Once, the mind itself departed from the body, and after spending a year away, it returned and asked the others, “How did you manage to live without me?” The others replied that, just as children are without developed minds yet continue to breathe, to speak, to see, and to hear, so too did they continue in its absence. Thus, the mind re-entered its place. Then, breath prepared to leave as well. When it did, it was as if a noble horse, strong and majestic, pulled up the pegs to which the other breaths were tethered—so powerful was its withdrawal. The other faculties came to breath and pleaded, “Revered one, stay! You are the best among us. Do not depart.” Speech spoke to breath, saying, “That which makes me most excellent, you are that excellence.” The eye said, “That which makes me the foundation, you are that foundation.” The ear declared, “That which makes me prosperity, you are that prosperity.” The mind confessed, “That which makes me abode, you are that abode.” Indeed, in truth, people do not speak of speech, eyes, ears, or mind alone—they speak only of the breaths, for breath truly becomes all these. Then, breath asked, “What will be my food?” The others replied, “Whatever is here, from dogs to birds—this is your food.” Thus, for breath, all things serve as food. The name “mind” is directly perceived, and in this knowledge, nothing is without food. Breath then inquired, “What will be my clothing?” The others answered, “Water.” Therefore, when people are hungry, they cover themselves with water, pouring it over themselves or drinking it, for water is truly clothing, and without it, one is unclothed. Satyakama Jabala once spoke to Goshruti Vaigyrapadya, saying, “Even if one were to recite this wisdom to a dried-up stump, its branches would indeed sprout leaves.” Such is the power of this knowledge. Now, if a person desires great attainment, he should, after accepting a vow on the night of the new moon, churn together all medicinal herbs with curd and honey on the night of the full moon. After offering clarified butter into the fire with the invocation, “To the eldest, to the best, svāhā,” he pours the residue of the churning into the fire. Similarly, he makes offerings with the invocations “To Vasiṣṭha, svāhā,” “To Establishment, svāhā,” “To Prosperity, svāhā,” and “To Abode, svāhā,” each time pouring the residue into the fire. After washing his hands, he takes the churned mixture in his cupped hands and recites: “O Amu, your name is Amu, for all this belongs to you. You are the eldest, the best, the ruler and king. May you grant me seniority, excellence, sovereignty, and rulership. May I alone attain all this.” With these words, he sips the mixture, reciting: “We choose the radiance of Savitṛ,” then sips; “We partake of the food of the deity,” then sips; “The best, the essence of all,” then sips; “Quickly, may we possess the fortune,” and thus drinks it all. After cleansing himself, he sits behind the fire, either on a wooden bowl, a skin, or bare ground, and remains silent. If, during this time, he sees a woman, it is to be understood that the ritual has succeeded. There is a verse which says: “When, in rituals for desire, women appear in dreams and prosperity is seen, one should know that in that dream-vision, success has occurred.” Once, when he entered the assembly of the Pañcālas, Pravāhaṇa Jaivali asked him, “Did your father instruct you as a student?” He replied, “Yes, revered sir.” The king asked, “Do you know where beings go from here?” He replied, “No, revered sir.” The king continued, “Do you know how they return again?” “No, revered sir.” “Do you know the divergence of the paths, the path of the gods and the path of the ancestors?” “No, revered sir.” “Do you know why that world is not filled?” “No, revered sir.” “Do you know how, at the fifth offering, water assumes the form of a person?” “No, revered sir.” The king then asked, “After being instructed, what did you say?” He replied, “How can one who does not know these things, even if instructed, speak about them?” He went to his father and said, “You did not instruct me, revered sir, but you said you had instructed me. A royal relative asked me five questions; I was unable to answer even one.” The father replied, “Just as you could not answer, so I do not know even one of them. If I knew them, how could I not tell you?” Gautama then went to the king. Upon arrival, he was honored, and in the morning, after sharing a meal, Udaya said, “Choose a boon of human wealth, Gautama.” Gautama replied, “Let the human wealth remain yours, king. Tell me only what you spoke to the prince at the end.” The king became troubled and said, “Let him stay for a long time.” He continued, “Just as you did not answer, Gautama, so I will not answer. Before you, this knowledge did not go to the Brahmins; therefore, in all worlds, the rule belonged to the Kṣatriyas.” Yet, in the end, he spoke to him. He said, “That world, Gautama, is indeed fire; its fuel is the sun, its rays are smoke, the day is its flame, the moon its coals, and the stars its sparks. In this fire, the gods offer faith, and from that offering, King Soma is produced. The rain-cloud, Gautama, is indeed fire; its fuel is the wind, the cloud is smoke, lightning is its flame, thunder its coals, and the showers are its sparks. In this fire, the gods offer King Soma, and from that offering, rain is produced. The earth, Gautama, is indeed fire; its fuel is the year, space is smoke, night is its flame, the directions are its coals, and the intermediate directions are its sparks. Into this fire, the gods offer rain, and from that oblation, food arises. Indeed, Gautama, man is a fire; his speech is the fuel, breath is the smoke, tongue is the flame, eyes are the coals, and ears are the sparks. Into this fire, the gods offer food, and from that oblation, semen arises. Indeed, Gautama, woman is a fire; her womb is the fuel, what is spoken to her is the smoke, the vulva is the flame, what she does within is the coals, and pleasure is the sparks. Into this fire, the gods offer semen, and from that oblation, the embryo arises. Thus, at the fifth oblation, speech becomes a man; that embryo, wrapped in the membrane, having lain for ten or nine months, or as long as it may, is then born. Having been born, he lives as long as his lifespan allows; when he dies, destined, the fires carry him away from here, to where he originated. Those who know thus, and those who, in the forest, practice faith and austerity, they ascend the flame; from the flame, they reach the day; from the day, the bright fortnight; from the bright fortnight, the months traversed northward; from there, the year; from the year, the sun; from the sun, the moon; from the moon, lightning. There, a person who is not human leads them to Brahman. This is the path of the gods. But those who, in the village, practice sacrifice, charity, and similar acts, they ascend the smoke; from the smoke, the night; from the night, the dark fortnight; from the dark fortnight, the months traversed southward; they do not reach the year. From there, they go to the world of the ancestors; from the world of the ancestors, to space; from space, to the moon. This is King Soma, the food of the gods, and the gods eat him. Having dwelt there until the residue of their merit is exhausted, they return again by this same path; from space to air, becoming air, then becoming smoke, becoming cloud, becoming rain, and then descending here as rice, barley, herbs, trees, sesame, and beans. Therefore, it is difficult to escape this cycle; whoever eats food, whoever pours semen, becomes that again. Those here who act beautifully are likely to attain a beautiful womb—be it Brahmin, Kshatriya, or Vaishya; but those who act basely are likely to attain a base womb—be it that of a dog, a pig, or an outcaste.