The mind is a wondrous actor within us, ever shifting its roles and forms. When it takes on the quality of the eye, it sees; when it assumes the state of the ear, it hears; through contact, it becomes the sense of touch; and by sniffing, it attains the sense of smell. In tasting, the mind itself becomes taste. All these varied experiences within the body are the play of the mind alone, just as an actor dons many costumes on the stage. Such is its power that the mind makes things light or long, brings about existence or nonexistence, turns sweetness into bitterness, and can even transform an enemy into a friend. Whatever appearance arises in this mind, operating through its various functions, that alone is truly experienced here, for the mind’s contact with the subtle elements gives rise to all perception. By the sheer force of appearances, a single night for King Hariśchandra—whose mind was absorbed in dreams—became as long as twelve years. For Indradyumna, dwelling in the city of Brahma, an entire age passed like a fleeting moment, all due to the mind’s experience. Even the dreadful hell called Raurava can become blissful if the mind is delightfully disposed, and bondage itself feels like royal sovereignty to one who knows he will be freed by morning. When the mind is conquered, all the senses fall under control, just as a pearl necklace falls apart when its binding thread is burned. This is due to the subtle, ever-present, witness-like power of consciousness, which remains everywhere, constant and unchanging in its own nature. Infused with the essence of Rama’s self—ever following all states and undivided by objects of knowledge—even the mute and inert body becomes as if conscious. Within, the mind moves with the restless force of scattered thoughts; outwardly, it plays among mountains, rivers, the sky, the ocean, and cities. When awake, it brings the desired object to the taste of immortality, and even nectar can become poison if undesired. Casting aside the marvel of all states, the mind creates whatever form it wishes among objects. In movement, the mind is like air; in illumination, it is like light; in fluids, it becomes fluidity—always infused with the power of consciousness. On earth, it becomes hardness; in void-like states, it becomes emptiness; everywhere, according to desire, the mind assumes its form, ever imbued with consciousness. Such is its power that it can turn white into black and black into white, unaffected by place or time. 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’s presence. The mind delights through the senses, but the senses cannot 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, are truly great souls, worthy of all reverence. Consider a woman adorned with blooming flowers, playful and with darting eyes—if her mind is absent, even though she is attached to a body, she is like wood or a wall. When the mind is elsewhere, even in a forest, a detached person may not notice his own hand, even if bitten by a wild animal. The mind of the sage can swiftly make intense suffering pleasant or pleasure painful, always adapting with ease. If the mind is absorbed elsewhere, even a story told with effort is interrupted, just as a vine is cut by an axe. Even a householder, when his mind is caught in the depths of attachment, feels the suffering of confusion, as if lost in chasms, clouds, and ravines. When the mind shines brightly in a dream, entire cities and mountains appear instantly within the heart, vast as the sky. When agitated in a dream, the mind generates within itself a succession of mountain ranges and cities, just as a stirred ocean raises waves upon itself. Within the body, the mind produces dream-mountains and city-kingships, just as rows of waves and crests arise from the ocean’s water. From the mind, like shoots giving rise to leaves, creepers, flowers, and fruits, arise the various illusions of waking and dreaming. Just as golden ornaments are not separate from gold, so too the splendors of waking and dream actions are not apart from consciousness. Just as streams, drops, foam, and beauty are seen in water, all the diverse and wondrous manifestations arise from consciousness. This activity of the mind, appearing as waking and dream experience, takes on various roles according to the flavor it absorbs, just like an actor assumes different parts. By the power of appearance, Lavaṇa became a caṇḍāla; so too does this world seem to be experienced, though it is only a product of mental conception. Whatever is perceived in any way is immediately manifested in that manner; the creation of the mind’s conception—shape it as you wish. Within embodied beings, the mind assumes forms of various cities, rivers, and mountains, producing the illusion of waking and dreaming states. By the force of appearance, the mind attains the state of a celestial, a demon, a serpent, or a mountain, just as Lavaṇa did. From being a man, it becomes a woman; from being a father, it becomes a son again—just as an actor swiftly changes roles by his own intention, so does the mind. By intention, it perishes; from intention, it arises again. The mind, long practiced, attains the state of living beings, though it has no fixed form. Confused by its own conceptions and carried by the winds of deep-seated tendencies, the mind enters into various wombs through intention, experiencing pleasure, pain, fear, and safety. Pleasure and pain reside in the mind, like oil in a sesame seed. Depending on place and time, they may become dense or subtle. Thus, the mind, ever creative, ever shifting, is the source and experiencer of all that appears within and without.