And I wondered if teachers like Atmananda were increasingly exploiting
such a need in millions who, for whatever reasons, had chosen a path
apart from conventional religion. Perhaps by nurturing both mystical
and rational inclinations, society could explore the realm beyond
the surface world of reason while keeping pace with the charismatic
predators of the New Age.
But in the darkness of a northern Michigan night, still angry and
upset from memories of Atmananda's experiments, I sensed that a New
Age of enchantment and wisdom had passed me by. Yet I also felt
cleansed and refreshed, like the air of a city after heavy rain.
I stood up and began gathering the fallen gear in a pile by the trailer.
Suddenly, I was staring into headlights which did not disappear.
A man got out of the pickup.
"What happened, son?"
As I recounted the bicycle incident, I tried to control the quiver
in my voice.
"Officer Brown," he said, showing me a badge. He dropped me,
the dog, and the rig off at a motel in nearby St. Ignes.
He also left me his number at the station, in case I needed help
getting back on the road.
The following afternoon, the policeman pounded the wheel back
into shape, fixed the derailleur, replaced spokes, and bolted steel
bars over the aluminum which attached the trailer to the bicycle.
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