O Rama, wherever this subtle essence—encompassing both sentient and insentient aspects—abides, there the glory of the visible world arises, even within the smallest atom. The world of appearances exists, yet I have cleansed it away, renounced it through austerity, meditation, and recitation, much like one is satisfied after polishing a mirror to clarity. Even if the visible world persists, it is but a reflection—without doubt—within the tiniest atom, mirrored in the vast expanse of consciousness. Wherever it is situated, O Rama, it appears as in a mirror; mountains, earth, rivers, and all such forms manifest in the mirror of consciousness. Then, from this reflection, arise sorrow, old age, death, birth, grasping and releasing of existence and non-existence, both gross and subtle, moving and unmoving. I have purified this visible world; I do not abide in it. Yet, this world alone is the inexhaustible seed for remembrance of transmigration, even in samadhi. When this vision of the world remains, the imperishable state of deep sleep, the fourth state, and absorption without thought do not occur. Indeed, when the mind emerges from absorption, the world appears as uninterrupted suffering, just as it does at the end of deep sleep. O Rama, when that supreme state is attained, what further use is there for absorptions? For when calamity returns, what lasting happiness is there, even if equality persists but for a moment? If one should attain a state of thought-free absorption, I consider it to be the stainless state, resembling the imperishable deep sleep. Yet, when the vision of the world is present, that state is not attained by anyone; for, due to the mind’s delusion, the illusion of the world arises everywhere. If the seer forcibly cultivates a state like that of a stone, then, even at the end of that, worldly perception arises again. And for some, absorptions without thought never truly become like a stone; this is the universal experience. Nor do absorptions that have become stone-like reach maturity; they become the supreme, peaceful state—consciousness itself, unborn and undecaying. Therefore, if this visible reality were truly existent, it would never cease; the notion that it can be ended by austerity, recitation, or meditation is merely ignorance. Just as a lotus seed rests within the hollow of a closed lotus stalk, so too does the perception of the seen reside within the perceiver. As taste exists in substances, as oil is present in sesame and other seeds, and as fragrance is in flowers, so too does the perception of the seen exist in the perceiver. Wherever camphor or similar substances are kept, their fragrance arises accordingly; likewise, the world appears within the core of consciousness. Just as your dream, imagination, and the notion of a mental kingdom are known only through your own experience, so too is the realm of the seen present in the heart. Therefore, just as a demon dwelling in imagination can destroy a child, so too does this form of the seen within destroy the perceiver. Just as a sprout, remaining within the seed, produces a radiant body at the proper place and time, so too does the perception of the seen unfold. The wonder of a substance always arises in the heart, unceasing within its core; likewise, the existence of the world naturally abides within the core of one whose body is pure consciousness. Now, O Raghava, listen to the story of Akashaja, a tale adorned for the ears, called the ‘Origin’, by which you will understand. There was a twice-born named Akashaja, supremely righteous, ever devoted to meditation, always intent on the welfare of all beings. When he had lived for a long time, Death began to ponder: “Indeed, I consume all beings in due course, for I am inexhaustible. Yet why do I not devour this Brahmin Akashaja? In this matter, my power is blunted, like the edge of a sword against a stone.” Thinking thus, Death went to that city to slay him; but those who are truly resolute never abandon their effort. As Death himself entered that dwelling, at that very moment, a fire, blazing like the fire at the end of an age, burned him. Even after breaking through that great network of flames and entering within, he tried with all his might to seize the Brahmin with his hand. Yet, though he saw the Brahmin right before him, Death could not grasp him with a hundred hands, just as even the strong cannot restrain a person of firm resolve. Then Death approached Yama, the dispeller of doubts, and asked, “Lord, why am I unable to consume this being born of space?” Yama replied, “O Death, you alone do not have the power to kill anyone by force; it is the actions destined for death that are the cause here, not anything else. Therefore, diligently seek out the actions of this Brahmin that make him subject to death; with their help, you will be able to devour him.” Thus, Death wandered about, searching for those actions—through regions, horizons, lakes, rivers, and directions. He searched through forests and jungles, mountain and ocean shores, distant islands, wildernesses, cities, and ancient towns. He went through villages, entire kingdoms, and the depths of remote lands; after roaming the whole earth, he found nothing anywhere. Death, eager, found none of the actions belonging to the one born of space—like a wise man seeking the son of a barren woman, or another seeking a mountain made of imagination. Then, returning, he questioned Yama, the all-knowing in every matter; for he is the ultimate refuge for those living in doubt. “O Lord, tell me, where are the actions of one born of space established?” After pondering for a long time, Dharma-raja spoke these words: “O Death, there are no actions at all for one born of space; for this Brahmin, born from space alone, has arisen solely from the sky.