The mind, in its very nature, is a tapestry of imagination. Whatever the mind weaves within itself—be it the form of the body or any other experience—appears outwardly as reality. Yet, apart from this mind, there is no separate perceiver of the body at all. Indeed, the mind is a profound wonder, a marvel of the very Self, forever turning its gaze upon itself in astonishment. All that arises, arises solely within its own expanse, much like the shimmering illusion of a mirage on a hot day. What seems to be the mind is also called the “vehicle of the elements”—the dense mass known as the body, which moves about in the world. This is the mind, spoken of as the jīva, residing within each subtle form. Know, then, that this wondrous body becomes pacified, and the jīva, step by step, ascends to the supreme. Here, in truth, neither ‘I’ nor anything else exists—only this mind remains. The consciousness that is known as Vasiṣṭha and Indra has emerged as existence out of nonexistence. Just as Indra’s mind is Brahmā, so too am I established here; all that is, is made by me, and I alone shine forth as the very essence of resolve. This is the mind’s own play, a certainty established as “I am Brahmā.” Body and all else are but the nature of emptiness. By contemplating that pure consciousness is of the supreme Self alone, the mind becomes the jīva, and, taking on the form of the body, perceives it vainly. All of this appears, like Indra’s world, as a form of consciousness. It is a long dream, arising from one’s own power, sustained by a lack of awakening. Like the illusion of seeing two moons, or the confusion of the elements’ forms, the mind becomes established as consciousness—just as with Indra’s lotus-born creation. In reality, I am neither existence nor non-existence, neither being nor non-being. Through perception, a form appears, but it is ultimately unreal, for it is contradicted by deeper understanding. The mind is both inert and non-inert, vast in its form and made of thought. It is non-inert because its true nature is Brahman, and inert because it arises as the object of perception. The reality of experience rests upon what is perceived; when perception ceases, so too does experience, just as the quality of a bracelet is found only in gold. In the same way, all rests in Brahman. Because Brahman is all, everything is either inert or consciousness itself. From myself to a stone, there is neither pure inertness nor pure consciousness alone. For things like wood, which lack consciousness, perception cannot arise; perception is born only from a relationship with something of like nature. Understand that all perception is of what is inert or conscious; perception arises from relation, and relation exists only between things sharing the same essence. Yet, the true meaning of words like inert, conscious, or peaceful does not exist in that which cannot be described—just as leaves and vines do not exist in a vast desert. Whatever conceptualization arises in consciousness is called ‘mind’; the conscious aspect here is non-inert, while the inert aspect is its objectification. In this, the portion of consciousness is the element of awareness, while the inert is the object perceived. Thus, the individual soul, seeing the illusion of the world, becomes restless. This very nature of consciousness, pure in itself, is made dual; therefore, all this world is nothing but consciousness, appearing as duality by acquiring a portion. Consciousness, seeing itself as something other, takes on the form of the perceived. Though truly indivisible, it appears as if possessing a single part, wandering as if afflicted by delusion. Yet, in truth, there is no delusion, nor even a fragment of delusion—this is certain. Consciousness remains established in this way, like a vast, full ocean. Because consciousness is all-pervasive, let there be inertness within it, and you will know its nature as mind. Here, the portion of consciousness is the element of awareness, and inertness arises from the sense of “I.” In the supreme reality, even the slightest trace of ‘I-ness’ and the like does not exist; just as waves are distinct from water, so too is the expanse of consciousness beyond all such distinctions. Know that what is seen as the sense of ‘I’ and the perceived object has arisen; just as in a mirage, it may exist here, or perhaps not. The state of ‘I-ness’ is merely the self, free from affliction; the wise know that ‘I-ness’ and the like are only a chill, just as snow is cold. Consciousness itself appears as inertness in dream, resembling death; yet, being the Self of all and performing all powers, it never truly becomes like that state. The mind unfolds in every form as the substance of objects; this body of mind, manifold in nature, is pure and clear like space. One who always abandons identification with the body and its like, recognizing their nature as mere reflections, should clearly discern the essence of mind as mind itself. When the copper of mind is purified and attains the gold of ultimate reality, uncontrived bliss arises—what use then are the fragments of bodily experience? Whatever exists can be purified, just as water is cleansed by the rays of the sky; if ignorance about the body and such were real, then it would be fitting to accept it. Those who are attached to unreality, to body and so forth, and who teach such things, are ignorant—some call them mere puppets among men. As one contemplates within, so it becomes in an instant; the analogy is the certainty regarding the moon, a reflection, or an artificial Indra. However and whatever the mind, shining as its own reflection, appears, so it becomes as the self of the body. Realizing the single knowledge, “This body exists, yet I am not this,” abide without desire. This body and the sense of “I am this” arise naturally; one strives only for the sake of the body, and thus it comes to destruction. Just as a child, imagining ghosts and the like, experiences fear, so too, in the absence of such notions, there is no fear by any reasoning. Thus, the venerable Lotus-born One spoke these words to me. Then, O descendant of Raghu, I questioned the Lord of beings once again, drawing forth his wisdom: “O Lord, you yourself have said that the powers of curses, mantras, and the like are unfailing. How then have these become ineffective?” By curse, by the power of mantras, even the mind, intellect, and senses—all are indeed seen to become deluded in living beings. Just as two movements of the wind or as oil and clarified butter are not truly different, so too, mind and body are always truly undivided. Or, perhaps, the body does not truly exist at all; it is only associated with the mind and is falsely experienced, like a dream, a mirage, or the illusion of a second moon.