In the luminous presence of the sage, a profound teaching unfolded. “This body,” he explained, “neither truly dies nor truly lives. Who, indeed, experiences death or life? These are but illusions—mere dreams and imaginings.” He continued, “Life and death, when seen in this person conjured by imagination, are equally unreal. They only appear to exist within this body, my child, but in truth, they are nothing but shadows on the wall.” With reverence, the listener replied, “O goddess, you have imparted to me this pure knowledge. Upon hearing it, the fever and restlessness of worldly existence come to rest.” The sage then reflected further, “Here, who truly assists whom? What is the nature of spiritual practice, and how does it arise? How does it gain strength, and what is its culmination?” He answered his own questions: “Whatever is done—by whomever, whenever, however—without steadfast practice, it never attains fulfillment. True practice is this: contemplating That, speaking of That, awakening each other to That, and meditating with the breath absorbed in That. This, the wise know, is the practice of Brahman.” He described those who are truly devoted: “Those whose sins have been washed away, who perform virtuous deeds, and who are free from the delusion of duality—these are the servants of Brahman. Those whose nights are spent in contemplation of spiritual scriptures, whose latent tendencies have become thin, are established in the practice of Brahman. Great souls who are dispassionate, whose longing for enjoyment has faded, and who contemplate the state beyond all becoming—these are the blessed ones who triumph on earth.” He spoke of the supreme practitioners: “Those whose minds are adorned with generosity and beauty, tinged with the flavor of detachment and overflowing with bliss—these are the most exalted. Those who strive, through reasoning and scripture, to realize the complete absence of any knowable object are firmly established in the practice of Brahman.” The sage revealed the heart of awareness: “The wise know that the practice of awareness is this: ‘The visible world was not produced at the beginning, nor does it ever truly exist. This world and the sense of “I” are but notions.’ The delight that arises from knowing the non-existence of the visible, and from the thinning of attachment and aversion, is itself the practice of Brahman. This thinning of attachment and aversion, through such knowledge, is the true austerity in the world. But to see reality in the visible is the very cause of suffering.” He concluded, “When the impossibility of the perceived world is realized, true knowledge arises. Through practice of this, liberation is attained—such practice is of great consequence. The long night of worldly existence, thick with the sleep of delusion, is gradually dissolved by the constant showers of discerning awareness, just as a great autumnal frost melts away under gentle, cooling rains.” As the sage finished his discourse, the day drew to a close. The sun set, painting the sky in soft hues. The assembly, after offering their salutations, departed to bathe, and the rays of the sun faded into the gathering dusk. That night, within the inner chambers of the palace, where the noble lady lay, all attendants had fallen into deep sleep. The doors, bolts, and windows were firmly secured, and the air was rich with the fragrance of abundant flowers. In that serene space, beside a couch adorned with unfading garlands and illuminated by the radiant faces of women as flawless as the full moon, the two women went to their place of meditation. They stood motionless, like figures carved from a jeweled pillar or painted upon a decorated wall. As tranquility arose, they abandoned all worries and restraint, opening like lotus buds at the end of the day, releasing their fragrance into the night. They became utterly tranquil and pure, unmoving as a mountain in autumn, untouched by wind and adorned only by the gentle clouds after rain. Absorbed in the non-dual samadhi, they relinquished even the awareness of the sky, just as the wish-fulfilling vine in spring gives up its sap. When the mistaken notion, “I am the world,” did not arise at the outset of perception, and both realized their own nature as absolute non-being, the phantom of perception vanished for them. For others, it became as unreal as the horn of a hare. That which does not exist at the beginning is absent in the present as well. What appears is truly unmanifest—the world is like water in a mirage. Their nature became solely peaceful; the two women were as if released far beyond all objects—moon, sun, and planets—like the limitless sky. With the body of knowledge itself, the goddess of understanding crossed over; the human one, by her own body, swiftly according to knowledge and ignorance. Within the house, ascending a space the size of a hand, they became forms of consciousness-space, appearing as those who move in the sky. O playful one, delight of play, with charming eyes! By the very nature of mental awareness, it seemed as though you reached the distant sky. Standing there, with a single-pointed thought, you leapt into the vast expanse—an immeasurable distance, stretching for millions of yojanas, ever farther. Even in their sky-formed bodies, by the inherent nature of perceiving objects, they saw each other’s forms and became close companions, devoted to affection. Having leapt from a distant place to an even farther one, as one slowly ascended to a higher position, hand joined with hand, the two moved onward and beheld the sky. It appeared as a single, vast ocean—deep, pure within, gentle, and offering the delight of a soft, delicate breeze. Immersed in the waters of emptiness, they found it exceedingly delightful, serene, entirely pure and profound, clear as a noble soul. In regions where pure water rested atop peaks, in abodes of clarity like the full moon, they found rest, their hopes fulfilled. In the gentle breeze, fragrant with garlands of siddhas and gandharvas, wafting from the moon’s orb, they delighted together. They bathed at the end of the intense heat, in a lake filled with red lotuses and slow-moving water, as if beneath a veil of clouds. Across the earth’s gardens, mountain peaks, and countless lotus stalks, the two wandered in every direction, like bees delighting in the nectar of many ponds.