Countless worlds of beings, Rama, have come and gone, are passing away even now, and will arise and dissolve again—each world emerging distinctly, each following its own mysterious course. Their arising and passing are as ceaseless as grass trembling in a fierce wind, or children startled by phantoms in the night. They appear and vanish like a string of pearls shimmering in the clear sky, or boats drifting among trees that shudder on the shore. Just as in the awareness of a dream, or like a tree of memories suspended in empty space, so too does the departed soul experience the movement of entire worlds within himself. Through intense transformation, this experience grows dense, and within the living being, it unfolds as the tangible sense: “This is indeed the world.” Yet even there, in that subtle realm, the departed soul, carrying the impressions of birth, death, and all that lies between, imagines another world in much the same way as before. Within that imagined world, there are other persons, and within them, still others, so that these cycles of existence appear layered, like the folds of a plantain stem. But in truth, there are no groupings of the great elements—earth and so forth—nor are there actual sequences of worlds for the dead. Still, the illusion of worlds persists for them, arising anew. This ignorance, boundless and ever-prolific in its diversity, resembles a long river for those lacking discernment, its waves giving rise to the continual creation of worlds. O Rama, on the vast ocean of ultimate reality, the waves of creation rise and fall again and again—these very waves, and countless others as well. Some are exactly alike in family, in mind, and in quality; some are similar in part; and some are wholly distinct. Within this endless play, I recall, to the extent that the eye of knowledge allows, the sage Vyasa—the thirty-second of that name—perceived as if by direct sight. Among these Vyasas, twelve shared his mind and family traits; ten more had all the same features, while the rest differed from the lineage. Even today, others like Vyasa and Valmiki will arise, as will Bhrigu, Angiras, Pulastya, and many others. Groups of asuras, rishis, and gods are born and dissolved repeatedly, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Across the seventy-two cycles of Brahma—past, present, and future—this same world, other worlds, you and I: all of this I know. Thus, in due course, the descent of this wondrous sage Vyasa is recognized as the tenth incarnation of the far-seeing one. We ourselves, many times over, have been those known as Vyasa and Valmiki; indeed, we are these, appearing in various forms and with differing intentions. Even today, by this very Vyasa, the story of Vārāṣṭaka will again be composed, and once more, a great narrative called the Bhārata will arise as a new history. Having arranged the Vedas and established the glory of his lineage, he will then attain the state of Brahman, and afterwards, liberation as Vaideha. Free from sorrow and fear, tranquil and liberated, devoid of conceptualization, liberated while living, with mind subdued—such is the one described as Vyasa. In every creation, beings are similar in wealth, relatives, age, actions, knowledge, understanding, and activities, again and again. Sometimes, over hundreds of cycles, these beings exist or do not exist; at times, this illusion continues endlessly. The succession of countless beings undergoes transformation, like a heap of seeds being repeatedly sown, never ceasing. With the same arrangement or with another, again and again, forms of creation arise, like waves in the ocean of time. But the wise one, with mind calmed and free from agitation, all doubts dissolved, and established in the essence of his true nature, is fully satisfied by the nectar of supreme peace, abiding without any covering. Just as water remains unchanged whether still or in the form of a wave, so too, in the ocean of reality, the state of being with or without a body is equally free. For liberation does not depend on the presence or absence of a body; just as one who has never tasted food cannot speak of its flavor, so too, the experience of liberation is beyond such distinctions. O best of sages, we see the liberated one while he lives, just as we see an object before us, but we do not know his inner intention. Truly, what difference is there among those liberated with or without a body, who are of the nature of non-difference? Whatever is water in the form of a wave is the same in its gentle state. There is not the slightest difference between those liberated with or without a body; whether the wind moves or is still, it is only air. For us, liberation is not determined by embodiment or its absence; when non-dual unity exists, it is indivisible. Therefore, Rama, listen now to this teaching, which is an ornament to the ear—a knowledge that destroys the darkness of ignorance. In this world of transmigration, everything is attained through complete and proper human effort. Just as the moon rises and brings cool delight to the heart, so too, the fruit of endeavor is obtained only by one’s own effort, and not otherwise. What is seen directly as the result of effort is real; what is imagined by the deluded as fate is nothing and does not exist. Whatever activity of mind and body is guided by the teaching of the wise and of scripture—that is true effort and fruitful; anything else is the action of the deluded. Whoever desires a certain goal and strives for it step by step surely attains it; if not, he does not even turn back halfway. By human effort and striving, some particular being has indeed attained lordship over the three worlds, the splendor of Indra. By effort and striving, some rare one, through the blossoming of consciousness, attains the state of Brahma, the seat of the lotus of creation. And by the essence of purposeful effort, by his own power, some rare soul has attained the highest state of Purushottama, supreme among men, the banner-bearer Garuda.