Way of the Peaceful Warrior (13 page)

“Why should a warrior sit around meditating? I thought this was a way of action.”
 

“Meditation is the action of inaction; yet you are quite correct that the warrior's way is more dynamic. Ultimately, you will learn to meditate your every action. Yet at the beginning, sitting meditation serves as a ceremony, a special time set aside to increase the intensity of practice. You must master the ritual before you can expand it properly into daily life. As a teacher I will use every method and artifice at my command to get you interested and to help you persevere with the work ahead. If I had just walked up to you and told you the secret of happiness, you would not have even heard me. You needed a guy to fascinate you, do a soft shoe, or jump up on rooftops before you could get a little interested.”
 

“Well, I'm willing to play games, for a little while at least, but there comes a time when every warrior must walk the path alone. For now, I'll do what is necessary to keep you here, learning this way.”
 

I felt manipulated and angry. “So I can grow old sitting in this gas station like you, waiting to pounce on innocent students?” I regretted my remark as soon as it slipped out.
 

Socrates, unfazed, smiled and spoke softly. “Don't mistake this place, or your teacher, Dan. Things and people are not always as they seem. I am defined by the universe, not by this station. As to why you should stay, what you can gain, isn't it obvious? I am completely happy, you see. Are you?”
 

A car pulled in, clouds of steam surrounding, its radiator. “Come,” See said. “This car is suffering and we may have to shoot it and put it out of its misery.” We both went out to the stricken car, whose radiator was boiling and whose owner was in a foul mood, fuming.
 

“What took you so long? I can't wait around here all night, damn it!”
 

Socrates looked at him with nothing less than loving compassion. “Let's see if we can't help you, sir, and make this only a minor inconvenience.” He had the man drive into the garage where he put a pressure cap on the radiator and found the leak. Within a few minutes he'd welded the hole shut but told the man that he would still need a new radiator in the near future. “Everything dies and changes, even radiators,” he winked at me.
 

As the man drove away, the truth of Soc's words sank in. He really was completely happy! Nothing seemed to affect his happy mood. In all the time I'd known him, he had acted angry, sad, gentle, tough, humorous, and even concerned. But always, happiness had twinkled in his eyes, even when tears welled up in them.
 

I thought of Socrates as I walked home, my shadow growing and shrinking as I passed under each street light. I kicked a stone into the darkness as I neared my apartment, walking softly down the driveway to the back, where my little converted garage waited under the branches of a walnut tree. It was only a few hours away from dawn.
 

I lay in bed but couldn't sleep. I wondered whether I could discover his secret of happiness. It seemed even more important right now than jumping up onto rooftops.
 

Then I remembered the card he had given me. Quickly, I got out of bed and turned on the light. Reaching into my wallet, I extracted the card. My heart started to beat rapidly. Socrates had said that if I ever really needed him to hold the card in both hands and just call. Well, I was going to test him.
 

I stood for a moment, trembling; my knees were starting to shake. I took the softly glowing card in both hands and called, “Socrates, come in Socrates. Dan calling.” I felt like a complete fool, standing there at 4:55 A.M., holding a glowing card, talking to the air. Nothing happened. I tossed it carelessly onto the dresser in disgust. That's when the light went out.
 

“What!” I yelled as I spun around trying to sense if he was there. In classic movie style, I took a step backward, tripped over my chair, bounced off the edge of the bed, and sprawled to the floor.
 

The light went back on. If someone had been within earshot, that person might have assumed I was a student having trouble with ancient Greek studies. Why else would I be yelling at 5:02 in the morning, “Goddamn it, Socrates!”
 

I'd never know whether the blackout had been a coincidence or not. Socrates had only said he'd come; he hadn't said how. I sheepishly picked up the card to put it back into my wallet, when I noticed it had changed. Underneath the last lines, “Paradox, Humor, and Change,” appeared two words in bold print:
 

“Emergencies Only!”
 

Laughing, I fell asleep in no time at all.
 

