Even when faced with the gravest and most enduring calamities, one who is truly devoted to inquiry does not fall into delusion. Such a person remains unmoved, just as a great mass of light is never swallowed by darkness. In the mind that is clear and tranquil, when the lotus of inquiry has blossomed fully, that being shines forth with the purity and brilliance of the snowy Himalayas. But for those whose intellect is barren of inquiry and has sunk into dullness, even the most powerful efforts—like thunderbolts—prove futile, much as a Yaksha’s moon would be meaningless to a child. Rama, a person devoid of discrimination, who cannot distinguish truth from falsehood, is to be avoided; he is like a mound of sorrow, a termite hill, or honey spoiled by rotten creepers. Those who are difficult to approach, whose conduct is poor and whose trustworthiness is doubtful, appear to shine only because there is no inquiry; they are like goblins seen only in darkness. O descendant of Raghu, keep far away from such undiscriminating people—they are like old, hollow trees, unfit for any good deeds. For any creature, when the mind becomes isolated and free from the compulsion of desire, it attains supreme contentment, like the full moon shining in its own completeness. Discrimination, when it arises, cools and refreshes the entire being, adorning it just as new moonlight beautifies the world. Reason then shines forth as a pure, white yak-tail fan waving for the banner of supreme truth, just as the moon glows in the night sky. The states of being that move with reason dispel confusion in all directions and shine like the sun, destroying the multitude of fears that arise from repeated existence. The phantoms that terrify a child in the night—creations of the child’s own mind—are dissolved by reason. In the same way, all the phenomena of the world, when not illumined by reason, are unreal; but when touched by the sword of reason, their false existence is cut away. The phantom of long-standing worldly existence, imagined by a deluded mind and bringing endless suffering, is likewise dissolved by reason. Know, therefore, that the state of pure, undisturbed, infinite, and unsupported oneness is the highest fruit of the powerful tree of reason. By attaining this state—steadfast, noble, and radiant with the joy of clear stability—desirelessness arises, like the coolness from the newly risen moon. With the great medicine of reason, firmly established in the mind of the good and bestowing the highest state, one neither craves nor rejects anything. The mind, ever-supported and vast, becomes like space itself, extending beyond all limits, neither setting nor rising. Such a mind neither abandons nor grasps, neither suffers nor seeks pacification; it simply witnesses, abiding in itself and perceiving the world within. It is not extinguished, nor does it remain confined within or without; it does not cling to inactivity, nor is it absorbed in action. This mind disregards what has passed and follows what arrives; neither agitated nor utterly unperturbed, it shines like a full ocean. With such a mind, the great-souled, noble-hearted yogis who are liberated while living move freely in this world. Having lived as they wish for a long time, these steadfast ones finally abandon the body and attain the state of pure being. Even when confronted by the thought, “Who am I, and whose is this world?” the wise continue to reflect diligently, engaging in self-inquiry and countermeasures. O Raghava, a king knows the confusion and doubt of action only through discernment—whether actions are fruitful or fruitless—and not otherwise. The conclusions of the Vedas and Vedanta, and the reasons for their establishment, are determined by discernment, just as a lamp reveals the earth at night. Even in darkness, a clear and unwavering eye, radiant with discernment, perceives what is hidden, just as a bright light does not fail. Truly, one who is blind to discrimination is pitiable, like one blind from birth, of poor understanding; but the self endowed with discernment, possessing divine sight, prevails over all things. The wonder of discernment, filled with the Supreme Self and the sole means to great bliss, should be cherished and never abandoned, not even for a moment. A person adorned with discernment is esteemed even among the great, just as a fully ripened mango delights all. Those whose minds lack the beauty of discernment, though they may rise in knowledge, repeatedly fall into pits of suffering. No one cries out in pain as much—not the sick, nor those afflicted by countless misfortunes—as the ignorant person whose self is destroyed by lack of discernment. It is better to be a worm in the mud, better to dwell among thorns in a pit, better to reside in a dark cave, than to live without discernment. One should abandon unreflectiveness, the dwelling place of all misfortune, rejected by the virtuous and the utmost limit of perpetual distress. A noble soul must always be engaged in reflection, for those who fall into the pit of existence, reflection is indeed the support. By firmly holding oneself with one’s own self through reflection, one can lead the mind—like a deer—across the ocean of delusion known as saṃsāra. The inquiry “Who am I? How has this fault called saṃsāra arisen?” conducted according to reason, is called reflection. For the person lacking reflection, whose mind is as hard as stone, only endless suffering is produced—filled with utter darkness and the tumult of delusion. O Rāghava, for those whose vision is fixed only on the arising and ceasing of things, nothing true is ever known except through reflection. Through reflection, truth is known; from truth, there is repose in the Self; then, when the mind is at peace, all suffering comes to an end. Indeed, the actions of the best become fruitful and manifest in the world. May your own reflection—clear-sighted and well-considered—bring you to peace and shine forth.