In that sacred place appeared a wondrous pavilion, a house entwined with flowering creepers, its windows shaded by overhanging branches—a vision of serene beauty. There, my lord abided, his form subtle as a particle of living space, the very master of the earth encircled by the four oceans. In times past, he had longed for this with intense aspiration, his heart set with powerful resolve: “May I swiftly become king.” Through the force of that desire, O Supreme Lady, in just eight days he attained a prosperous kingdom, a realm that would ordinarily require long years to win. Within my home, in this very space, the vital essence of my husband, the king, remained—unseen, like the wind in the sky or fragrance carried by the air. Here itself, within a space no larger than a thumb’s breadth, that entire kingdom was established as if suspended in the sky, though in truth, my husband’s realm stretched across ten million yojanas. Both of us, in essence, are space itself, and that kingdom, too, is but space—yet it appears filled with thousands of mountains! O Lady, what a marvel is this illusion! O Goddess, I now wish to return again to my husband’s side. Come, let us journey there together—for what distance can hinder those who are truly resolute? With these words, she bowed reverently to the goddess, and swiftly entered the pavilion. Together, they soared into the sky, dark as a sword’s blade, rising like birds in flight. The sky appeared as if split by masses of collyrium, beautiful with a gentle, singular ocean, resembling the body of Narayana, shining with the pure luster of a bee’s back. They passed beyond the path of clouds, through the region of the wind, crossing the solar path and surpassing even the lunar sphere. They journeyed beyond the northern route of the Pole Star, traversed the realm of the Sādhyas, surpassed the world of the Siddhas, and crossed over the earth, ascending to the sphere of heaven. Their path led them into the inner realm of Brahma’s world and the sphere of the Tuṣitas. They went beyond the world of the cows, the world of Śiva, and the world of the ancestors; farther still, they passed the distant, bodiless gods, traveling farther than far, until at last they encountered a subtle obstruction. There, she looked back at the sky they had traversed—nothing below could be seen: not the moon, nor the sun, nor stars, nor anything else. All was darkness: motionless and deep, filled with the hollows of space, resembling the belly of a vast ocean, dense as the interior of a mountain. O goddess, she asked, where has the radiance of the sun and the others gone? How has this unmoving darkness, as solid as the belly of a rock and almost graspable, arisen here? The goddess replied, “You have reached this farthest extent, this path of the sky, where even the lights of the sun and others are no longer visible. Just as a firefly is unseen from the bottom of a deep, dark well, so too, from here, the sun below is not visible at all.” “Indeed,” she continued, “we have come to such a distant place that even the sun appears as a mere speck, not visible in the least. From here onward, what other path is there, and what is it like? And how will the descent ahead be? Tell me, O goddess.” The goddess explained, “Beyond this lies the outer shell of the cosmic egg, from which particles known as ‘diamond dust’ and the like arise.” Thus conversing, they reached the shell of the cosmic egg, moving like bees around the dense, circular wall of a mountain. Effortlessly, they passed through it as if through open sky; for what is established with certainty moves with the nature of a diamond—unhindered. With unobstructed vision, she beheld the realms beyond the watery covering, radiant and resplendent outside the cosmic egg. Beyond the egg, the water element is established, ten times greater in expanse, enveloping the egg just as the skin covers the kernel of a nut. Beyond that, fire is tenfold greater; from fire, air is tenfold greater; then space, tenfold greater still; and beyond all these is the supreme ether. In that supreme ether, there is no notion of middle, beginning, or end—just as there is no tale of a barren woman’s son. It is pure, tranquil, beginningless, free from confusion, devoid of any division, abiding in the vastness of the Self. If, by supreme strength, the lord of Shiva or the Garuda-bannered one were to ascend there, through meditation upon it, one would reach the farthest end of the pure ether. Even the wind, with single-pointed speed, can reach it. There, earth, water, fire, air, and even space each surpass the previous tenfold, transcending the lower elements in an instant. He beheld the supreme ether, boundless and immeasurable, and saw this entire world spread within it as if it were merely an atom. She saw within the cosmic eggs countless veiling creations, shimmering in the ether like motes of dust in sunlight. In the great ocean of ether, in the waters of supreme emptiness, she saw bubbles and clusters arising from the very nature of great consciousness. Some of these bubbles were falling downward, some rising upward, some moving sideways, and others remained motionless, fixed in their own awareness. Wherever and however awareness arises in each of them, in that very place and manner, their form appears. Yet, truly, in that expanse there is neither above nor below, neither coming nor going; it is a state altogether different, for it is the arrival into our own essential being. There, awareness arises and arises again by its own nature; by one’s own thoughts, it subsides, just like a web of childish imaginings. What, then, could be said to be below, above, or across in that radiant expanse? Tell me, O Brahman, if truly there is no fixed position here. In this vast, limitless expanse, the cosmic eggs of Brahman, with all their coverings, shine like tiny bubbles in the sky.