In plain words
That is why, rather than the lowest humanness of all, rather than the animal and rather than this demonic, we must try to live out the human in man. But it is not possible for us to attain the divine in man. Let man try to live at least as man. In that itself we can attain divinity. However much we study, however many degrees we receive, however high the offices we hold, humanness, at least, we must never give up.
If there is no humanness, all the learning we have studied, all such things, are like the howling of jackals in the burning ground, they said. In the burning ground jackals keep howling, mouths open, loudly. In the same way we keep reciting in school, loudly. These studies are like jackals howling in the burning ground. Why should we bother? We say a great deal in words but follow nothing at all in deeds. We strut about as learned men who know everything, but in practice it is empty. He learns all the Vedas, Śāstras, Itihāsas and Purāṇas by heart. But he practises none of it in his deeds. What is learnt by heart like this is nothing but a burden to the throat; there is no happiness in it. It must be shown in practice.
We must try to recognise the oneness in the many. So first of all we must practise Bhāva Advaita. Merging your feeling in divinity, keep doing properly the actions that are to be done. Offer the fruit of these actions to God and be happy. Do your actions in the spirit of offering them to God. Make your feeling grow with the inner meaning of divinity. The principle of substance in everyone is one. Recognise the oneness of the five elements. It is only because we take account of the differences of the vehicles that we experience so many kinds of separateness. But in the midst of them all a Māyā keeps covering. What is this Māyā? Māyā means what is not. That is, Māyā is to take what is not as if it were. We saw a rope. But in us the darkness called ignorance had settled thick. Because of it we see the rope and fear it is a snake. In fear we go far away. When we brought a torch and shone it on it, we knew, "This is a rope, not a snake." The fear went. Courage came. Thinking, "Someone else may be deluded like me," he took it up in his hand and put it to one side. Before this light came, there was no snake there. The rope did not go. When we shone the torch, the snake did not go. The rope did not come. What was in the dark was the rope itself. What was there after the light came was the rope itself. But "it went", "it came" is our delusion. That delusion is Māyā. As long as Māyā is there, we do not know Brahman.