Just as water poured into water becomes indistinguishable, so too do nature and spirit appear to merge without difference. Even if one is not liberated, one is never truly bound; how, then, can the Self be imagined as having form or formlessness? I perceive your supreme state directly, vast and open like the sky—yet even this supreme state is as fleeting as a mirage shimmering in water. For me, there is neither teacher nor teaching, no boundaries nor actions. Understand that by my very nature I am pure, without body, limitless as the sky. You may claim your body is pure, your mind the highest, and yourself the supreme Self, yet you feel no shame in making such declarations. O mind, why do you grieve? Become the Self by the Self, within the Self. Drink deeply, dear one, of the immortal nectar of nonduality. There is neither knowledge nor ignorance, nor a blending of the two; for one whose awareness abides thus, it never wavers. True knowledge is not mere reasoning, nor is it absorbed in meditation; it is not bound by place or time, nor dependent upon a teacher’s words. I am that reality, self-luminous by nature, boundless as space, innate and constant. I am never born, nor do I die; I do not perform good or bad deeds. I am pure, untouched by qualities—Brahman itself. How, then, could there be bondage or liberation for me? If the divine is all-pervading, stable, complete, and unbroken, I see no separation anywhere—how could there be an inner or an outer? The entire world shines forth as one continuous whole. Ah, what a powerful illusion is this maya, that makes us waver between duality and nonduality! Whether with form or without, always transcending all definitions—free from both difference and non-difference—only the One Shiva remains. You have no mother, no father, no relative; no wife, no son, no friend. You are neither partial nor opposed—so why does the mind suffer? For you, O mind, there is neither day nor night, no rising nor setting. How could the wise attribute embodiment to one who is truly bodiless? The Self is neither divided nor whole, neither suffering nor joyful, neither everything nor nothing. Know the Self as imperishable. I am neither the doer nor the enjoyer; I have no actions, past or present. I have no body, neither embodied nor disembodied—so what can be called ‘mine’ or ‘not mine’? I bear no faults such as passion, nor do I suffer bodily pain. Know me as the one Self, vast and spacious as the sky. O friend, O mind, what use is there in endless discussion? All this is mere speculation. I have told you what is essential: you are the truth, vast as the sky. By whatever means, wherever, even at the moment of death, the yogis merge, just as space within a jar merges into the infinite sky. Whether at a holy place or in the home of an outcaste, even if memory fails at death, whoever lets go of the body in that instant attains all-pervading liberation. Dharma, wealth, pleasure, liberation, and all beings—moving or unmoving—are seen by yogis as mirages, like water in the desert. Past, present, and future actions—I neither perform them nor experience them; thus my mind remains unwavering. Dwelling alone in an empty place, purified by equanimity, the Avadhuta is content. Wandering naked, free from pride, he finds everything within himself. Where the fourth state beyond waking, dreaming, and deep sleep is not found except within, there is neither virtue nor vice, neither bondage nor liberation—how could such things exist there? He realizes, he truly realizes—not through mantra, meter, or ritual, but by abiding in equanimity, purified by contemplation—this is the supreme utterance of the Avadhuta. All is empty and not empty; true and untrue do not exist. This is spoken from the very nature of things, supported by the wisdom of the scriptures. Thus ends the first chapter. Whether one is a child, indulging in pleasures, a fool, a servant, or a householder—none of these roles affect the Guru’s essence. Who would discard a precious jewel just because it has fallen into something impure? Here, poetic style does not matter; the wise take only the essence. Just as a plain boat, without color or shape, carries those who wish to cross the river, so too does this teaching carry the seeker. Without effort, the unmoving reality swallows up both the moving and the unmoving, by its very nature—consciousness, peaceful and sky-like. He who, without effort, moves the one principle—moving and unmoving—how can that which is all-pervading and nondual be divided for me? I alone am the supreme, the essence of all essences, Shiva—free from coming and going, undivided and undisturbed. I am complete, worshipped even by the gods; being whole, I do not accept any division, not even among the gods. Through negligence, there is no doubt—what would I do by acting? Bubbles arise and dissolve in water. The elements, from the greatest to the smallest, always merge in the same way—whether in softness, fluidity, sharpness, sweetness, or bitterness. Bitterness, coldness, softness—all are found in water; so too, nature and spirit appear to me as undivided. That which is free from all names, subtler than the subtlest, supreme, beyond the mind, intellect, and senses, stainless, and the Lord of the world—where such naturalness is, how can I be there? How can you be there? How can the moving and unmoving be there? That which is said to be like the sky is indeed sky-like—consciousness, faultless, all-knowing, and truly complete. It is not walked upon by earth, nor carried by wind, nor covered by water, nor established in the midst of fire.