In a realm where the wind does not move through its usual channels, she entered, establishing a sharp and piercing pain, much like the fierce root of a banyan tree burrowing deep. Through the body and its senses, and through many forms besides, she consumed human flesh and other foods suited to her nature. In slumber, she stirred gently, her garland askew, appearing as a young maiden with tender cheeks pressed against her lover’s chest. She wandered, free from sorrow, like a bird moving along forest paths, amidst clouds of flowers rising from wish-fulfilling trees, their splendor doubled. She drank the fragrant nectar of pollen from mandara blossoms hidden in the forests of celestial mountains, surrounded by swarms of bees. At times, she chewed the limbs of corpses, like an aged vulture proud of its strength, or like a sword-staff in battle, swiftly devouring the bodies of fallen heroes. Within all channels and sheaths of the body, she rose and fell, like the wind’s trace moving in every direction, or a crow traversing the sky’s pathways. Just as the breaths vibrate within the cosmic Self, carried by the wind’s current in the sky, so too does she vibrate in every bodily dwelling. She wanders through the bodies of all living beings, her form distorted by the power of consciousness, much like a housewife illuminating her home with the light of a lamp. She moves within the blood, like fluid’s power in water; in the oceans, like the motion of whirlpools; in the belly, she writhes and turns. As the fragrance of camphor lies dormant within pure substances, or nectar is hidden within the wind’s power, so too is her innate scent tasted only by the one who possesses it. The inner forest of trees, bushes, and herbs is enjoyed by the wind residing in the heart; yet, when consumed, they lose their potency, and when struck, they are merely observed. A desire arises: “May I become a needle made of living consciousness.” Thus, the mental needle is formed—conscious, pure, and sharp. With this invisible, exceedingly swift, wind-like needle, whose abode is air, she moves in all directions, yet remains concealed. Drinking, eating, playing, laughing, giving, taking, dancing, singing, and staying awake—all these acts are performed by countless embodied beings. Yet, it is this invisible embodied one, whose body is mind and wind, who accomplishes all acts in the form of space; nothing is left undone by her. Intoxicated and powerless, delighting in sweet tastes, she wanders, taking support in the playful antics of children, much like a female elephant in heat. In rivers that are impure, diminished, or agitated by waves, this intoxicated one, whose speed brings faintness, becomes like a crocodile. Unable to restrain the fat and flesh within the heart, she suffers for a long time, like one whose mind is weakened by wealth and old age. Elephants, camels, deer, horses, lions, and others dance within her heart, just as a dancer moves her limbs for a long time upon the stage. By following the unity of the winds both outside and inside, she becomes difficult to perceive, like a fragrance-writer whose presence is hidden within. Benefited by mantras, herbs, austerities, gifts, worship of gods, and similar practices, she rushes forth like the lofty waves of a mountain river. Like the light of a lamp whose movement is unknown, she quickly merges, just as a needle enters its sheath and finds rest. According to her own tendencies, she seeks every abode; the indication itself is the demoness, and by indication, the abode is established. Even after wandering through all directions, everyone ultimately reaches their own abode; the living needle comes to the iron needle, just as the dull person returns to their place. Thus, striving and wandering through the ten directions, she attains mental satisfaction, but never bodily satisfaction. Indeed, qualities arise only when their substratum exists; the body is seen to belong to someone, and it is that which becomes satisfied. Then, remembering her previous body, she who had a satisfied body became distressed, longing for the pleasure of a full and sweet stomach. Therefore, she resolved, “I will perform great austerity for the sake of my former body,” and determined upon a place for ascetic practice by her own will. She entered the heart of a young sky-vulture by the path of the life-breath, like a creature of air moving in the sky. That vulture, having taken up a certain iron needle in this way, placed it on the funeral pyre with his beak, just as the mind sets its activity in motion. Taking the needle, the vulture went to the mountain she had envisioned, quickly impelled within by the needle-demon, as a cloud is driven by the wind. There, in a deserted great forest, he placed her in a spot devoid of all intentions, like a yogi establishing consciousness in a state free from all resolve. She, merged with that single atom at the tip of the foot, seemed to be established by the vulture on the summit of the mountain, like a deity. With one sharp end of the iron needle, she pressed her foot firmly upon the broad, high peak, as if placing a crest upon the summit of a great mountain. Seeing the vital needle, which had been raised and set within the vulture, she began to move outward, seeking to depart from the bird’s body. The vital needle left the vulture’s life, intent on emerging, like a wisp of fragrance rising toward the nostrils, carried by the wind. The vulture, having cast off its burden, returned to its own place, like a porter relieved of his load, becoming inwardly calm, as one freed from disease. The iron needle was set as a support for ascetic practice, for the proper use of a firm foundation is indeed fitting for such undertakings. For actions of the formless truly do not succeed without a support; thus, relying on a single foundation, she remained steadfast in her austerity.