In the course of his teachings, the sage addresses Rama with profound insight, revealing the nature of human endeavor and the true purpose behind all actions. He explains that whatever pursuits people undertake, whatever actions they perform, are ultimately for the sake of the body; none are for the sake of the deeper self. Whether in the netherworld, Brahma’s realm, heaven, or on earth, only a rare few saints possess genuine vision and clarity. He goes on to say that those who have transcended the habitual notions of acceptance and rejection—whose certainty in the unreal has faded—are exceedingly rare. One may rule the world, enter fire or water, but unless one attains the Self, no creature finds lasting rest. The truly wise, those who are great thinkers and heroes in the battle against their own senses, who destroy the fever of birth, are worthy of reverence. Everywhere, the five elements are present; nothing exists as a sixth. Whether on earth, in the netherworld, or in the sky, the wise mind finds little delight. For the knower who crosses the world by reasoning, the world appears as small as a cow’s hoofprint; but for one who abandons reasoning, it becomes a vast ocean of delusion. The universe, clear as a cluster of kadamba fruits, is the domain of the mind expanded in realization. When all is attained, what is left to give or enjoy? Rama, all the great acts of war performed by the unwise are merely for the sake of begging, ultimately bringing about the destruction of duality’s marks. Time alone, in a single epoch, within its fragile belly, brings about destruction as swiftly and forcefully as a thunderbolt to a sprout. Even the smallest portion of the Self is unsurpassed by anything—not even a blade of grass. When the three worlds are attained within that Self, what more could the knower desire? Though the earth is filled with countless mountains and oceans, its body is still not vast enough to fill the infinite expanse. In this world, with its mountains and nether realms, nothing truly serves any purpose for the knower of the Self. Such a one, who is expanded like space and established in consciousness, abides in the Self. The three worlds, vast as a great forest, are but hollow spaces, dusted with the mist of bodily illusion, delightful only in their tranquil movement. All the great mountains are mere foam on the pure ocean of infinite Brahman; the splendors of the world are like mirages in the blazing sun of consciousness. The waves of the great ocean of the Self’s reality are the kings of creation; the showers from the cloud of the supreme state are the visions found in the scriptures. The lights of the moon, sun, and fire, like pots and sticks, and the radiances of the lamp of consciousness, along with the hosts of elements, are all to be illumined. Long hidden, the selves wander in the forest of worldly existence; humans, gods, and demons are like deer, devoured by the pleasures of desire. The bodies of the world are barred by bones, their heads covered, bound by sinews; the jewels of living beings are encased in flesh within the world’s forms. Like innocent young deer led about by others in the forest, women—dolls of skin—exist for the amusement of childish minds. A mind so vast and noble as this does not waver amidst floods of pleasures, just as a mountain does not move in the wind from a mouth. In that lofty state, O Rama, the knower stands firm, for whom even the realms of moon and sun seem as low as the netherworld to us. Those well-versed in the worlds, both seen and unseen, perceive beings tossed in the ocean of existence as we see reptiles. None of these worldly states delight the knower of truth, just as the filth of a bad village does not please a city-dweller or his beloved. Even when nearby, none of these worldly states stir the knower, just as clouds do not move the vast heart of the sky. None of these worldly phenomena delight the knower, just as dancing female monkeys do not please Shiva, who seeks the dance of Gauri. Nor does a jewel reflected in a pot please one who has seen the original jewel. Having seen the world as insubstantial, like a reflection formed by a wave on water, the knower of reality does not take pleasure in worldly enjoyments, just as a royal swan does not delight in blades of grass. On this very subject, the sage invites Rama to listen to the purifying verses once sung by the son of Brihaspati in ancient times. Once, while dwelling in a cave on Mount Meru, the son of the preceptor of the gods, through the force of practice, attained rest in the Self. His mind, filled with the nectar of true knowledge, no longer took pleasure in the frail body composed of the five elements, nor in the fading world perceived through it. Disinterested in everything except the essence of the Self, he saw nothing else and spoke these words alone in a faltering voice: “What shall I do? Where shall I go? What shall I take up or abandon? For the universe is filled with the Self, just as the world is filled with the waters of the great deluge. “Suffering is the self, and happiness as well; space is the self, and so am I. All has arisen as the self—by the self I am lost, and hardship is gone. Within and without, in bodies, below, above, and in all directions—the self is here; the self is there; nowhere is there anything not of the self. “Truly, the self is present everywhere, and all abides in the self; all this indeed is only the self—thus, I bow to the self within myself. There is nothing where I am not; there is nothing not in me; what else do I desire? I simply become still. “By the self, in the self, with a self that is filled, I bow; by that, I become peaceful within—where else would I go? I am fire, I am wind, I am earth, I am space; whatever I am not, that does not exist—indeed, I am all, pervading everywhere.” Thus, the sage’s words reveal the vastness and unity of the Self, dissolving all distinctions and desires, leaving only peace and fulfillment in the realization of the Self’s omnipresence.