With a heart filled with determination, I resolved to break free from the merciless net of worldly existence. The disgust I felt—like a necklace strung by the serpent of time—was something I vowed to tear apart, just as a lion shatters the snare that binds him. Turning to the best among those who know reality, I pleaded: “Let some lamp of knowledge swiftly dispel the mist within the forest of my heart, and the darkness clouding my mind.” I sought guidance from the great soul, recognizing that those with the highest minds are not afflicted by misfortune. Just as the sharpness of flesh is unaffected by the gentle rays of the moon, so too do adversities fail to bring ruin to such noble beings. I reflected deeply: Life is as fragile as a cluster of lotuses shaken by the wind; pleasures are as fleeting as lightning flickering among clouds. Youth, fondness, and the waves of desire are all unsteady. Realizing this, I fixed my mind for lasting peace, setting it as firmly as a seal upon a mountain. As I observed the world sunk in the pit of suffering, crowded with calamities, my mind became immersed in the mire of anxious thoughts. Confusion swept over me, agitation arose, and my limbs trembled like the leaves of an old tree. My understanding, deprived of supreme contentment, grew disturbed—here, it feared empty places, like a child-king with little strength. My inner faculty was tossed about by doubts, like deer mocked by empty wells. Having fallen from the ground of discernment, established in hardship and not on the good path, my senses—sight and others—were like the unfortunate who have stumbled into a blind well. Worry neither settled nor proceeded as desired; it depended on the lord of life, like a beloved woman in an unwelcome house. Though I had worn out and abandoned many things, I still bore them; my resolve was unsteady, like a creeper at the end of the Mārgaśīrṣa month. All value had been cast aside, instability had taken hold; having seized and then let go of myself, even my own state was unsettled. My mind was mocked by its own inner support, which was both shifting and unmoving, like the root of a tree broken by poverty. Restless and delighting in sense-objects, my mind wandered through worlds, never abandoning confusion, like a god in his own aerial chariot. I wondered: What is that state of abiding which is not trivial, effortless, without any basis, free from confusion, and in which no doubt exists? All the noble ones—like Janaka and others—were engaged in all kinds of worldly activities; how did they attain the highest state? Even when closely attached to many things and showing great respect, how does a person here not become tainted by the mire of worldly existence? On what vision do these great ones, living liberated and pure of stain, rely as they move about in this world? Objects of enjoyment entice only for the sake of fear; how can those whose nature is unstable and whose wealth is fleeting ever attain auspiciousness? When the mind is trampled by the elephant of delusion and stained within by blemishes, how can the lake of intellect ever reach supreme clarity? Even while living in the world and engaging in its affairs, how does a person not become bound, just as water does not adhere to a lotus leaf? Creating the entire world as if it were the self, or as insignificant as grass, how does one attain excellence without touching the agitation of the mind? By following the conduct of which great person who has crossed the ocean of existence does one avoid wrongdoing in this world? I asked: What is that which is proper and brings true welfare? What is the right fruit? How should one live in the world without impropriety? Tell me, O Lord of the world, by what means I may understand the unstable nature of actions and the past and future states of this creation. May the stains upon the moon of my heart’s sky and my mind be cleansed, O Brahman; act so that this happens without hindrance. What here is worth accepting, and what should be discarded? How can the restless mind find repose, like a mountain unmoved? By what purifying mantra does this fever of difficult worldly existence, which brings countless troubles without effort, become pacified? How may I attain within the coolness of the cluster of blossoms of the tree of bliss, like the full moon reaching the undiminished night? Having attained inner fullness, so that I do not grieve again, let the wise who know the truth instruct me in this way. For apart from the supreme blissful state and its repose, the mind of the great-souled is tormented here by restless thoughts, like dogs in the forest harassing the body of a creature with little life. Within this fragile body—like a droplet hanging from the moving leaf of a tall tree, governed by the lord of life and softened by the rays of the cool moon—I found myself among friends and relatives, as fragile as the edge of a frog’s throat skin in a dried-up field, caught in the net’s circle. Driven by the wind of impressions, the thunderbolt of sudden calamity struck clearly; in the dense cloud of delusion, darkness roared and flashed. The wild, restless, greedy one danced a fierce dance, fully blossomed and resounding, in the poisonous forest of misfortune. Cruel, like the cat of death, it seized all living beings as mice, moving with unheard steps, descending from somewhere above. I wondered: What remedy is there, what path, what thought, or what refuge? By what means might this forest of life, which leads to misfortune, not arise? Yet, there is nothing on earth or among the gods in heaven, however insignificant, that does not become delightful to the wise. Still, how can this world—burned and riddled with suffering—ever become truly sweet without folly, when it is tasteless by nature? By what nectar-bath can the vine of hope, poisoned at its root, become delightful, like a fresh creeper with honey and pure blossoms? Such were my questions and reflections, offered with reverence and longing for the light of wisdom.