In plain words
As long as the Pāṇḍavas were great kings, they never once saw the divine power within them. Only after twelve years of life in the forest and one year in hiding did all the divine feelings in them come out. When the water in a well is up to the top, we cannot see the thing lying at the bottom. When the water goes down, the bottom comes into view. In the same way, until we remove the Ahaṅkāra and Mamakāra that cover us, we cannot understand the divinity lying deep at the bottom.
Embodiments of Prema! Recognise the truth that God is in all, and share your Prema with everyone around you. That is the goal of life. Human birth is hard to win. Sooner or later it will slip away; sooner or later it will fall. So cut away the sense of mine and foster sacrifice. What is sacrifice? It is not leaving property and wife and going off to the forest; giving up wicked feelings is sacrifice, and that is yoga. So change your feelings. When Rāmānanda Tīrtha had taken sannyāsa and was living in the forest, people were going there in crowds, crowd after crowd, to hear his teachings. His wife too was in that crowd. The moment Rāmānanda saw her, he turned his head aside. Then she says: “Swāmī! I did not come here in the feeling that you are my husband. I came in the hope of hearing your teaching, in the feeling that you are a great soul. But the moment you see me, you turn your head away. That means the feeling that I am your wife has not yet left you. What use is taking sannyāsa without changing your feeling? First change your feeling,” she said. We must cast off the vices and evil thoughts in us. Then Prema will arise in us of its own accord. Man is by his very nature the embodiment of Prema. But he is putting that Prema into worldly things. We must turn it towards God and do every action to please God. That is true sacrifice. Leaving house and home is mere show; it does not deserve the name of sacrifice. We must live in the feeling that all is the very form of God. Holding on to such feelings as “This is my mother, this is my child, this is my son,” whatever you give up is of no use.
Attachment is the root of sorrow
A certain man left house and home, went to Hṛṣīkeś and took sannyāsa. One day he was sitting there under a tree on the river bank, thinking of God, poor man! Just then a busload of pilgrims stopped there. He heard the people in the bus talking among themselves in Telugu. Being a Telugu man himself, he went up to them out of attachment to his language and asked, “Sirs! Where have you come from?” “Ours is the village of Puttaparthi in Anantapur district, sir,” they said. Since he too was from Puttaparthi itself, now attachment to the village came in. “Where do you live in Puttaparthi, sir?” he asked. “Our house is on the road that goes to the Citrāvatī river, sir,” they said. As his father too lived in that same area, he asked, “What is your house number, sir?” “Ours is house number ten,” they told him. His father's was house number 12. “My father lives at house number 12, sir. Is he well?” he asked. “Poor man, he died a month ago, sir,” they said. “Alas! Has my father gone!” So saying, he sat there weeping. What was the reason for this weeping? First came attachment to the language. As attachment to the language came, attachment to the district arose; as attachment to the district came, attachment to the village; as attachment to the village came, attachment to the house; as attachment to the house came, attachment to the body. Attachment to the body brought about sorrow. Attachment to the body alone is the root cause of all sorrow. Without giving up attachment to the body, you may go to any Hṛṣīkeś, any Haridvār, any Badarī: it is of no use. Lessen your attachment to the body and stay just where you are; that itself will give you Mokṣa.