With a living body, a person endlessly journeys from one world to another, constantly engaged in actions and reaping their results, never pausing in this cycle. The body, made of the physical elements, the senses, and the mind, is the companion of the soul—its dissolution is known as death, and its coming together is birth. When the means of perception and the capacity to perceive are lost, dissolution occurs; but when the sense of “I” arises through contact with objects, that is called birth once more. Just as vision ceases when either the eye or its components lose the ability to see, so too, when both the perceiver and the means are unfit, perception ends. Therefore, there is no need for fear, pity, or confusion. One who understands the soul’s journey, free from attachment, should live wisely in this world. With clear vision, joined with yoga and detachment, one should dwell in this world—fashioned by illusion—remaining unconcerned with the body. At this point, Śuka continued: The gopīs, overwhelmed by longing for Kṛṣṇa, sang and lamented in many ways, their voices rising in sorrowful yearning. Suddenly, Hari himself appeared among them, his lotus face radiant with a gentle smile, clad in yellow garments and adorned with a garland, enchanting even the god of love. At the sight of their beloved Kṛṣṇa returned, joy blossomed in the gopīs’ eyes; they all rose as if life itself had been restored to their beings. One joyfully took Hari’s lotus hand in her own, another placed his sandalwood-scented arm upon her shoulder. One slender woman lovingly received the betel leaf he had chewed, while another, burning with longing, placed his lotus foot upon her heart. Amidst them, one gopī, her brow knit in agitation, overwhelmed by the tumult of love, seemed to strike him with her sidelong glances, her teeth pressed beneath her lips. Another gazed unblinking at his lotus-like face, never satiated, just as the wise are never fulfilled by beholding his feet. Yet another, closing her eyes, drew him into her heart through her gaze, embracing him within, her limbs covered in goosebumps, immersed in the bliss known to yogis. All of them, delighted by the sight of Keśava, experienced the highest festival of joy, casting aside the pain of separation just as those who attain true wisdom abandon sorrow. Surrounded by those freed from pain, the Lord Acyuta shone forth even more, like a person empowered by his own energies. Then the Lord led them to the sandy bank of the Yamunā, blossoming with jasmine and mandāra flowers, fragrant breezes, and the gentle hum of bees. The place was auspicious, its darkness dispelled by the autumn moon’s beams, the sand soft and bright beneath their feet, and Kṛṣṇa’s hand restlessly playing. Their hearts now relieved of pain, as the Vedas reach their goal, the gopīs prepared a seat for their beloved using their upper garments, stained with the red of their breasts. There, seated, the Lord—the master—took his place, shining among the assembly of gopīs, worshipped as the sole abode of the fortune of all three worlds. With laughter, playful glances, and expressive brows, the gopīs honored him, touching his feet as they rested upon his lap, and spoke to him with gentle, feigned anger: “One who loves is loved in return by one, another does the opposite; some love neither. Please tell us, O noble one, which way is right?” The Blessed Lord replied, “Those who love each other for their own benefit are friends, but there is no true affection or righteousness there—it is only self-interest. Those who love even those who do not love them, like compassionate parents, act without fault; here, affection and virtue are excellent. Some do not love even those who love them, let alone those who do not; they are self-satisfied, fulfilled in themselves, ungrateful, and disrespectful to elders. “As for myself, O friends, I do not always show love even to those who love me, for their devotion. Just as a poor man, upon gaining wealth and then losing it, becomes absorbed in its thought, so too do my devotees become absorbed in me during separation. You, delicate ones, have abandoned worldly and scriptural duties for my sake, to serve me. Though you worship me directly, I sometimes hide myself, so you should not resent this, O beloveds. I am unable to repay your flawless devotion, even with the lifespan of the gods. Those who have loved me, breaking the hard chains of home, let their virtuous deeds be your reward.” Thus ends the thirty-second chapter, named “The Consolation of the Gopīs,” in the first half of the tenth book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme swan. When devotion in the form of yoga is directed toward Bhagavān Vāsudeva, it quickly gives rise to detachment and knowledge that leads to realization of Brahman. When the mind, through the senses, ceases to distinguish between objects, whether pleasant or unpleasant, then, at that very moment, one perceives oneself as unattached, seeing all equally, free from acceptance and rejection, established in the supreme state. Pure knowledge alone is the highest Brahman, the Supreme Self, the Lord, the Person; Bhagavān is perceived as one, though appearing as many through objects of perception and so forth. Through complete yoga, the yogi attains the goal here: total detachment from all things. The one knowledge, by the outward-turned senses, appears—through illusion—in the form of objects, as Brahman without qualities, taking on characteristics such as sound and so on. Just as the great principle, in the form of ego, becomes threefold and fivefold, self-ruling, and its elevenfold form is the cosmic egg from which the world arises, so too is this reality seen. This is realized by one who, with faith and devotion, practices yoga constantly, whose mind is collected, who is unattached, and who sees with detachment. Thus has been spoken this profound knowledge, the vision of Brahman, by which one discerns the reality of both prakriti and puruṣa. Just as an object, though possessing many qualities, is not divided because it is perceived through the separate gates of the senses, so too is Bhagavān, though approached by various scriptural paths. Through action, sacrifices, gifts, austerity, study, self-restraint, mastery over the senses and mind, and renunciation of actions—thus is the Lord realized.