In this teaching, it is said that the truly great souls, those of noble spirit, are able to cast aside even their very life-breath as if it were no more precious than a blade of straw. For them, once desire itself has been relinquished, what loss can there be in giving up anything else? Desire is the root from which attachment and suffering grow; when it is gone, all else is easily left behind. Wherever desire arises in the heart, one should abandon it with a mind that does not grasp or cling. Acting in the world through the organs of action, one accepts or rejects whatever comes, yet remains firmly established in inner equanimity. This is the way to live, dear friend. Just as a ripe bilva fruit placed in the palm is plainly seen, or a mountain stands unmistakably before the eyes, so too is the unborn nature of the Supreme Self—clear and evident to those who truly see. The Self alone shines forth as this entire world, just as the immeasurable ocean at the end of an age is stirred by waves, yet remains itself. When this Self is known, liberation is attained; when it is not known, the mind remains bound for ages. A question then arises: this living being, who seems so different from the mind—who is he in relation to the Supreme Self? How did he arise, and what is his true nature? The answer is given: Brahman, the Lord of all, is ever adorned with all powers. By whichever power Brahman chooses to manifest, that very power alone is perceived. The All-Self knows itself as pure consciousness, awareness by its very nature. This is what is called the jīva, the individual soul, and it is this consciousness that becomes the maker of intention. Consciousness itself, first imagining duality as its own nature and cause, then projects manifold causes—birth, death, and all the experiences of existence. With this understanding, the questions arise: what is meant by destiny, what is action, and what is cause? Here, only pure consciousness exists, having the nature both of vibration and of stillness. Like wind moving in the open sky, when consciousness vibrates, there is delight and manifestation; when it is still, there is peace. When consciousness assumes the form of mind, this is called vibration by the wise. When it is not so formed, remaining without objects, this is known as non-vibration. From vibration arises the appearance of creation; without vibration, consciousness is the eternal Brahman. All that is called cause, action, and the individual are merely names for this vibration of consciousness. This very vibration, which is the nature of experience, is called the seed of transmigration. It is known as the cause, the action, and the individuality of the living being. When, due to the appearance of duality in consciousness, a body arises, the vibration of consciousness—through various intentions—gradually experiences manifold objects. Having taken on various causes, the vibration of consciousness eventually attains liberation—some after a thousand births, others after only one. By its own nature, consciousness, having entered into duality, then gradually assumes the causes of bondage—leading to heaven, liberation, or hell. Just as gold may be shaped into an ornament, yet remains gold, or as wood and clay remain themselves despite their forms, so too does diversity not truly exist in the body; in inert matter, it is merely a modification of state. The mind perceives this delusion as real, though it is unborn and unreal. Just as, after birth, one thinks "I exist," and after death, "I am gone," so does one fall into the snare of delusion. The mind, lacking true vision, perceives the unreal forms of "I" and "mine," and is bound by hope. As the king of Mathura was disturbed by the presence of an outcaste, so too does the mind become agitated, and thus the world appears to manifest. All of this is but the exuberant expansion of mental delusion; what is called "living" flashes forth like the fleeting movement of water. Before Shiva, from the primordial cause, consciousness inclines toward cognition, arising gently like a ripple on the surface of the ocean. From this subtle pulsation, the cycle of living beings emerges, reaching the wave of mind. In the ocean of Brahman, the water of consciousness produces the bubble of creation. Just as the gentle yawn of a lion in a calm and balanced state, so is the reflection of consciousness in Brahman, appearing as cognition itself. Consciousness is called cit, pure awareness; cognition is cetyam, the object known; the living being is the mind shaped by volitions; intellect is cognition; ego is ahaṅkāra; illusion is māyā, and so on. The mind first creates the subtle elements and thus produces the world, which is unreal yet appears real—like the fabled city of the Gandharvas. Just as a person with impaired vision sees pearls or stars in empty space, or as there is confusion in a dream, so too is the cycle of the mind's wandering. The pure Self, ever content and tranquil, abides in equanimity, not perceiving yet seeming to perceive this illusion of mind—like the confusion of a dream. The waking state is called worldly existence; the sense of "I" is known as the dream; the mind is like deep sleep; pure consciousness alone is said to be the fourth state. When one abides for a long time in the utterly pure consciousness that is beyond even this fourth state, that person, established there, grieves no more. In that pure consciousness, all of this arises and into that alone it dissolves. It is there that this world unfolds, just as a string of pearls appears in a vision. Just as space, by not obstructing, is the cause for a tree's growth, so too, though not acting, consciousness is the doer and the cause for the world's existence. Just as iron, by its proximity, becomes the cause for a reflection in a mirror, so too does consciousness become the means for perceiving objects. Just as a seed, through the process of sprouting and growing leaves, yields fruit, so too does pure consciousness, through the process of objects, mind, and living beings, give rise to the mind. Just as a seed, after giving rise to fruit and so on, returns to being a seed again, in the same way, when consciousness, its objects, and the mind are abandoned, one abides in one's own natural state. Though there is a difference between ignorance and knowledge—like the difference between the seed within a tree and the seed itself—there is no such distinction between the mind of the world and the mind of Brahman. Still, when knowledge arises, the undivided nature of the Self is revealed—just as a lamp reveals the beauty of a form, so does the light of pure consciousness shine forth. Whatever is buried in the earth becomes space; in the same way, whichever ignorance is examined, that itself becomes the supreme. Just as the arrangement of crystals appears as many, due to the perception of their own facets, though they are pure, so too does the world appear manifold within the expanse of Brahman. Brahman is all; the world is one undivided mass, existing like a seed that contains within itself fruit, leaves, creepers, bushes, and resting places. All diversity is contained within the One, and all arises from and returns to that supreme, undivided Self.