When the cowherd men realized that Nanda, Krishna’s father, was missing, they were stricken with fear and sorrow. Unable to see him anywhere, they cried out in distress, calling, “Krishna! Rama!” Their voices, full of longing and worry, reached the Blessed Lord. At once, Krishna understood that his father had been taken by Varuna, the lord of the waters. O King, Krishna, the mighty protector who grants fearlessness to his devotees, immediately set out for the realm where Varuna dwelled. As soon as Hrishikesha, the Lord of the senses, arrived, Varuna—the guardian of the world—received him with great reverence and honor. He worshipped Krishna with splendid offerings and spoke to him, his heart overflowing with joy at this rare and auspicious vision. With folded hands, Varuna said, “O Lord, today my whole being is at peace; today my life’s purpose is fulfilled. All those who are devoted to your feet, O Blessed One, have reached the end of all striving and suffering. O Supreme Self, Brahman, to whom the illusion of the world’s creation never truly applies, I bow to you. By my own ignorance and foolishness, not knowing what should not be done, I have brought your father here. Please forgive this offense. O Krishna, who sees all, O Govinda, lover of your father, be gracious to me. Let your father return to his home.” Thus propitiated by Varuna’s humility and devotion, Krishna, the Lord of lords, brought his father back, filling their family and friends with joy and relief. Nanda, having witnessed the extraordinary majesty of Varuna and his deep reverence for Krishna, was amazed. He shared his wonder with his kinsmen, marveling at the glory he had seen. The cowherd men, their minds eager and full of longing, wondered among themselves, “Will this Lord show us our own subtle destination? Will he reveal to us the highest truth?” Krishna, the Blessed Lord, understanding the hearts of his people and moved by compassion, decided to fulfill their wish. He reflected, “People in this world, bewildered by ignorance, desire, and the ceaseless cycle of action, wander along higher and lower paths, never knowing their own true goal.” Out of his great compassion, the Lord Hari resolved to reveal to the cowherds his own realm—a world beyond all darkness. With his divine power, Krishna showed them that supreme abode: the world of Brahman, the eternal radiance that is truth, knowledge, and infinity. This is the realm the sages behold when their minds are stilled, and all qualities have ceased. To grant this vision, Krishna led the cowherds to the lake of Brahman. Immersing them in its waters and then lifting them out, he enabled them to see that transcendent world—the very same place that Akrura had once glimpsed. Nanda and the others beheld this wondrous realm and were filled with supreme bliss. Amazed, they saw Krishna himself being praised there with hymns by the denizens of that world. In this way, the twenty-eighth chapter of the first half of the tenth book of the great Purana, Srimad Bhagavata, the scripture revered by the highest sages, comes to a close. In that sacred world, all knowledge, discrimination, scripture, austerity, direct perception, tradition, and inference—whatever is present at the beginning and end of these, as well as time and causality—are pervaded by the one reality that alone exists in the middle, before, and after. Just as gold, which is present in all golden objects, is the same before and after their making, so too, amidst all the names and forms of creation, Krishna, the Supreme, is the underlying reality. This knowledge, Krishna explained, is threefold, consisting of the three qualities—cause, effect, and agent; but when these are joined or separated, the truth lies in the fourth state, beyond them all. That which is not before, nor after, nor in the middle, is merely a name; whatever is truly established by the Supreme alone exists—such is Krishna’s understanding. That which seems to exist, yet does not, is a transformation born of rajas, the quality of activity. Brahman itself, being self-luminous, appears as the wondrous variety of Brahman, senses, objects, mind, and their modifications. With clear reasoning that discerns Brahman, and skill in refuting contrary views, one should cut off all self-doubt, become tranquil, rejoice in one’s own bliss, and remain indifferent to all objects of desire. The true self is not the body made of earth, nor the senses, nor the gods, demons, wind, water, or fire. The mind is only food, the intellect is sattva, ego is space, and earth is the balance of the elements. How could the senses, composed of the qualities, affect the one whose true abode is known? Even if they are agitated, there is no fault, just as clouds, even when present, do not affect the sun once they have departed. Just as space is not tainted by the qualities of wind, fire, water, or earth, which come and go with their own properties, so too, the imperishable self is untouched by sattva, rajas, and tamas, the qualities that cause the mind to wander in transmigration. Nevertheless, association with the qualities—creations of māyā—should be shunned, until, by firm devotion to Krishna, the impurity of rajas is removed from the mind. There are those false yogis who, hindered by obstacles created by gods or humans, again take up yoga by the force of previous habit, but not according to the method of karma. Action is performed, and the living being acts, impelled by some cause or fate; but the wise, even while living in the world, having renounced all thirst for results, experience their own inner happiness. Whether standing, sitting, walking, lying down, releasing, or eating food—whatever the body does, the mind established in the self does not identify with any of it as separate. If someone perceives an unreal object of the senses, and by reasoning sees something contrary, the wise do not accept it as real—just as a dream disappears upon waking. The patterns of qualities and actions, previously acquired and not distinguished from the self due to ignorance, cease by mere observation; the self is neither grasped nor abandoned. Just as the rising sun dispels darkness for human eyes but does not create it, so too Krishna’s clear discernment destroys the darkness of ignorance in the intellect. This self-luminous, unborn, immeasurable one is the great experience, the experience of all. The one without a second, when speech has ceased, is that by whom both speech and life are directed. The only delusion is the notion of difference in the pure self; apart from the self, there is no other support for one’s own being. That which is apprehended by name and form, fivefold and uncontradicted—even if it seems meaningful, is only praise; such duality belongs to those who consider themselves wise. For a yogi whose yoga is not yet perfected, disturbances may arise in the body; for this, the prescribed rule is given. Some destroy afflictions by the power of yogic concentration, using postures with breath retention; others dispel disturbances with austerity, mantras, or medicinal herbs. Some meditate on Krishna, chant his name, or follow the path of the yoga masters to remove inauspicious influences. Certain wise ones, while the body is still youthful and strong, use various methods to attain perfection. Yet, Krishna teaches, such skill is not to be esteemed, for that effort is ultimately fruitless. The body is perishable, like the fruit of a tree, and not the true aim of spiritual endeavor.