Upon the cool, sandy banks of the river, Krishna entered with the gopīs, surrounded by the gentle, fragrant breeze that carried the sweet scent of lotuses. There, he delighted in playful pastimes, embracing them with outstretched arms, engaging in gentle struggles, loosening their girdles, and touching them with his nails. Laughter, glances, and smiles flowed between them, and Krishna awakened the god of love in the hearts of the beautiful women of Vraja, filling them with joy. Having received the favor of the great-souled Krishna, the gopīs, proud in their good fortune, considered themselves the most blessed women on earth. But perceiving their pride, Keśava suddenly vanished from their midst, seeking to calm and ultimately bless them further. Thus concludes the twenty-ninth chapter of the first half of the Tenth Canto in the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam Mahāpurāṇa, the scripture for the supreme paramahaṃsas. I bow to Krishna, the Supreme Person, who, like a bee extracting the essence from the Vedas, imparted the nectar of knowledge and realization to his devotees, removing their fear of worldly existence. Hari is the soul of all beings, the Lord of nature Himself; his feet are the refuge, bringing safety to people in this world. He alone is the dearest Self, from whom not even the slightest fear arises. The one who knows this is truly wise, and such a wise one is the teacher—Hari Himself. Nārada then spoke: “O best of men, your question has been answered. Now, listen carefully as I reveal a secret, well-determined matter. Imagine a small creature, wandering and seeking shelter among the gentle. It becomes attached to the sweet songs of six-legged beings, greedy for their sound, and moves forward, heedless of the wolves ahead—who are never satisfied—while behind, a wounded deer, struck by the hunter's arrow, pursues it. The meaning is this: Among women of gentle nature, the shelter of the hermitage is as slight as a flower’s fragrance. Seeking fleeting pleasure born of desire, one becomes absorbed in union, captivated by the alluring speech of women, just as the songs of the six-legged ones charm the ears. Ahead, like a pack of wolves, time devours one’s lifespan, day and night, unnoticed, as one enjoys life at home. Meanwhile, the hunter—Death—strikes with his arrow, unseen. O King, you should perceive this self, whose heart is pierced. Therefore, observe the behavior of the deer and restrain your own mind within your heart, as a charioteer holds the reins. Abandon the company of women and the songs of the herd, and gradually take refuge in the shelter of the Swan—be satisfied and withdraw step by step.” The king responded, “O brāhmaṇa, I have heard and reflected on what the Lord has spoken. Why do teachers not explain this, if they know it? My great doubt has been dispelled by your words. Even sages are bewildered where the senses do not reach.” He continued, “By whatever actions a person acts here, abandoning this body, with another body he enjoys the results of those actions there. This is the debate heard among those who know the Vedas: the actions performed are said to be hidden, not manifest.” Nārada replied, “By whatever actions one acts, by those very actions he enjoys the results in the next life, without interruption, through the subtle body and mind. Just as a man leaves behind a sleeping, breathing body, so does he enjoy the results of actions, either with that body or with another. Whatever this person, saying ‘I am this,’ grasps with his mind, he attains the results of those actions, which cause rebirth. Just as the mind is inferred from the activities of both types of senses, so too are actions from previous bodies recognized by the movements of the mind. With this body, one has not experienced nor seen nor heard; yet, at some time, that form may be perceived, as it is within oneself. Therefore, O King, the embodied soul attains such a form arising from the body; the meaning not directly experienced cannot be grasped by the mind. The mind alone reveals to a person the previous forms, and likewise those that will be, as well as those that will not be—may you be blessed. Here, sometimes, what has not been seen or heard appears in the mind; thus, one should infer according to place, time, and action. All objects accessible to the mind and senses come and go repeatedly in accordance with sequence; all people share this experience. When the mind is fixed solely in sattva, dwelling near the Lord, darkness, like the moon’s shadow, is dispelled and this is illuminated. The notion ‘I’ and ‘mine’ is interrupted in the person, as long as the arrangement of intellect, mind, senses, and qualities, which is beginningless, persists. During sleep, fainting, and suffering, due to disruption of breath, the awareness ‘I am’ does not arise—even in the burning of death. In the womb and in childhood, due to immaturity, the elevenfold subtle body is not manifest, just as the moon is hidden in the new phase. Even when the object is absent, the cycle does not cease; as one contemplates objects, misfortune comes in dreams, though they are unreal. Thus, the fivefold subtle body, expanded in three and sixteen ways, when joined with consciousness, is called the living being. By this, the person takes up and abandons bodies, and through this experiences joy, sorrow, fear, pain, and happiness. Just as a leech on grass and water neither departs nor remains, so a person does not abandon identification with the body, even at the time of death. The unseen does not perish like the seen, but exists otherwise, like a dream; what has been, what is, and what will be, all sleep day and night. When one repeatedly contemplates actions performed by the senses, as long as ignorance persists in action, bondage arises for the non-self. Therefore, for the sake of liberation from that bondage, worship Hari with all your being, seeing the universe as his own, from whom arise creation, maintenance, and dissolution.” Maitreya continued: “The foremost devotee, the Lord Nārada, having shown the path of the swans and bidding them farewell, then went to Siddhaloka. King Prācīnabarhī, the royal sage, after instructing his sons in the protection of creation, went to the hermitage of Kapila for austerity. There, with a mind fixed in one-pointed concentration, the steadfast one worshipped Govinda’s lotus feet; freed from all attachment, he attained likeness with Him through devotion. O sinless one, this teaching on the transcendental Self was sung by the divine sage; whoever recites it or hears it is liberated from material bondage.