This "Little Purple Notebook On How To Escape From This Universe"
         was not written for those who want to escape
              from the dream called World.

      It was written for those who started to recognize
              that this World is but a dream.

      There may be many ways to return to one's origin,
                  many ways to come home:
        but all of them lead _through_ the world
            and none of them straight out.

         Before transcension, there must be embracement.

             Before embracement, there is surrender.

     But one cannot surrender to something one doesn't know.

                Before cognition still, there is surprise.

         Surprise that arises the moment one tries to perceive
            the world as it really is - not as it appears.

                "Reality is that what you see!"
                     says the blind man
                     and asks for a dime
                      from the wanderer
               who doesn't have a name for his goal.
 
                         Looking back,
             this traveller feels betrayed by himself.

                       Looking forward,
                 he sees the mountain in between.

                        Looking to the left,
                he sees the bold man drowned in his pride.

                          To the right,
                   the shy ones are falling down.
 
                       Stepping forward
                       he sees no ground.
 
                         Stepping back,
                       he freezes again.

                      "Am I the only one?"
                       he asks in despair.

                 And, suddenly, as the dreams fall apart,
                      he is in need of a friend.

                     What seemed to make sense,
                       now looks like madness.
 
                          Where nothing was,
                      there is everything now.

                      And where everything was,
                          nothing is left.

                         Good becomes Bad,
                 what seemed Ugly rejoices his heart.

                        New worlds appear
                 while the old ones are fading away.

                          "What ocean?"
                     asks the frog in the pond.
                    "Don't you know, wanderer,
                     that there is no Beyond?"
 
                       "Whom shall I trust?"
                      wonders the traveler,
                        looking around:
 
                      "Those who are not wise
                      are yelling the loudest.

                  "But the wise ones never come
                     since they already left.
 
                  "Those who claim that only they know,
                 they all want my money and also my soul.

                 "For those who agree to everyone's truth,
                 it's more than likely that they will lose.
 
                 "Is it called this, is it called that?
                What is its shape? How much does it cost?"
 
                  And seeing the wanderer stumbling around,
                   God Brahma Sahampati approached someone
                          who had just woken up.

                    To him he will say, once again:

                      "There are a few Beings
                     that are born nearly clear,
                      If they do not hear you,
                       they will tumble again.
                 These few, they possibly will understand."

                            Then, sometimes,
                  despite all the noise and all the nuisance,
                     someone who went all the way
                            may agree:

                  "OK, then, let us now turn the wheel!"

And so it comes about, that every once a while someone who just
woke up but didn't quite leave yet, starts putting out the word
to the very few that may be able to understand this matter.

And that someone may be old or he may be a child.

He may be a man or he may be a woman.

He may be rich or he may be poor, from this corner of the
world or from another.

That someone may talk Hebrew or he may speak Sanskrit.

But whatever words he will be using, he will say that these
words are just pointers and that they mean nothing by
themselves.

He will say to the wanderer "Come and see!".

He will urge him to not believe anything.

He will tell him that he must rely only and only on himself
if he wants to find his way home.

He will say "This was my way - now find your own!"

This, then, is called since ancient Eons:

          "the turning of the wheel".

This picture symbolizes the help with entering the irreversible
pathway to Source.

And this is what this 'Little Purple Notebook On How To Escape
From This Universe" is all about.

It is not there to promote the 'one and only path'. It is not
there as a guide to become rich and famous. It is not there
to gain power over others or over nature. It is not there to
just add some new theories to some old ones. It is not there to
build a community - sorry! And it is not there to produce money.

It is there only to help "turning the wheel" for the few
who dare to look at the world as it is and as it is not.

Whichever way you may be going, dear Reader, may you arrive!