Summer workouts had begun. It was good to see old familiar faces. Herb was growing a beard; Rick and Sid were cultivating their dark summer tans and looked slimmer and stronger than ever.
 

I wanted so much to share my life and the lessons I'd been learning with my teammates, but I still didn't know where to begin. Then I remembered Soc's business card. Before warm-up began, I called Rick over.
 

“Hey, I want to show you something.” Once he saw that glowing card and Soc's “specialties,” I knew he'd want to know more about it; maybe they all would.
 

After a dramatic pause, I pulled the card and flipped it over to him. “Take a look at that; pretty strange, huh? That guy is a teacher of mine.”
 

Rick looked down at the card, turned it over, then looked back up at me, his face as blank as the card. “Is this a joke? I don't get it, Dan.”
 

I looked at the card, then turned it over. “Uh,” I granted, stuffing the piece of paper back into my wallet, “just a mistake, Rick. Let's warm up.” I sighed inwardly. This was bound to strengthen my reputation as the team eccentric.
 

Socrates, I thought, what a cheap trick--disappearing ink!

That night, I had the card in my hand when I walked into the office. I threw it down on the desk. “I wish you'd quit playing practical jokes, Socrates. I'm tired of looking like an idiot.”
 

He looked at me sympathetically. “Oh? Have you been looking like an idiot again?”
 

“Socrates, come on. I'm asking you--will you please quit it?” “Quit what?”
 

“The gag with the disappear--” Out of the corner of my eye I caught a soft glow from the vicinity of the desk:
 

Warrior, Inc. Socrates, Prop. Specializing in:
 

Paradox, Humor, and Change. Emergencies Only!
 

“I don't get it,” I murmured. “Does this card change?” “Everything changes,” he replied.
 

“Yes, I know, but does it disappear and appear again?” “Everything disappears and appears again.”
 

“Socrates, when I showed it to Rick, there was nothing there.” “It's the House Rules,” he shrugged, smiling.
 

“You're not being particularly helpful; I want to know how . . .”
 

“Let it go,” he said. “Let it go.”
 

Summer passed quickly, with intensive workouts and late nights with Socrates. We spent half the time practicing meditation and the other half working in the garage or just relaxing over tea. At times like these I would ask about Joy; I longed to see her again. Socrates would tell me nothing.
 

With vacation's end imminent, my mind drifted back to the coming classes. I had decided to fly down to L.A. for a week's visit with my parents. I would put my Valiant in garage storage here, and buy a motorcycle while down in L.A., then drive it up the coast.
 

I was walking down Telegraph Avenue to do some shopping and had just come out of the pharmacy with toothpaste when a scrawny teenager came up to me, so close I could smell stale alcohol and sweat. “Spare some change, can't you?” he asked, not looking at me.
 

“No, sorry,” I said, not feeling sorry at all. As I walked away, I thought “Get a job.” Then vague guilts came into my mind; I'd said no to a penniless beggar. Angry thoughts arose. “He shouldn't walk up to people like that!”
 

I was halfway down the block before I realized all the mental noise I had tuned into, and the tension it was causing--just because some guy had asked me for money and I'd said no. In that instant I let it go. Feeling lighter, I took a deep breath, shook off the tension, and turned my attention to the beautiful day.
 

That night at the station I told Socrates my news.
 

“Soc, I'm flying down to L.A. in a few days to visit my folks. I'm going to buy a motorcycle while I'm down there. And I just learned this afternoon that the United States Gymnastics Federation is flying Sid and me to Lubiana, Yugoslavia, to watch the World Gymnastics Championships. They think we're both potential Olympians and want to give us some exposure. How abut that?”
 

To my surprise, Socrates just frowned, saying, “What will be, will be.”
 

I chose to ignore this and started out the door. “Well, bye for now, Soc. See you in a few weeks.” “I'll see you in a few hours,” he responded. “Meet me at Ludwig's fountain, at noon.”
 

“OK,” I answered, wondering what was up. Then I said good night.
 

