In the sacred teaching of the Maitrāyaṇī Upaniṣad, the sage unfolds the mysteries of the Self, beginning with the recognition of food as the highest and most immediate form of the Self. For breath itself is born of food; without nourishment, a person loses the power to think, hear, touch, see, speak, smell, or taste, and the vital breaths depart. But when one eats, breath is replenished, and the senses and mind regain their strength. Thus, all beings are born from food, sustained by food, and ultimately return to food. Every day, all creatures seek food, striving to grasp it. The sun draws up food with its rays and, anointed with food, blazes in the sky. The breaths within us, too, are nourished by food. Fire burns because of food, and the world itself is upheld by the desire for food, created by Brahman. Therefore, it is taught that one should meditate on food as the Self. From water, beings are born; nourished by food, they grow, and in the cycle of life, all eat and are eaten—thus is the meaning of food. This very form of the Lord, known as Vishnu, the supporter of the universe, is indeed food. Breath is its essence, mind is the essence of breath, knowledge is the essence of mind, and bliss is the essence of knowledge. The one who knows this truth becomes possessed of food, breath, mind, knowledge, and bliss. As many as are the beings who partake of food, so much food does the knower enjoy within himself. Food alone is the undecaying nourishment and the means of union. It is the life of creatures, the eldest, and the healer. From food arises all existence, but food itself is born of time, and time is born of the sun. The year, composed of twelve divisions, is the measure of time, divided between Agni (fire) and Varuna (water), with each half marked by its own cycles. Only through such measures can time be known, for without measure, nothing can be understood. By worshipping time as Brahman, one transcends its limitations. All beings are born, grow, and dissolve in time, which is both formed and formless. Brahman is said to have two forms: time and non-time. Non-time is that which existed before the sun; time begins with the sun. The year is the form of time, and from it, all creatures are born, grow, and dissolve. Thus, the year is Prajapati, the Lord of creation. Time is food, the nest of Brahman, and the Self. Time cooks all beings in the great Self, but the one who knows in whom time itself is cooked is the true knower of the Veda. Time, in its manifest form, is the king of rivers and beings, standing as Savita, the sun, from whom the moon, stars, planets, and years arise. All that is seen in the world, good or bad, comes forth from these. Therefore, one should meditate on the sun as Brahman, called Aditya. The sun is the priest, the enjoyer, the offering, the mantra, the sacrifice, Vishnu, Prajapati—all that shines in the orb. In the beginning, only Brahman existed, infinite in every direction—without east or west, above or below, beyond all limits, the supreme Self, boundless and beyond thought. This is the Self of space, the all-consuming one who remains awake, awakening consciousness in all. By this, meditation is possible, and into this, all returns. Its radiant form shines in the sun, burns in smokeless fire, is the light within the belly, and cooks food. The same essence is present in fire, in the heart, and in the sun—whoever knows this attains unity. The path to this realization is described: breath control, withdrawal of the senses, meditation, concentration, reasoning, and absorption—these are the six limbs of yoga. Through these, one perceives the golden-hued creator, the source of Brahman. The wise, abandoning merit and demerit, merge all into the supreme imperishable. Just as animals and birds do not approach a blazing mountain, so faults never approach one who knows Brahman. When the wise restrain the mind and senses, settle the breath, and remain without intention, they enter the state called the fourth, where the vital force is experienced as the living prāṇa. The mind, without mind, in the middle of consciousness, in the highest secret, is placed in the subtle sign without support. Beyond this is a higher concentration, achieved by pressing the palate and tip of the tongue, restraining mind and breath, and reasoning to see Brahman. When, by the mind, one sees the Self—the smallest of the small, shining—through the cessation of mind, one becomes without self, countless, unborn, inconceivable, and liberated. By the clarity of mind, good and bad actions are destroyed, and the serene self enjoys unchanging happiness. The upward channel, Suṣumnā, carries the vital breath, interrupted at the palate. Through it, breath, joined with Om and mind, ascends. Turning the tip below the palate, withdrawing the senses, one beholds the greatness of the Great and attains the state without self, free from pleasure and pain, in absolute unity. Having established the supreme and restrained the breath, one crosses beyond by the highest means and directs the breath upward. Brahman is to be contemplated in two aspects—sound and soundless. By sound alone, the soundless is revealed. Om is the sound; through it, one ascends and dissolves into the soundless, the path to immortality, union, and liberation. Just as a spider climbs its thread to reach space, so the contemplator ascends by Om to freedom. Some listen to the inner sound, hearing seven kinds—like rivers, bells, bronze, frogs, crickets, rain, and wind—and, passing beyond these, reach the soundless, unmanifest Brahman, where all is one, as honey from many flowers becomes one. Two Brahmans are to be known—the Brahman of sound and the supreme; one skilled in the former attains the latter. Om is the sacred sound, whose beginning is peaceful, soundless, fearless, sorrowless, blissful, satisfied, stable, unmoving, immortal, and constant, called Viṣṇu for supreme transcendence. One should worship these aspects. The deity is Om, both supreme and not supreme; being soundless and void, it is to be practiced at the crown. The body is