The Inner Thermostat

The Inner Thermostat

 

Dear friends,

Before a recent meditation at the Taj in London, I had come well prepared for the cold: jacket, hat, socks and a woollen scarf. But the hall was quite warm. First the scarf came off, then the jacket. I had prepared myself for the weather outside; the conditions inside were something else altogether. Someone quietly adjusted the thermostat and soon the room became comfortable. Such a small adjustment and everyone benefited.

As we began meditation, this simple incident brought to mind a message of dear Babuji Maharaj, and a thought began to unfold. We take such care to regulate the atmosphere around us. What care do we take of the atmosphere within us?

We know when a room is too hot. We open a window. When it is cold, we turn on the heating. But when irritation begins to warm the heart, or worry fills the mind, we often continue as though nothing needs attention.

Then a small remark comes and we react. Later we say, ‘I do not know why I became so upset.’ Perhaps the remark was small. The disturbance was already gathering within.

Let us look at this together. A thermostat has a setting, a sensor and a connection to the heating system. It knows the temperature we have chosen, notices the temperature of the room and allows an adjustment. We can borrow this simple picture to understand something about ourselves. Of course, the heart is far more than a machine. But sometimes an ordinary object helps us notice what familiarity has hidden.

What is our usual inner setting? When nothing particular is happening, where do we find ourselves? Are we at ease? Are we expecting trouble? Is there a quiet contentment or a feeling that something is always missing? And when something disturbs us, where do we return? These are useful questions. We can ask them with curiosity, without judging ourselves.

Much of our habitual condition has developed over time. Experiences have left impressions. Some reactions have been repeated so often that they now arrive before we have had a chance to choose them. We may have learnt to defend ourselves quickly, to anticipate rejection or to hold tightly to being right.

In our tradition, we speak of impressions, or samskaras, which condition our responses and influence the way we experience life.

But please do not turn this understanding into another reason to blame yourself. Some habits began as ways of coping with difficult circumstances. We can acknowledge that with kindness while recognizing that what once protected us may now limit us. Our past has influenced us. It need not decide every response we make today.

This is where practice brings hope. Babuji directed our attention towards the heart as the field of the mind’s activity. We may understand a difficulty intellectually, yet find that the same reaction returns. Understanding is valuable. Through practice, that understanding can become a change in our condition.

We know very well that we should be patient. The question is how patience becomes natural. We know that we should love. How does the heart become more loving? We begin by giving it our attention.

During meditation, we gently turn towards the heart, with the supposition of divine light already present there. We need not strain to see a light or manufacture an experience. We simply allow ourselves to become receptive. Thoughts may come. Let them come and go. Whenever we notice that we have followed them, we return gently. Please notice the word ‘gently’. If every return becomes a struggle, we are practising struggle. Let the return itself carry the quality we wish to bring into life.
 

Some habits began as ways of coping with difficult circumstances. 

We can acknowledge that with kindness while recognizing 

that what once protected us may now limit us. 

Our past has influenced us. 

It need not decide every response we make today.
 

With the support of yogic Transmission, meditation offers us the opportunity to become familiar with a quieter, subtler condition. Gradually, we begin to recognize what it feels like to be inwardly settled. Then, during the day, we may notice a disturbance a little earlier.

A reply is forming. The voice is becoming sharper. We are no longer listening; we are preparing our defence. At that moment, awareness gives us a possibility. We can pause. We can feel what is happening. We can ask, ‘What is needed here?’ Perhaps a clear answer is needed. Perhaps an apology. Perhaps we simply need to hear the other person fully.

Sometimes fear lies beneath anger. Sometimes hurt, fatigue or an expectation we have not expressed. We discover these things by observing ourselves honestly and kindly.

And if we notice only after we have reacted, that awareness also has value. We can repair what we can. We can learn. The next opportunity will come. Spiritual progress should make us more willing to acknowledge our mistakes.

Now, a thermostat can detect a change, but detection alone does not warm the room. There must be a connection through which something happens. In our lives, regular practice provides that connection.

Morning meditation gives the day an inward beginning. Before the demands of the world gather around us, we make ourselves available to the heart.

After meditation, remain with the condition for a little while. Become familiar with it. As you enter the day, allow it to accompany you into the first conversation, the first task, the first difficulty. This is how the morning sitting begins to enter daily life.

In the evening, cleaning helps us release the impressions and complexities we have gathered. We need not replay every incident or examine every grievance. Following the method we have learnt, we allow the heaviness to leave and make room for simplicity and purity. There is kindness in this daily renewal. Why carry yesterday’s argument into today’s conversation? Why should someone we meet tomorrow receive the irritation we accumulated this afternoon?
 

After meditation, remain with the condition for a little while. 

Become familiar with it. As you enter the day, 

allow it to accompany you into the first conversation, 

the first task, the first difficulty.

This is how the morning sitting begins to enter daily life.
 

