King Janaka, reflecting deeply within himself, saw through the insubstantial nature of his kingdom and the fleeting happiness it offered. He realized that the so-called joys of rulership were but momentary, lacking true essence, and recognized he had no real purpose with such transient things. Resolute, Janaka decided to abandon all the pomp and bustle of worldly life. He resolved to remain alone, calm and vast as the tranquil ocean, untouched by the commotion of the world. He declared to himself that enough was enough—these unreal enjoyments that had come his way held no lasting value. Renouncing all actions, he chose to abide in pure happiness, free from the pursuit of fleeting pleasures. Turning his attention inward, Janaka addressed his own mind: “O mind, let go of this cleverness, this endless agitation for pleasure, which only feeds the mass of delusion born of birth, old age, and dullness. Wherever you find yourself disturbed, withdraw completely—supreme happiness lies in such withdrawal.” He reminded himself that, though the mind had engaged and withdrawn from all manner of enjoyments again and again for so long, it had never found satisfaction. Therefore, he resolved to abandon this trivial preoccupation with pleasure, understanding that true contentment arises naturally when one seeks that which is all-pervading. Having come to these insights, Janaka fell silent, his mind pacified, sitting as quietly as a scribe absorbed in his work. The doorkeeper, seeing the king’s deep contemplation and unsettled mind, remained respectfully silent, for it was not proper to speak further at such a time. After a moment of stillness, Janaka again turned his reflection inward, contemplating the nature of human life with a mind inclined toward peace. He pondered, “What is there here worth acquiring, that I should strive for it? To what should I attach my resolve, when nothing in this world is free from destruction? What is gained by activity or inactivity, when all things are subject to decay?” He saw that whether active or inactive, the body itself was born of the unreal, and, being established in the real—the stable, pure consciousness—he could not be affected by loss. He no longer desired what had not come to him, nor did he reject what had arrived; he remained at ease in his own self, letting whatever was his be as it was. Janaka recognized that, for him, there was no gain from actions done or left undone; all that is to be attained, whether real or unreal, comes to the existent through action or inaction. Whether acting properly or improperly, he saw that nothing attained could be truly desirable to him. Thus, he let the body carry out its natural actions as they arose, understanding that if the limbs remained motionless, nothing would be accomplished. He realized that when the mind is steady, free from desire, equal, and without attraction, the activity or inactivity of the body becomes equal in their result. When the mind ceases to be the agent and enjoyer of the fruits of actions, then, for such a person, even what is done is as if not done. Janaka understood that a person becomes identified with the conviction that arises within regarding action. Having reached the state free from affliction, he abandoned both firmness and lack of firmness within himself. With these reflections, Janaka rose to perform the actions that came to him, unattached—just as the sun rises each day, fulfilling its dharma without expectation or attachment. He had abandoned, by his own mind, desires for what was pleasant or unpleasant, and acted as circumstances required, remaining awake and aware as if in deep sleep. Having completed his duties for the day, always preceded by respectful worship, he spent the night alone, absorbed in the play of meditation. He made his mind tranquil and unified, calming all wanderings toward objects, and as the night waned, he awakened his awareness once again. He spoke again to his mind: “O mind, your restless expansion brings no happiness to the self; come to peace, for from peace, true happiness arises. Just as you lightly entertain waves of thought, so does your worldly existence expand. Like a tree that branches into a hundred limbs from a single stream, you, O cunning mind, create endless complexity through desire for enjoyment. All these creations of worldly existence arise from the play of thoughts; therefore, abandon varied thinking and enter tranquility.” He urged his mind to weigh the fleeting creation of worldly existence: “If you find its essence, rely on that alone. Abandon attachment and the craving for perception of objects; hold fast to what is truly yours, and dwell with the desire for purity. Whether this visible world is real or unreal, whether it arises or fades, do not be swayed by its qualities or faults.” Janaka reminded his mind that it had no true connection with the objects it perceived; there could be no relationship with something whose very form did not truly exist. He reflected, “You are not unreal, nor is this real; the notion of a relationship between real and unreal is but a curious string of words. If this is unreal and you are real, what association can there be between the real and the unreal, as between the living and the dead? If both you and the perceived object are real and always abiding, how could there arise any movement such as joy or sorrow?” Therefore, he instructed his mind not to be deluded or excited, but to remain undisturbed and abandon the state of worldly existence. He warned himself not to let the impurity of delusion arise and burn within, not to fall into dullness like the fruit of the tinduka tree. There is nothing here so exalted that attaining it could bring supreme fulfillment; relying on this understanding, he resolved to abandon fickleness and attain steadfast courage. Thus, contemplating in this way within his own sovereignty, King Janaka performed all his duties, possessing a steadfast intellect and never falling into delusion. His mind never surged forth in states of pleasure, but remained always balanced and clear.