Again and again, beings dissolve into nothingness, only to be born once more; their lives flicker and vanish like bubbles rising and falling on a flowing stream. They come and go, they linger and roar, each chasing after their own desires, swept along by the relentless current of births and deaths. Like madmen, driven by notions they have imposed upon themselves and by their own restless efforts, helpless people are carried away by fate. Thus, the endless cycles of existence—some forms stable, others unstable—revolve everywhere. All things return to and depart from the very nature of Brahman. Everything is born from itself: one thing becomes the cause of another, and each, in turn, perishes by another, yet ultimately dissolves according to its own nature. Just as the movement deep within water appears still when seen from the surface, so too, the interplay of the unreal and the real is perceived as pure consciousness alone. Like rivers imagined in the sky during the heat of summer, when the sky itself has no form, so too are the visions of creation observed within the essence of the mind. Under the influence of intoxication, one’s own self may appear as someone else; in the same way, from the mind, the essence of consciousness seems to exist as if it were something other than itself. This is neither real nor unreal; it is consciousness alone, remaining as it is—neither more nor less—just as gold remains present in ornaments such as bangles and rings. That by which you know sound, taste, form, and scent, O Rāghava, is the Self, the supreme Brahman, pervading and established in all. Beyond multiplicity and unity, for the pure Self that is all-pervading, any notion of a second is only imagination; otherwise, nowhere does it exist. Because there is no separate heap, the existence or nonexistence of another—whether auspicious or inauspicious—are but imagined creations; not in the Self itself, nor in the wind, do these distinctions truly exist. You are neither Rāma nor not Rāma; this is the state of Brahman. Free from all dualities, become the doer, rid of all affliction. Having placed before you and performed many kinds of actions, what is it that you should swiftly attain? Tell me, O knower of beings, what is proper. Let your mind rest in non-doership; desire nothing. Be established in your own clear, tranquil state, your mind as steady as an ocean of patience. Even with great effort, what is truly sought cannot be attained here by anyone. Therefore, consider this well and abandon all objects with your intellect. Recognize your own true nature as the supreme reality, the consciousness-self. Whether acting or not acting, whether in heaven or in hell, whatever disposition exists, the mind experiences accordingly. There is neither joy nor absence of joy, neither movement nor stillness, neither existence nor non-existence; and the wise do not know any intermediate state among these. For those whose minds are unattached, there is neither liberation nor bondage; but for those whose minds are attached, everything remains as it is. There is no bondage, no liberation, no one bound, nor any binding. This suffering arises from lack of awakening and dissolves upon awakening. The notion of bondage in the world is merely imagined, just as the notion of liberation is also imagined. Abandon everything, free from ego, established in the self; act wisely in the world, O Rāma, and remain. For all living beings, for all perceptions everywhere, and for all objects in their entirety, their origin is perpetually from Brahman. Worlds arise from that, abide for a time, and finally merge back completely; always absorbed in Brahman, just as waves are absorbed in the ocean. This is Brahman alone, established; there is no impurity nor purity here. Just as dust does not arise from the waves in water, so too, there is no true impurity. There is no second imagination here, O descendant of Raghu; apart from Brahman alone, just as apart from fire there is only heat. Brahman is free from suffering and free from attributes; this world, born from that, is suffering. O Brahman, I do not understand the meaning of your words, which are unclear. When this was spoken by Rāma, the sage Vasiṣṭha, lion among sages, began to reflect in his mind upon the instruction to the descendant of Raghu. He saw that Rāma’s mind had reached a great expansion, yet had not attained complete purity; it had gained some clarity, but was still unsettled by the reality here. His mind was well-developed, he knew what was to be known, and was wise—having reached the far shore of the teachings on liberation through discrimination. No one has any fault, nor is there ignorance in the Self, O Rāghava; yet until it is spoken, one does not attain rest. For one whose understanding is only half-developed, it is not proper to speak thus; by contemplating enjoyment with this view, he perishes. For one who has attained the supreme vision, the desire for enjoyment does not arise; at the time of final conclusion, it is fitting for Rāma to hold that all is Brahman. At first, the disciple should be purified by qualities such as tranquility and self-control; afterwards, he should be instructed that all this is Brahman, and that he himself is pure. If someone, ignorant and only half-awakened, declares that all is Brahman, he is thereby consigned to the net of great hells. For one whose intellect is awakened, whose desire for enjoyment is exhausted, and who is free from expectations, it is appropriate for the great soul to say: “There is no impurity of ignorance.” Having considered thus, the blessed one, remover of the darkness of ignorance, the foremost sage Vasiṣṭha, the illuminator of the earth, spoke. “Rāghava, the notion of stain in Brahman—whether it exists or not—should be spoken of at the time of final conclusion; you will know it yourself, O sinless one.” The one who knows this never deviates from equanimity, even when affected by smiling, wonder, delusion, joy, or anger. When illumination exists, it is like a lamp; when day exists, it is like the sun; when fragrance exists, it is like a flower; in the same way, the world arises spontaneously. This is merely an appearance, or perhaps only seems to be seen; like the movement of the wind, it is neither existent nor non-existent, but remains as if in between. Here, that which is not of the nature of the self perishes; how then can that which is of the nature of the self ever perish? Having cut through the poisonous tree of worldly existence—whose form is adorned with the buds of hope, shaken by the fierce serpents of suffering, blossoming with pleasures, and flowered with the blossoms of old age, shining with the creeper of craving—having broken the chains of the self with the sword of discernment, you are liberated and may roam freely, O Rāma, like an elephant released from its post.