Throughout all the cycles of creation, the mode of existence of the Supreme is expressed in myriad forms—as grass, as worlds, as demons and gods, as serpents and mountains. Sometimes, a subtle deviation in the essence of Brahman is inferred, appearing as a marvel within the vastness of consciousness, but otherwise, the cosmic order remains unchanged. Beings such as Brahma and others, whose intellects seek to understand the true nature of things—often unknown to them—refer to this unchanging order as “creation,” for it is ever expanding. The unmoving reality is perceived as moving, established firmly within the noble order of Brahman; without beginning, middle, or end, the scripture stands like a tree suspended in the sky. Just as lines are etched within stone, so too is creation, governed by fate, abiding in the Self. The awakened Brahman seems to instruct even the limitless sky. As limbs and their parts are touched by the nature of consciousness within the body, so Brahman, as the lotus-born, is the chief limb of fate and all its associates. This pervasive order is called “divine,” extending through all things at all times; having encompassed every object, it remains as pure consciousness. The notion of fate is this: “This must vibrate as an object, or become the state of enjoyer; it must be so, inevitably.” This same principle is the movement of man, grass, shrubs, and all beings; it is the origin of the world, of time, and of action. By this, the existence of man and the existence of all things are observed; when they depart, both are known as one essence. By man and by manliness alone, both action and existence are of the same nature; thus, fate is just so, and so is the fate-manliness. O Rama, you must ask me about the determination of fate and manliness; fate declares: “You must uphold the manliness I have spoken.” One who is devoted solely to fate, thinking “destiny will feed me,” remains inactive and silent; this is the certainty of fate. Yet, when a person gathers enjoyments through effort and partakes in them—from sovereignty to liberation—this too is the certainty of fate. Liberation from worldly existence does not come even through imagined means; for those wandering with bodies, this is the certainty of fate. Fate has neither intellect, nor actions, nor modifications, nor form; it simply stands as this arrangement, established by its own mode of being. This state—“it will surely be thus, just so”—cannot be transgressed, even by the intellects of Rudra and others. Effort, however, should not be abandoned; the wise rely on it, for fate itself is regulated only in the form of effort. Fate is indeed non-effort, but in creation it is effort; fate without the form of effort is fruitless, but with the essence of effort it is fruitful. One who remains inactive due to fate, caused by speechlessness and lack of effort—where does the movement of his vital breath go? If, after restraining the activity of the life-force, one remains at rest, that is indeed excellent; what more can be said of one who is liberated? The highest good is the unity of effort and self, and liberation is utter inactivity; for the great ones, any wavering between these two brings only suffering. If destiny transforms into the essence of Brahman, then surely, in that state of supreme purity, the highest attainment is already reached. By these great displays of destiny and the like, Brahman alone shines forth as the self of all, just as water pervades the earth, existing as grass, creepers, trees, and bushes. Whatever power arises in any way from the all-powerful, that is its own power, naturally manifesting in various forms. This all-pervading Lord, the supreme Self, the great Lord, is pure, of the nature of one’s own blissful experience, and free from beginning and end. From this supreme bliss, which is pure consciousness alone, the individual soul first arises; from that, mind, and from that, the world. In this Brahman, established by the measure of one’s own experience and expanded, how can the individual soul exist, where duality is absent? Within the Self, which appears as the unreal, there exists the vast Brahman, expanded here—the great, conscious Bhairava-form, known as the imperishable Bliss. Its essence, which is equal, full, pure, and unmarked, is indescribable even to those who know; that is the tranquil, supreme state. From that alone arises the great peace, whose essence is awareness; its natural vibration is called “jīva”—the living being. In this supreme mirror of consciousness-space, which is of the nature of experience, these unreal series of world-appearances are reflected. Whatever slight radiance arises from Brahman, like a windless ocean or a lamp without wind—know that, O Raghava, as the jīva. When tranquility departs from the clear expanse, the natural radiance that is of the nature of mind and perception—O dear one, that is the jīva of consciousness-space. Just as movement belongs to wind, heat to fire, and coldness to snow, so too is the state of being a jīva to the Self. Of the Self, whose nature is consciousness, the initial self-awareness of mind arises naturally; that is remembered as the jīva. That very dense awareness gradually assumes the sense of “I,” just as a spark of fire, when supplied with more fuel, attains its own illuminating nature. Just as, at the creation of stars, a bluish hue appears in the sky, so too does the notion of “I am” arise in this empty being. The individual soul takes on the form of egoity by the play of imagination, or by its own density, just as the sky takes on a bluish appearance. The sense of “I” is marked by distinctions of space and time; abiding in space, it vibrates under the influence of thought, like the movement of wind. Such is the unfolding of creation, fate, effort, and the arising of individuality within the boundless expanse of Brahman.