Listen, O Rāma, to the subtle truth of the Self. That which neither comes nor goes, even on the radiant path of the sun, is the true person within you—not the body. Whether the body exists or dissolves, this person remains throughout the three worlds, aware or unaware; when the body falls away, he does not perish. All the various sufferings you witness belong only to the body, not to the consciousness-self, which cannot be seized or grasped. This consciousness stands beyond the reach of the mind, like pure, open space—how then could it be touched by pain or pleasure? When the embodied self departs this distinct cage of form, it carries with it only the impressions it has gathered, just as a bee leaves the lotus and soars into the sky. If the essence of the self were truly unreal within this bodily cage, then, O Rāma, when the body is lost, what is there to grieve for? Hold firmly to the truth and let no delusion arise; for the pure Self, there are no desires at all. When consciousness abides as witness—clear, equal, and without distinctions—then the worlds appear within it by their own nature, like rays shining in a flawless jewel. The connection between consciousness and the world, when free of desire, is like images reflected in a mirror—so natural and effortless is their relation. Just as duality and unity are established in the reflections seen on a shield or in a lifeless body, so too are difference and non-difference established between the Self and the world. As the sun’s mere presence brings forth action on earth, so too does the very existence of consciousness give rise to this world. When attachment to the body ceases, O Rāma, the world-state dissolves, and vast space arises in your mind as well. Just as the lamp’s radiance springs forth from its very being, so too does the activity of the world arise from the inherent nature of consciousness. From the supreme Self, the mind first emerges; through the mind, the world is spread out—a web woven from its own imaginations. As emptiness shines through emptiness, or as pure space seems to give rise to the blue sky, so too do delightful creepers flourish from their own source. When the mind dissolves through the cessation of thoughts, the mist of worldly delusion vanishes. Then pure consciousness shines forth, clear as the autumn sky—one, unborn, original, infinite, resting within itself. The mind, which is of the nature of action, first arises from thought, taking on the quality of the lotus-born creator. It then projects this endless, diverse world, just as a naive child fashions phantom bodies in play. What is made of non-being appears real at first, then dissolves and disappears again. The mind itself, spread out as consciousness, manifests as a luminous form, like rings of water in the vast ocean. It arises in the sky of awareness, without a doer and without limbs—a wondrous vision, without a seer yet full of experience, sleepless yet showing dreams. It appears to be established in marvelous form, creating future cities; like the heat of a monkey’s fire, it abides as a whirlpool of water. Though it seems to possess form, it is devoid of emptiness, like the sun’s brilliance in the sky; visible in space like a cluster of gems, yet without any support. Like a city conjured by thought, it seems firmly experienced yet is made of nothing—its essence is the mere semblance of a story’s meaning, existing nowhere, yet seeming to exist. Though utterly devoid of substance, it seems to have an inner core; like a mountain seen in a dream, it shines with forms like the sky, yet is nothing but emptiness. Like an autumn cloud seen from afar, its dissolution is imperceptible; like a color in the sky, it appears visible but has no real substance. It takes the form of a dream-woman’s embrace—seemingly meaningful, yet truly meaningless; like a garden of the mind in full bloom, it appears delightful but lacks any true essence. It stands like light without brilliance, like a painted sun or fire; it is experienced like a kingdom of fancy—unreal and without true existence. Like a painted lotus pond lacking the fragrance of lotuses, it is displayed in emptiness, adorned with many colors, its nature only a form. In reality, it is spread out with withered, feeble shoots of elements; inert and without essence, shining like the trunk of a plantain tree. Spread out like a circle of darkness visible to the opened eye, it is utterly unreal in form, yet appears as if directly perceived. Like a bubble on water, hollow within, yet vibrant in form; its essence is taste—the taste of reality—arising and passing without interruption. Like mist spreading out, though grasped, it is nothing at all; inert, the abode of emptiness, void for some, as minute as an atom. What is composed of elements is said to exist, yet the void is not made of elements; when apprehended, it is of unreal nature, like a sharp blade suddenly appearing. At the end of a great age, what is seen remains like a sprout in a seed; later, it arises again from that very same source—what is this, truly? O revered one, are those who see thus ignorant, or do they possess true knowledge? Speak clearly, dispelling all doubt. This, too, appears at the end of a great cycle, like a sprout in a seed; but to assert that supreme ignorance exists here is only extreme childishness. What is that which is untouched in contact, and how can this be unreal? Such contrary understanding is the cause of folly for both speaker and listener. The notion that the world exists like a sprout in a seed at the time of the seed—this is the talk of delusion. Listen well to how this is so. A seed is itself visible and accessible to mind and senses; when it is joined with things like earth and grain, then indeed a sprout arises. But that which is beyond mind and the six senses, and even beyond that—how could such a seed, self-existent, become the origin of the world? How could there be seed-nature in the Supreme Self, which is subtler than space, beyond all, and not perceived by any sense? That which is subtle existence, appearing as nonexistence, is truly nonexistence for those who do not see it; how can there be seed-nature there, and without a seed, how could a sprout arise?