Hear now a solemn teaching on the signs that foretell the nearness of death, and the path of yogic preparation for the end. It is said that if, immediately after bathing, a person’s heart dries up or he perceives smoke rising from his own head, his life will not continue for ten more days. Likewise, if the vital wind within becomes disturbed, cutting through the vital spots, and if, upon contact with water, he feels no delight, then death draws near. Ominous dreams, too, carry warnings: if one sees himself riding southward in a chariot drawn by bears or monkeys, singing or dancing, or if a dark-clad woman leads him south while singing, his days are numbered. To dream of a hole in one’s throat or to see a naked ascetic is also a sign that death is close at hand. If, in sleep, a person sees himself sinking from head to foot into a sea of mud, he will not live even one more day. Seeing ashes, coals, hair, a dry river, or serpents in a dream signals death within ten nights. Should one dream of being attacked with stones by black, terrifying men armed with weapons, death comes immediately. Even in waking life, if at sunrise or dawn one hears jackals howling directly at him, his life is at its end. After bathing, if a person’s heart is greatly afflicted or his teeth chatter uncontrollably, he is to be counted among those whose lifespan is finished. If one trembles repeatedly, by day or night, and cannot perceive the scent of a lamp, death is near. Strange visions are also portents: seeing a rainbow at night, a circle of stars during the day, or failing to see one’s own reflection in another’s eyes all foretell the end. Physical signs may also appear: if one eye weeps, or the ears fall from their place, or the nose becomes crooked, life has departed. A black and rough tongue, a mouth with the appearance of a lotus, or a red swelling on the cheek—these, too, are harbingers of death. If a man with unbound hair laughs, sings, or dances while walking southward, his life will soon end. When a person’s form appears repeatedly white, like a dense mass or like white mustard seeds, or becomes entirely white, death is approaching. Dreams of camels or donkeys yoked to a fine chariot, especially if the journey is southward, also suggest that one will not live. If two or more dreadful omens unite in one person, and he loses both hearing and sight, it is a grave sign indeed. To dream of falling into a pit and not rising, or of a door closing and remaining trapped, signals the end. Dryness of the mouth, a hollow navel, and excessively hot urine mark a perilous state. If someone is killed openly, by day or night, and does not see his killer, his life is gone. At the end of a dream, if a man enters fire or cannot recall his memory, his life is finished. To dream of one’s own white, black, or red garment is also a sign that death is near. When such omens appear and the destined time has come, the wise should abandon sorrow and despair, remaining indifferent and serene. One should go to a pure, level, and stable place, in the east or north, secluded and free from creatures. There, facing north or east, calm and composed, seated in the svastika posture, having saluted Maheśvara, one should sit with body, head, and neck straight, without looking about—steady as a lamp in a windless place. On ground sloping to the east or north, the knower of scripture should practice, abandoning all desire, doubt, pleasure, and both happiness and sorrow. Restraining all with the mind, he should constantly contemplate the pure, white meditation—holding his awareness at the nose, tongue, eyes, and sense of touch; at the ears, in the mind, in the intellect, and at the chest—understanding the times and actions, always among the twelve internal seats. This twelvefold internal practice is called yogic concentration. One should hold this concentration at the crown of the head a hundred or fifty times. If, through lack of concentration, fatigue arises and the breath moves upward, one should fill the body with breath, accompanied by the syllable Om. Thus, the yogi becomes composed of Om; in the imperishable, he becomes imperishable. The characteristics of attaining Om are now explained: Om is to be known as having three measures, with the consonant as the Lord. The first measure is like lightning, the second is tamasic, and the third is without qualities, leading to the imperishable—it is called Gandhari, arising from the Gandhara note. Applied with the touch of an ant’s gait, it is perceived at the crown; as Om is applied, it proceeds outward at the crown. Thus, the yogi, united with Om, becomes imperishable. The Pranava is the bow, the self is the arrow, and Brahman is the target. The vigilant seeker must pierce this target, becoming one with it. This single syllable, Om, is the hidden goal within the cave of the heart. Om encompasses the three worlds, the three Vedas, and the three sacred fires; it is the three steps of Vishnu, and the Rk, Saman, and Yajus hymns. The three measures and the half-measure are to be truly understood; the yogi who applies this practice attains union with that supreme world.