After a long separation, like the two halves of a wheel finally joined, or like the peacock and the raincloud brought together by the monsoon’s deep bond, Bhrigu and his son Bhargava were united once more. For a while they remained together, sharing stories that rekindled their enduring yearning for truth. Then, the wise one rose up, stirred by the tale that had been told. Together, in that sacred place, they performed the proper rites and reduced the twice-born body to ashes, for who in this world does not follow the path of right conduct? In that pure forest, Bhrigu and Bhargava stood, radiant with the glow of their austerities, shining like the moon and the sun together in the sky. Having realized all that needed to be known, liberated even while living, these two became teachers to the world. They moved about with ease, their austerity steady and light, unshaken by the waves of place, time, or circumstance. In the fullness of time, Śukra attained the honored role of preceptor to the asuras, while Bhrigu remained in his own flawless, proper state. Śukra, first born from that supreme state, was later cast into various other conditions through his own lapse of memory. In the beginning, Bhārgava’s pure mind arose from the state of Brahman, untouched by the taint of any other birth. When all desires are stilled and the mind is pure, the state that arises is called sattva—a spotless consciousness. Whatever the mind, whose essence is pure sattva, contemplates, it swiftly comes into being, just as a whirlpool forms in the ocean’s waters. The confusion that arose in Bhrigu’s son illustrates what happens to every individual. Just as a seed produces its own sprout, leaves, and so forth, so too does a cluster of delusions arise for all living beings. Whatever is perceived as this universe, so it is; all manifestations arise falsely and pass away in the same manner. The world neither truly arises nor sets for anyone; it is a delusion—a display of maya—expanding in vain. Just as this world-egg appears in our own perception, so too, countless unseen worlds exist for others. Like dream-cities or imagined cities, whose activities are invisible to each other, so too are the cycles of worldly delusion separate for each being. There are cities in the sky, formed by imagination—existing, yet seen only by the eye of knowledge. Likewise, spirits, yakṣas, and demons are beings whose bodies are made of thought, woven of pleasure and pain. In the same way, O delight of the Raghu lineage, we and all these beings are formed from our own imagination, possessing the nature of both falsehood and reality. The cycle of creation exists in this manner—not truly real, for in reality, it abides in the unreal. Thus, the world arises for each individual as an illusion, just as the sap of spring appears in the form of new shoots. This first imagination of one’s own self becomes firmly established, just as something is conceived as supremely real by intense conviction. The mind, arising in each individual, remains within its own nature; seeing the world as this or that, it perishes. By the force of appearance, things seem to exist or not, depending on perception; the web of the world is a long dream, tethered to the mighty elephant of the mind. Consciousness is the very existence of the world, and the world’s existence is shaped by consciousness; if either is absent, both cease to be—this is established by true inquiry. The reflection that appears in pure consciousness is real, just as saffron dye adheres only to an unstained cloth. When something is not brought by another, a different quality will arise; when consciousness is not seized by thoughts, its own awareness emerges. Just as gold does not settle on a soiled garment, so too a single-pointed vision does not remain in a tainted mind. By polishing a gem or by proper means with copper, so too, through long and steady practice, the mind becomes purified. In the world, which is of the nature of appearance, sequences of time and action arise and fall away—how can they exist in the pure mind? Just as this world is seen by the pure mind, inherited from father and mother, so it abides in that mind, like a peacock’s egg within the peacock. From the storehouse of its own nature, this is tasted and gradually arises—just as from a seed come the sprout, leaves, creeper, flower, and fruit. The living being perceives within only that which is the essence of its own tendencies; the analogy is a dream, and this world is but a long dream. O Rama, each individual distinctly experiences the forest of worldly existence within himself, just as one clearly sees a network of dreams—armies and men—within oneself at night. This multitude of worldly existences may come together by itself, or perhaps not; if not, let it be properly explained. A mind that is impure and weak is not fit for mutual union, just as unheated iron does not merge with iron, but pure and heated iron does. Pure essences of mind unite with each other, just as waters of the same kind merge together, but not those separated by barriers. Indeed, the purity of mind is the absence of tendencies, a single state of non-experience; from that state of deep sleep, upon awakening, by the operation of subtle causes, association with others arises. Both activity and withdrawal are preceded by the attainment of subtle elements, for all living beings, immediately after the state of deep sleep. Those living beings who are engaged in activity have reached the state of subtle elements, and by the unity of those subtle elements, they mutually perceive the imagined creations.