I got six hours' sleep and ran to the fountain just outside the Student Union. Ludwig's fountain was named after a dog who used to frequent the spot. Several other dogs were romping and splashing there, cooling off from the August heat; a few little kids were wading in the shallow water.
 

Just as the Campanile, Berkeley's famous bell tower, began to chime the noon hour, I saw Soc's shadow at my feet.
 

I was still a little sleepy.
 

“Let's walk,” he said. We strolled up through campus, past Sproul Hall, beyond the Optometry School and Cowell Hospital, up beyond the football stadium, into the hills of Strawberry Canyon. Finally, he spoke.
 

“For you, Dan, a conscious process of transformation has begun. It cannot be reversed; there's no going back. To try and do so would end in madness. You can only go forward now; you're committed.”
 

“You mean like in an institution?” I tried to joke.
 

He grinned. “Perhaps there are similarities.”
 

We walked silently then, in the shade of the overgrown bushes along the running trail.
 

“No one can help you beyond a certain point, Dan. I'll be guiding you for a while, but then even I must stand back, and you will be alone. You'll be tested severely before you're done, you'll have to develop great inner strength. I only hope it comes in time.”
 

The mild Bay breeze had stopped and the air was hot; still, I felt a chill. Shivering in the heat, I watched a lizard scurrying through the underbrush. Soc's last few words had just registered. I glanced over at him.
 

He was gone.
 

Frightened, not knowing why, I hurried down the path. I didn't know it then, but my preparations had ended. My training was about to begin. And it was to begin with an ordeal I almost didn't survive.
 

THE WARRIOR'S
 

TRAINING
 

After storing the Valiant in a rented garage, I boarded the “F” bus to San Francisco, connecting with Airport Transit, which got caught in a traffic jam; it looked as if I'd be late for my flight. Anxious thoughts began to arise; I felt my belly tense then, as soon as I noticed it, I let it all go as I'd been trained. I relaxed and enjoyed the scenery along Bayshore Freeway, reflecting on my growing mastery over stressful thoughts which had habitually plagued me in the past. And as it turned out, I caught my plan with seconds to spare.
 

Dad, an older version of me with thinning hair, wearing a bright blue sport shirt over his muscular chest, met me at the airport with a strong handshake and warm smile. Mom's face crinkled sweetly as she greeted me at the door of their apartment with hugs and kisses and news about my sister and nieces and nephews.
 

That evening I was treated to one of Mom's latest piano pieces--Bach, I think it was. The next morning at dawn, Dad and I were out on the golf course. All the while, I'd been tempted to tell them about my adventures with Socrates, but thought better of silence. Perhaps I'd explain it all in writing someday. It was good to visit home, but home seemed so long ago and far away.
 

When Dad and I were sitting in the sauna at Jack La Lanne's Health Spa after our golf game, he said, “Danny, college life must agree with you. You're different--more relaxed, nicer to be around--not that you weren't nice to be around before...” He was searching for the right words, but I understood.
 

I smiled. If he only knew.
 

I spent most of my time in L.A. looking for a motorcycle and finally found a 500cc Triumph. It took me a few days to get comfortable with it and I almost fell twice, each time thinking I'd seen Joy coming out of a store or disappearing around a corner.
 

My final day in L.A. soon arrived. Early the next morning I'd zoom up the coast to Berkeley, meet Sid that evening, and we'd take off for Yugoslavia and the World Gymnastics Championships. I relaxed around the house during the day. After dinner, I took crash helmet in hand and left the house to shop for a travelling bag. As I walked out the door, I heard Dad say, “Be careful, Dan, motorcycles are hard to see at night.” His usual caution.
 

“Yeah, Dad, I'll be careful,” I yelled back. Then I gunned the bike and pulled out into the traffic feeling very macho in my gymnastics T-shirt, faded Levis, and work boots. Invigorated by the cool evening air, I headed south toward Wilshire. My future was about to change, because at that moment, three blocks ahead, George Wilson was preparing to make a left turn on Western Avenue.