In the ancient wisdom of the Atharva Veda, there is a tale of the goddess, subtle and profound, who embraces all creation. She is dearer than the smallest child, and even more mysterious than that which cannot be seen. This auspicious one, ageless and immortal, dwells in the house of mortals; she lies within, yet the one who shaped her becomes weary in his efforts. She is all: woman and man, boy and girl, the elder walking with a staff, and the newborn with faces turned in every direction. Among all beings, she is their father and son, the eldest and youngest alike. The one god entered the mind and was born first, abiding within the womb. From fullness springs fullness, and fullness is ever filled with fullness. Today, let us seek to know from where this abundance is poured forth. This ancient one is ever new, born again and again, becoming all that exists. The great goddess, the dawn, shines forth, and to the seer she reveals herself with every being. Her name is Avirvai, the goddess who surrounds all. By her form, the trees flourish, adorned in green garlands. She does not abandon those who draw near, yet she cannot see those who are close. Behold the wonder of the divine: she neither dies nor grows old. Inspired by what has never been before, wise ones speak fitting words; wherever they go, those who speak are called the great Brāhmaṇa. Where gods and humans gather, like spokes in a wheel’s hub, the question arises: O flower of the waters, where is that place, set by illusion? Who drives the wind to blow? Who gives the five directions? The gods, leaders of the waters, think themselves possessors of offerings—but who are they? Among these, one dwells upon the earth, one moves in the atmosphere, one arranges the sky, and others guard every region. The one who knows the thread stretched out, in which all creatures are woven, and who knows the thread of that thread—he knows the great Brāhmaṇa. I know this thread, the one in which all creatures are woven; I know the thread of the thread, and thus the great Brāhmaṇa. Between heaven and earth, Agni burns, consuming all that can be burned. Where he stood with a single wife, beyond that—where was Mātariśvan then? Mātariśvan entered the waters, and the gods followed. The great one measured the dust, while the purifier entered the green world. He strode above the immortal Gāyatrī in the north; those who know the Sāman by the Sāman saw that region—where? The dwelling, the meeting place of treasures, is like Savitṛ, true in law; yet Indra did not stand in the contest for riches. Within the lotus of nine gates, enveloped by the three qualities, if there is a lordly self, it is known by those who know Brahman. Desireless, steadfast, immortal, self-born, satisfied with essence, lacking nothing—knowing him alone, one does not fear death: the self, firm, ageless, ever young. Let our mouths not speak evil; let the thunderbolt strike our rivals. The first, the hundred-feeding one, given by Indra, slayer of enemies, is the path of the sacrificer. Let your hide become the altar, your hairs the sacred grass. I take this binding strap for you; let the stone dance upon you. Let your young ones be the sprinklers; let the tongue cleanse, O uninjurable one. Being pure and fit for sacrifice, ascend to heaven, O hundred-feeding one. He who cooks the hundred-feeding one with desire is fit; for him, all the priests are pleased and proceed as is proper. He ascends to heaven, to the undisturbed world of the gods, who, having made the offering, gives the hundred-feeding one. He attains all worlds, celestial and terrestrial, who, having made the offering with golden light, gives the hundred-feeding one. O goddess, your butchers, your cooks, your people—all will protect you; do not fear us, O hundred-feeding one. May the Vasus guard you to the south, the Maruts to the north, the Ādityas from behind. Run forth with the Agniṣṭoma. The gods, ancestors, humans, Gandharvas, and Apsarases—all will protect you. Run forth with the Sātirātra. He attains all the worlds—atmosphere, heaven, earth, the Ādityas, the Maruts, the directions—who gives the hundred-feeding one. Sprinkled with ghee, the gracious goddess will go to the gods. O uninjurable one, do not harm the cook; ascend to heaven, O hundred-feeding one. Whatever gods dwell in heaven, in the atmosphere, and upon earth—to them, you shall yield always milk, clarified butter, and honey. Whatever is your head, your mouth, your ears, and your jaws—may they yield milk, clarified butter, and honey to the recipient. Your lips, nostrils, horns, and eyes—may they yield milk, clarified butter, and honey. Your spleen, heart, lungs, and throat—may they yield milk, clarified butter, and honey. Homage to you, O one being born; homage to you, O one who is born. Homage to your calves, your hooves, and your form, O uninjurable one. Whoever knows the seven inlets, the seven outlets, and the head of the sacrifice—he alone may take hold of the cow. I know the seven inlets, I know the seven outlets; I know the head of the sacrifice, and I see the Soma placed within her. By whom heaven, earth, and waters are protected—by that thousand-streamed cow we invoke the blessing of Brahman. A hundred vessels, a hundred milkers, a hundred guardians are upon her back; the gods who breathe within her know the cow as one. Thus, the sacred tale unfolds, revealing the goddess in all her forms, the fullness of creation, and the mystery of sacrifice, ever ancient, ever new.