the bow, Om the arrow, and the mind its point. Piercing the mark of darkness, one enters what is beyond. Like a revolving fire-wheel, one sees the radiant Brahman shining in the sun, moon, fire, and lightning. Having seen it, one attains immortality. Meditation, placed within the supreme essence and the marks, leads from undifferentiated knowledge to differentiation; when the mind is dissolved, the happiness witnessed by the self is Brahman, immortal and pure—the path and the world. When, like one asleep, the senses are withdrawn, and the mind is pure, one perceives within the senses the Pranava, the mover, free from sleep, old age, death, and sorrow—one becomes that Pranava, the mover, the weightless, free from all limitations. Because from this, breath and Om, all things are joined together, it is called yoga—the unity of breath, mind, and senses, and the renunciation of all states of being. Just as a bird-catcher draws birds from water and offers them to the fire in his belly, so, by means of Om, one draws the breaths and offers them into the fire of the body. Then, like heated gold glowing when touched by grass or wood, the breath glows when touched by breath. This glow is the form of Brahman, the supreme abode of Vishnu, and the Rudra-ness of Rudra. Dividing itself in countless ways, it fills the worlds. As sparks from fire and rays from the sun, so from him the breaths and others arise. The radiance of Brahman, the supreme, immortal, bodiless one, is the heat of the embodied, like clarified butter. When manifest, it pierces the inner space of the heart, and what becomes like its light, to that state it quickly attains. Just as a lump of earth becomes earth, and clay perishes with its support, so too the mind merges. The sheath made of the heart-space, bliss, is the supreme abode—our own yoga, and the radiance of fire and sun. Having gone beyond the elements, senses, and their objects, one takes up the staff of resolve, the bow of renunciation, and the arrow of non-attachment to strike down the guardian of the gate—Brahman, the root delusion, crowned with thirst and envy, coiled with sloth, wielding the whip of anger, the bow of pride, and the arrow of desire. Having overcome these, one crosses to the far shore of the heart’s inner space by the raft of Om. There, entering the hall of Brahman, breaking through the fourfold net, the Brahman-sheath, by the teaching of the teacher, one becomes pure, peaceful, without breath or self, infinite and eternal, standing in one’s own greatness. Seeing oneself thus, one beholds the wheel of return as if it were at rest. For one disciplined for six months, always liberated in body, the supreme, secret yoga arises, but not for one attached to worldly life. Having spoken thus, the sage Śākāyanya, his heart turned inward, bowed and said, “With this knowledge of Brahman, O King, the sons of Prajāpati have ascended the path to Brahman. Contentment, endurance, and tranquility are attained through yoga. This is the most secret teaching, to be given only to a devoted, virtuous son or disciple.” In a pure place, being pure, established in sattva, always studying, speaking truth, reciting, and performing sacrifice, one who desires the true Brahman, fulfilled and free from hope and fear, seeing all as himself, attains imperishable happiness. Supreme is desirelessness, for it lifts one to the highest. The person bound by resolve, intention, and pride is bound; the opposite is liberation. Mind alone is the cause of seeing, hearing, desire, intention, doubt, faith, firmness, modesty, intelligence, and fear. Driven by qualities, it becomes impure and restless, binding itself with thoughts of “I” and “mine.” Therefore, one should remain without resolve, intention, or pride. This is the mark of liberation and the path to Brahman, the opening of the door to cross the darkness, where all desires are gathered. When the five senses and mind rest, and intellect is still, that is the supreme state. Śākāyanya, having spoken thus, bowed, performed the rites, and departed. For the upward path leads to Brahman. Piercing the solar gate, one departs upward, attaining the highest state by the rays of the sun that stand upright. Those rays below are for enjoyment of action; by them, one wanders helplessly. Thus, the Lord Sun is the cause of creation, heaven, and liberation. The senses are of the nature of the self, their origin in the self, manifesting as rays. With five rays, the self experiences objects. The self is pure, peaceful, and grasped by its marks—like the heat in fire, essence in water, or bliss in darkness. Others call it speech, hearing, sight, mind, breath, intellect, firmness, memory, or wisdom. As sparks from fire and rays from the sun, so from it arise breath and others. From this self arise all breaths, worlds, Vedas, gods, and beings. Its Upaniṣad is the truth of truth. As smoke arises from moist fire, so from this great being arise the Vedas, histories, knowledge, and all beings. This fire is fivefold, namely the year, with its seasons as bricks. This is the fire of those who know the Person, the first altar of Prajapati. By these, the sacrificer is lifted to midspace and offered to Vayu. Breath is Vayu, fire, with its five forms as bricks; this is the second altar, lifting the sacrificer to heaven and offering him to Indra. That Aditya is Indra, and his fire is built of the Vedas and histories; this is the third altar, lifting the sacrificer to the knower of the Self, and then to Brahman, where he becomes joyful. Earth is the Garhapatya fire, midspace the Dakshinagni, and heaven the Ahavaniya. From these arise the pure, purifying, shining fires by which sacrifice is made manifest. The pure fires are collected in the stomach; thus, fire is to be worshipped and meditated upon. The sacrificer, taking the oblation, meditates on the deity: the golden-hued bird, sun, swan, bull of radiance, established in the heart. The meaning of the mantra is considered: the radiance of Savitar, meditated upon in the intellect, leads the mind to peace and the Self.