Having carefully observed the rise and fall of the world—its endless cycles of birth and death, and the suffering that springs from the fear of existence—let us establish this truth: a living being whose latent tendencies have not arisen is indeed liberated. Seeking deeper understanding, a question is posed to the goddess of the gods: Just as this creature dies and is born again, please explain how this process unfolds, so my knowledge may grow. When, in the flow of the body's channels, disorder arises due to the wind, the creature's consciousness appears to subside. Yet pure consciousness itself is eternal; it neither arises nor subsides, abiding equally in all things—the immobile and the moving, the sky, the mountain, the fire, and the wind. When all movement ceases, solely through the restraint of the vital air, the body is said to be dead; it becomes inert. At that moment, when the body has become a corpse and the vital air merges into space, consciousness—endowed with impressions, the sky-like self—remains right there. This subtle entity, possessing impressions, is called the jīva; it abides in its place, whether in the cremation ground or in the sky. In common usage, it is referred to as the preta; this consciousness, mingled with impressions, lingers like fragrant air. When it abandons its former state and exists in another vision, it takes on various forms, like a dream or a thought. There, within itself, it becomes endowed with memory as before; at the end of death or fainting, it perceives another body. Within itself, it sees the framework of bones filled out; elsewhere, only space; sometimes on the supporting earth, with the sun, or in the abodes of sky-born beings. Now, listen to the distinctions among pretas, for they are of various kinds: ordinary sinners, moderate sinners, and gross sinners. There are also those of ordinary virtue, middling virtue, and excellent virtue; for some, these distinctions are clear, while for others, two or even all three may be present. Someone burdened with great sin, for years after death, remains in a stupor like death, inwardly deluded and with a heart as hard as stone. After some time, awakened by the stirrings of latent impressions, he endures for a long period the unbroken suffering born of those impressions. Having passed through hundreds of wombs, moving from one suffering to another, he sometimes enters this bewildering dream of worldly existence. Or, at the end of the delusion of death, he instantly experiences, as if rooted in the heart, a dullness overwhelmed by hundreds of sufferings—even taking birth as a tree or the like. Again, such souls undergo sufferings in hell corresponding to their own latent tendencies, and after that, are born in various wombs on earth after a long time. One of middling sin, immediately after the delusion of death, perceives for a time a dullness like the belly of a stone. Then, awakening after some time, either by some cause or simply so, he partakes of various births among animals and others, and eventually enters worldly existence. After death, an ordinary wrongdoer experiences, according to his own tendencies, a body that appears whole and intact. Just as in a dream, he perceives things as he imagines them; in that very moment, such memories arise for him. But those who possess great merit, immediately after death and confusion, experience with awareness the realms of heaven or the cities of the vidyādharas. After enjoying the results of their actions elsewhere, corresponding to their deeds, they are born again in the human world, in auspicious and virtuous places. Those of middling virtue, immediately after death and confusion, see their own body lying there as if they are rising above it. Those of ordinary virtue, immediately after death and confusion, are carried by the wind through the sky and enter into plants and sprouts. There, becoming a beautiful fruit, they enter the hearts of people, and from there, they take up residence in a womb as the process of birth unfolds. According to their own tendencies, these departed ones experience this succession at the end of unconsciousness, either gradually or all at once. At first, they realize: "We are dead." Then, in succession, those who know say: "We have arisen again through the offering of rice balls and other gifts by relatives." Then, the attendants of Yama, bearing the noose of time, declare: "I am being led away by them and, in a moment, I go to the city of Yama." Again and again, gardens, splendid palaces, and auspicious things are obtained by one's own actions; thus, the virtuous person thinks, "These are due to merit." Thorny pits, sword-leaved forests, and other such places are reached as a result of one's own evil deeds; thus, the sinful person thinks, "These are due to sin." This gentle expanse of earth, cool with green grass, shaded with pleasant trees and ponds, situated before the city, is for the middling person. This is arrival at the city of Yama; this is the lord of beings; this is the examination of my deeds accomplished—thus, one experiences. Thus, individually, the vast forest of transmigration approaches, shining with the activity of all objects as they are established. In the sky itself, in emptiness, one who is awakened realizes the self as void; though shining with the appearance of space, time, action, and length, there is truly nothing. From here, one is directed to experience the fruits of one's own actions; quickly proceeding either to auspicious heaven or else to hell. This heaven has been enjoyed, or this hell has been experienced; having abandoned these wombs, one is born again in the cycle of existence. This rice—here I am born, and gradually the fruit is established here; thus, by awakening to the consequences, one becomes aware. In this way, dormant impressions attain the state of seeds in a person; when that seed falls into a womb, it becomes an embryo in the mother.