In this world, living beings take on countless forms and conditions, shaped by their own tendencies and actions. Some, their vitality sapped by the embrace of forest creepers, bushes, grasses, and the gentle touch of dew, exist as trees—kadamba, jambu, sala, tala, and tamala among them. Others become kings, ruling over territories, intoxicated by the power and wealth they possess, while some, draped in simple bark garments, seek refuge in the tranquil silence of the sages. Many assume the forms of animals—snakes gliding in the undergrowth, cows and elephants moving through field and forest, worms, insects, and even humble ants. Some are mighty lions, buffaloes, deer, bears, yaks, and antelopes, each living according to their nature. Others become birds—cranes, chakravaka ducks, herons, crows, and cuckoos—while some transform into lotuses, water-lilies, white lotuses, and blue lotuses, adorning ponds and rivers. There are those who become camels, elephants, moths drawn to the flame, bulls, and donkeys. Others take the form of bees, mosquitoes, flies, gnats, or are born among biting insects. Some beings are pressed down by misfortune, while others enjoy prosperity; some reside in heavenly realms, and some descend into hell. Still others are situated among the stars or dwell in the hollows of ancient trees. Some abide as the wind, invisible yet ever-present, while others are established in the vastness of space itself. There are those who dwell in the sun’s rays, others in the gentle beams of the moon. Some find their being in the sweet sap of grasses, creepers, and bushes. Among all these, some are liberated while living—moving freely as vessels of auspiciousness—while others, long-liberated, remain, matured in the supreme state. There are those who, after much time, will attain liberation, even if deceitful; some, with ill intent, scorn the pure state of the Self. Some are born in this world, some are established elsewhere, and some abide in neither here nor there, but reside only in the supreme state. Among them, some become the great mountains—Mahendra, Malaya, Sahya, Mandara, and Meru. Others become the vast oceans—salty, milky, of ghee, of sugarcane, and of pure water. Some beings manifest as the vast directions, some as mighty rivers; some as women of enchanting beauty, while others become fierce eunuchs. There are those with awakened intellects, and others of dull disposition; some become teachers of knowledge, while some are absorbed in deep samadhi. Overwhelmed by their own tendencies, living beings find themselves helpless, bound in various conditions by their own notions. They wander within the treasury of the world, rising and falling endlessly, struck again and again by death, like balls tossed by a playful hand. Tied by hundreds of cords of desire and burdened by latent impressions, they move from body to body, like birds flying from tree to tree. Through the endless fabrications of thought and the magic of imagination, they weave this vast world, which is like an illusion. They drift in the ocean of worldly existence, caught like waves in a whirlpool, unable to see their own faultless Self due to delusion. But when one perceives the Self, abandons the unreal, and attains true awareness, in time they reach the ultimate state and are not born here again. After countless births, through knowledge or austerity, some attain the supreme state of the Creator and reach the highest goal. Yet, some, even after reaching the highest position of Indra, due to a sense of insignificance, return again to animal birth, and from there, to human birth as well. Others, endowed with great intelligence, are born from the state of Brahma and, in that very birth, merge completely into that state. In other cosmic eggs, some become those born from the lotus or attain the state of Hari, each proceeding according to their own path. Some go to the state of animals, others to the condition of celestial beings, and yet others do not attain any state at all, O Rama—just as it is here, so it is elsewhere. Just as this world is vast, so too are there countless other worlds; many have passed away, and many more will come into being. Through various causes and in diverse ways, wondrous creations arise and dissolve for these beings, one after another. Some attain the state of gandharvas, some become yakshas, some enter the state of celestial women, and some become demons. In whatever manner beings live in this universe, so too do they exist in others, though the arrangements may differ. By the force of their own nature and mutual interactions, creations revolve like waves on a river—appearing and disappearing, rising and subsiding, endlessly. From that ineffable, self-experienced source, streams of living beings constantly emerge and shine forth. Just as sight arises from a lamp, rays from the sun, particles from heated iron, and sparks from fire; just as seasons arise from time, fragrance from flowers, droplets from falling water, and waves from the ocean—so too, over time, the streams of living beings abandon body after body and return to their own state, dissolving back into the source. This creation, spread out without interruption, stands tall, perishes, and grows—yet all in vain, like a wave in the ocean. It is the illusion of bewilderment in the construction of the three worlds, all within the supreme state. Then, O Lord, a question arises: by what process does a living being, having attained stability in the Self, take up the body, the cage of bones? The answer comes: This has already been explained, O Rama—has your discernment for examining the past and future faded? Know that this body and all the world, both stationary and moving, are merely appearances; they are unreal, like something arising in a dream. This, O Rama, is a long dream, seen falsely, like the illusion of seeing two moons or a mountain appearing distorted to one whose vision is confused.