In the sacred teachings, it is revealed that the root of meditation lies in contemplation—a steady, repeated focus upon Shiva. Even a small practice of yoga, or a moment’s meditation upon the Supreme Lord with genuine faith, has the power to destroy sin, just as fire consumes both dry and wet fuel. True meditation is that which is performed with an undistracted mind, unwavering and serene. The wise declare that the object of meditation—that which supports the flow of the intellect—is none other than Shiva himself, together with his divine consort. When meditation upon Shiva is complete, its direct fruit is liberation, perfect sovereignty, and wondrous powers such as becoming minute. Because happiness, freedom from fear, and ultimate liberation are attained through meditation, one should abandon all other pursuits and devote oneself wholly to this practice. Without meditation, knowledge cannot arise; and without a yogin, meditation cannot be sustained. But the one who possesses both meditation and knowledge has crossed the vast ocean of worldly existence. Only the yogin who is engaged in the discipline of yoga attains knowledge that is tranquil, one-pointed, and free from limiting adjuncts. For those whose sins have been destroyed, the mind abides naturally in knowledge and meditation; but for those whose intellect is afflicted by sin, even talk of such matters is exceedingly rare. Just as a blazing fire instantly burns up both good and bad actions, so the fire of meditation consumes all deeds. Even a small lamp dispels great darkness; likewise, even a little practice of yoga destroys immense sin. For one who meditates upon the Supreme Lord with faith, even for a moment, the resulting supreme good is endless. There is no pilgrimage, no austerity, no sacrifice equal to meditation; therefore, meditation should be practiced above all. Yogins do not seek pilgrimages filled with water or worship gods made of stone or clay, for their conviction is rooted in their own Self. For yogins, the subtle body is directly perceived as divine, while those not engaged in yoga imagine divinity in gross forms of clay or wood. Just as those who dwell within the palace are dear to the king, so too are those devoted to inner meditation dear to Śambhu, not those engaged in mere ritual acts. Those who remain outside, as in the world, do not enjoy much reward, even if seen in the king’s palace; so it is for those who act only ritually. If those who strive for knowledge and yoga fall short along the way, by their effort alone in yoga they will reach the world of Rudra. There, after enjoying happiness, they are reborn in the family of yogins, and, regaining knowledge and yoga, transcend worldly existence. Even one who merely desires to know yoga attains a state beyond the reach of the greatest sacrifices. The fruit gained by worshipping a crore of twice-born Vedic knowers is equaled by offering a single alms to a Śiva-yogin. Whatever fruit is gained by sacrifices, fire rituals, or pilgrimages, the yogin attains all that by giving food. But those who, deluded, slander Śiva-yogins fall, along with their listeners, into hells ruled by Yama. If there is a listener, the speaker of slander is also at fault; the listener is considered even more sinful and deserving of severe punishment. Yet those who always worship the Śiva-yogins with devotion come to know the boundless enjoyments and endless yoga of Shiva; therefore, those who desire enjoyment should worship the yogins devoted to Shiva. By providing shelter, food, drink, beds, coverings, and the like, the discipline of yoga remains unbroken, impervious to the hammers of sin. Just as rice grains are hard, so too are yogins firm against sin; they are untouched by the multitude of afflictions, just as a lotus leaf is not wetted by water. Wherever a sage devoted to Shiva-yoga dwells continually, that place itself becomes pure—how much more so if it is already pure. Thus, abandoning all other duties, the wise should practice Shiva-yoga for the removal of suffering. The yogin, having attained the fruits of accomplished yoga, may, out of desire for the welfare of the worlds, enjoy pleasures as he wishes or remain here as he pleases. Or, considering worldly pleasure insignificant, he may abandon it and, through the yoga of detachment, be freed from action by his own will. If a mortal, seeing imminent death or many evil omens, is intent on beginning yoga, he should take refuge in a sacred place of Shiva. If, while residing there, a man with a steadfast mind abandons his life, even without disease or other causes, he departs on his own. Whether by fasting, by offering his body into Shiva's fire, or by immersing himself in the sacred waters of Shiva's fords—if one gives up his life according to the procedure taught in Shiva's scriptures—or if, overcome by disease or other afflictions, one dies while having taken refuge in Shiva's sacred place, he too is liberated in this way—of this there is no doubt. The best kind of death is performed with a mind unwavering in the teachings, through fasting and similar means. He who, having killed one intent on reviling Shiva or being tormented himself, gives up his difficult-to-abandon life, is not born again. But if one, unable to kill the reviler of Shiva, dies himself, he is immediately liberated along with twenty-one generations of his family. He who gives up his life for the sake of Shiva, or for the sake of a devotee of Shiva—there is no one equal to him among those on the path to liberation.