Listen, O Rama, to the ancient wisdom revealed. There is but one supreme Brahman, the source and substance of all that exists. This Brahman is ever-awakened, pure, eternal, and indivisible—free from all distinctions and divisions. It pervades everything, and nothing lies outside its boundless presence. Yet, in the world of instruction, teachings are given in the language of duality and nonduality. These words are intended only for those who are still ignorant of their true nature; for the awakened, such distinctions have no relevance at all. As long as one remains unawakened, I speak of the threefold space—physical space, mental space, and the rest—only as a means to aid understanding. These notions arise from consciousness tainted by ignorance, much as mirages shimmer above the heated sands of the desert. When pure consciousness takes on an impure form as the mind, it conjures up worlds of illusion and confusion, like a magician casting spells of bewilderment. This state of mind, born from impure consciousness, is perceived by those lacking true understanding. Just as the ignorant mistake a shell for silver, so too do they fall into bondage through ignorance, while liberation dawns only through the power of knowledge. O sinless one, wherever and however the mind may arise, in whatever form, it always strives, often desperately, for its own liberation. Now, let me tell you a tale that illustrates this truth. There is said to be a vast, empty, and peaceful wilderness—so immense and desolate that not even the smallest corner can be seen in the sky. In this wilderness dwells a lone man, but he is no ordinary man: he has a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, his form spread wide, his mind agitated and fearsome. With his thousand arms, he grasps many heavy clubs and, in a frenzy, strikes his own back, then flees from himself in terror. Again and again, he beats himself with mighty blows, only to run away from his own self, his fearful mind racing for hundreds of leagues. Crying out in anguish as he flees this way and that, he becomes exhausted and helpless; his feet and limbs break under the strain, and he collapses, unable to go on. In his helplessness, he falls into a great, dark, blind well—a pit so deep and black that it is filled with the darkness of night and the pride of ignorance. After a long time in that pit, he rises again, only to resume his self-inflicted blows and his frantic flight from himself. Moving farther on, he enters a thicket of karanja bushes, dense and bristling with thorns, as if a grasshopper were leaping into fire. He quickly emerges from that painful grove, still striking himself and fleeing from his own presence. Again he goes farther, and, in his blind haste, tumbles into the same dark well. Rising once more, he enters a grove of plantains, and again, self-tormented, flees from himself. Yet again, he finds himself in a lovely plantain forest, cool as moonbeams and seemingly filled with laughter. But he does not stay; he leaves the plantain grove and enters the bright thicket of karanja bushes once more. From the karanja grove to the well, from the well to another plantain grove, he wanders, always striking himself, always remaining established in his own bewilderment. Observing this pitiable conduct, I approached him with care, restraining him forcibly and awakening him, if only for a moment. I asked, “Who are you? What is this? For what purpose are you doing this? What is your name, what do you desire? Why are you so utterly bewildered in vain?” He replied, “I am no one, nor is this anything; O sage, I do not do anything at all. By you I have been exposed; you are my enemy, O subduer of foes. Seen by you, I am lost—both to sorrow and to happiness.” Having spoken thus, he gazed at his own limbs and stood still. Then, overwhelmed by misery, he wailed loudly, like a cloud pouring rain upon the earth. But in a moment, his weeping ceased. Looking again upon his own limbs, he shed his whiteness, as the moon casts off its rays. Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, he began to abandon all his limbs, one by one, in every direction. First his head fell, dreadful to behold, then his arms, his chest, and at last his abdomen. In an instant, the man, his limbs, and all his confusion vanished utterly, just as a dream disappears when one awakens. Reflecting on the mysterious power of fate, I prepared to leave that place. But in a secluded spot, I saw yet another man behaving in the same way. He too was striking himself all over with his strong arms, fleeing desperately from himself. He fell into a well, then rose and ran; again he tumbled into a thicket, and again, in distress, fled from himself. Once more he entered a cool, clear forest for a brief moment, only to become angry or pleased, and then strike himself anew. I watched his strange behavior for a long time, and then, smiling, I approached and questioned him as before. Gradually, he wept and laughed, and as his limbs became shattered, he departed and was seen no more. Again, reflecting on the power of fate, I set out to depart, and in another secluded place, I saw yet another man behaving in exactly the same way. He too struck himself, fled from himself, and while fleeing, fell into a great, dark pit. I waited there for a long time, until that deceitful man finally emerged from the well after a great while. As I was about to leave, I saw him yet again—just as before, behaving in the same manner, making the same frantic efforts. Thus, O Rama, is the plight of the ignorant mind: self-tormented, fleeing from itself, trapped in endless cycles of confusion and suffering, until true knowledge dawns and all illusion dissolves like a dream at the break of day.