By the grace of the venerable Brahman, a soul ascended and became a great Vidyādhara, soaring through the skies. He was adorned with pearl necklaces and gleaming armlets, delighting in the company of playful assemblies. To the lotus-faced maidens, he shone like the sun, and with his flower-bow, he resembled another Cupid. He became beloved among the Vidyādhara women and stood as an ornament in the city of the Gandharvas. As time passed and an aeon drew to its close in the realm ruled by the twelve suns, his existence was reduced to mere ashes, much like a moth consumed in the fire. In the vast sky, now empty of the creation of worlds, his latent impression wandered aimlessly, like a bird without a nest. When the cycle of time brought forth a new and wondrous beginning, at the reversal of the Brahmā night, the tumult of worldly existence resumed. That lingering mental impression, carried by the wind, assumed the state of a brāhmaṇa at the dawn of the new creation and was born upon the earth. O sage, that boy—known as Vasudeva—was born among the wise and mastered all the scriptures. Having once been a Vidyādhara for an age, today, O great sage, your son practices austerity on the bank of the Samaṅgā river. Driven by various difficult tendencies, he wandered through the hollows of acacia and karanja trees, into the wombs of aged beings, and into the densest forest thickets. With matted hair and a rosary, having subdued the confusion of all his senses, he remained there in firm austerity for eight hundred years. If you wish, O sage, to see that son whose mind wanders, then quickly open the eye of knowledge and behold him. When the Lord of the universe spoke thus, the sage, with an even gaze, reflected with the eye of knowledge upon his son's welfare. In a moment, by the power of intuition, he saw the entire story of his son reflected in the mirror of his intellect. Then Bhṛgu, coming from the bank of the Samaṅgā, entered his own body again, standing on the slope of Mount Mandara at the appointed time. Smiling in wonder, the passionless sage looked at Time and spoke these words to the beloved, who was also free from passion: "O Lord, Master of past and future, we are but children, untainted; only the wise like you, O god, possess a mind that perceives the three times, pure and clear. This course of the world, though full of many forms and changes, and appearing real though it is unreal, creates confusion even for the steadfast. You alone, O god, know what dwells within you—the nature of this mental activity, which produces the illusion, like a magician’s trick. "O Lord, it is said that death does not exist for this son of mine; therefore, seeing him dead, I became bewildered. I thought, ‘Time has taken my son, whose life was not yet spent’; but, O god, by the force of destiny, your curse has manifested in me. But, knowing the ways of the world, we do not fall under the sway of joy or anger, whether we encounter misfortune or fortune. "Anger arises at one who acts wrongly, and favor towards one who acts rightly—such is the established worldly condition, O Lord. This is to be done, this is not to be done—such is the order of the world for as long as one lives; just as long as fire exists, so long are heat, burning, and the like perceived. The existence of the world for one who thinks, 'This is to be accepted, this is to be rejected,' is itself to be abandoned, O teacher of the world, for such a person. "It is only when we, without seeing our child, were agitated with thoughts about her, O blessed one, that we came to you; let this be spoken. Now, O Lord, by your reminder, I have seen my son on the riverbank with Samaṅgā; thus, he has been seen by me. "I think, among beings in the world, there are not two bodies; for the mind alone is the body, by which this world is conceived. You have spoken rightly, O Brahman, that the mind alone is our body; it fashions the body by imagination, just as a potter shapes a pot. It creates what was not formed, and instantly destroys what was made; by imagination, the mind, out of delusion, acts like a child with a clay doll. "In the same way, in confusion, dream, and false knowledge, radiant powers appear in the mind, taking the form of illusory cities of the Gandharvas. Relying on this gross perception, O great sage, it is said that a person has two bodies: the mind and the physical body. "This threefold world is merely a creation of the mind’s imagination; it arises as a vast appearance, neither truly existent nor nonexistent, O sage. Because of the tendency to see distinctions as mind and body, and due to the force of that habit, this diversity arises from ignorance, just as the illusion of two moons appears. "Because of the strong habit of perceiving difference, the mind sees everywhere a multitude of objects—pots, cloth, forests, and so on—as separate. Thoughts such as 'I am weak, extremely miserable, deluded,' and others arise; when the mind contemplates these self-created notions, it enters into worldly existence. "But when one realizes, 'This conceptualization is artificial, it is not truly mine, I do not fall because of it,' then the mind, freed from that, becomes peaceful and attains the eternal Brahman. "Just as on the vast expanse of the ocean’s shore, with its countless waves, there are many beautiful, gentle ripples arising in succession, so too, in water—calm, clear, pure, sweet, cool, indestructible, expansive, and of great splendor—a wave with three edges, contemplating its own form, by its own nature, imagines itself as 'I am three-edged,' and thus creates its own conception. When it is broken and loses its shape, it thinks 'I am shattered,' and by such contemplation, it becomes as it imagines, descending to the earth." Thus, the sage reflected on the nature of mind, body, and the world, recognizing the power of imagination and the illusion of distinctions, and ultimately the path to peace and realization of the eternal Brahman.