Just as a mighty fish glides effortlessly along both banks of a river, moving between the east and the west, so too does the individual soul journey between the boundaries of waking and dream. In the waking state, he moves among the experiences of the world; in dreams, he crosses into another realm, yet both are but the banks of his existence. And just as a bird or a swan, soaring high in the sky, eventually grows weary and folds its wings to rest, so does the soul, after traversing waking and dream, hasten toward that state where, in deep sleep, he desires nothing and sees no dream. There, he finds rest—the limit of his journey, where all longing ceases. Within the body are countless arteries, as numerous as the strands that appear when a single hair is split into a thousand. These channels are filled with hues of white, blue, yellow, green, and red. Sometimes, when one feels struck down, subdued, grasped, or cast into darkness, or as if fallen into a pit, or sees terrifying visions even while awake, these are the fears born of ignorance. But when one perceives, “I am the king, I am the divine, I am all this,” he abides in his highest world. In deep sleep, he desires nothing, nor does he see dreams. This is his true desire, fulfilled and complete, beyond the reach of further longing. Just as a person embraced by a beloved is unaware of the world outside or inside, so too, when embraced by the intelligent Self, one becomes unaware of anything outside or inside. In this state lies perfect freedom—untouched by evil, boundless in form, a joy that knows no sorrow. Here, all distinctions fade. The father is no longer a father, the mother is no longer a mother, the worlds are not worlds, the gods are not gods, the Vedas are not Vedas, and the sacrifice is not a sacrifice. Here, the thief is not a thief, the killer of a fetus is not a killer, the outcaste is not an outcaste, the mendicant is not a mendicant, the ascetic is not an ascetic. He is untouched by good or evil, and, having crossed all sorrows of the heart, he is liberated from them. In this state, when he does not see, yet seeing abides, for the seer’s seeing never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else, no second, apart from him to be seen. When he does not smell, yet smelling abides, for the smeller’s smelling never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be smelled. When he does not taste, yet tasting abides, for the taster’s tasting never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be tasted. When he does not speak, yet speaking abides, for the speaker’s speaking never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to speak to. When he does not hear, yet hearing abides, for the hearer’s hearing never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be heard. When he does not think, yet thinking abides, for the thinker’s thinking never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be thought of. When he does not touch, yet touching abides, for the toucher’s touching never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be touched. When he does not know, yet knowing abides, for the knower’s knowing never ceases—he is imperishable. There is nothing else to be known. If there were something else, then one would see another, smell another, taste another, speak to another, hear another, think of another, touch another, or know another. But in truth, like water, he alone exists—the seer, without a second. This is the world of Brahman, O Emperor. Thus was the teaching given: this is the highest attainment, the supreme state, the highest world, the highest bliss. All other beings partake only of a small fraction of this bliss. Among men, the one who is prosperous, fulfilled, lord over others, and endowed with all human pleasures is the happiest. The bliss of such a man is the greatest among humans. A hundredfold greater is the bliss of the ancestors who have attained their world. A hundred times that is the bliss of the gods who have become divine through their deeds. A hundred times that is the bliss of the gods by birth, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unwavering in desire. A hundred times that is the bliss of the world of Prajapati, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unwavering in desire. A hundred times that is the bliss of the world of Brahman, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unwavering in desire. This is the world of Brahman, O Emperor. Thus was the teaching given: this is immortality. Janaka, the Emperor, overwhelmed with reverence, said, “I give you a thousand, O Revered One. Teach me further for liberation.” At this, Yajnavalkya became afraid, thinking, “The wise king will surpass us all.” Again, among men, the one who is prosperous, fulfilled, lord over others, and endowed with all enjoyments is the happiest. The bliss of such a man is the highest among humans. A hundredfold greater is the bliss of the ancestors who have won their world. A hundredfold of that is the bliss of the gandharvas. A hundredfold of that is the bliss of the gods who have attained divinity through their deeds. A hundredfold of that is the bliss of the gods by birth, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unshaken by desire. A hundredfold of that is the bliss of the world of Prajapati, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unshaken by desire. A hundredfold of that is the