Those who devote themselves to the unreal, whose minds are caught in insubstantial pursuits, and whose lives are spent only in the fleeting activities of the sky and forest, let them be pitied, for they stray from the truth. Instead, one should become a great soul with a mind dissolved in stillness, having reached the far shore of existence, with a self purified of all stain. Even after the most searching inquiry, nothing impure is found in such a mind, for it is one with the pure Self. Such a one no longer delights in what comes, nor grieves for what does not; free from all anxiety, he simply accepts what arrives, moving through life untouched. O Raghava, you have already come to know all that is to be known; your tendencies toward worldly undertakings have grown thin and powerless. You may abide beyond bodily activity or remain within the body itself—do not fall into sorrow or joy, for you are the Self, free from all affliction. When the Self, pure, all-pervading, and ever-luminous, abides in you, O Rama, how can there be any pleasure or pain, or birth and death? Though you are without relations, why do you grieve over the sorrows of relatives? When only the non-dual Self truly exists, who indeed are relatives in the Self? What is seen as family or body is but the coming together of atoms; through the arising of space, time, and the sense of otherness, the Self neither appears nor disappears. Though you are imperishable, why do you grieve, thinking “I perish”? In the Self, untouched by death and ever pure, what destruction can there be? Just as when a pot breaks, the space within is not destroyed, so too, when this body is lost, you are not lost. When the waves of a mirage subside, the illusory heat vanishes; in the same way, when the body is destroyed, the Self does not perish. Why does desire arise in you? This inner delusion is meaningless. How can the non-dual Self desire anything other than itself? O Raghava, whatever is heard, touched, seen, delightful, or smelled—nothing exists in the world apart from the Self. All these powers abide only in that Self; when they manifest and spread out, they are like the emptiness in space. O Raghava, when the mind is established, the universe appears within its womb. By a threefold process, people are deluded into the experience of worldly existence. When the mind is calmed and the tendencies extinguished, when actions cease, this illusion is destroyed. In this fierce machinery of worldly life, the strong cord that drives it is tendency; O Raghava, cut this cord of tendency with effort. When not recognized, this tendency gives rise to great delusion; but when known, it bestows the bliss called infinite and leads to Brahman. Having arisen from Brahman, experiencing worldly existence here as a play, one remembers Brahman again and dissolves back into Brahman. O Raghava, from Shiva—who is formless, immeasurable, and free from all affliction—all beings arise, just as radiance comes forth from light. Just as lines appear on a leaf, waves on water, ornaments on gold, or heat in fire, so too this threefold world exists as both identical and non-identical with That; it abides in That, is born from That, and is indeed That alone. He is called the Self—Brahman—of all beings. When That is known, the world is known; when That is not known, the world remains unknown. For the sake of scripture and worldly usage, those who know have assigned names such as “consciousness,” “Brahman,” and “Self” to That whose form is all-pervading. That pure experience, free from joy and resentment in contact with sense-objects, is this very Self—consciousness imperishable. This consciousness-Self is subtler and clearer than space; in That, the world appears as a separate reflection, but is only its own enjoyment. When the intellect is separate from it, greed, delusion, and the like arise; but when there is no separation, the intellect abides in That alone. For one who is bodiless, whose nature is undivided consciousness, how could confusion arise—named as shame, fear, or sorrow? Why, like a fool of dull mind, are you overcome by imaginations such as shame and the like, which are unreal and arise from the body, though you are bodiless? For one whose nature is unbroken consciousness, even when the body is destroyed, there is no destruction for one who does not see rightly—how much less for one who is truly wise? That which, even on the path of the sun, does not come or go in opposition, O Rama, know that to be the person, not the body. Whether the body exists or not, this person in the three worlds, whether knowing or unknowing, remains, O Rama; when the body is lost, he does not perish. All these various sufferings you observe belong to the body, not to the consciousness-self, which cannot be grasped. Since it stands beyond the path of the mind, like emptiness, how indeed can that consciousness be affected by pain or pleasure? Consciousness, being the Self, departs from this distinct cage of the body, carrying the impressions it has practiced, just as a bee leaves the lotus for the sky. If the essence of the self is unreal in this body-cage, then when it is lost, what truly is lost, Rama, for which you grieve? Hold to the truth, and do not let delusion arise; for the pure self, there are no desires at all. When consciousness is witness—equal, clear, and free from distinctions—the worlds appear within it by themselves, like rays in a flawless jewel. The connection without desire is like the images in a mirror; so too is the natural relation between consciousness and the world. Just as duality and unity are established in the reflections of a shield and a corpse, so too are difference and non-difference established between self and world here.