Just as an aquatic creature remains untouched by the water in which it lives, so too is the wise one untainted by the world, no matter what he encounters. When such a person abandons the body, he is liberated—free from all dualities, and ever in the company of the virtuous. This is the very path upheld by the twice-born, O beloved, you who are well-versed in the scriptures that lead to liberation. With a mind deeply focused in worship, one can directly perceive this truth. He who neither desires nor hates truly attains Brahman. The dharma practiced by the ancients is known as the fourfold order of life, and by following it through action, mind, and speech, one may reach Brahman. When desire and greed are cast aside, the state of Brahman is attained. Such a person becomes equal-minded, undisturbed by agitation—this is the way to Brahman. He sees gold and iron, pleasure and pain, with the same eyes. Life and death, too, are regarded equally; thus he attains Brahman. A mendicant must restrain the senses with the mind, and with the lamp of intellect, the self can be observed. Whatever else is to be known, you truly know, O noble one, through the grace of your teacher and your own discipline. Divine knowledge, fully kindled within you, makes you known to me, and your greatness is even greater than you realize yourself. Yet, even when knowledge arises, not all attain that state. Only those who loosen the knots of the heart reach that freedom from suffering. Without steadfast resolve, O Brahman, that state cannot be achieved. No excitement arises in dance or song, nor does attachment take hold. O greatly fortunate one, I see you praise and blame yourself with equal mind. You have chosen the supreme path—imperishable and free from affliction. Indeed, you abide in that state; O sage, what more would you seek to know? Relying upon yourself, perceiving yourself by yourself, you have reached the cool mountain and there saw Parāśarya. Ārarṇeya, pure in mind and radiant like the sun, was also present. Then, the noble-minded son recounted everything to his father. Hearing this, that great maker of the Vedas rejoiced inwardly. Vyāsa embraced his son and seated him by his side. Those devoted to ritual and teaching descended from the mountain peak to the earth. Meanwhile, silent and absorbed in meditation, the wise one sat alone. O great sage Vasiṣṭha, the sound of Brahman did not resound there. Deprived of the sacred sounds, the mountain itself seemed to lose its luster. Yet, always serene in mind and knowing the Vedas and their meaning, Vyāsa continued his study with his son Śuka. Suddenly, the wind began to blow fiercely, stirred by the ocean’s breath. Śuka, though checked, was filled with curiosity. “You ought to recount everything regarding the wind’s movements,” he said, for their study had been interrupted. Thus, this statement was spoken, marking the moment when nature itself seemed to pause their learning.