Listen, O Rama, to the wisdom that unshackles the mind. When a person contemplates, “I am not afflicted; I have no body; what bondage can exist for this conscious Self?”—such understanding and actions bring freedom. One who is firmly convinced, “I am not flesh, nor bones; I am other than the body; I am the supreme,” is said to have destroyed ignorance within. Consider the brilliance atop a lofty mountain of sapphire, or the radiance high above, which even the sun’s rays cannot pierce—it stands above the splendor of darkness. Just as someone on earth imagines darkness in the sky, shaped by his own nature and conception, so too is ignorance—the notion of self in what is not the Self—merely imagined by the unawakened, never by one who is awakened, O Raghava. This radiance is neither the luster of a sapphire from Mount Meru nor the glow of darkness. Tell me, O Brahman, what causes the blueness of the sky? The blueness of the sky does not exist as a quality in the void; it is not due to the radiance of any gem, nor is it the luster of the Meru sapphire. Because the cosmic egg is made of light, because of the brilliance of the perfected ones, and because of the luminosity beyond the cosmic shell, darkness cannot arise here. What you see is merely emptiness, O fortunate one, though it appears in many ways. It is like ignorance, fitting each age, not composed of reality. When one’s own vision is lost, only nonexistence arises as darkness; thus, the blackness seen in the sky is due to the very nature of the object. Just as, with right understanding, the darkness seen in the sky is known not to be real darkness, so too, in the gloom of ignorance, knowledge arises. The wise declare that the restraint of ignorance is simply the absence of imagination, just as with the sky-lotus; and this is very easy in itself. For this world-illusion, which has arisen like the color of the sky, O noble one, I consider non-remembrance to be better—forgetting is preferable. Just as a person perishes in sorrow by the thought “I am lost,” so too, by the thought “I am awakened,” one attains happiness. In the same way, from deluded thoughts one again falls into delusion; from the noble thought of awakening, one pursues awakening. From a moment’s recollection, this perpetual ignorance arises; by effortful forgetting, the object truly dissolves. Imagination is the creator of all states, the deluder of all beings; it is the liberator in the destruction of the self, and the destroyer in the growth of the self. Whatever the mind contemplates, all the activities of the senses immediately carry out, just as ministers obey the command of a king. Therefore, one who does not let the mind dwell on objects, but with inner awareness and effort, attains peace. That which did not exist at the beginning does not exist even now; what appears as this is the one peaceful, unblemished Brahman. Whose, how, and whence are these esteemed notions of the mind? Remain unperturbed, beginningless and endless, unconfined by any restraint. With supreme effort and utmost discernment, one should completely uproot from the mind, along with its roots, the very conception of desire for enjoyment. That which arises as the supreme delusion—the cause of old age and death—is the latent tendency that flourishes with countless bonds of hope. Thoughts such as “My sons, my wealth, I am this, this is mine”—by this one latent tendency, like a magician’s illusion, the mind leaps about. In this body, which is itself empty, the notion of “I” is cast by ignorance and latent impression, wavering like the wind in a hollow. In truth, O knower of reality, enough of “mine,” “I,” and “this”; apart from the essence of the Self, nothing ever truly exists. With the perception of creation, this same manifold ignorance revolves again and again, as mountain ranges, continents, and peaks appear and reappear. It arises merely from ignorance and ceases merely through knowledge; it is delimited only by consciousness, like a snake on a rope. This earth with its mountains and rivers is that knowledge, O Rama, for the knower; it is not ignorance for him, for that Brahman abides in its own greatness. Both rope and snake are imagined by ignorance; but through knowledge, only one is determined—the vision of Brahman, uncontrived. Do not be ignorant; become a knower. Abandon the tendencies of worldly existence. Why do you grieve as if you were another, identifying with what is not the Self? What is this inert, mute body to you, O Raghava, for whose sake you are helplessly subjected to pleasure and pain? Just as there is no unity between wood and resin, or between two berry vessels even when joined, so too between body and embodied being there is no oneness. Just as the fire in a bellows does not affect the air within, so too, when the body perishes, the Self does not perish. “I am unhappy, I am full of happiness”—such delusion, O descendant of Raghu, afflicts the mind, and this torment is hard to overcome. By this false, harmful, and mind-inflating notion—by this giver of sorrow, blinded by the great impurity of delusion—even when the moon’s disk is moist with nectar, if one imagines it as a Raurava hell, one experiences the suffering of burning and desiccation as in a hellish realm. In lakes with cool waves adorned by garlands of water-moving lotuses, the greatness of a mirage is perceived. In dreams and similar states, the excitement of building cities in the sky, falling, and flying is experienced, giving rise to various pleasures and pains. If the mind’s inclination toward worldly existence is not fulfilled, then what harm can the agitations of waking and dreaming bring here? Thus, O Rama, recognize the nature of reality and illusion, and let your mind rest in the peace of Brahman, beyond all sorrow and delight.