God, then his learning's natural development is hindered to some extent by this absence of knowledge of God. One who loves truth, and through loving truth loves God Himself—the source and ground of all the world's truths—yet cannot grasp this simple understanding: as a result, a principal dimension of intellectual faculty remains inactive and neglected, and his mind's full and natural development is obstructed.

The just man who walks the path of desirelessness with complete conviction, who holds justice and goodness within his heart—he whom no covetousness for all the world's riches can deflect by even a hair's breadth from the straight truth of justice, whom neither the fear of hell nor the allure of heaven in the world beyond can sway from the path of truth and goodness—such a man, in truth, holds God within his heart by holding goodness there. Unless one feels this supreme truth in one's very being, the power of justice and goodness can never unfold naturally within one's conscience and life. To walk God's path without believing in God is better than to believe in God and not walk His path; yet best of all is to believe in God and walk His path. Thus does life attain completeness in every measure.

The lover who draws the beloved near by the yearning of his soul, whose love for humanity is legendary, who stands ever ready to surrender all his strength, ability, wealth, and life itself for the welfare of mankind—unless he perceives that this deep love of his for man is but a partial expression of the natural love his heart bears toward the Supreme Being, his profound power of love and the depths of his human compassion cannot find their true course; and thus all his endeavors may one day plunge him into doubt. The man whose soul swells with deep love for this world, whose inner being fills with wonder as he perceives the knowledge, beauty, justice, and goodness scattered throughout the world, whose heart is transported by the subtle fragrance and sweetness hidden in a simple flower—he who is enchanted by the wisdom, goodness, love, and beauty of this cosmos; that universal force and cosmic form which stands before him as the repository of truth, knowledge, goodness, and love, forever revered and worshipped—unless he knows that this is woven from the merest atoms of one Great and Infinite Being's infinite truth, goodness, and love, his humanity can never attain its fullness.

When these ignorant devotees gain true self-knowledge, when Brahmic wisdom blossoms within their inner souls; when the God they have unknowingly worshipped all along—the complete Brahman suffused with truth, goodness, and love, perceived through intellect, conscience, heart, and spirit—stands before them in His captivating form upon the soil of their understanding, then the dormant talents buried deep within the hearts of these learned, righteous, and wise lovers awaken and grow a hundredfold in the touch of that supremely loving God's feet. Then they comprehend that their earlier devotion was incomplete, and driven by this realization, they set themselves to fulfill that very lack and perfect the depths of their devotion. In this journey, each soul walks its own path. He whose attachment to truth runs deep, yet whose sense of justice and love has not blossomed within, treads the path of morality and love. He whose affection for justice is profound, yet whose heart does not naturally strain toward knowledge and love in that same measure, begins his journey guided by intellect and feeling. He whose heart burns with the call of love, yet whose knowledge and sense of goodness lie dormant, awakens these two faculties. He whose intellect, conscience, and heart are all vigorous, yet whose inner being lacks the true humility and reverence that constitute the very soul of faith—he gradually purges his devotion of its incompleteness through the attainment of Brahmic knowledge, and comes to possess a fully beautiful character.