Once again, the soul finds itself in a realm where gardens bloom, splendid palaces rise, and auspicious things abound—each one a result of its own actions. The virtuous person recognizes these blessings as the fruits of merit, thinking, "This is due to my good deeds." In contrast, when one encounters thorny pits, forests with sword-like leaves, and other harsh places, they realize these are the consequences of evil actions, and the sinful person acknowledges, "This is due to my sin." Between these extremes lies a gentle expanse of earth, cool and green with grass, shaded by pleasant trees and tranquil ponds, just outside the city. This place is reserved for the middling person. Here, one arrives at the city of Yama, the lord of beings, where their deeds are examined and their experiences unfold accordingly. Thus, each individual approaches the vast forest of transmigration, shining with the activity of all objects as they are established. In the very sky, in emptiness, the awakened soul realizes the self as void; though it appears to shine with space, time, action, and length, in truth, there is nothing. From this place, the soul is directed to experience the fruits of its actions, swiftly proceeding either to auspicious heaven or to hell, depending on its merit. Heaven is enjoyed, hell is endured; yet, having abandoned these realms, the soul is born again in the cycle of existence. Here, the soul takes birth—like rice sprouting in a field—and gradually experiences the consequences of its actions. By awakening to these consequences, awareness grows. Dormant impressions within the person become seeds; when such a seed falls into a womb, it becomes an embryo in the mother. That embryo is born into the world according to previous actions, becoming either fortunate or unfortunate, with a charming form. The child experiences youth, inclined toward passion, and then, like frost settling upon a lotus face, succumbs to old age. Afterward, disease and death come, followed by the swoon of death; once again, as if in a dream, the soul assumes a body composed of elements. The soul returns to the realm of Yama, and again follows this wandering process, repeatedly experiencing existence in the sky, with a form like space. O Devi, just as delusion arises at the beginning of creation, so too, by your grace, understanding grows. The mountains, the trees, the earth, and the sky—all are of the essence of the highest reality. Because Lord-Consciousness is the self of all, whatever arises from Him is pure as the supreme space; thus, that alone is sufficient. At the beginning of creation, the first creator manifests, shining like a dream-person, and that state persists even now. The first reflection is the prototype of all objects; whatever is reflected from that remains established. The hollow space within bodies, into which air enters and causes movement, is what makes them alive. Even at the beginning of creation, this state was established in moving beings; though consciousness itself is unmoving, because of it, trees and the like remain as they are. This space of consciousness assumes a portion awakened by consciousness, becoming awareness; the rest is not truly that. If a person is aware of the tip of their hoof or the edge of their eyelid, but not the eye itself, then the life of the eye is not present for them; nor does it live in any way. Similarly, space is perceived as space, earth as earth, water as water—each according to how it is freely conceived. Whatever is thought of in a certain way is known in that form. One who contemplates all bodies as moving by the nature of movement, and the unmoving as unmoving, remains established as the Self of all. Therefore, whatever is called 'moving' truly exists as such, having assumed that form; being known as such, it remains even now. Whatever is called 'inert' and is not known is the unmoving; even now, stones, trees, grass, and the like are known as inert. But there is truly no separate existence of inertness or consciousness; at the beginning of creation, there is no distinction, due to the common substratum of existence. The names that exist within trees and stones are only their own inner awareness; their existence is established only by the presence of intellect and the like. The intellect and so on within the interior of the unmoving are simply other names, referring to other things, established by different conventions. For worms, insects, and flying creatures, their inner awareness is their only reality; their intellect and faculties merely serve to designate them by different names. Just as the people of the eastern ocean know nothing of those by the southern ocean, except through their own awareness, so too all stationary and moving beings are absorbed in their own self-awareness, mutually insensible, each devoted to their own sphere of perception. Just as stones are unaware of those outside themselves, and frogs, being insentient, are mutually unaware within their own confines, whatever is known as mind, pervading all, is revealed by the space of consciousness. Just as wind was present at the beginning of creation, so it remains even now. What is recognized as emptiness is space, and wind exists within it; being of the nature of vibration and so on, it is called the great element among objects. But mind, in the highest sense, abides in both the immobile and the mobile; its manifestations arise and cease only through the winds. Thus, this world, full of delusion, is composed of objects that are rays of consciousness; just as they were at the beginning of creation, so they remain even now. The essential nature of all things in the world is, in truth, unreal though it appears real—so has this been explained. Now, see: King Viduratha, the lord of the garland-like lotus, is nearly departed; he is entering the secret chamber of your heart.