Nor did it matter that I wanted to forgive him.
When I meditated on the casual, diabolical way in which he pitted
my brother against me, my understanding and forgiveness vanished.
I tensed my gut and wrestled with a primal image.
The water was red. I shuddered. I saw my brother clearly.
He had an open, bleeding heart. I knew how that felt. I saw him
treading water. There was no bottom. I knew how that felt too.
A great white shark circled, rising effortlessly from the depths.
I clenched my fists. There was nothing I could do. Dan could not
hear me.
I meditated on what had happened later that night, after Rama
rooted his divisive legacy in my brother's mind. When Rama pointed
his finger at me, I knew that he was trying to intimidate me.
I also knew that he was trying to maintain some semblance of control.
But I feared that he might be a sorcerer. I intentionally visualized
sparks and bolts of protective lightning radiating from the bicycle key.
I understood that the colorful explosions were emanating from the world
of my imagination. But that did not stop me from *seeing* them.
The scene unfolding before me was, after all, not just another ending
to a Castaneda book. It was real. And I needed all the inspiration I
could generate.
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