In the gentle radiance of the moonbeams, an unseen entity finds its place, drifting restlessly from one luminous ray to another, much like a bird flitting from tree to tree in search of rest. From those moonbeams, it enters the tender shoots of herbs, just as a bee weaves its way into a fresh cluster of lotuses nestled among lilies. Within these two—the moonbeams and the shoots—the fruits of medicinal plants grow sweet and full, swelling with their own nectar, much like sugarcane stalks ripen and fill with sap. Within those ripened fruits, the vital stream of life, abundant and cool as the moon’s rays, settles in, just as nourishing milk fills the mother’s breast. When the rings of fruit reach maturity, they are consumed by embodied beings, and within them, the vital essence quietly enters and abides, though it remains unseen and unnoticed. This precious wealth of life, shrouded in the net of dormant tendencies, takes up residence in the hidden chamber of the womb, just as the glory of a seed rests in a pot wrapped with folded leaves. As fire lies concealed in wood, as a pot exists within the clay, as ghee is hidden in milk, so too does the soul dwell within the vital essence. Through such a sequence, one who has come forth from the Supreme Lord—though invisible and without body—is born upon the earth as a human being. Such a person, born of sattvic nature and noble conduct, may, through that very birth, attain liberation and thus truly be called sattvic. But if, after entering such a womb and passing through a succession of births, he is born for the sake of liberation, then he is of rajas-sattva nature. Now, O Rama, listen as I explain to you the course that follows after a person’s death in the western lands, and how liberation comes to one endowed with rajas and sattva. He who enters the cycle of birth with predominant sattva is sometimes, somewhere, born as one whose actions are pure, O sinless one. Here, O Rama, people of rajas and sattva are born; it is among these alone that one should inquire and proceed accordingly. Those who have come before, having reached the supreme Self, are rare indeed—individuals of great virtue. As for others, who are mute and deluded, of tamasic nature—what need is there to consider them, Rama? They are as immobile as trees and stones. Only a few, after gaining another birth through self-realization, attain the great state even in their natural life; indeed, among those endowed with rajas and sattva, one is fit for such inquiry here. Those who abide in rajas and sattva, resplendent with great virtues on earth, are always joyful and radiant, like moons shining in the night sky. They do not grow weary, just as the sky remains untouched by impurity, nor do they wither in adversity, like golden lotuses that bloom even at night. In this world, nothing exists apart from the natural order, just as the sun does not bring a different day; such beings delight in their own proper conduct, as trees rejoice in their own season. They never abandon the fullness within, remaining serene and beautiful as the moon; even when circumstances change, they do not lose their coolness, like the moon’s gentle light. They shine forth by their very nature, adorned with the charm of qualities such as friendship; like great trees radiant with fresh clusters of blossoms, they are graced by virtues. Always united, harmonious, gentle, and noble, they maintain their boundaries like the ocean, yet their intentions are vast and encompassing. Therefore, O mighty-armed one, their state is the remover of calamity; it is a state that should always be sought, and one should not linger in the ocean of misfortune. Thus, one should act in this world without weariness; those of royal and sattvic nature live for the true rise of the self. Having attained noble scripture and reflected upon it repeatedly, one should swiftly contemplate, with a secluded mind, the impermanence of all things. At the beginning and end, one should contemplate only that which is eternal—the true nature of all things in the three worlds—and not waste oneself on anything else. Abandoning false perceptions and futile, perishable thoughts, one should remember only this, rightly, for the sake of endless knowledge. “Who am I? How has this arisen? What is this vast expanse of worldly existence?”—this must be diligently examined by the wise, together with those who are good. One should not engage in improper actions, nor associate with the unworthy; one must recognize that the destroyer of all—death—is not to be disregarded. The noble one who stands at the highest state, greatly magnanimous and cool-hearted, alone should be followed, just as the peacock follows the raincloud. Having made a pure inquiry into the ego, the body, and the origin of worldly existence, a person should rely only on truth. Casting aside the body made of bone and flesh, and all that is unseemly, one should behold only pure consciousness, like a string of pearls freed from its casing. In truth, in the eternal, in the pure, in the all-pervading, in the all-sustaining, in the auspicious—all this is strung together, as gems are on a thread. That very consciousness which adorns the enjoyment of worlds, which is present in the sky, in the sun, in the earth’s hidden core, is the same consciousness within the belly of a worm. Just as there is truly no difference between the space inside a pot and the space outside, O sinless one, so too is there no real difference between consciousness and bodily forms. For all beings, bitterness and pungency are not otherwise; since experience is one, how can there be any distinction in pure consciousness? In the one ever-present reality of pure consciousness, who can say, “this one is born, that one is destroyed”? Such notions arise only from ignorance. Here, there is no such thing as an entity that, not having existed, comes into being; nor is there any such thing as an entity that, having existed, ceases to be. This is merely an appearance, O Raghava; it is neither real nor unreal, but seems to exist as reality only to a mind that is restless and unsettled. Let delusion arise among you from ignorance, but do not firmly decide that this is real because it perishes, nor that it is unreal—thus may you remain free from sorrow.