O Rāma, listen to the wondrous workings of the mind. When the mind is greatly disturbed, even the gentle moon gives rise to lightning, and nectar, when consumed in a corrupted state, becomes poisonous in effect. The mind, colored by its deep-seated tendencies, perceives the construction of cities and towns as real, though they are but illusions; even in waking, it experiences dreams, never fully freed from its own fabrications. The sole cause of delusion in a being is the forceful impression of the mind. This must be diligently uprooted, cut off at the root, for drawn by the snare of its impressions, the mind—like a deer—leads people helplessly into the thicket of worldly existence. Yet, when discernment destroys these impressions, the light of the being shines forth, unobstructed, like the sun in a cloudless sky. Therefore, know with certainty: it is only the mind that is the person, not the body. The body is inert, but the mind is neither inert nor non-inert, as the wise understand. Whatever is done by the mind, O Rāma, is truly done; whatever is abandoned by the mind, O Rāghava, is truly abandoned. The entire world is only mind: the mountains are mind, the sky is mind, the earth is mind, the wind is mind, and the great elements themselves are mind. If the mind does not associate an object with its own conception, then even the sun and the rest never appear as luminous. It is the mind that takes up delusion; he whose mind does so is called deluded. When the body is deluded, it is not called deluded—like a corpse, lifeless and unknowing. The mind perceives through the senses: when it takes on the nature of the eye, it sees; when it assumes the state of the ear, it hears; it 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 various functions, the mind alone acts within the body, just as an actor performs in a play. It makes things 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, which operates through its functions, that alone is truly perceived here, due to the experience of the subtle elements. By the power of appearances alone, a single night for Hariśchandra, whose mind was absorbed in dream objects, became twelve years long. Through the influence of mental experience, an age became a moment for Indradyumna, who dwelled within the city of Brahma. By a delightful mental disposition, even the hell called Raurava becomes 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 happens by the subtle, ever-present, witness-like power of consciousness, which remains everywhere, in its own form, unchanging and constant. With the essence of Rāma’s self, which follows all states and is not divided by objects of cognition, even the mute and inert body becomes like consciousness. Within, the mind moves with the force of scattered thoughts, and outwardly it plays among mountains, rivers, sky, ocean, and cities. In waking, it brings the desired object to the taste of immortality; and what is undesired, it leads to poison, even if it is truly nectar. Casting aside the wonder of all states, the mind creates the desired form among objects. In movements, it 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 desire, the mind, imbued with consciousness, assumes its form. This mind turns white into black, and black into white; without regard for place or time, observe its power. When the mind is absorbed elsewhere, even if food is chewed thoroughly by the tongue, 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—those great souls, learned ones, are worthy of reverence. A woman, adorned with blooming flowers, playful and with darting eyes, though attached to a body like wood or a wall, remains absent-minded. When the mind is absorbed elsewhere, even in a forest, a detached person does not notice his own hand, even if it is bitten by a wild animal. To make intense suffering pleasant, or to make pleasure painful, the mind of the sage swiftly adapts, always with ease. When the mind is absorbed elsewhere, even if a story is told with effort, it is interrupted, just as a vine is cut by an axe. Even a householder, when his mind is caught up in the depths of attachment, experiences the suffering of confusion, as if lost in chasms, clouds, and ravines. When the mind becomes radiant in a dream, entire cities and mountains appear instantly within the heart, spread out vast as the sky. When the mind is agitated in a dream, it generates within itself a succession of mountain ranges and cities, just as a stirred ocean raises up waves upon itself. Just as rows of waves and crests arise from the water within the ocean, so too, within the body, the mind produces dream-mountains and city-kingships. Just as shoots give rise to leaves, creepers, flowers, and fruits, so too, from the mind arise the various illusions of waking and dreaming. And just as golden ornaments are not separate from gold, so too, the splendors of waking and dream actions are not separate from consciousness. Thus, O Rāma, the mind is the source and substance of all experience, all illusion, and all reality; understanding its nature is the key to wisdom and freedom.