Never let yourself be separated from the whip and the tether, Lest she should wander away into a world of defilement: When she is properly tended, she will grow pure and docile, Even without chain, nothing binding, she will by herself follow you. VI [Illustration: Drawing of a person riding a cow] _face p. 362_ _Coming Home on the Cow’s Back._ The struggle is over; gain and loss, he is no more concerned with. He hums a rustic tune of the woodman, he sings simple songs of the village-boy. Saddling himself on the cow’s back, his eyes are fixed at things not of the earth, earthy. Even if he is called to, he will not turn his head; however enticed he will no more be kept back. Riding the cow he leisurely wends his way home: Enveloped in the evening mist, how tunefully the flute vanishes away! Singing a ditty, beating time, his heart is filled with a joy indescribable! That he is now one of those who know, need it be told? VII [Illustration: Drawing of a person sitting outside a thatched-roofed house] _face p. 363_ _The Cow Forgotten, Leaving the Man Alone._ Things are one and the cow is symbolic. When you know that what you need is not the snare or set-net but the hare or fish, it is like gold separated from the dross, it is like the moon rising out of the clouds. The one ray of light serene and penetrating shines even before days of creation. Riding on the cow he is at last back in his home, Where lo! there is no more the cow, and how serenely he sits all alone! Though the red sun is high up in the sky, he seems to be still quietly asleep, Under a straw-thatched roof are his whip and rope idly lying beside him. VIII [Illustration: Drawing with just a white background] _face p. 364_ _The Cow and the Man Both Gone out of Sight._ All confusion is set aside, and serenity alone prevails; even the idea of holiness does not obtain. He does not linger about where the Buddha is, and as to where there is no Buddha he speedily passes on. When there exists no form of dualism, even a thousand-eyed one fails to detect a loophole. A holiness before which birds offer flowers is but a farce.[f166] All is empty, the whip, the rope, the man, and the cow: Who has ever surveyed the vastness of heaven? Over the furnace burning ablaze, not a flake of snow can fall: When this state of things obtains, manifest is the spirit of the ancient master. IX [Illustration: Drawing of a shore line] _face p. 365_