At bedtime, prayer brings us into a deeper relationship within. We place ourselves before that presence with sincerity. We recognize where our habits obstruct us and we seek help. The heart does not have to compose an impressive prayer. It has to be honest.

Meditation, cleaning, and prayer gradually give a rhythm to our life: receiving, releasing and offering ourselves.

Let us consider another feature of a thermostat. It allows a small range of variation before the heating responds. If it reacted to every tiny fluctuation, the system would be switching constantly.

How much variation do we allow in one another? Someone speaks differently from us. Someone takes longer to understand. Someone has another way of arranging things. Must our whole inner system become disturbed?

Here in Europe, we meet across many languages, cultures and histories. Even within one family, people have different temperaments and ways of expressing affection. In a community of meditators, these differences remain. Practice can help us make room for them.

Tolerance begins in very ordinary situations: allowing another person to finish a sentence, accepting that our preference is a preference, giving someone time to learn. As this space grows, affection has room to grow with it. We may discover that the person we found difficult becomes easier to understand when we stop requiring them to resemble us.

The same generosity is needed towards ourselves. If we continually condemn our own imperfections, harshness can enter our dealings with others. We can be sincere about changing while remaining patient with the process. Think of how we help a child learn to walk. We encourage the next step. Can we bring some of that patience to our own inner development?

There is also a difference between a passing reaction and a mood that colours the whole day. The temperature may seem right, yet the room feels heavy. Our inner atmosphere can feel like that too. The same task that seemed manageable yesterday feels burdensome today.

At such times, take care before drawing conclusions about your life, your practice or the people around you. Attend to the simple things. Rest when you need rest. Notice what you have been carrying. Continue your practice with gentleness. Reach out when you need support.

Cleaning can help us release accumulated impressions, but we need not interpret every difficult feeling as a spiritual failure. The body, the mind, our relationships and our circumstances all deserve care. A heart that is becoming sensitive also learns consideration for the person in whom it lives.
 

Meditation, cleaning, and prayer gradually give a rhythm to our life:

 receiving, releasing and offering ourselves.
 

What, then, is acceptance? Acceptance allows us to meet the situation that is actually before us. From there, we can see more clearly what can be changed and what response is needed. If someone is suffering, acceptance can lead us to help. If something is unjust, steadiness can support a firm response. If we have made a mistake, acceptance enables us to acknowledge it and put it right.

Much energy becomes available when we stop arguing inwardly with the fact that something has happened. We can use that energy to respond.

The Bhagavad Gita describes the ideal of steady wisdom. We may approach it through small acts: listening while we are uncomfortable, acting responsibly while we are uncertain, retaining goodwill while we disagree.

Constant remembrance supports this movement. During work, while travelling, while preparing a meal, we can gently renew our connection with the Divine. Over time, this relationship becomes more familiar. We begin to feel accompanied in the midst of ordinary life.
 

Constant remembrance supports this movement.

During work, while travelling, while preparing a meal, 

we can gently renew our connection with the Divine. 

Over time, this relationship becomes more familiar.

We begin to feel accompanied in the midst of ordinary life.
 

And something else becomes clear: our inner atmosphere is shared. When one person in a home becomes agitated, others feel it. When one person listens with patience, a difficult conversation can take a different direction. We influence a room before we have said very much.

So the benefit of meditation extends beyond the person who sits with closed eyes. It can reach a child who is listened to, a colleague who is treated fairly, a stranger who is met with courtesy.

Dear friends, let us ask what people experience in our presence. Do they find room to speak honestly? Can they make a mistake without being humiliated? Do they feel that we are listening? These are meaningful ways to observe the effect of our practice.

Our centres and our gatherings can become places where people encounter this quality of heart. Across countries and languages, let us cultivate a belonging that is expressed in how we welcome and care for one another.

Now we come to the limit of our thermostat analogy. The spiritual journey is greater than keeping ourselves comfortable. The heart has capacities that unfold as we practise: love, courage, discernment, generosity and an increasing willingness to serve.

At first, we may need considerable effort to regulate our reactions. Gradually, as the heart becomes simpler, appropriate responses can arise more naturally. We listen because we areinterested. We help because we feel another person’s need. We forgive because holding the grievance has lost its importance.

Babuji’s ideal of simplicity and harmony with Nature points us towards this naturalness. We begin with practice. We nurture it through remembrance. And we allow its fruits to enter our conduct.

So let us take something simple from our gathering today. During meditation, give yourself wholeheartedly to the practice. Afterwards, notice what has been received. Carry it gently into your interactions. In the evening, release what has accumulated. At night, offer your heart in prayer.

When you forget, begin again. When you become disturbed, return with kindness. And when you experience peace, allow someone else to benefit from it.

Outside, the weather will continue to change. May the heart become increasingly steady, increasingly receptive, and increasingly generous. May all who come into contact with us feel a little more at home.

With love, 
Kamlesh
 

A message to meditators in Europe 
UCL, London, 17 October 2026