Who is it, one wonders, from whom space and all the elements arise—who grants them their very nature and essence? Who is that treasure house holding all the world’s jewels, within whose treasury the world itself is but a single gem? What is that subtle atom, at once darkness and light, existing and not existing, so distant yet so near, which itself is the mighty mountain? What is that moment which is an age, and that age which is but a moment? What is that which appears so real and yet is not, which is conscious and yet unconscious? What is both airless and air, sound and soundlessness, everything and nothing? Who am I, and who am I not—what can this be? What is attained through countless efforts and many lifetimes, yet, when reached, proves to be nothing at all, and yet, in it, everything is attained? By whom is one’s own self taken away, even while living in one’s own nature? What is that atom within which the great Meru mountain, the three worlds, and even a blade of grass are contained? By what atom is a vast expanse filled, and what atom alone becomes a world, though not even present in a hundred yojanas? By what mere act of seeing does the play of the world unfold, and within which atom do the very pots that hold the families of mountains reside? What is that atom that never abandons its minuteness, yet appears as the mighty Meru? What is the atom that is the hundredth part of a hair’s tip, and yet the towering mountain itself? What is the atom that reveals both light and darkness? Within which atom do all experiences, no matter how minute, reside? What is that atom, utterly tasteless, yet intensely savored? By which atom, having renounced all, is everything nevertheless supported? By which atom, lacking the power to hide itself, is the world hidden? By what method does the world seem to subsist as real? What is the atom that is without parts, yet has a thousand hands and eyes? What is an instant, or a great age, or even hundreds of great ages? In which atom do worlds abide, as trees in a seed? From seed to fruit, all things—manifest and unmanifest—are contained therein. Of which instant is an age contained within, as life is within a living being? What acts as the agent of action, even without relying on any doer? For the sake of visible wealth, the seer may make himself the seen; yet, seeing the seen, who among us sees his own self, just as the eye does not see itself? Who, seeing the undivided Self into which all objects have merged, ceases to see external objects, even when they appear before him? Who illumines the Self, the act of seeing, and the seen—just as gold pervades ornaments like a bangle—and by whom are these three absorbed? Why does nothing remain separate, like waves in the great ocean, and by whose will does anything appear distinct, like foam upon the vast sea? From that one, unlimited by space, time, and all conditions, which is both unreal and real, why does even duality not remain separate, but seems to dissolve like water in the ocean? Who, having established within himself the Self, the act of seeing, and the seen—both real and unreal, and all that moves through the three times—remains as the inner seed, like a seed within a limb? Within whom does the vast, whirling multitude of worlds—existing in past, present, and future—always abide equally, as a tree abides within the seed? Who, though not arisen, arises by himself as the one, formless essence—just as the seed quickly becomes the tree, and the tree in turn becomes the seed? O King, in relation to whom do the peaks of Meru and Mandara exist within the belly of a lotus fiber, or the great Meru itself? By whom is this universe, with its countless forms, spread out? Why do you so fiercely boast, destroy, and protect? With what vision do you not become, or do you indeed become, existence itself? Surely you are not of equal sight—tell me, so that this may be calmed. Let this doubt of mine dissolve completely, like dew fading from the lotus face of the mind. If doubt does not vanish at its root, then even the words of the wise never truly reach anywhere. If you do not lead me, step by step, to the cessation of this doubt, making it lighter with sound understanding, then you will swiftly become fuel for the fire in the belly of the demon, consumed in a moment. Afterwards, I will devour that entire region and its people, all around, with the hunger of my belly in an instant. Thus, for you, it will be as if a good king rules; but I think that excessive delight is always ruinous for fools. Having spoken thus, with a voice deep and vast as thunderclouds, the night-dweller, fierce and terrifying in form, became silent—her mind pure and clear, like a spotless autumn cloud. In the great night, in the midst of the great forest, after the great demon maiden had spoken, the chief minister prepared to answer her profound question. “Listen, O you who resemble a rain cloud! I will break apart your question, as a lion does to a maddened elephant, and answer it systematically. O lotus-eyed one, you have described this supreme Self, and your words are suited to awakening knowledge of Brahman. Because it cannot be described or reached, it is beyond even the mind’s grasp; thus, the Self is pure consciousness, subtler even than space itself. Within the supreme atom of consciousness, existence abides as if it were non-existence. Thus, this world appears to shine forth as if it exists, though it is as if it does not. Because it is experienced in some way and stands as the essence of creation, it previously assumed the state of being as its own nature. Because it is beyond the senses, that subtle atom is nothing at all and yet infinite; because it is all-pervading, it enjoys everything, yet nothing at all. From the reflection of the atom of consciousness, the one appears as many; though unreal, it seems real, like a bracelet appears from gold. This atom is the supreme space, subtler than ether, invisible, beyond mind and the six senses, yet abiding as the Self of all. Though it is the Self of all, it is never void; one who says that what exists does not exist is considered mad. By no reasoning here can non-existence be ascribed to what exists; the all-pervading Self is revealed, hidden like camphor in space.