title: Open the door... let the breeze in!
author: Nithyananda
description: "Are you listening to yourself? When you get home from work, you hear yourself slamming the door hard. Do you do the same when you get home after a movie? That slamming noise speaks volumes about how you feel about your job. How can you change that?" - Swamiji.
  
  
  
  "Open the door... let the breeze in!" is a series of thought-provoking articles that focus on the science of inner transformation in contemporary society. Compiled from talks given by Swamiji to audiences in India and abroad, and throwing light on issues of prime relevance in our time, this knowledge equips you with practical and active tools for more joyful living.
  
  
  
  Are you using only a fraction of your potential?
  
  
  Is suffering actually a choice we make?
  
  
  Can laughter be a meditation technique?
  
  
  How does karma operate?
  
  
  What is "body intelligence"?
  
  
  Do rituals and mantras have a scientific basis?
  
  
  Many questions that you always had - and some you didn't even know you had - are here answered by Swamiji in his simple, lucid style. This book gives you no theories, no complex metaphysical answers. It simply equips you with easy-to-use tools for effective and joyful living.
zlib_text: > Summer Night's Song
  
  > Nita slipped out the back door of the beach house, careful not to let the
  > rickety screen door slam, and for a second stood silently on the back porch
  > in the darkness. It was no use. "Nita"—her mother's voice came floating out
  > from the living room—"where're you going?"
  
  > "Out," Nita said, hoping to get away with it just this once.
  
  > She might as well have tried to rob a bank. "Out where?"
  
  > "Down to the beach, Mom."
  
  > There was a sigh's worth of pause from the living room, broken by the sound
  > of a crowd on TV shouting about a base that had just been stolen somewhere
  > in the country. "I don't like you walking down there alone at night, Neets.
  > ..."
  
  > "Nhhnnnnn," Nita said, a loud noncommittal noise she had learned to make
  > while her mother was deciding whether to let her do something. "I'll take
  > Ponch with me," she said in a burst of inspiration.
  
  > "Mmmmmm . . ." her mother said, considering it. Ponch was a large black and
  > white dog, part Bor