Listen, O Raghava, to the wondrous ways of the mind and the subtle play of ignorance and Self. The imagination, endowed with its own force, leaps upon the chariot of sense objects and swiftly seizes the mind, just as a net captures a bird in flight. Out of deep compassion, a mother, her eyes overflowing with affection and her breasts moist with milk, is drawn into the life of a householder, delighting in the joy her child brings. Even the moon, though full of nectar and gentle moisture, can, when grown too large, become poisonous and bring destruction to the three worlds. Such is the mind’s power that even those who are steady as pillars may be made to act with the confusion of madmen, ghosts, or drunkards; even the mute may find themselves speaking under its influence. At twilight and other uncertain times, because of the mind’s sway, people see snakes where only clods of earth, stones, or walls exist. Just as a single moon appears as two to eyes afflicted with double vision, or as a distant shore seems near in a dream, so too does the mind create its own illusions. Time itself bends before the mind: a long span may seem but a moment, like a night that passes in the blink of an eye, while a single moment can feel like a year to one separated from their beloved. There is nothing this restless mind does not name or create; yet, O Raghava, see how powerless the mind becomes when it is empty of possessions and desires. Therefore, one should diligently restrain consciousness by consciousness itself. By blocking the flow of awareness, the river of the mind dries up. Astonishingly, by what does not truly exist—by what is frail, empty, and called false imagination—this world is cast into darkness. By what is formless, without shape or pure awareness, and perishing swiftly like the unreal, this world is cast into darkness. By that which perishes without light, flickers within darkness, and has the vision of an owl, this world is cast into darkness. By what acts only in evil ways, cannot bear to be seen, and does not even recognize its own body, the world is cast into darkness. Even by what follows the conduct of the wise, is naturally beautiful, and is ever setting, the world is cast into darkness. The world is strangely blinded by one who is always afflicted with endless suffering, led by misguided resolve, and lacking true understanding. It is blinded by one whose body is insentient, whose words spread darkness, and whose heart is dense with desire and anger. It is blinded by one who dwells at the edge of the dark well of the self, dulled by inertia and aged by dullness, who endlessly laments in sorrow. The world is blinded by one who shatters relationships, is afflicted by disease and unbroken illusion, and whose intentions are ever-changing. Even a man who cannot endure the sight of such a woman, who is unprotected by her, is blinded. The man is blinded by such a woman who lacks awareness and perishes though she is not destroyed. O Lord, this one, who endlessly indulges in difficult passions, who brings about both pleasure and pain through rise and decline, dissolves by which tendency, bound by the impressions that dwell deep in the cave of the mind? O Brahman, how does this great blindness, born from the power of ignorance in the world or in man, come to an end? Just as a lotus covered with frost perishes instantly when sunlight appears, so too does this ignorance vanish upon the vision of the Self. So long as it endures, this ignorance agitates the embodied being, tossing him about on the waves of worldly existence, in the thickets of suffering and pain. Until the desire for Self-realization, which alone destroys delusion, arises within, ignorance does not begin to be destroyed. When one begins to see beyond ignorance, the dissolution of self-ignorance commences, just as a shadow starts to disappear when sunlight touches it, O Raghava. When the all-pervading divine is seen, the shadow itself dissolves, just as all shadows vanish when the twelve-rayed sun rises in the sky. Here, ignorance is nothing but mere imagination; its destruction is called liberation, and this is accomplished, O Raghava, by the mere cessation of thought-construction. Even the smallest wound in the darkness of latent tendencies within the sky of the mind causes its blackness to thin, as the sun of consciousness rises. Just as darkness disappears somewhere when the sun rises, so too does ignorance dissolve somewhere when discernment arises. Bondage arises in the mind through strong latent tendencies; fickle thoughts subside, just as a child’s playfulness fades at dusk. As long as this visible world appears, that is ignorance, which diminishes; by contemplating the Self, O Brahman, what is that Self considered to be? That which is the essence of consciousness, untouched by objects, universally present, and indescribable—that is the Self, the Supreme Lord. From Brahma down to a blade of grass, whatever this world is, all of it is always the Self alone; O sinless one, ignorance does not exist. Indeed, all this is Brahman—eternal, solid consciousness, imperishable; there is no other imagination called “mind” at all. Nothing is born or dies in these three worlds; nor does the existence of modifications ever occur anywhere. Here, there exists only pure consciousness—unmixed, unbroken, universal, untouched by objects, and undisturbed. In this eternal, pure, undisturbed, peaceful, and equally pervasive consciousness, the Self arises without change. This, having arisen by its own nature, rushes forth by its own imagining; consciousness, as the object of consciousness, withers on its own, and when it is withered, that is remembered as the mind. From the one, all-pervading, divine, all-powerful, great Self, the power of division and calculation arises, like a wave from water. Such, O Raghava, is the mysterious play of mind and ignorance, and the supreme reality of the Self.