At the very beginning of creation, a particular state was established among all moving beings—a state in which consciousness itself remains unmoving, and because of this, entities such as trees and similar forms exist just as they do. Within this vast space of consciousness, a portion becomes awakened, assuming the form of awareness; this awakened part is what we recognize as awareness, while the remainder does not truly possess that quality. Consider a man who is aware only of the tip of his hoof or the edge of his eyelid, but not of his own eye itself; for him, the life of the eye is absent, and in truth, the eye does not live for him in any way. In a similar fashion, space is perceived as space, earth as earth, and water as water—each experienced according to how it is freely conceived in the mind. Whatever is thought of in a certain manner, that alone is known and experienced in that particular form. Thus, the one who contemplates all bodies as moving by their inherent nature of movement, and the unmoving as truly unmoving, abides established as the Self of all. Therefore, whatever is called ‘moving’ truly exists in that way, having assumed that form, and being known as such, it remains so to this day. Conversely, whatever is called ‘inert’ and is not known, that is the unmoving—such as stones, trees, grass, and the like; even now, know these as inert. Yet, in reality, there is no separate existence of inertness or of consciousness; at the dawn of creation, no such distinction existed, for both share the same underlying substratum of existence. The names that we give to trees and stones are merely their own inner awareness; their presence in this world is established only through the existence of intellect and similar faculties. The intellect and other faculties that exist within the interior of unmoving things are simply other names, referring to different aspects, each established by various conventions. For worms, insects, and flying creatures, their inner awareness is their only reality; their intellect and other faculties merely serve to differentiate them by name. Just as the people living by the eastern ocean know nothing of those by the southern ocean, except through their own awareness, so too are all stationary and moving beings absorbed in their own self-awareness, mutually insensible, each devoted to their own sphere of perception. Just as stones are unaware of others outside themselves, and frogs, being insentient, are mutually unaware of each other within their own confines, in the same way, each being remains in its own awareness. Within this, 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 itself, and within it, wind exists—being of the nature of vibration and movement, it is called the great element among objects. But mind, in its highest sense, abides in both the immobile and the mobile; its manifestations arise and cease only through the movement of winds. Thus, this world, full of delusion, is composed of objects that are but 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, though it appears real, is in truth unreal—thus has this been explained. Now, behold: King Viduratha, the lord adorned with a garland-like lotus, was nearing the end of his earthly journey; he was entering the secret chamber of the heart. “By which path, O goddess of the gods, do these two go to the funeral pavilion?” a question arose. “Let us quickly observe this very one and proceed to the highest.” He proceeds by the path shaped by the residue of his human tendencies, thinking, “I am going to another world, far away,” his mind composed of consciousness. By whatever path one travels, it is always by the force of one’s own latent tendencies; mutual desire and awareness are not truly bonds of affection. Thus, as the discourse—meant to bring about the cessation of worldly stories—unfolded, the supreme vision spread forth in the light of awakening. The noble-minded Viduratha, freed from delusion, became as if lifeless before the princess. Meanwhile, the king, his gaze turned upward, seemed as if his life had merged into oneness; his lips grew dry and white. His complexion took on the hue of withered leaves, his face pale and emaciated; his breath, like the hum of bees, came forth unevenly from his chest. His intent had fallen into the deep pit of the great swoon of death, with all his senses—eyes and others—completely withdrawn within. He appeared like a painted figure, visible only in form, devoid of consciousness, motionless in every limb, as if cast upon a stone. What more can be said? Through the region of the palate, his life-breath departed, like a well-winged bird leaving a tree for the open sky. With divine vision, the two maidens saw the vital being—composed of life-breath and awareness—rising into the sky, like a trace of fragrance carried on the wind. That living awareness, borne by the wind of space, began to travel far through the sky, following the momentum of its own tendencies. Then, those two women followed that living awareness, just as a pair of bees pursue a wisp of fragrance borne on the wind. After a brief moment, when the swoon of death had subsided, that awareness regained consciousness in the intermediate state, like a streak of scent stirred by the breeze. He saw the servants of Yama and his own body being carried away by them, while his relatives performed the funeral rites for the body that had once belonged to him. On the path, where the fruits of actions shine from afar, he set forth, unstoppable, to reach the city of Vaivasvata. Having reached the city of Vaivasvata, it was declared that this one had never engaged in impure actions at all. He was always the doer of pure deeds; by the boon of the blessed Sarasvati, he had been elevated. His previous body, now lifeless, lay clothed in flowers; he was instructed to enter it, go there, and then abandon it. Then, leaving it behind, he soared along the sky-path like a stone propelled by a machine; and the three—life-force, play, and knowledge—entered the sky. The thread of life soared upward; the other two, being formless, were not seen, but they followed him, surpassing even the vast expanse of the sky.