When he was done, he refused to take my money.
"What are you doing now?" I asked.
"Cleaning the frame."
"Thanks," I said, "but you don't have to do that."
"Whenever you do a job, son, do it right."
Later that day, invisible currents from California, along with
the weight of the baggage, continued to affect my progress west.
As I rode through the woods of the Upper Peninsula, I reflected on Noah's
remark that I had escaped from an abusive relationship. My story,
I concluded, was not so unusual after all. Invigorated, I coasted
down a long hill and squeezed the brakes intermittently.
15. The Enchanted Taco
Late one night, Atmananda met three hundred disciples in a parking
lot in the desert ninety miles east of San Diego. He led us
for hours over soft, cooling sand to a spot in a dry river bed.
He had us form a circle around him. As we scanned for scorpions
before sitting down, the desert floor lit up like a circular,
gyrating constellation, until one by one the flashlights went out and it
grew difficult again to see.
"If you enter a higher level of consciousness," Atmananda began from
the center of the circle, "you will see the Warriors on the cliffs across
the gorge. They are subtle beings from another plane of existence.
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