Listen, O Raghava, to the wisdom that dissolves all confusion. Consider water and wave: to see water as one thing and the wave as another is the ignorance of diversity; but to recognize that the wave is nothing but water is true knowledge of unity. From ignorance is born suffering—the endless cycle of what we must accept or reject. But when knowledge dawns, all boundaries fade, and only the infinite remains. The forms and movements of the mind are but imagined by thought, and are themselves unreal. Tell me, Raghava, when the unreal is dispelled, what suffering can possibly remain? Just as a relative for whom you feel neither affection nor aversion is seen with a tranquil mind, so too should you behold the world of appearances—as your very own Self, free from attachment. In the same way, pleasure or pain from such a distant relative leaves you untouched. So too, one established in the knowledge of the Supreme Self remains unaffected by the play of opposites. That ancient, auspicious knowledge is the middle ground between seer and seen; established in that truth, the mind becomes utterly peaceful, like dust settling when the wind has ceased. When the restless wind of the mind is stilled, the dust of the body settles, and in the city of worldly existence the mists of confusion do not arise again. When the rain of latent impressions has ceased, and their support is exhausted, tranquility arises—when dullness and the trembling of the heart are gone, and the mire of ignorance has dried up. Within the great forest of the heart, as the vines of thirst wither and the senses lose their hold, the dense mass of false knowledge is wounded. The mist of delusion dissolves like night at dawn; that dullness departs, just as poison vanishes when neutralized by a mantra. On the mountain of the body, the rivers of the nine openings no longer flow abundantly, and the bright-winged flocks of thoughts do not rise up. The cavity of one’s consciousness attains supreme purity; the sun of the soul shines forth, clear and radiant at the great dawn. Freed from the heavy burden of delusion, having attained supreme solitude, the directions of hope and desire are washed clean and tranquil. The pure, joyful blossom of the sky shines intensely, cooling the quarters like moonlight in the autumn sky. With the radiance of all prosperity, the ground of discernment becomes utterly fruitful, filled with supreme bliss. A world arises, adorned with mountains and forests, supremely beautiful in its light, pure, clear, and shaded with coolness. The lake of the heart attains expanded tranquility, becoming pure and clear, its lotus center shining with unblemished clarity. The restless bee of self-conceit departs from the core of the heart’s lotus, never to return. Such a one becomes free from expectation, all-pervading, master of all, devoid of impressions, with a peaceful mind—lord of his own bodily city. With the lamp of self-knowledge, attained through inquiry, shining in the mind, and with a steadfast intellect, when all agitation has ceased, he observes the paths beyond decay and fear, free from fever, shining in the city of the body. O Brahman, tell me again, for the growth of my understanding: how does this universe, established as it is, abide in the consciousness that transcends the universe? Just as waves, though destined to arise, remain unmanifest in water and are not seen due to their subtlety, so too are the creations within the essence of consciousness. Like space—subtle and all-pervading, yet unseen—the indivisible portion of consciousness, though present everywhere, is not perceived. As the reflection of a woman appears within a jewel without truly existing or not existing, so too this creation within the Self is neither real nor unreal. Just as the sky is untouched by clouds, birds, or anything that moves within it, so too the supreme consciousness is untouched by the creations or supports that arise within it. Just as fire is reflected only in the ocean and not in me, so too consciousness is evident only in the subtle body, not in the physical bodies. Free from all intentions and devoid of all designations, this consciousness is known only by expressions such as ‘indestructible essence.’ Subtler than a hundredth part of space, for the wise it appears as formless; yet it alone witnesses the entire pure and impure world, seeing its unity. Just as waves and other forms arise in the vast ocean, so too, apart from pure consciousness, these diverse manifestations do not truly appear. Consciousness apprehends both the conscious and the object of consciousness; thus, this world abides in the Self. Through notions of knowing and not knowing, the idea of difference arises, and one imagines something exists. In the ignorant, consciousness appears as the manifold world, fierce and unreal; in the wise, she is light itself, truly one with all, the essence of everything. Ever-present, according to experience, she illumines the sun and all else; she is the taste of all beings, the imagination of those who imagine existence. She neither sets nor rises, neither stands nor remains; she neither goes nor comes, nor is she here or not here—such is consciousness. This pure-formed consciousness, established in itself, O Raghava, unfolds in manifold ways under the name ‘world.’ Just as light shines through masses of light, and water through bodies of water, so too consciousness vibrates through the manifold commotions of creation. By its own nature—called consciousness, all-pervading, self-arising—it manifests as both light and non-light, as indivisible and as bearing divisions. By the power of self-reflection, abandoning the endless state, it gradually attains ignorance, with the notion ‘I am this.’ When diversity has grown, following the course of transmigration, it reaches the state where grasping and releasing of being and non-being come to rest. The subtle body, with its many vibrations, both acts and does not act; like a mass of sprouts dwelling in the earth, it rises up. Space, whose nature is emptiness, accepts all forms without opposition; wind, whose only property is movement, and water, whose nature is taste, are similar. Thus, O Raghava, all this arises and abides in consciousness alone, untouched, pure, and ever free.