Prose-section 36
In plain words
Never let go of this abiding in Brahman, even a little; never be careless in it. Sanatsujāta, the son of Brahmā, says plainly that such carelessness, the slipping from abidance, is death itself. Slipping from your own nature brings delusion; delusion brings the ego; the ego brings bondage; bondage brings suffering. So for one who knows, there is no disaster but this carelessness. Moss pushed aside on water does not stay back for a moment but closes over the water again; in the same way māyā covers anyone who turns outward, however wise. Having forgotten himself, the learned man goes off down the road of objects, and his mind’s faults toss him about the way a faithless woman torments the lover who is infatuated with her. How does it happen? If through carelessness the mind slips even a little from its aim, its own nature, it bounces down among outer objects like a ball dropped from the hand onto a flight of steps. Then it decides those objects are good. From that comes desire: ‘I must have this.’ Desire drives a person to chase the enjoyment. Chasing it, he loses his abidance in his own nature, sinks lower and lower, and, never climbing back to it, is ruined. For the discerning who abide in Brahman, then, there is no death other than carelessness in that abiding. Only the one whose abiding never breaks reaches the goal. So throw out the imagining that carelessness breeds, the root of every harm, and stay alert, established in your own nature.
Word for word
Never depart even slightly from this establishment in Brahman: do not be heedless in it. Bhagavān Sanatsujāta, Brahmā’s son, expressly declares that such heedlessness—departure from abidance—is death. Moreover, heedlessness that slips from one’s own nature produces delusion, then ego, then bondage, then suffering. For the knower there is no calamity other than this heedlessness. As pond growth removed from water immediately covers it again, māyā veils a person who turns outward, even if learned or knowing. Self-forgetfulness tosses even that learned person, who has turned away along the path of objects, about through defects of intellect, as an adulterous woman agitates a lover infatuated with her. How? If heedlessness lets the mind slip even slightly from its aim, its own nature, it leaps and falls among outward objects like a ball slipping from the hand onto a stairway. It then imagines those objects to be good. Desire arises: ‘I must have this.’ That desire produces pursuit of the object’s enjoyment. Through that pursuit, abidance in one’s nature is lost, and one sinks downwards. Failing to climb back to one’s nature, one comes to ruin. Therefore, for discriminating seekers established in Brahman, there is no death other than heedlessness in that establishment. Only one with uninterrupted abidance attains fulfilment. Dismiss imagining born from heedlessness, the cause of every calamity, and remain attentively established in your own nature.