Know, then, that this entire world is without form, untouched by change, and is in truth the very body of purity itself. All that you perceive is none other than the one form of Shiva, the Supreme. You are that truth—there is no doubt about it. What else could there possibly be for you to know? How can you seek to know the Self, which cannot be made into an object of knowledge, as if it were something to be grasped by itself? Dearest one, how can there be talk of illusion or its absence? There is no shadow here, nor the opposite of shadow. All that is, is one single reality—formless, like the sky, and forever stainless. I am free from beginning, middle, and end; never at any time am I bound. By my very nature, I am spotless, pure—this is my unwavering conviction. To me, all this world, from the highest principle downward, does not appear as anything separate; only Brahman is everything. How, then, can there be talk of caste or stage of life? I know, in every way, that I alone am all, unbroken and uninterrupted—unsupported, not void, and yet the very essence of the fivefold void of space and the rest. I am neither eunuch, nor man, nor woman; I am not knowledge, nor imagination. How can the Self be considered either blissful or devoid of bliss? Purity does not come through six-limbed yoga, nor through the destruction of the mind, nor even through the teacher’s instruction. The truth is realized by oneself, by oneself alone. The body is not truly composed of five elements, nor does it exist apart from them; the Self alone is everything. How, then, can there be the fourth state, or the other three? I am not bound, nor am I liberated; nor am I separate from Brahman. I am neither the doer nor the enjoyer; I am free from pervading or being pervaded. Just as water poured into water becomes indistinguishable, so too, for me, nature and spirit are not different. Even if you are not liberated, you are never truly bound. How can the Self be considered as having form or being formless? I know your supreme form, directly, like the vastness of the sky—just as that form appears like a mirage in water. For me, there is no teacher, no instruction, no limitation, nor any action. Know that I am pure by nature, bodiless, like the sky. You may claim your body is pure, your mind is the highest, and you are the supreme Self—yet you speak so without shame. Why do you weep, O mind? Become the Self by the Self, within the Self. Drink, dearest one, the timeless nectar of nonduality. There is neither knowledge nor ignorance, nor both together; for one whose awareness is thus, that awareness is never otherwise. Knowledge is not reasoning, nor is it meditative absorption; it is not place or time, nor the teaching of a guru. I am that reality, self-aware by nature, space-like, innate, and constant. I am not born, nor do I die; I have no good or bad actions. I am pure, without qualities, Brahman—how could there be bondage or liberation for me? If the divine is all-pervading, stable, full, and uninterrupted, I see no separation—so how can there be inner or outer? The entire world shines forth, unbroken and continuous. Ah, what a great delusion this maya is—this wavering between duality and nonduality! With form and without form, always “not this, not this,” free from both difference and non-difference, the One Shiva alone remains. You have no mother, no father, no relative; you have no wife, no son, no friend. You are neither partial nor opposed—so why does this distress arise in the mind? For you, O mind, there is neither day nor night, nor rising nor setting. How can the wise imagine embodiment for one who is bodiless? Neither undivided nor divided, neither pain nor pleasure, neither all nor nothing—know the Self as imperishable. I am not the doer nor the enjoyer; I have no actions, past or present. I have no body, embodied or disembodied—so what is this “mine” or “not mine”? I have no faults like passion, nor suffering of the body. Know me as the one Self, vast and sky-like. O friend, O mind, what is the use of much talk? All this is mere speculation. What is essential I have told you: you are the truth, vast as the sky. By whatever means, wherever, even at death, yogis merge there, just as space within a jar merges into the sky. Whether at a holy place or in an outcaste’s house, even if memory is lost at the moment of death, one who gives up the body then becomes all-pervading liberation. Dharma, wealth, pleasure, liberation, all beings—moving and unmoving—yogis regard all as like a mirage or water in the desert. Past, future, and present actions—I neither do them nor experience them; thus my mind remains unwavering. Standing alone in an empty dwelling, purified by equanimity, the Avadhuta is happy. He wanders naked, having abandoned pride, and finds everything solely within himself. Where the fourth state, beyond the three, is not found except in oneself, there neither virtue nor vice exists, nor is one bound or liberated—how could such things be there? He discovers, he discovers—not mantra, not meter, not tantra; absorbed in equanimity, purified by contemplation, this is the utterance of the supreme Avadhuta. All is empty and not empty; true and untrue do not exist. This is spoken from the very nature of things, preceded by scriptural understanding. Thus ends the first chapter. Whether a child, one indulging in sense pleasures, a fool, a servant, or a householder—nothing of the Guru should be disregarded; who would abandon a jewel just because it has entered something impure? Here, poetic qualities are not to be considered; only the essence should be taken by the virtuous. A boat without color or form still carries those wishing to cross. Without effort, by that which is unmoving, both the moving and unmoving are swallowed; by its nature, consciousness, peaceful and like the sky.