In fact, he was surprised that Atmananda did not have sexual relations
with the men disciples as a way to control them. He also pointed
out that while in medical school, he had observed self-proclaimed
incarnations of Jesus Christ at psychiatric wards.
"How can you be sure that someone *isn't* enlightened?" I asked,
puzzled by the certainty with which Noah expressed his opinions.
"How can you be sure that someone *is*?" he replied.
I thought about the visit as I continued the journey west to Detroit.
Noah's reluctance to give a person or an idea the benefit of the doubt,
and the scrutiny with which he questioned words such as "enlightenment,"
seemed bizarre but not entirely unnatural, like a trusted habit
long forgotten.
Several days later, I rushed down a long hill in northern
Michigan toward an oncoming truck. It was twilight.
The trailer suddenly hit a bump, swung out from behind the bicycle,
and slammed into my rear wheel. I nearly fell from the impact.
Then I lurched forward as the trailer disengaged.
"Nuna!" I cried, glancing back, but the wheel had stopped
spinning and it took my full attention to balance the skidding,
swerving bicycle. Moments later the truck smacked me with a wall
of air as it thundered by, and the bike quickly came to a halt.
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