Listen now to the profound teaching delivered by the wind, Vāyu, to the gathered sages, as he unfolded the mystery of karma, the self, and the nature of all beings. He began: “Karma, composed of merit and demerit, is the force that brings about pleasure and pain in life. It has no beginning, for it arises from ignorance, and it continues until the impurities of the soul are exhausted. The very purpose of experience is to bring about the destruction of this karma. The unmanifest—what is subtle and unseen—is the field where experience takes place. The body, with its external and internal organs, serves as the instrument through which experience is gained. But how is this impurity destroyed? It is only through the special grace that comes from the excellence of inner states. When the impurity of the self is finally destroyed, that person becomes equal to Shiva himself. Now, you may wonder: what is the karma associated with the five principles beginning with kalā, and how is it distinguished? Who, indeed, is the experiencer? Who is called the person, by whom the self is designated? What is the true nature of the unmanifest, and in what form is it experienced? What is its support in experience, and what is called the body? Know this: knowledge reveals direction and action, while time initiates attachment. Time is the delimiter, setting boundaries, and order is the regulator. The unmanifest is the cause of all, possessing the three qualities—sattva, rajas, and tamas. It is the source from which all arises and into which all dissolves. Those who contemplate the principles call it the primary substance, the very nature of existence. From kalā arises what is manifest, yet still characterized by the unmanifest. This manifest creation consists of pleasure, pain, and delusion, and is experienced in threefold ways by those who possess the qualities. Sattva, rajas, and tamas are the qualities that arise from nature; within nature, they exist in subtle form, like oil hidden within sesame seeds. Happiness and its causes are generally regarded as sāttvika; their opposites are rājasa, while inertia and delusion are tāmasa. The upward movement of consciousness is sāttvika, downward is tāmasa, and the movement in between is described as rājasika. Enumerate, then, the five subtle elements, the five gross elements, the five organs of knowledge, and the five organs of action. Along with these are the four—primary substance, intellect, ego, and mind—which together make up the unmanifest and its modifications. When in the state of cause, all this is called unmanifest; when in the state of effect, it is called manifest, just as a pot or a body is an effect of clay. In the same way, the body and all manifest things are not entirely distinct from the unmanifest, just as a pot is not entirely different from the clay from which it is made. Therefore, the unmanifest alone is the single cause. The instruments and the body are its supports, and what is to be experienced by it—and nothing else. What real existence could there be, separate from intellect, senses, and body, for that which is called the self? Yet, there is certainly some distinction of the self from intellect, senses, and body, for the all-pervading one; but the reason for this is extremely subtle and difficult to grasp. The wise do not accept the identity of the self with intellect, senses, or body, because memory, knowledge, and other faculties are uncertain and last only as long as one is aware of the body. Therefore, that which is the inner witness of all remembered and experienced things, and the field of all knowables, is called the ‘Inner Controller’ in the Vedas and Vedānta. He pervades all things, abiding eternally everywhere, yet he is not clearly seen by anyone. He cannot be grasped by the eye, nor by any other senses. He is neither woman nor man, nor neuter; he is not above, nor across, nor below, nor from anywhere. Without a body, yet present in all bodies, moving and unmoving, imperishable—the wise always perceive him through inner reflection. In summary, why speak at length? The person, the true self, is distinct from the body; those who do not see this difference are mistaken. This body, which is said to belong to the person, is impure, powerless, full of suffering, and impermanent; it is not the true self. When joined with the seed of misfortune, the person becomes happy, unhappy, or deluded, according to his own actions. Just as a field watered by water produces a sprout, so too, action moistened by ignorance gives rise to the body. The person takes on thousands of bodies, experiencing abodes of extreme happiness or final deaths, both in the past and yet to come. Coming and going, when bodies are worn out, the embodied one never attains a permanent abode anywhere. Covered and separated by bodies, the self is perceived like the moon’s disk in the sky, veiled by shifting clouds. The activity of the self appears diverse due to the differences of many bodies, just as on a chessboard, the movement of a piece is observed within its enclosure. No one truly belongs to another, nor does anyone belong to anyone else; the meeting with wives, sons, and relatives is but a chance encounter. Just as one piece of wood meets another in the vast ocean, and after meeting, they part again—so too is the gathering of beings in the world. One may see a body, but that body does not see; another sees both, but those two do not see him. From Brahmā down to the immovable, all are called ‘cattle’; this illustration is given for all beings. Bound by fetters, experiencing pleasure and pain, the being is called a ‘cattle,’ serving as an instrument for the Lord’s play—so say the wise. This ignorant creature, powerless over its own happiness and suffering, moves to heaven or to hell, driven by the Lord’s will. Hearing these profound words of Vāyu, the sages, their minds delighted, bowed to him, the master of the Śaiva doctrine, and spoke: ‘This one is called “cattle,” and that which binds is called “fetters”—but who is the distinct master over these two? Who is he?