In this vast and mysterious universe, living beings take on countless forms and destinies. Some are born here in this world, while others find their existence established elsewhere. There are those who do not dwell in any particular place, but abide solely in the supreme, transcendental state. Among these beings, some become the great mountains—Mahendra, Malaya, Sahya, Mandara, and Meru—standing tall and steadfast. Others take the form of the oceans: the salty sea, the milky ocean, the ocean of clarified butter, the sugarcane ocean, and the ocean of pure water. Some manifest as the immense directions that stretch across space, or as the mighty rivers that flow through the land. There are those who appear as women with enchanting beauty, and others who are fierce eunuchs. The diversity continues: some beings possess awakened and sharp intellects, while others are dull and slow to understand. Some become teachers of wisdom and knowledge, while others are absorbed in the deep stillness of samadhi. Driven by their own tendencies, living beings find themselves helpless, caught in the web of their own ideas and notions. In these various states, they remain bound, unable to break free. Within the treasury of the world, beings wander—rising and falling, tossed ceaselessly by the hand of death, like balls thrown in a game. Bound by hundreds of cords of desire and burdened by the weight of latent impressions, they move from one body to another, just as birds flit from tree to tree. Through the endless fabrications of their thoughts and the play of imagination, they weave this vast world, which is but an illusion. In this way, they wander through the ocean of worldly existence, swirling like waves caught in a whirlpool. Lost in delusion, they fail to see their own faultless Self. But when, through insight, they see the Self and let go of the unreal, attaining true awareness, they reach the ultimate state and are not born into this world again. After experiencing thousands of births, some attain the supreme state of the Creator—either through knowledge or austerity—and reach the highest goal. Yet, even those who rise to the lofty position of Indra, if seized by a sense of insignificance, may fall again to animal birth, and from there, return to human birth. Some, endowed with great intelligence, are born from the state of Brahma, and in that very birth, merge completely into that state. Others, in different cosmic eggs, are born from the lotus or attain the state of Hari—each according to their own nature. Some descend to the state of animals, others ascend to the condition of celestial beings, and yet others do not attain any particular state at all. O Rama, just as it is here, so it is elsewhere. For 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 wondrous ways, different creations arise and dissolve in succession. Some attain the state of gandharvas, some become yakshas, others reach the condition of celestial women, and some enter the state of demons. By the very mode of conduct by which people exist in this universe, so do they exist in others, though the arrangements may differ. Through the force of their own nature and mutual interactions, creations revolve like waves upon a river—appearing and disappearing, rising and subsiding. From that ineffable, self-experienced source, streams of living beings constantly emerge, shining forth swiftly. Just as sight arises from a lamp, rays from the sun, particles from heated iron, and sparks from fire, so too do beings emanate from that source. Just as seasons arise from time, fragrances from flowers, droplets from falling water, and waves from the ocean, so do these streams of beings, again and again, abandon their succession of bodies and dissolve back into their own state. This creation, ever-unfolding, stands tall, perishes, grows, and does so in vain—like a wave in the ocean, it is an illusion, a bewildering play within the supreme state, constructing the three worlds. At this point, Rama asks, “By what process, O Lord, does the living being, after attaining stability in the Self, take up the body, this cage of bones?” The teacher replies, “I have already explained this before, O Rama—do you not understand? Where has your discernment gone, that once examined past and future so well?” He continues, “This body and all the world, both stationary and moving, are merely appearances—unreal, like something seen in a dream. This, O Rama, is a long dream, falsely perceived, like the illusion of seeing two moons or a mountain appearing distorted to one whose mind is confused. When the sleep of ignorance has truly faded and all notions have fallen away, one whose mind is awakened sees the dream of worldly existence, yet does not see it as real. The cycle of worldly existence, conceived by one’s own nature, always persists within living beings until liberation is attained. What is conceived by one’s own nature always exists within all, but the body itself is fleeting, like a whirlpool in water. Just as a sprout arises from a seed, a leaf from the sprout, a flower from the leaf, and fruit from the bud, so too does the body arise from the mind’s imagination. Since the body, formed by imagination, exists within the mind, O Rama, it appears outwardly, distinctly manifest. Whatever appears in the mind quickly becomes what is seen, just as a lump of clay takes the form of a pot. This world, O Raghava, is nothing but a manifestation of the mind’s imagination—it is not real, like the water seen in a mirage. By this very appearance, the body is perceived, just as a child, confused by fear, sees a goblin standing ahead. In the primal creation, the first appearance of a body arose in the mind of the all-pervading Brahmā, who abides within the lotus-womb. By the sequence of his intention alone, this endless creation has come into being—like the grand illusion conjured by a mighty magician.