O Rama, listen with a tranquil mind. This world, which appears so real and solid, neither truly exists nor is it imperishable. It is always in a state of decline, subject to change and destruction; therefore, we know it is not eternal. When one who acts in this world is free from inner fever—when he has transcended the senses and their objects—he moves through life without weariness, untouched by fatigue, even as he engages in action. Thus, understand that the established order of things is mature, governed by the alternating states of being and non-being. This condition, which arises solely from the mind, is stable and enduring in its own way, not subject to true destruction. A lifespan of a hundred autumns is but a tiny fragment in the expanse of endless time. If someone places their hopes in such longevity, what lasting gain do they truly achieve? If the states of the world were truly stable, then attachment to them would still not be fitting, for how can there be real union between the inert and the conscious? And if the states of the world are unstable, attachment is even less appropriate, for in the end, these fleeting things—like foam on water—bring only sorrow. O mighty-armed one, the bond of attachment between the self and the changing states of the world does not shine among the stable or the unstable, just as there is no connection between foam and a mountain. Though the self is the doer of all, it acts as if it does nothing at all, remaining perfectly indifferent—like a lamp that simply shines upon all, unaffected by what it illuminates. In action, the self does not truly act, just as the sun, though it appears to bring about the day’s activities, remains untouched and established in its own place. It moves not, though all things move by its presence. This world seems to have arisen from somewhere, like a whirlwind or a water-eddy, or like the wind spreading dust in a storm—appearing all around, yet without true origin. If, O Rama, you have discerned this clearly and examined it with a mind purified by right understanding, then let this be your wisdom: mental construction regarding objects is not appropriate. Where is the place for imagination in a firebrand circle, in a dream, or in a delusion? A being who appears suddenly is no vessel for true friendship, nor is one who seeks refuge in the web of the world, which is itself an illusion. Just as you do not rely on heat in the moon, coolness in the sun, or water in a mirage, so too, do not place your trust in worldly existence. See this world as you see the person in thought, the people in dreams, or the confusion of seeing two moons—recognize it as born of imagination. Abandon inner attachment, which is woven from the splendor of imagination. Be who you truly are in this world, O sinless one, and play freely. For the self established in non-doership, even when performing actions and abiding in all states, yet transcending all, there is neither doership nor agency. This order arises merely by proximity, just as illumination appears simply by the presence of a lamp. Just as, with the mere presence of clouds, the white jasmine flowers bloom on their own, so too, by the mere presence of the self, the three worlds exist by themselves. Just as the sun, devoid of desire, remains in the sky, yet the glory of activity arises when the god exists, so too does action occur. Just as radiance arises from a jewel simply by its presence, so too does this multitude of worlds exist merely by the being of the divine. Therefore, in the self, both doership and non-doership are established. Being without desire, the self is a non-doer, yet by mere presence, it is the doer. Because the self is beyond all the senses, it is neither doer, nor enjoyer, nor the cause of beings; but when associated with the senses, it alone becomes the doer and enjoyer. O sinless one, only two states exist in the self: doership and non-doership. Whichever you see as leading to the highest good, take refuge in that and remain steadfast. With the firm conviction, “I am non-doer everywhere,” even while performing actions that arise by force of circumstance, you remain untouched. When, with the awareness “I am non-doer everywhere,” the desire for enjoyment arises, it becomes tasteless for the one whose mind does not engage in it. Where there is the firm understanding, “Here I do nothing at all,” who would pursue or abandon the multitude of enjoyments there? Therefore, always contemplate, “I am non-doer”; by this, only supreme equanimity, the nectar of immortality, remains. But if you wish, O Rama, to abide in the state of “I do everything,” with the notion of being the great doer, know that as the highest as well. Where I perform this entire illusory world, how can there be attraction or aversion for another, since no one else truly exists? When my body is burned by one and cherished by another, both are my own doing; what order can there be in pain and pleasure? In the expansion of my happiness and sorrow, in the arising and dissolution of the web of the world, thinking “I am the doer,” what order can there be in inner pain and pleasure? When the play of fatigue and delight, arising from the sense of self-agency, subsides by itself, only equanimity remains. That equanimity toward all things is the true, supreme state; when the mind abides in it, it no longer suffers. Or, O Rāghava, renounce all notions of agency and non-agency; having abandoned everything and absorbed the mind, remain firm as you truly are. The vision that dwells on thoughts such as “This is me, this is not me; I do this, I do not do this,” is not for satisfaction. The notion “I am the body” is the path of the thread of time, the snare of the great wave, the series of sword-leaved forests. That notion must be abandoned with every effort, even when all else is destroyed; it should not be touched, like a piece of flesh by an outcaste. When that notion is cast far away, like a crimson line in the vision, the supreme insight arises, like moonlight when the clouds have vanished. Knowing clearly within, “I am not the agent, nor am I this, nor that,” or, having resolved, “I am the agent, I am all this,” or, “I am someone, I am no one,”—stand in your highest state, as those who know the path and the best sages abide in their own place.