Within the human body, the vital breath known as apāna moves downward, carrying with it the wastes of urine and feces. Those learned in the knowledge of the self refer to another vital breath as udāna, while in the bodies of humans, the vital force called vyāna is also taught. Vyāna moves throughout, distributing fluids and humors across the body, sustaining its balance and well-being. Deep within, the digestive fire, endowed with its own proper abode, performs its work—digesting food thoroughly. From this fire arises the essence of life: semen is produced, and all the bodily channels of living beings are generated. This fire, known as agni, is both heat and the force that digests food within all creatures. When this inner fire ascends, it raises itself upward once more, invigorating the body. At the root of the navel, all the vital breaths are established, forming the center from which life is maintained. The myriad channels, driven by the ten vital breaths, carry the essence of nourishment throughout the system. Those who are steady and wise, having conquered fatigue and weariness, place their awareness in the head, the seat of consciousness. There, the fire is ever kindled, just as a pot sits upon the hearth, always receiving warmth and sustenance. Through the activities of breathing and speaking, the soul acts, but without these, the soul’s purpose is lost. The fire within consumes, and when it is spent, the soul’s function ceases. It is only the wind, the vital breath, that departs from the body, and with its departure, the body’s warmth is destroyed. One can perceive the wind as if held in the palms, leaving along with the qualities of air. Just as when water is freed from the great ocean, another vessel of water remains, so too does something linger as the vital forces depart. Yet, as it quickly enters another state, it is destroyed, just as the vessel’s water is lost. Of the four elements—if any one is absent—there can be no doubt: the fire is extinguished for lack of fuel, and perishes for want of food. When either fire or fuel is afflicted, the aggregate—the living being—comes to dissolution. What then is left for the living being to tire of, to hear, or to say? When a creature dies and gives up its life, how can the body, like a cow that has perished, save anyone? All the physical elements dissolve here and now; how could there be reunion for them? For one consumed by fire, how can life return again? As long as the being lives, actions are performed, but once death arrives, how can there be return? The dead are destroyed; from the seed, the seed itself is lost. O all-knowing one, turn them back, for I have taken refuge in you. Speak again, best of sages, to dispel the doubt that lingers in my heart. The sage replies: The living being moves on to another body, while the former body itself decays. Just as fire is seen in kindling only so long as the fuel remains, so too is life. When the fuel is exhausted, the fire is no longer perceived. The true nature, movement, or form of the soul is not known; one only knows that it perishes, like a fire at rest without fuel. Just as, when the fuel is used up, the fire is no longer seen, so too, when the body is abandoned, the soul remains, subtle and pervasive, like space. It is the fire that sustains the vital breaths—let this truth about the soul be understood. When that bodily fire is lost, the body becomes insentient, lifeless. This is the way for all beings, both those that move and those that are still. Because these three—body, breath, and fire—are united as one, their duality is established upon the earth, forming the foundation of existence itself.