That is whole, this is whole
From the whole, the whole is subtracted
When the whole is taken from the whole
The whole still will remain — Isha Upanishad

I) Trekking in Asia, spending nights in odd dwellings, in granaries, cabins, shacks-timber abodes whose thin squinted windowpanes harness the world-sleep dressed, wrapped in your sheepskin, and do your best always to tuck your head into the corner, as in the corner it's harder-and in darkness at that-to swing an axe over your heavy, booze -laden gourd and to chop it off nicely. Square the circle, in short.

2) Always pick a house with baby-clothes hanging out in the yard. Deal only with the over-fifty crowd: a hick at that age knows too much about fate to gain anything by attempting to bust your brain; sam thing, a squaw. Hide the money in your collar, or if you are travelling light, in your brown culottes under the knee-but not in your boots, since they'll find the dough easily there. In Asia, boots are the first to go.

3) In the mountains, move slowly. If you must creep, then creep. Magnificent in the distance, meaningless closer up, mountains are but a surface standing on end. The snail-like and, it seems, horizontal meandering trail is, in fact, vertical. Lysin flat in the mountains, you stand. Standing up, you lie flat. Which suggest your true freedom's in falling down. That's the way, it appears, to conquer once in the mountains, vertigo, raptures, fears

4) When you halt in the desert make an arrow from pebbles, so, if suddenly woken up, you'll grasp which way to go in the darkness. At nights, demons in deserts try travellers' hearts. One who heeds their cry is easily disoriented: one steop sideways and-well, c'est tout. Ghosts, spectres, demons are at home in the desert. You too will discover that's true when, sand creaking under your sole, all that remains of you is your soul.