In the vast tapestry of existence, from Brahma, the creator, down to the smallest worm, all beings are composed of both reality and unreality. This holds true for all, whether they are serpentine or demonic in nature. Such existence is merely a confusion of consciousness; when this confusion arises, it is ultimately unreal. When true knowledge fades, awareness vanishes—from the highest gods to the humblest creatures. Brahma comes into being just as the worm does, but the worm, dominated by gross elements and limited actions, remains restricted in its experience. The essence of life in any being is its inclination toward objects; this alone is its manliness, its action, and its very essence. From the creation of Brahma to the destruction of an insect, when the mind’s illusion ceases, only pure perception remains. When the distinctions of knower, means of knowledge, and the known dissolve and do not exist apart from pure consciousness, then doctrines of duality and unity are as unreal as a hare’s horn or a lotus blooming in the sky. The cosmic egg of Brahma, seemingly firm and existent, is but a false imagination—just as the self, through the action of a silkworm, appears as the form of its own saliva. Whatever is seen by Brahma as real, appears in that very way; those who know reality understand this as the nature of things. Whatever arises cannot exist even for a moment or an age without its own nature; this too is the certainty of those who know. Yet, all that arises is unreal, and only the unreal increases. It experiences only unreality, and thus, unreality eventually dissolves. Within pure consciousness lies creation; pure consciousness pervades all. In truth, all beings are pure consciousness—indeed, everything is pure consciousness. Pure consciousness alone exists inside, outside, above, below, as the knower, the means, and the known. Thus, it assumes the role of the knower. Ever peaceful, by this, all existence abides as one, perfectly balanced, beyond even the fourth state. Here, an ancient tale is recounted—a great web of questions spoken by a demoness, all-encompassing in its scope. On the northern side of the Himalayas, like the fierce Sālabhañjikā of the sooty mountain, there lived a demoness named Karkaṭī. She was also called Viṣūcikā, a maiden afflicted by justice, her body emaciated like the Vindhya forest stripped by reasoning. Her eyes blazed like great fires, nostrils filled with smoke, clad in dark blue garments, black as night bound in a body. Shrouded in mist-like robes, her headcloth was like a dense cloud; her breasts hung like rain-clouds, ever bearing the banner of darkness. Her eyes were steady as lightning streaks, like stars among tamāla trees. Her nails were tipped like the edge of a cat’s-eye gem, and she laughed with a garland of ashes. Adorned with garlands of flowers made from heaps of fleshless human bodies, she shone with a necklace of corpses strung with fierce entrails on every limb. Her earrings were dreadful skulls, agitated by possession of spirits; her mighty arms blazed like thunderclouds seized by the sun. Because of her immense body and the scarcity of food, the fire in her belly was never satisfied—like a flame that cannot be quenched by a mere trace of water. Never did that great-bellied one attain satisfaction; like the tongue of the submarine fire, she was always restless. One day, she began to reflect. “If I were to swallow all the people living on Jambudvīpa, I would still not end my constant hunger, just as the ocean never stops inhaling the rivers. My hunger is not appeased even by clouds or mirages; only a method that allows one to survive in adversity is suitable. Who can trouble all people equally, when they are protected by mantras, herbs, charity, austerity, worship of the gods, and so on, and are free from obstacles? I shall perform supreme austerity with an unwavering mind; for by the power of intense austerity, even what is difficult to obtain can be attained.” Driven by the hunger to consume all living beings, she remembered a remote and forbidding place suitable for austerity. She climbed that peak, her eyes steady as lightning, her body dark as a mass of clouds, endowed with hands and feet. There, she stood firm to bathe in the sky and practice austerity, standing on one foot, her gaze unmoving like the moon and sun. Days, fortnights, months, and seasons passed by for her, unmoved by cold or heat, like a rock that has been cut. She became like a garland of clouds, her form completely motionless, her hair rising upwards and dark, as if she were reaching up to seize the sky with her arms. Seeing her, with skin worn thin by the wind, her body slack, her form swaying with the gusts that made her ornaments ring, her hair standing up and shrouded in darkness, adorned with a stream of pearls, the unborn one, Brahma, approached her. After a thousand years, the Grandfather, Brahma, came to her; for the accomplishment of severe austerity, even fire fed with excrement is overcome by cold. Bowing to him in her mind, she stood there, saying, “So be it,” and began to ponder, “What boon is sufficient to end hunger?” She wished, “Let me become effortless and made of iron, the needle of life; by this request, becoming a twofold needle, I will enter unnoticed and vanish. Along with the breath, let me enter the heart of all beings, as fragrance does, and by this means, let me consume all people as I wish.” As she reflected, “Gradually, the destruction of hunger brings supreme happiness,” the lotus-born Brahma spoke to her. She saw another vision, like a cloud of nectar. “Daughter Karkaṭikā, garland of the mountain of the demon clan,” he said. “Arise, I am pleased with you; choose whatever boon you desire.” She replied, “Lord, master of past and future, may I become Jīvasūcikā. Let my boon be that I may be both effortless and made of iron, and may I have the power of choice.” Brahma, the grandsire, said, “So be it,” granting her wish and speaking to her again.