There are those who strive tirelessly for wealth, never ceasing in their efforts, and so we find ourselves tossed about, caught in the swing of uncertainty and doubt. O Rama, know that I was present in such an assembly at that very time; what I witnessed there was seen directly by my own eyes, not merely heard from the words of another. Therefore, O great-souled Rama, turn your mind—which has grown restless through excessive imagination—toward tranquility. When this tranquility is established in your true nature, you will attain that supreme and pure state. In the beginning, due to a cause beyond our comprehension, consciousness itself falls into the duality of subject and object. From this division arises the realm of imagination, and from there, further imaginations of impurity come forth. Indeed, Rama, when the mind is caught up in the delusions of unreal things, it acts in various ways and becomes insignificant, lost in dense illusions for a long time. This tendency of the mind toward unreality may become weak, but it spreads far and wide, bringing with it a thousand forms of suffering, much like a child tormented by a Vetala spirit. Even what is real, for a moment, can bring great suffering when it leads to unreality; yet a pure mental tendency dispels the darkness, just as the sun dispels night. The mind brings what is near to a distance and what is distant to nearness, leaping restlessly among beings like a child among young birds. For the ignorant, whose minds are filled with tendencies, fear arises even from what is truly fearless; just as a bewildered traveler, seeing a tree from afar, mistakes it for a demon. When the mind is stained by impurity, it suspects enmity even in a friend. Like one intoxicated and wandering, the creature whose intellect is seized imagines the earth itself to be spinning. When the mind is greatly disturbed, one may see lightning arise from the moon, or nectar, consumed with the nature of poison, become poisonous in effect. Colored by its own tendencies, the mind perceives the building of cities and towns as real, though they are not; even in waking, it experiences dreams. The only cause of delusion in a being is the forceful impression of the mind; this must be diligently uprooted, cut off at the very root. Drawn by the snare of these impressions, the mind—like a deer—falls helplessly into the thicket of worldly existence. Yet, when discernment destroys these impressions, the light of the being shines forth, just as the sun shines in a cloudless sky. Thus, understand that it is only the mind that is truly the person, not the body. The body is inert, but the mind is neither inert nor non-inert, as the wise know. Whatever is done by the mind, O Rama, know that as truly done; whatever is abandoned by the mind, know that as truly abandoned. All that exists in this world is only mind: the mountains are mind, the sky is mind, the earth is mind, the wind and the great elements are mind. If the mind does not associate an object with its own conception, then even the sun and the stars do not appear as luminous. It is the mind that takes up delusion; the one whose mind is deluded is called deluded. But if the body is deluded, it is not called so—like a corpse. The mind sees when it takes on the nature of the eye, hears when it assumes the state of the ear, becomes the sense of touch through contact, and attains the sense of smell by sniffing. Through tasting, it becomes the sense of taste. In all these functions, it is the mind alone that acts within the body, just as an actor plays many roles in a drama. The mind makes things appear light or long, brings about existence or nonexistence, turns sweetness into bitterness, and makes an enemy into a friend. Whatever appearance arises in this mind, operating through its various functions, that alone is truly perceived, owing to the experience of the subtle elements. By the mere power of appearances, a single night for King Hariśchandra, whose mind was absorbed in dream-objects, became as long as twelve years. Likewise, for Indradyumna, who dwelled in the city of Brahma, an age passed as a mere moment, all due to the influence of mental experience. A delightful mental disposition can turn even the hell called Raurava into happiness; bondage feels like royal sovereignty to one who will attain it in the morning. When the mind is conquered, all the senses are conquered as well—just as a pearl necklace falls apart when its thread is burned. This is due to the subtle, ever-present, witness-like power of consciousness, which remains everywhere in its own form, unchanging and constant. With the essence of Rama’s own self, which follows all states and is not divided by the objects of cognition, even the mute and inert body becomes like consciousness. Within, the mind moves with the force of scattered thoughts; outwardly, it plays among mountains, rivers, the sky, the ocean, and cities. In waking, the mind brings the desired object to the taste of immortality, and what is undesired, it turns to poison—even if it is truly nectar. Casting aside the marvels of all states, the mind creates the desired form among objects. In movement, the mind becomes like air; in illumination, it becomes light; in fluids, it becomes fluidity—the mind, infused with the power of consciousness. On earth, it becomes hardness; in void-like states, it becomes emptiness; everywhere, according to its desire, the mind, imbued with consciousness, assumes its form. This mind can turn white into black and black into white; regardless of place or time, observe its wondrous power. When the mind is absorbed elsewhere, even if food is chewed thoroughly, its taste is not truly experienced. What is seen by the mind is seen; what is not seen by the mind is not seen—just as in darkness, form is not perceived by the senses without the mind. The mind finds delight through the senses, but the senses do not delight without the mind; the senses arise from the mind, but the mind does not arise from the senses. Those who realize the unity of the utterly distinct mind and body, who know both the knower and the known—these great souls, the learned ones, are truly worthy of reverence.