O Rama, consider how neither the knower nor the ignorant can truly deny what has been directly experienced, no matter how much effort they may exert. This is as impossible as making a corpse walk. For the one who has realized the truth, it is natural to declare, “All this world is Brahman,” for such a person has transcended ignorance and directly encountered the supreme reality. This profound statement, however, shines only in the realm of those who are awakened. For the awakened, there is nothing left to assert as “I am this” or “I am that.” The wise one, having experienced directly that “This is indeed the supreme, peaceful Brahman,” cannot possibly deny what he himself has seen. Just as gold itself bears neither the traits of the goldsmith nor the ornament fashioned from it, so too, in me, there is no trace of “Vasishtha-ness” apart from the Supreme. For the ignorant, apart from the elements, there is nothing real within themselves; just as in gold, the notions of wave and such are not ultimately true, so too, for the deluded, there is no lasting reality. The deluded are shaped by false egoity, while the wise are composed of the one true Self. In neither case is there ever a denial of their own essential nature. How could anyone deny what is intrinsic to their being? For someone to say, “I am a pot,” would simply be madness. Therefore, neither are we truly real, nor are these ropes and similar things truly existent anywhere. Both these and ourselves are unreal—there is, in truth, no origin for us. What alone exists is the pure awareness of truth, the space of consciousness: stainless, all-pervading, peaceful, and ever-rising, never diminished. All is that truth, yet it is void even of emptiness, abiding as if nothing at all. Within that space, O dear one, all these perceptions shine forth as the radiance of one’s own Self. Just as one with diseased eyes naturally sees visions—like hairs or floating balls—so too do these creations appear in that consciousness. As one knows oneself, so does one instantly experience reality; thus, in the space of consciousness, even what is unreal seems real due to that perception. Here, nothing is truly real nor unreal; whatever form consciousness perceives, that indeed arises, without doubt. Just as ropes and other things appear, so too have we arisen; whether true or false, what does it matter, dear one, since all is but conceptualization. In this infinite sky of consciousness, all-pervading and formless, consciousness itself arises and moves as it wills, shining forth perfectly. Wherever awareness manifests as ropes and the like, there it is fully present, according to the experience of that particular form. The appearance of one’s own dream is called “the world”; in the sky of consciousness, its form is like a mirage of water seen by a thirsty deer. Where the sky of consciousness is awake, there the name “visible” is given; where it is asleep, by that same principle, the name “liberation” is given. Yet it is never entirely asleep nor ever fully awake; know that the sky of consciousness alone is perceived as the world. Liberation itself is the glory of creation, and the glory of creation itself is liberation; there is truly no difference in meaning between these two, just as with synonyms. In ultimate reality, the form called “world” perceives its own nature, just as the eye of one with eye disease sees a hair or speck. There is nothing like a ball of hair; that perception remains as it is. This is not an object seen, nor is it anything at all; thus, the consciousness-space is established. Everywhere, everything exists as experienced; nothing at all is here that is not experienced. This is peaceful, ever-present, and all-pervading; thus it abides, free from doubt and division—therefore, rest in this. This form of the great consciousness is dense like a mountain cave, tranquil, and clear as the sky. Nowhere in perception is there either existence or non-existence; whatever exists, that alone shines forth as good. Now, for the sake of the rope, snake, and pot, at that very moment, when requested by Yama’s attendants, Yama spoke these words—listen, O descendant of Raghu. When these entities undergo separation and hear the story of their own origin, then, without doubt, the ropes and others will certainly be released. But where, when, and how will they hear this account of themselves from you, O Lord? By whom will the sequence of the story, as you narrate it, be heard? On the marshy banks of the great lotus lake in Kashmir, after experiencing the succession of births as fish, restless with unfulfilled desires, they will in time reach dissolution; there, in the lotus lake, they will become swans. Amid garlands of water-lilies, clusters of lotuses, and the winding creepers of śevāla grass, where the waves curl and wind about, on swinging beds of white water-lilies, among the vines of blue lotuses, in the lines of clouds formed by masses of dewdrops, and in the cool swirling eddies, these ornaments of the world will enjoy the delights of those lakes and waters. Having sported there for a long time, they will finally attain purity. Having attained union, they will then become separated for the sake of liberation, just as the qualities of rajas, sattva, and tamas become distinct by chance. Within the region of Kashmir, there will be a splendid city adorned with mountains, known as Adhiṣṭhāna. In its midst will stand a peak called Pradyumnaśikhara, a luminous summit of a lotus, like the wheel of its pericarp at the center. On the summit of that mountain, some king will build his palace—a great mansion like a cloud-capped pine, a peak upon a peak. In the northeastern corner of the house, at the base of the mountain wall, in its hollow where the wind constantly stirs the marked blades of grass, there, in the mansion, the demon Vyāla will become a sparrow, like a student with little learning, uttering meaningless cries. At that very time and place, there will be a king named Śrī Yaśaskaradeva, like another Indra in heaven.