Listen, O revered one, to this wondrous tale that unfolds from the depths of scripture. In truth, what we perceive as the world—under all its names and forms—is nothing but the radiance of cognition. At the dawn of creation, no tangible thing made of earth or other elements truly exists; all is but the shining forth of consciousness. Just as a river’s wave rises and falls, becoming and becoming again, so too do the myriad forms and arrangements of this world arise and dissolve, ever changing, ever renewing. Thus, O mother of the world, I declare: here, I have died. My birth was born of passion, not of darkness nor of purity. Since the descent of Brahman, I have journeyed through eight hundred births. Now, before my mind’s eye, I see the countless wombs I have traversed. Within the endless cycle of worldly existence, O goddess, I once was a bee in the lotus of another world, and a radiant maiden among the Vidyādharas. Tainted by evil tendencies, I became a human woman; in another realm, I was the beloved of the lord of Tāṅgaṇa. Dwelling in groves of karañja, kuñja, jambīra, and kadamba trees, clothed in leaves, dark-complexioned, I then became Śabarī. In the forest, simplified by its ways, I became a creeper, with eyes like guluccha fruits, holding leaves in my hands, living amidst the woods. I was that sacred creeper in the holy hermitage, purified by the company of sages; burned by the forest fire, I was reborn as the daughter of that great sage. By actions bearing the fruits of womanhood, I became a glorious king in Suraṣṭra, reigning for a hundred years. Yet, due to the fault of royal misdeeds committed in the hollows at the base of palm trees, I became a mongoose afflicted with leprosy for nine years. For eight years in Saurashtra, O goddess, I lived as a cow, enduring the mischief of wicked people and the playful commands of ignorant cowherds. As a bird, I was ensnared by an enemy in the forest meadows, suffering greatly until I broke free, just as now these desires are being severed. I rested with a bee in the lap of a lotus, nestled in unopened buds, secretly enjoying the pollen within. I wandered with a deer of beautiful eyes among lofty mountain peaks, and in the lovely forest clearings, I was struck in the vital parts by a hunter. I beheld, in all eight directions, the ocean’s waves carrying me along, amidst the sounds of fish bursting, horses neighing, and turtles striking. I drank on the shore of a leathery river, singing sweetly; in delightful union, I freely enjoyed, surrounded by the good and virtuous. In groves of palm and tamala trees, with a woman of restless face and eyes, intoxicated by her glances, I gazed upon my beloved. With lotus-like thighs, beautiful as streams of flowing gold, the divine bees—gods—were delighted by the celestial nymph of the heavenly lake. On jeweled and golden ground, strewn with rubies and pearls, in the wish-fulfilling forest of Mount Meru, union was enjoyed together with a youthful companion. Long did I remain, like a tortoise, in the caves of the ocean’s shore, amidst the waves and echoing groves. I played as a royal swan, swinging on lotus stalks, in the gentle lake breeze, among clusters of moving leaves. Observing the gentle swaying of grass-blade cradles, I saw a weary mosquito lying helplessly with its mate. On trembling, wave-tossed waters, kissed by dancing ripples, I wandered with the young water-vine among mountain streams. Overcome by passion in the fragrant halls of Gandhamadana and Mandara, the young Vidyadhara fell at her feet. Tormented by longing, I lay for long hours on beds sprinkled with camphor, tossed like moonlight on mirrored orbs. With a mind bewildered, rising and falling, limbs disturbed by countless forms of suffering in various wombs, I was swept away by the swift current of the long river of worldly existence, driven irresistibly by the wind of fate. From the solid core of adamantine strength, from the dense wall of the cosmic egg extending over millions of yojanas, how did both of you emerge? Where is the cosmic egg, where its wall, and where is that adamantine solidity? Surely, O goddess, you both remain within the inner sky of the royal palace. In that very mountain village, in that very house, the brahmin named Vasiṣṭha enjoys his sovereignty. That very pavilion, that empty space, he experienced as the earth surrounded by the four oceans. On that seat of earth, which is the very essence of space, he and Arundhatī experienced the royal city and palace. There, one called Līlā arose, and by her, knowledge was worshipped; together with knowledge, she leapt beyond into the wondrous and delightful sky. Within the space of a hand’s breadth, in the very interior of the house, she reached another cosmic egg, a mountain, and the palace of Indra. He departed from the cosmic egg and returned to his own house, just as a man lying in bed moves from one dream into another. All this is merely a manifestation of consciousness, nothing but space; there is no cosmic egg, no world, no walls or distance. Only his own mind shines forth, equally enchanting for both; where is the cosmic egg, where is the cycle of existence, when all arises from mere impressions? This space of knowledge is unobstructed and infinite; whatever is stirred by one’s own mind appears, just as wind moves by the force of vibration. The space of consciousness is unborn and peaceful, always and everywhere; through mind alone, the world appears, manifesting itself within itself. For one who is awakened, this is emptier than space; for one who is not awakened, it is as solid and immovable as a mountain of adamant. Thus, O listener, in the endless play of consciousness, all worlds, all forms, all journeys are but the shimmering dance of mind—ever changing, yet ever the same.