The yogis, those wise ones who have pierced the veils of ordinary perception, look upon all things—dharma, wealth, pleasure, liberation, and every being, whether moving or unmoving—as insubstantial as a mirage shimmering in the desert, or water that dances on hot sands yet vanishes when approached. For them, the past, present, and future actions do not belong; they neither perform nor experience these deeds, and so their minds remain unwavering and serene. Dwelling alone in empty places, purified by the evenness of their vision, the Avadhuta is content. Having cast aside all pride, he wanders unclad, happy in his solitude, finding everything he needs within himself. In that state where the fourth, beyond the three states of waking, dream, and deep sleep, is realized solely within, there is no virtue or vice, no bondage or liberation—how could such distinctions exist there? He discovers, again and again, that there is nothing to be found in mantras, meters, or tantras; absorbed in equanimity and purified through contemplation, this is the supreme Avadhuta’s utterance. All is both empty and not empty; there is neither truth nor untruth. These words arise from the very nature of things, guided by the wisdom of scripture. Thus ends the first chapter. Regardless of outward appearance—be it a child, one given to pleasures, a fool, a servant, or a householder—the Guru’s essence should never be disregarded. Who would abandon a precious jewel just because it has fallen into something impure? Here, the beauty of poetry is not what matters; the virtuous seek only the essence. Just as an unadorned boat, without color or form, still carries people across the river, so too does this teaching carry the seeker. Without effort, that which is unmoving swallows up all that moves and does not move, by its very nature—consciousness itself, peaceful and vast like the sky. Without striving, the one principle moves everything, both moving and unmoving; how could something so all-pervading and nondual ever be divided for me? I alone am the supreme, the essence of all essences, Shiva—free from coming and going, undisturbed, beyond all distinctions. Complete and without parts, I am worshipped by the gods, yet I do not accept division, not even among the gods themselves. Through negligence, there is no doubt—what would I do, even if active? Just as bubbles arise and dissolve in water, so too do all elements, beginning with the great, always merge and dissolve—whether soft, fluid, sharp, sweet, or bitter. Bitterness, coldness, softness—these qualities are found in water, yet water remains undivided; likewise, nature and spirit appear to me as one. That which is free from all names, subtler than the subtlest, supreme, beyond mind, intellect, and senses, stainless, and the Lord of the world—where such naturalness exists, how could I be there, or you, or anything that moves or does not move? That which is said to be like the sky is truly sky-like: consciousness, pure, all-knowing, and complete. It is not walked upon by earth, nor carried by the wind, nor covered by water, nor established amidst fire. Space is pervaded by That, yet That is not pervaded by anything; it remains both outside and inside, unbounded and uninterrupted. Because it is subtle, invisible, and without qualities, yogis have described it as the ultimate support; yet, gradually, even that support dissolves into itself. When, through constant practice, one becomes without support, merging into That, one dissolves—free from all inner qualities and faults. For the poison of the world, fierce and causing the stupor of delusion, there is but one unfailing, innate nectar to destroy it. That which is known through direct experience, formless yet appearing with form, beyond both being and non-being—this is called the intermediate state. The outer world is called the manifest; the inner is said to be nature; but that which lies between the inner and the innermost is to be known, like the water hidden within a coconut. Mistaken knowledge is external, true knowledge is in the middle; what is subtler than even the middle must be realized, again like the water within a coconut. Just as on the night of the full moon there is but one flawless moon in the sky, so too should That be seen as one—seeing it as two is a mistaken view. In this way, difference of understanding does not belong to all; the giver attains steadfastness, celebrated in countless names. By the Guru’s wisdom, whether foolish or learned, whoever awakens to the truth becomes free from attachment to the ocean of becoming. Freed from both attachment and aversion, devoted to the welfare of all beings, firm in knowledge and steadfast, such a one attains the supreme state. Just as when a pot is broken, the space within it merges with the greater space, so when the body falls away, the yogi merges into his own true Self, the supreme Self. This teaching is for those engaged in action; even if their understanding ends, that is their path. But it is not meant for those established in yoga; even if their understanding ends, that is their path. The path of those engaged in action is spoken of by speech and senses; but the path of the yogis, wherever it may be, is inexpressible and attained by them alone. Knowing thus this path, which is not conceived by the mind, and abandoning all conceptualization, realization arises of itself. Whether at a sacred place, in an outcaste’s house, or dying anywhere, the yogi does not return to the womb but merges into the supreme Brahman. Whoever perceives his own innate, unborn, inconceivable nature, acts as he wishes, yet is not tainted by faults; even if he does nothing, due to the absence of ego, he is neither bound nor a renunciant nor an ascetic. Free from disease, without equal, formless, without support, bodiless, without desire, beyond duality and delusion, with unceasing power—such a one attains that eternal Lord, the Self. Where there is neither Veda, nor initiation, nor the rite of shaving the head, neither teacher nor disciple, nor the accomplishment of mystical devices, nor even gestures and the like—there, one attains the eternal Self, the Lord. There is neither the Shaiva, Shakta, nor Manava path, nor the physical body, nor form, nor steps such as padā, nor beginnings, completions, or vessels—there, one attains the eternal Self, the Lord.