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sliced it into a bowl. “Disillusion is the greatest gift I can give you. However, because of your fondness for illusion, you consider the term negative. You commiserate with a friend by saying, 'Oh, what a disillusioning experience that must have been,' when you ought to be celebrating with him. The word disillusion is literally a 'freeing from illusion'. But you cling to your illusions.”  
    “Facts,” I challenged him.  
    “Facts,” he said, tossing aside the tofu he'd been dicing. “Dan, you are suffering; you do not fundamentally enjoy your life. Your entertainments, your playful affairs, and even your gymnastics are temporary ways to distract you from your underlying sense of fear.”  
    “Wait a minute, Soc.” I was irritated. “Are you saying that gymnastics and sex and movies are bad?”  
    “Not inherently. But for you they're addictions, not enjoyments. You use them to distract you from what you know you should do: break free.”  
    “Wait, Socrates. Those aren't facts.”  
    “Yes, they are, and they are entirely verifiable, even though you don't see it yet. You Dan, in your conditioned quest for achievement and entertainment, avoid the fundamental source of your suffering.”  
    “So that's what you think, huh?” I retorted sharply, unable to keep the antagonism out of my voice.  
    “That was not something you really wanted to hear, was it?” “No, not particularly. It's an interesting theory, but I don't think it applies to me, that's all. How about giving me something a little more up beat?”  
    “Sure,” he said, picking up his vegetables and resuming his chopping. “The truth is, Dan, that life is going wonderfully for you and that you're not really suffering at all. You don't need me and  you're already a warrior. How does that sound?”  
    “Better” I laughed, my mood instantly brightened. But I knew it wasn't true. “The truth probably lies somewhere in between, don't you think?”  
    Without taking his eyes off the vegetables, Socrates said, “I think that your 'in between' is hell, from my perspective.”  
    Defensively I asked, “Is it just me who's the moron, or do you specialize in working with the spiritually handicapped?”  
    “You might say that,” he smiled, pouring sesame oil into a wok and setting it on the hot plate to warm. “But nearly all of humanity shares your predicament.”  
    “And what predicament is that?”  
    “I thought I had already explained that,” he said patiently. “If you don't get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don't want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can't hold onto it forever. Your mind is your predicament. It wants to be free of change, free of pain, free of the obligations of life and death. But change is a law, and no amount of pretending will alter that reality.”  
    “Socrates, you can really be depressing, you know that? I don't even think I'm hungry anymore. If life is nothing but suffering, then why bother at all?”  
    “Life is not suffering; it's just that you will suffer it, rather than enjoy it, until you let go of your mind's attachments and just go for the ride freely, no matter what happens.”  
    Socrates dropped the vegetables into the sizzling wok, stirring. A delicious aroma filled the office. I relinquished all resentment, “I think I just got my appetite back.” Socrates laughed as he divided the crisp vegetables onto two plates and set them on his old desk, which served as our dining table.  
    He ate in silence, taking small morsels with his chopsticks. I gobbled the vegetables in about thirty seconds; I guess I really was hungry. While Socrates finished his meal, I asked him, “So what are the positive uses of the mind?”  
    He looked up from his plate. “There aren't any.” With that, he calmly returned to his meal.  
    “Aren't any! Socrates, that's really crazy. What about the creations of the mind? The books,