Janaka, the wise king, sat in deep contemplation, reflecting on the nature of worldly pursuits. He wondered, “What is there here worth acquiring, that I should strive to obtain it? To what object should I attach my resolve, when nothing in this world is free from destruction?” He saw clearly that all things, whether gained through action or inaction, were subject to decay. “What is gained by being active, or by being inactive?” he mused. “There is nothing here that escapes the fate of impermanence.” He considered his own body, recognizing it as something that had arisen from the unreal, destined to pass away. “Whether I act or do not act, this body is but a fleeting appearance. But I am established in the real, the unchanging, the pure consciousness—what loss can there be for me?” Janaka found no longing for what he did not possess, nor did he feel compelled to abandon what had come to him. He rested content in his own self, allowing whatever was his to remain so, without attachment or aversion. Janaka realized, “For me, there is no true gain from actions performed or left undone. Whatever is to be attained, whether real or unreal, comes through action or inaction for those who are identified with existence. But for me, there is nothing here—no matter how it is attained—that is truly desirable.” He saw that whether his actions were proper or improper, there was nothing in this world that could captivate his heart. Thus, he resolved, “Let this body perform whatever natural actions arise in their due course. If the limbs remain motionless, what will that accomplish? When the mind is steady, free from desire, impartial and undisturbed, then the activity or inactivity of the body and its parts yield the same result. When the mind no longer identifies itself as the doer or the enjoyer of the fruits of action, whether splendid or not, then, for such a person, even what is done is as if not done at all.” Janaka understood the power of conviction: “That firm belief which arises within a person regarding actions—he becomes identified with that. But I have reached a state free from affliction, and I wholly abandon both firmness and lack of firmness within.” Having reflected in this manner, Janaka rose to perform the duties that had come to him, acting without attachment, just as the sun rises each day, fulfilling its dharma without desire. He had cast aside, by his own discernment, all longing for pleasure or aversion to pain, and acted as circumstances required, remaining awake and alert as if in deep sleep. After completing the duties of the day, always preceded by respectful worship, Janaka spent the night alone, absorbed in the play of meditation. As the night waned, he made his mind tranquil and unified, calming its wanderings toward objects, and awakened his awareness anew. He addressed his own mind with gentle wisdom: “O mind, your restless expansion does not bring happiness to the self. Come to peace, for from peace, dear one, you attain true happiness. Just as you lightly entertain waves of thought, so the expanse of your worldly existence grows. Like a tree that becomes hundred-branched by a single stream, you, cunning mind, attain endless complexity through desire for enjoyment.” He recognized that the creations of worldly existence arise from the play of countless thoughts and impressions. “Therefore,” he counseled himself, “abandon varied thinking and enter tranquility. Beautiful mind, weigh this fleeting creation of worldly existence—if you find its essence, rely on that alone. Abandon attachment to this world and the craving for perception of objects; take hold of that which is truly yours—do not let go, and dwell with the desire for purity.” Janaka continued his inquiry: “Whether this visible world is real or unreal, whether it arises or fades away, do not let yourself be swayed by its qualities or faults. You have not the slightest connection with the objects you perceive; how can there be any relationship with something whose very form does not truly exist?” He saw that he himself was not unreal, nor was the world truly real. “The idea of a relationship between the real and the unreal is a curious and unprecedented string of words. If this world is unreal and you are real, even so, what kind of association can there be between the real and the unreal, as between the living and the dead? And if both you and the perceived object are real, always abiding, how could there arise any movement such as joy or sorrow?” Janaka thus urged his mind, “Do not be deluded, do not indulge in excitement. Establish a mind that is undisturbed, and abandon the state of worldly existence. Like the fruit of the tinduka tree, do not let the impurity of delusion arise and burn within yourself in vain; do not fall into dullness. There is nothing here so exalted that by attaining it you reach supreme fulfillment. Relying on that, forcibly abandon fickleness and attain steadfast courage, O mind.” Thus, within his own sovereignty, King Janaka contemplated in this way and performed all his duties, possessing steadfast intellect and never falling into delusion. His mind never surged forth in states of pleasure; it remained always balanced and clear. From that time onward, he neither abandoned nor excessively clung to what was seen; he simply remained established in the present, free from doubt. Through constant discernment, Janaka’s mind remained untainted, just as the royal sky remains unblemished. By inquiry founded on his own discernment, his mind attained perfect knowledge—boundless and pure. His consciousness, free from the taint of false notions and disease, arose in the space of his heart like the sun rising in the sky. He saw all phenomena spread within the mind like jewels, knowing them as none other than his own infinite self—the knower of the essence of all beings. He was never elated nor sorrowful, always maintaining an even mind, naturally engaged in the affairs of the world. From that moment, Janaka became liberated while living, possessing mature wisdom, and knowing both the inner and outer nature of people. Ruling the Videhas and sustaining the lives of his people, Janaka remained untouched by joy or sorrow, never disturbed by the play of fortune. He neither set nor rose, being free from all merits and faults; by gains or losses arising in his own kingdom, he was neither dejected nor elated. Even while acting, he did nothing at all anywhere; he remained always established as a living-liberated being.