Read Online Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan Millman
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control. I decided to visit him that night.
I found him in the garage, steam-cleaning the engine of an old Chevrolet. I was just about to speak when the small, dark-haired figure of a young woman appeared in the doorway. Not even Soc had heard her enter, which was very unusual. He saw her just before I did and glided toward her with open arms. She danced toward him and they hugged, whirling around the room. For the next few minutes, they just looked into each other's eyes. Socrates would ask, “Yes?” and she'd answer, “Yes.” It was pretty bizarre.
With nothing else to do, I stared at her each time she whirled by. She was a little over five feet tall, sturdy looking, yet with an aura of delicate fragility. Her long black hair was tied in a bun, pulled back from a clear, shining complexion. The most noticeable feature on her face was her eyes--large, dark eyes.
My gaping must have finally caught their attention.
Socrates said, “Dan, this is Joy.”
Right away, I was attracted to her. Her eyes sparkled over a sweet, slightly mischievous smile.
“Is Joy your name or a description of your mood?” I asked, trying to be clever.
“Both,” she replied. She looked at Socrates; he nodded. Then she embraced me. Her arms wrapped softly around my waist in a very tender hug. All at once I felt ten times more energized than ever before; I felt comforted, healed, rested, and totally lovestruck.
Joy looked at me with her large, luminescent eyes, and my own eyes glazed over. “The old Buddha's been putting you through the wringer, has he?” she said softly.
“Uh, I guess so.” Wake up, Dan!
“Well, the squeeze is worth it. I know, he got to me first.” My mouth was too weak to ask for the details. Besides, she turned to Socrates and said, “I'm going now. Why don't we all meet here Saturday morning at ten and go up to Tilden Park for a picnic? I'll make lunch. It looks like good weather. OK?” She looked at Soc, then at me. I nodded dumbly as she soundlessly floated out the door.
I was no help to Socrates for the rest of the evening. In fact, the rest of the week was a total loss. Finally, when Saturday came, I walked shirtless to the bus station, I was looking forward to getting some spring tan, and also hoped to impress Joy with my muscular torso.
We took the bus up to the park and walked cross-country over crackling leaves scattered in thick piles among the pine, birch, and elm trees surrounding us. We unpacked the food on a grassy knoll in full view of the warm sun. I flopped down on the blanket, anxious to roast in the sun, and hoped Joy would join me.
Without warning, the wind picked up and clouds gathered. I couldn't believe it. It had begun to rain--first a drizzle, then a sudden downpour. I grabbed my shirt and put it on, cursing. Socrates only laughed.
“How can you think this is funny!” I chided him. “We're getting soaked, there's no bus for an hour, and the food's ruined. Joy made the food; I'm sure she doesn't think its so…” Joy was laughing too.
“I'm not laughing at the rain,” Soc said. “I'm laughing at you.” He roared, and rolled in the wet leaves. Joy started doing a dance routine to “Singin' in the Rain.” Ginger Rogers and the Buddha--it was too much.
The rain ended as suddenly as it had begun. The sun broke through and soon our food and clothes were dry.
“I guess my rain dance worked.” Joy took a bow.
As Joy sat behind my slumped form and gave my shoulders a rub, Socrates spoke. “It's time you began learning from your life experiences instead of complaining about them, or basking in them, Dan. Two very important lessons just offered themselves to you; they fell out of the sky, so to speak.” I dug into the food, trying not to listen.
“First,” he said, munching on some lettuce, “neither your disappointment nor your anger was caused by the rain.”
My mouth was too full of potato salad for me to
I found him in the garage, steam-cleaning the engine of an old Chevrolet. I was just about to speak when the small, dark-haired figure of a young woman appeared in the doorway. Not even Soc had heard her enter, which was very unusual. He saw her just before I did and glided toward her with open arms. She danced toward him and they hugged, whirling around the room. For the next few minutes, they just looked into each other's eyes. Socrates would ask, “Yes?” and she'd answer, “Yes.” It was pretty bizarre.
With nothing else to do, I stared at her each time she whirled by. She was a little over five feet tall, sturdy looking, yet with an aura of delicate fragility. Her long black hair was tied in a bun, pulled back from a clear, shining complexion. The most noticeable feature on her face was her eyes--large, dark eyes.
My gaping must have finally caught their attention.
Socrates said, “Dan, this is Joy.”
Right away, I was attracted to her. Her eyes sparkled over a sweet, slightly mischievous smile.
“Is Joy your name or a description of your mood?” I asked, trying to be clever.
“Both,” she replied. She looked at Socrates; he nodded. Then she embraced me. Her arms wrapped softly around my waist in a very tender hug. All at once I felt ten times more energized than ever before; I felt comforted, healed, rested, and totally lovestruck.
Joy looked at me with her large, luminescent eyes, and my own eyes glazed over. “The old Buddha's been putting you through the wringer, has he?” she said softly.
“Uh, I guess so.” Wake up, Dan!
“Well, the squeeze is worth it. I know, he got to me first.” My mouth was too weak to ask for the details. Besides, she turned to Socrates and said, “I'm going now. Why don't we all meet here Saturday morning at ten and go up to Tilden Park for a picnic? I'll make lunch. It looks like good weather. OK?” She looked at Soc, then at me. I nodded dumbly as she soundlessly floated out the door.
I was no help to Socrates for the rest of the evening. In fact, the rest of the week was a total loss. Finally, when Saturday came, I walked shirtless to the bus station, I was looking forward to getting some spring tan, and also hoped to impress Joy with my muscular torso.
We took the bus up to the park and walked cross-country over crackling leaves scattered in thick piles among the pine, birch, and elm trees surrounding us. We unpacked the food on a grassy knoll in full view of the warm sun. I flopped down on the blanket, anxious to roast in the sun, and hoped Joy would join me.
Without warning, the wind picked up and clouds gathered. I couldn't believe it. It had begun to rain--first a drizzle, then a sudden downpour. I grabbed my shirt and put it on, cursing. Socrates only laughed.
“How can you think this is funny!” I chided him. “We're getting soaked, there's no bus for an hour, and the food's ruined. Joy made the food; I'm sure she doesn't think its so…” Joy was laughing too.
“I'm not laughing at the rain,” Soc said. “I'm laughing at you.” He roared, and rolled in the wet leaves. Joy started doing a dance routine to “Singin' in the Rain.” Ginger Rogers and the Buddha--it was too much.
The rain ended as suddenly as it had begun. The sun broke through and soon our food and clothes were dry.
“I guess my rain dance worked.” Joy took a bow.
As Joy sat behind my slumped form and gave my shoulders a rub, Socrates spoke. “It's time you began learning from your life experiences instead of complaining about them, or basking in them, Dan. Two very important lessons just offered themselves to you; they fell out of the sky, so to speak.” I dug into the food, trying not to listen.
“First,” he said, munching on some lettuce, “neither your disappointment nor your anger was caused by the rain.”
My mouth was too full of potato salad for me to
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