In the endless cycles of birth and death, living beings are bound by the chain of memory, which, in the absence of liberation, becomes the very cause of their continued existence. At the close of death’s stupor, the soul appears to awaken within, yet remains in a state that is not true awakening—this is known as the primary state, a subtle threshold of being. This state is called space, the primordial nature, the unmanifest source that is both inert and conscious. From this arises the sequence of transmigration and forgetfulness, marking the beginning of the world’s unfolding. When this great principle inclines toward awakening and truly awakens, from that subtle space emerge the fine elements, the directions, time, action, and the sense of being itself. In its undifferentiated, unawakened form, this principle becomes the five senses; when awakened, it becomes the body—this is what is known as the subtle body. Over countless ages, this subtle body, filled with the impressions of imagination, comes to identify itself with a physical form, thus experiencing embodiment again and again. At the very moment a being dies, it swiftly perceives the entire tapestry of world-experience as it is, all at once. Through space alone, it experiences the clear illusion, “I am this world,” and, being of the nature of space, seems to be born as a self shaped from space itself. Cities, towns, mountains, the suns, and the clusters of stars—all are seen, yet all are marked by the teeth of old age, death, weakness, and the caverns of disease and distress. The world rushes with being and non-being, gross and subtle forms, moving and unmoving things—mountains, earth, rivers, the regions, days and nights, and the rise and fall of aeons. With firm conviction, the being thinks, “I was born from this father, in this lineage; this is my mother, this is my wealth,” and such tendencies arise. Thoughts of good and bad deeds, the fabrications of “mine,” and the play of memories—“I was a child, now I am young”—all arise in the heart. Thus, in every case, the dense thicket of worldly existence grows, blossoming with stars and flowers, with trembling leaves like dark clouds. The soul wanders among herds of men and beasts, gods, demons, and birds; it roams through groves thick with the pollen of worlds, the illusion of Māyā, and magical bowers. Within this vastness, filled with oceanic lotus-ponds and with the peaks of Meru and other mountains as if they were mere clods, within the seed of the lotus of the mind, the sprout of experience lies hidden. Wherever the living being dies, in that very instant, it perceives the world thus; in each world-egg that arises, this process repeats again and again. Countless Brahmas, Rudras, Indras, Maruts, Vishnus, and Suns, along with Meru, oceans, continents, and worlds, have been seen and have passed away. All these visions have gone, are going, and will go, within the undestroyed Reality; who can count those enriched by Brahman? Thus, this world, made of walls, truly does not exist apart from thought; and thought itself is but space—reflect upon this. That which is consciousness-space alone is the supreme; thought, too, is consciousness-space, and that alone is the highest state. Just as a whirlpool is nothing but water and not a separate substance, so too, the seen exists only as perception, not as an independent reality. In the sky of consciousness, in the space of elements, what appears is like a reflection in a jewel; the world shines as the many-faceted gem of the Self, like a cloud in the sky. The word “world” exists only with reference to my understanding—it is the supreme state. But with reference to your understanding, neither “you” nor “I” exist at all. Therefore, O sinless one, Lila and Sarasvati, having assumed forms of space, remain everywhere, unimpeded, emanations of the all-pervading Supreme Self. Wherever and whenever they wish, in that space, they manifest themselves; by this power, they enter any house and abide there. Everywhere, the sky of consciousness arises; within it are perception, thought, recollection, and expansion. This is called the supernatural body, which is never obstructed—so tell me, how, by whom, and in what way could it ever be hindered? As the two goddesses entered, a wondrous lotus-mansion appeared before them, beautiful with a pure and radiant interior, glowing as if lit by the rising of two moons. The mansion was gentle and spotless, filled with a soft, fragrant breeze; by its very presence, the battlefield where kings lay sleeping seemed transformed. It was like a garden of fortune and joy, free from disease and pain—a blossoming forest in spring, or a lotus opening at dawn. Streams of radiance, cool as moonlight, poured from the goddesses’ bodies, delighting and awakening the king, as if he were a monarch anointed with nectar. He saw two apsaras resting upon twin seats, luminous as two moons risen and merged on the twin peaks of Meru. Astonished, the king paused for a moment, then rose from his bed like the wielder of the discus and mace awakening from sleep. Arranging his garland, necklace, and splendid garments, he took a handful of freshly blossomed flowers. Seating himself in the lotus posture near the cushion, drawing the cloth from his waist, he bowed and spoke reverently: “Victory to you, O goddesses, radiant as the moon, dispelling the faults of birth, instability, and burning pain; shining forth with the roar that drives away inner and outer darkness.” Having spoken thus, he placed the flowers at their feet, as a blossoming tree at the riverbank offers lotuses to the twin lotuses. Then, to tell the story of the king’s birth to Lila, the goddess Sarasvati, by her will, awakened the minister standing nearby. The minister, awakened, beheld the two apsaras, offered a handful of flowers in reverence, and, laying them at their feet, entered and stood before them, bowing deeply. The goddess addressed him: “O king, who are you, whose son are you, and when were you born here?” The minister, hearing this, replied humbly, “O goddesses, by your grace I am able to speak openly before you; so listen as I recount the birth of my lord.