In every moment of pleasure and pain, in every thought that arises, it is the mind that acts and experiences; indeed, the mind is the true person within. Now, listen closely as I recount a remarkable story—how Lavaṇa, through the delusions of his mind, came to live as a chandāla. It is the mind that reaps the results of actions, whether auspicious or otherwise. To illustrate this, hear the tale, O Rāghava. Once, Lavaṇa, a descendant of the Harishchandra lineage and a sinless soul, sat alone, lost in deep contemplation for a long time. He reflected, “My grandfather was illustrious, the priest of the great rājasūya sacrifice. Born in his noble line, I too perform that sacrifice within my mind.” With this resolve, Lavaṇa gathered all the necessary materials in his mind, and entered into the sacred initiation for the rājasūya sacrifice. He worshipped the priests, honored the wise sages, saluted the deities, and kindled the sacred fire. Immersed in this grove of meditation, a year passed, filled with reverent worship of gods, sages, and the twice-born. At the end of this period, having given all his wealth as gifts to the beings and ancestors, King Lavaṇa awoke in his own grove. Thus, he attained the fruit of the rājasūya sacrifice, for his mind, strong and unwavering, was united with the result. Therefore, know that the mind is the experiencer of pleasure and pain in every person. In that beginningless, effortless reality, establish yourself, O Rāghava. When the mind is fulfilled, the person is fulfilled; when it is lost, the person perishes. Those who cling to the conviction “I am the body”—the wise have no use for them. When the mind is full of discernment and truly awakened, all sorrows vanish for one whose understanding is clear—just as the sun’s rays shining upon a lotus pond dispel the darkness that has long lingered. Lavaṇa thus attained the fruit of the rājasūya sacrifice, O lord of the field. What proof could there be in this web of imagination? When Shambarika arrived at Lavaṇa’s assembly at the appointed time, I was present and witnessed it directly. After Shambarika entered, I, along with the other members, earnestly questioned Lavaṇa about what had transpired. Having reflected and observed what was spoken there, listen, O Rāma, as I recount what happened concerning Shambarika. Those who perform the rājasūya sacrifice endure twelve years of adversity and suffering, afflicted by various kinds of misfortune. Therefore, O Rāma, Indra sent a divine messenger in the form of Shambarika from the heavens to bring distress upon Lavaṇa. Shambarika inflicted great calamity upon the performer of the rājasūya rite, then departed along his celestial path, attended by gods and siddhas. In the same way, the multitude of mental states, upon awakening, become unified—just as a collection of diverse clay pots dissolves when placed in water. O revered one, what are the seven stages of yoga that grant perfection? Please tell me briefly, you who are foremost among those who know all truths. The field of ignorance is sevenfold, and so is the field of knowledge; between these two, countless other stages arise. These two—self-effort and delight in supreme existence—are like two great trees, and at every stage, each bears its own fruit from its firmly rooted base. Now, listen as I explain the sevenfold nature of the field of ignorance; afterwards, you will hear of the sevenfold nature that arises from the field of knowledge. Abiding in one's own true nature is liberation; falling from that is the sense of “I” and “not-I.” This, in brief, is the mark distinguishing knowledge from ignorance. Those who do not stray from their own nature, which is pure consciousness alone, and in whom attraction and aversion do not arise—ignorance cannot arise in them. The loss of one's own nature and immersion in the objectified—apart from this, there is no other delusion, nor will there ever be. When, as one object passes to another in the mind, the state that remains in between, free from the marks of thought—that is called abiding in one's own nature. That state in which all intentions have become quiet, like the space within a rock, and which is free from dullness, sleep, and the like—that is remembered as abiding in one's own nature. In the peaceful state beyond ego and distinctions, where the mind is unmoving, whatever shines forth without dullness is remembered as one's true nature. There are seven states: seed-awakening, ordinary awakening, great awakening, waking dream, ordinary dream, dream-awakening, and deep sleep. Thus, delusion is sevenfold; moreover, these states are intertwined and known by various names. Listen to their characteristics. First is consciousness, unnamed and pure awareness; it becomes the basis for future names and meanings such as mind, living being, and so forth. When it remains in the form of a seed, that is called seed-awakening—this is the new state of cognition. Now hear of ordinary awakening. When, having arisen, the conviction “this is the other, I am this, this is mine” appears clearly, that is the prior formation of waking awareness. When the conviction “this is that, I am this, this belongs to me” arises from previous births, that strong conviction is called great awakening. Whether unestablished or established, without sleep and not outwardly directed, the kingdom of the mind during waking is called waking dream. Due to distinctions such as the double moon, the oyster’s silver, or the mirage, when these are repeatedly experienced, wakefulness itself becomes manifold. Even if one thinks, “I saw this only for a short time; it is not real,” the impression that remains at the end of sleep about what was experienced during sleep indeed persists. Thus, through the story of Lavaṇa and the teachings on the nature of mind and the stages of yoga, the profound truth is revealed: the mind is both the doer and the enjoyer, the cause of delusion and liberation, and the field in which all experiences and states arise and dissolve. Establish yourself in that effortless, beginningless reality, O Rāghava.