bliss of the world of Brahman, and of one who is learned, sinless, and unshaken by desire. This indeed is the highest bliss, this is the world of Brahman, O Emperor, said Yajnavalkya. Again Janaka said, “I give you a thousand, O Revered One. Teach me further for liberation.” Yajnavalkya felt fear, for he thought, “The wise king will surpass us all.” The soul, after enjoying and moving about in this state between waking and sleep, seeing both merit and demerit, returns again, by the same path, to each new birth, for the completion of knowledge. Just as a heavily loaded cart moves along, so does this embodied self, mounted on the intelligent self, proceed onward, leaving the body when the upward breath departs. When this self reaches its subtle state, whether through old age or by being struck down, it departs from the body—just as a ripe mango, fig, or berry is released from its stalk. In the same way, this person, freed from these limbs, returns again, by the same path, to each new birth, sustained by the vital breath. Just as when a king is about to arrive, the fierce officials, charioteers, village chiefs, and others prepare with food, drink, and lodging, saying, “He is coming, he is approaching,” so too, all beings prepare for one who knows thus, saying, “This is Brahman coming, this is Brahman approaching.” And just as when a king is about to depart, the fierce officials, charioteers, and village chiefs gather around him, so too, all the vital breaths gather around one who knows thus, when he is about to breathe upward. When this self withdraws its strength from the body, as if into unconsciousness, all the vital breaths come together around him. Taking only the measure of his light, he moves toward the heart. When the person who dwells in the eye turns away, he no longer perceives forms. People say, “He becomes one; he does not see.” “He becomes one; he does not smell.” “He becomes one; he does not taste.” “He becomes one; he does not speak.” “He becomes one; he does not hear.” “He becomes one; he does not think.” “He becomes one; he does not touch.” “He becomes one; he does not know.” The tip of his heart becomes illuminated, and by that light, the self departs—either through the eye, or the head, or other parts of the body. As he departs, the vital breath follows; as the vital breath departs, all the other vital breaths follow. He departs with consciousness, knowledgeable and aware. His knowledge and his deeds, as well as his former understanding, accompany him. Just as a leech, reaching the end of a blade of grass, draws itself together before moving on, so too does this person, after leaving this body and casting off ignorance, draw himself together. And just as a goldsmith, taking a piece of gold, fashions a new, more beautiful form, so too does this person, after leaving this body and casting off ignorance, fashion for himself another, newer, more beautiful form—whether it be ancestral, celestial, Brahmanic, Prajapatyan, divine, or of other beings. This self is Brahman, composed of knowledge, mind, speech, breath, sight, hearing, space, air, fire, water, earth, anger, non-anger, joy, non-joy, righteousness, unrighteousness—he is everything. As he acts and as he behaves, so does he become. The doer of good becomes good; the doer of evil becomes evil. By virtuous action one becomes virtuous, by evil action one becomes evil. And it is said, “This person is indeed made of desire.” As his desire is, so is his will; as his will is, so is his action; whatever action he does, that he attains. There is a verse: “He, together with his actions, goes to whatever object his mind is attached to, having reached the end of his deeds. Whatever he does here, he returns again from that world to this world for action. But one who is without desire, who is free from desire, whose desire is satisfied, whose desire is the Self—his vital breaths do not depart; being Brahman, he merges in Brahman.” And another verse declares: “When all desires that dwell in the heart are released, then the mortal becomes immortal; he attains Brahman here.” Just as a snake, shedding its skin, lies discarded on an anthill, so too does the body lie. But this disembodied, intelligent self, having attained the Supreme, is immortal, O King,” said Yajnavalkya. “I offer you a thousand, O revered one,” said Janaka of Videha. There are further verses: “Narrow is the path, and ancient; it has not been touched, nor traversed, by me. By that path, the wise who know Brahman, having departed, attain the heavenly world, freed from here.” On that path, it is said, there is white, blue, yellow, green, and red; that is the path of Brahman. By that path, the knower of Brahman, radiant and virtuous, goes. Those who worship the unmanifest enter into blind darkness; into even greater darkness go those who delight in the manifest alone. The worlds called ‘asurya,’ covered with blinding darkness—those, after death, are entered by the ignorant, unwise people. Being that, we become that. If one does not know this, there is great loss. Those who know this become immortal; others enter only into suffering. If a person knows the Self as “I am this,” then, desiring what and for whose sake would he cling to the body? For one whose awakened Self is accompanied by understanding, who has entered this dense body, who is the maker of all, the doer of all—his world is that world, indeed that world alone.