Listen, O wise one, to the subtle truth of the mind and its workings. The mind, as it manifests in the world, possesses three bodies: one superior, one inferior, and one middling. These correspond to the qualities of darkness, purity, and activity—tamas, sattva, and rajas. It is through these that the world, in all its diversity, comes into being. When the imagination of the mind is steeped in darkness, it acts purely on instinct, driven by its lowest tendencies. Such a mind, caught in ignorance, falls into extreme misery and descends to the states of worms and insects. On the other hand, imagination suffused with purity is devoted to righteousness and true knowledge. Such a mind draws near to liberation and attains a measure of sovereignty in this life. The imagination characterized by activity, however, is continually engaged in worldly dealings. It remains bound to the cycle of birth and death, ever attached to children, spouse, and the affairs of the world. But, O wise one, there is a path beyond these three. When one abandons the forms of darkness, purity, and activity, and turns the gaze inward to examine the Self, imagination itself reaches the supreme state. By letting go of all perceptions and restraining the mind with the mind, one brings about the cessation of imagination—both of external and internal objects. Know this: even if you were to perform the most severe austerities for a thousand years, or even if you were to crush your own body to powder in a playful act; even if you were to plunge into the ocean or the submarine fire, or fall into a deep chasm or upon a bed of sword-edges; even if Shiva, Vishnu, Brahma, the lord of speech, or the lord of the world, overwhelmed with supreme compassion, were your teacher; whether you dwell in the netherworld, on earth, or in heaven—there is no other means for liberation except the cessation of imagination. Therefore, in the beginningless, changeless, supremely pure happiness that is your true nature, make the highest effort, using your own strength, to bring imagination to an end. All phenomena, O sinless one, are strung on the thread of imagination; when that thread is broken, none can say where those waves of phenomena go. Everything—unreal, real, and that which is both real and unreal—arises only from imagination, not otherwise. Since both the real and unreal spring from imagination, what truth can truly be said to exist here? Whatever is imagined, just so does it become in an instant. Therefore, O knower of truth, never imagine anything at all. Be free of mental constructs; act as situations arise. When mental constructs are dissolved, consciousness turns toward its own pure nature, beyond the grasp of objects. It is through the rise of unreality that this world, sorrowful and futile, has spread out—reflecting the nature of the mind itself. Why, O sinless one, would anyone seek that which brings great sorrow? The wise seek only that which is free from sorrow, never the opposite. Having attained the highest reality, forcefully cast aside the net of conceptualization. Realize that nondual state, whose happiness is all-pervading, with the mind resting as it does in deep sleep. At this point, a question arises: “Father, what is this mental construct like? How does it arise, O Lord? How does it grow, and how does it come to an end?” The answer is thus: The inclination of consciousness toward objects, within the infinite reality of the Self—which is pure existence—is known as the sprout of mental construct. When this inclination attains even a slight degree of existence, it becomes dense; the mind, filling the space, becomes inert and firm, like a cloud. When consciousness contemplates an object as if it were separate from itself, it becomes a mental construct, just as a seed becomes a sprout. Imagination itself is the act of imagining. It arises spontaneously, quickly grows by its own force, and leads only to suffering, never to happiness. You are nothing but a mere thought, just as the ocean is nothing but water. Apart from imagination, there is truly no transmigration for you. By a chance conjunction, you have come into being, truly in vain; like the wavering of a mirage, you grow in unreality. Just as someone, seeing a yellow fruit swallowed by another, mistakenly believes it to be gold, so too does an unreal thought arise within you on its own. You are born from unreality and grow in unreality; when true knowledge arises, being unreal, you dissolve. Thinking, “This is me, these are my experiences, filled with pleasure and pain,” you are tormented within, but all in vain. Truly, you were never born, nor do you exist—how could there be birth from what is not? In vain, you are deluded, subject to imagination by your own nature. Do not imagine imagination; do not fixate on any state. By this very understanding, you become what is to be, for the sake of what is to be. Your effort to destroy imagination does not go very far; by the mere absence of mental construction, imagination is dissolved in the heart. There may be some disturbance even in the gentle crushing of a flower, but by mere absence, it is easily done; the same cannot be said for the destruction of imagination by force. The effort of the hand in plucking a flower may be suitable for a child, and even that helps in this, but not in the complete eradication of imagination. Imagination, which is to be destroyed, can be effortlessly annihilated, even in half a moment, by the contrary mode of thought. When, by mere cessation of thought, one abides established in one’s own Self, what is impossible to accomplish? For whom would anything be unattainable? With imagination itself, O sage, pierce through imagination by your own mind; abide in your own Self—what is so difficult in this? When imagination is pacified, all is pacified. O wise one, the incomparable suffering of worldly existence is calmed from its very root. Imagination, mind, individual soul, thought, intellect, and latent tendency—these differ only in name, not in substance, O best of those who know reality. Apart from mental constructs, nothing at all exists anywhere here. Cut off that very root from your heart—why grieve over anything else? Just as the sky is empty, so too is the world empty; both arise from unreal imagination, and therefore, they are the same.