O King, the assertion “I am the word” is a mistaken one when it comes to understanding the true self. To identify the self with something that is not the self—be it a word or any object—is a sign of delusion. The tongue proclaims “I am,” as do the teeth, lips, and palate, but none of these are truly “I.” They are merely instruments that enable speech. Consider, by what cause does speech itself say “I am”? Yet, speech is not the self, and so it is not appropriate to make such a claim. The body, too, is nothing but a collection of separate parts—head, hands, and so forth. How, then, can any one of these be called “I”? If there truly existed another being apart from oneself, it would make sense to say, “I am this one, and that is another.” But when the one true self is established in all bodies, questions like “Who are you?” and “Who am I?” lose all meaning. You are called king, this is your palanquin, these are the bearers, and this is the road you travel. The world is said to belong to you, O King, but none of these are ultimately real. The palanquin itself is made from wood that once grew as a tree; should it be called a tree, or wood? No one says, “The great king is riding a tree,” nor do they say, “You are sitting in the wood,” when you are seated in the palanquin. The palanquin is simply a collection of wood, assembled together. Examine this, O King—what, then, is the palanquin to you? Similarly, if you take apart the umbrella and its spokes, where is the umbrella? This reasoning applies equally to you and to me. All the names given in the world—man, woman, horse, elephant, bird, tree—are simply designations for bodies, based on knowledge and the causes of action. A person is not inherently a god, a man, an animal, or a plant; these differences in form are only the results of past actions. That which is called “king” in the world, or anything else—whether it be the king’s retinue or some other thing—is not ultimately real; it is merely a product of thought. But that which, even after a long time, does not acquire another name and is not produced by transformation—let that be, O King; what concern is that to you? You are called king of all people, son of your father, enemy of your foe, husband of your wife, and father of your son. What, then, should I truly call you? Are you your head? Or is your neck yours, as well as your abdomen? Are you your feet and the rest, or do these all simply belong to you, O King? You are established apart from all these limbs. Become skilled in this inquiry: “Who am I?” Once the truth is realized in this way, how can I say “I am this,” O King, without first producing the means of expression? At this, Parāśara spoke: Hearing these words, filled with the deepest truth, the king bowed respectfully and addressed the sage. The king said, “Revered one, your words, which shine with the highest truth, have caused my mind to wander from its usual tendencies. This discernment and knowledge you have revealed about all beings is the supreme principle of nature. “I do not carry the palanquin; nor does the palanquin rest upon me. The body, by which the palanquin is borne, is itself distinct from me. The actions of beings arise from the impulses of action, through the operation of qualities. These qualities alone act—what have they to do with me, as you have taught? When this knowledge of ultimate truth entered my mind, I became unsettled, yearning for the highest reality. “Earlier, O blessed one, I had set out to question the great sage Kapila. Tell me, O sage, what is the highest good here? Even now, your words have turned my mind toward the ultimate truth, just as before. Sage Kapila, O twice-born, is a portion of Lord Viṣṇu, the cause of the world’s delusion, who has descended to earth. Surely, that very Lord has appeared here for our welfare, as is spoken of in the scriptures. Therefore, to me, who am bowed before you, grant the highest good, O sage. You are an ocean whose waves are all knowledge.” The brāhmaṇa replied: “O King, do you ask about the highest good, or about ultimate truth? There are many goods that are not the ultimate truth, O King. By worshipping the gods, one seeks wealth and prosperity, sons and a kingdom—such is considered good by many. “Actions whose essence is sacrifice are also called good, and their fruit is attainment. The chief good lies in the fruit, even if it is not the original intention. But the self should always be meditated upon, O King, by those united in yoga, as should the Supreme. Union with Him is the highest good, the good of the Supreme Self. “Although there are countless things here that seem desirable, none of these are the ultimate reality. Listen to me now about that. If wealth is given up for the sake of righteousness, that is not the highest reality; and if it is spent, it is only for the fulfillment of desire. If a son were considered the highest reality, O King, then he would belong to another; for the father is the highest reality for the son, and vice versa. “Thus, in this world of moving and unmoving beings, there is no ultimate reality, for what is called such is always the result of causes. If attainment of kingdom and such things is said to be the highest reality here, then these become the highest reality, and yet, at the same time, they do not. You may consider the sacrificial act, accomplished through the Rig, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas, to be the highest reality; but hear from me what is truly the case even there.