In plain words
But those in between this lowest and the highest follow certain kinds of paths. The man who receives this body from God, pure, selfless, sacred and wholly clean, who recognises it and sets it on the right path, and at other times leaves the good path and makes use of both, impurity and purity: him they call the middling. In this modern age of today, man brings himself a fine, soft bed to sleep on. To suit it, he arranges soft, comfortable pillows. In keeping with it, he fits a ceiling fan that gives him air all the time. The ceiling fan is turning. The bed is soft. The pillow is comfortable. But sleep does not come to this man. In such a situation, will he be happy looking at these three, the bed, the pillows and the air, or will he grieve that sleep has not come? For what did he arrange this bed, this pillow, this ceiling fan? When there is no restful sleep, what use is it to have these three? What use is this soft bed? What use is it to lay out these comfortable pillows? They are of no use at all.
The Heart Is the Bed
In the same way, though man has spread the soft mattress called the heart on what is called this body, put on the pillow called the mind and switched on the fan called Buddhi nicely, this man does not come to experience Śānti and happiness at all. What use is this mind, this Buddhi, this heart, that give no comfort, give no Ānanda, give no Śānti? People describe the heart of man today as pure, unwavering and selfless, or recite it by rote. ‘This world has the mind as its root’: so they praise this mind a great deal. ‘Grasped by Buddhi, beyond the senses’: we say that nothing surpasses Buddhi. Though they describe it in so many ways, man sees nothing at all of happiness or Śānti. What are we enjoying this for? What did God give it for?