Listen, O Rama, to the mystery of this world’s arising, subtle as the play of sunlight upon earth. Just as the sun’s mere presence stirs action and growth on the earth, so too does the very existence of pure consciousness give rise to this entire world. When the mind ceases to grasp the body, the world as you know it dissolves; even the vastness of space arises only within your own awareness. Consider a lamp: its radiance shines forth simply because the lamp exists. In the same way, all the activities and movements of the world unfold naturally from the inherent nature of consciousness itself. First, from the essence of the supreme Self, the mind emerges. Through the mind’s creative power, the world is spun out—a web woven of its own imaginations. Just as emptiness shines through emptiness, or as the pure sky gives rise to the blue hue we see, so do the lovely creepers of experience flourish. But when thoughts subside and the mind dissolves, the mist of worldly delusion fades away. Then, pure consciousness shines forth within you, clear and infinite like the autumn sky—one, unborn, original. The mind, being of the nature of action, arises first from thought, taking on the creative aspect of the lotus-born. It then produces this endless, diverse world, just as a child invents phantom bodies in play. What is made of non-being appears real at first, then dissolves and vanishes again. The mind itself, spread out as consciousness, manifests as a radiant form—like shimmering rings upon the ocean’s surface. This wondrous vision arises in the sky of awareness, without a doer, without limbs; there is no seer, yet experience happens—sleepless, yet showing dreams. It appears to be established in marvelous forms, conjuring future cities, abiding like the swirling heat above a fire, or a whirlpool upon water. Though it seems to have form, it is devoid of emptiness, like the brilliance of the sun in the sky; it is visible in space like a cluster of gems, yet unsupported by anything. Like a city imagined in thought, it seems solid and experienced, yet is made of nothing; its essence is only the semblance of a story’s meaning, existing nowhere, yet seeming to exist. Though utterly without substance, it appears to have an inner core, like a mountain seen in a dream—shining with forms like the sky, yet empty. Like a distant autumn cloud, its dissolution is imperceptible; like color in the sky, it appears visible but has no real substance. It is like the embrace of a dream-woman—seeming meaningful, yet truly empty; like a blooming garden of the mind, it appears delightful but lacks any true essence. It stands like light without brilliance, like a painted sun or fire; 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 feeble, withered shoots of elements; inert and without essence, it shines like the hollow trunk of a plantain tree. Spread out like a circle of darkness seen by an open eye, it is utterly unreal in form, yet appears as if directly perceived. Like a bubble on water—without enjoyment, hollow within, yet with a vibrant form—its essence is the taste of reality, uninterrupted in arising and passing. Like mist that spreads out, though grasped, it is nothing at all; inert, the abode of emptiness, void for some, subtle as an atom. Things composed of elements are said to exist, but the void is not made of elements; when apprehended, it is of unreal nature, like a sharp blade that suddenly appears. At the end of a great age, what is seen remains like a sprout in a seed; later, it arises again from that same source—what is this? Are those who hold such understanding ignorant or truly wise? O revered one, speak clearly, dispelling all doubt. This vision, appearing at the end of a great cycle like a sprout in a seed, is called supreme ignorance only by those of childish understanding. What is it that remains untouched, even in contact? How can this be unreal? Such contrary notions are the cause of folly for both speaker and listener. The idea that the world exists like a sprout in a seed at the time of the seed is born of delusion. Hear how this is so: a seed is something visible, accessible to mind and senses; when it joins with earth and water, a sprout arises. But that which is beyond mind and senses, even subtler still—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 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? In that supreme state, pure and empty even beyond the elements of space, how could the world, Mount Meru, oceans, or sky exist? How could anything at all exist in that which is nothing? If something does exist there, why is it not seen as present? How could anything arise from nothing, or from where, or how? Could a mountain be born from the empty space within a pot—where, from what, and when? On the contrary, how could anything exist, as light and shadow do not coexist? How could darkness exist in the sun, or fire in ice? How can Mount Meru exist within an atom, or anything exist in the unformed? The union of what is and what is not is as impossible as the union of shadow and sunlight. It is reasonable to say that a sprout exists in a seed with form, like that of a banyan tree; but it is not reasonable to say that this vast world exists in something formless. Whatever, in another place or person, is not perceived by the mind or any sense—such things do not exist at all for the awareness of that particular mind; this is what is said. Whoever says that an effect returns to become its cause is confused; by what means does that effect arise, along with its multitude of cooperating causes? Set aside the imagined distinction of cause and effect, conceived by those of dull intellect; know that whatever truly exists—this beginningless and endless world—alone stands as reality. And if you claim that the original sprout of the world exists there, then it exists at that time; tell me, by what cooperating causes does it arise? Thus, O Rama, contemplate deeply the subtle truth of existence and the wondrous play of consciousness.