Those who speak with discernment, delighting in their own contemplation, shine among others with a special radiance—just as the sun outshines the thunderous roar of the ocean. This power of discernment, which abides in the heart of the wise, is like a wish-fulfilling gem: whatever is contemplated through it comes to fruition, just as the wish-fulfilling vine bears its fruit for those who seek it. It is by discernment that the noble cross over the ocean of saṃsāra, while the lesser are left behind; those who are instructed reach the far shore, while the uninstructed perish, much like a boat that either carries one safely or is lost at sea. When understanding is rightly directed, it leads a person to safety; wrongly directed, it brings misfortune—just as a boat on the ocean may bring one across or to disaster. For the discerning, undeluded wise person, the faults that arise in multitudes—like arrows—do not cause harm, just as arrows cannot pierce one who is well-armored. Dear one, by discernment, the entire world is truly seen; for one who sees rightly, neither misfortune nor fortune can approach. The inert self, shrouded in the darkness of ego like a thick cloud, veils the supreme sun within. Yet, this covering is torn away by the wind of discernment. For one who wishes to attain the incomparable state, the mind must first be carefully nurtured—just as a farmer prepares the earth before seeking the harvest. In this way, O Rāma, by reflecting upon the self with the self, as Janaka did, you too will soon attain that state known to the wise. Indeed, those wise ones born in royal lineages of the West have also attained what is to be attained, just as Janaka did. One must strive again and again to conquer the enemies called the senses, until the self, by itself, finds satisfaction within itself. When the all-pervading Lord, the Supreme Self, is pleased and self-revealed, all sorrowful perceptions are destroyed. Delusion’s seeds and showers of calamities, the false perceptions—they all come to an end upon seeing That which is both higher and lower. Always, O Rāma, like Janaka, with a mind free from all undertakings and perceiving the self by wisdom, become prosperous and excellent. For one who is ever engaged in inquiry and observes the restless movements of people, as Janaka did, in time, the self becomes peaceful by itself. Neither fate, nor actions, nor wealth, nor relatives can offer refuge to those who fear worldly existence—only their own effort can. Those devoted to fate, absorbed in the endless alternatives of action and the like, have dull understanding and are not to be followed, for such paths lead to destruction. By firmly relying on discernment and perceiving the Self by the Self, one should cross the ocean of worldly existence, with the intellect uplifted by dispassion. This is the attainment of knowledge, O Rāma, which brings true happiness. It falls like fruit from the sky and destroys the tree of ignorance. Just as in Janaka, who possessed noble understanding, so too in the wise, this embodied being naturally unfolds, like a lotus at dawn. When the mind’s thoughts become tranquil, it dissolves through inquiry, just as frost melts away in sunlight, losing its color, form, and touch. When the sense of “I am this” fades away in the night of ignorance, the all-pervading, radiant light of one’s own true nature arises of itself. When the contraction of “I am this” dissolves, there arises an expansive awareness that pervades infinite worlds. Just as Janaka abandoned the tendencies of ego, so too, O wise one, after thorough inquiry, you should renounce them within yourself. When the cloud of ego dissipates in the pure, stainless sky of consciousness, the supreme sun of one’s own light becomes manifest. Darkness is nothing but the cultivation of the sense of “I”; when that subsides, illumination arises. When it is realized, “I am not, nor is there another, nor is there nonexistence,” the mind attains tranquility and is no longer entangled in things to be acquired. O Rāma, know that the mind’s pursuit of acquisition and avoidance—this alone is bondage, nothing else. Do not be distressed over what is to be rejected, nor attached to what is to be acquired. Abandoning both acceptance and rejection, remain established in what remains, and attain well-being. Those whose attitude is “this is to be acquired, this is to be rejected” are dissolved; they neither desire nor renounce anything here, unlike others. As long as the calculation of acceptance and rejection has not faded from the mind, equality does not shine forth, just as moonlight does not appear in a clouded sky. For one whose mind is agitated by thoughts of “this is unreal, this is real, this belongs to me,” equality does not arise, just as a blossom does not appear on a barren branch. Where desires—both proper and improper—play with gain and loss, how can equanimity or clarity exist, and how can the smile of freedom from despair arise? When this single, pure essence of Brahman is present, free from affliction, what place is there for impropriety or propriety, and what is the meaning of diversity? In the tree of mind, the monkeys of hope and fear leap about—desired and undesired; in such restless activity, how can there be calmness? Yet, freedom from despair, fearlessness, constancy, equanimity, knowledge, desirelessness, inactivity, gentleness, and absence of doubt—these virtues, along with steadfastness, friendliness, remembrance, satisfaction, delight, and gentle speech, all free from acceptance and rejection, approach the wise who are devoted to truth. When the mind runs downward toward pleasures, one should forcibly withdraw it; by withdrawal, it is restrained, like water held back by a dam. Having abandoned external objects, whether standing, walking, sleeping, or breathing, one should always and everywhere restrain all internal movements. For, with the net of tendencies clouded by the fish of craving, the waters of worldly existence flow on, stretched out by the threads of thought.