The mind is the instrument, the flywheel, and the thickest comrade of man. Through it, one can ruin oneself or save oneself. Regulated and controlled, channeled properly it can liberate; wayward and let loose, it can entangle and bind fast.
The mind is the instrument, the flywheel, and the thickest comrade of man. Through it, one can ruin oneself or save oneself. Regulated and controlled, channeled properly it can liberate; wayward and let loose, it can entangle and bind fast.
Bliss, knowledge and wisdom are Sun himself. I bow to Mitra, Bhanu, to the shining one, the cause of the universe and let Him protect me from death.
Your hills, O Earth, your snow-clad mountain peaks, your forests, may they show us kindliness… Impart to us vitalising forces that come, O Earth from deep within your body, your central point, your navel, purify us wholly.
Who knows this truly, and who will now declare it, what paths lead together to the gods? Only their lowest aspects of existence are seen, who exist on supreme, mystical planes.