When the vision of true reality arises, it is said that no one attains that state, for the mind—deluded—gives rise to the illusion of the world wherever it turns. Even if the seer tries, by sheer force, to cultivate a state like that of a stone, in the end, the perception of the world returns once again. Some find that even deep, thoughtless absorptions do not grant the stony state; this is experienced by all seekers. Moreover, those absorptions that resemble a stone do not reach true maturity. Instead, they become the supreme, peaceful state—consciousness itself, unborn and undecaying. Therefore, if this visible reality were truly existent, it would never cease; the idea that it can be ended by austerity, recitation, or meditation is merely an ignorant assumption. Just as a lotus seed rests hidden within the hollow of a closed lotus stalk, so too does the perception of the seen reside within the perceiver. As taste is present in substances, as oil dwells in sesame seeds, and as fragrance exists in flowers, so too does the perception of the seen exist within the perceiver. Wherever camphor or similar substances are kept, their fragrance arises accordingly; in the same way, the world appears within the core of consciousness. Your dream, imagination, and the notion of a mental kingdom are known only through your own experience; so too, the realm of the seen is present in the heart. Just as a demon dwelling in the imagination can destroy a child, so too does this form of the seen within destroy the perceiver. 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. Just as the wonder of a substance always arises in the heart, unceasing within its core, so too does the existence of the world naturally abide within the core of one whose body is pure consciousness. Now, listen to the story of Akashaja, a tale that adorns the ears and is called the ‘Origin.’ By hearing it, O Raghava, you shall come to understand. There was a twice-born named Akashaja, supremely righteous, ever devoted to meditation, and always intent on the welfare of all beings. After 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, for those who are truly resolute never abandon their effort. As Death himself entered Akashaja’s dwelling, at that very moment, a fire blazed forth, as fierce as the fire at the end of an age, and burned him. Even after breaking through that great network of flames and entering within, Death tried with all his might to seize the Brahmin with his hand. But although he saw Akashaja right before him, Death could not grasp him even 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.” Death then wandered about, intent on 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; thus, after roaming the whole earth, he found nothing anywhere. Eager, Death 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. He who is born from space becomes pure space itself; there are no cooperating causes whatsoever for him. There is not the slightest connection with previous actions for him, just as with the son of a barren woman or with one who has never been formed. Therefore, he is truly unborn, self-existent, and uncreated; he has no prior actions, like a great tree in the sky. His mind is not bound by any previous actions, for none exist; and as of today, he has not accumulated any other actions at all. He is the very essence of the space-casket, having the form of clear space; always established in samadhi, he has no actions whatsoever. He has no past actions, nor does he perform any now; thus, in this matter, he is merely pure consciousness-space. The movement of life that is observed as action in him by us and others is seen only by us; he himself has no notion of action in this matter. His body is seen by us, but he does not know it at all, just as the sky is not aware of the figure of a statue carved within a pillar. Just as a statue remains uncarved within a pillar, so this supreme Self, having become its own self, abides within, O twice-born one. As liquidity is in water, as emptiness is in space, and as movement is in wind, so is this one in the supreme state.