Peaceful Warrior

I felt the light diffracted across the systems of my own body. Then I knew that awareness is how the human being experiences the light of consciousness.

I learned the meaning of attention--it is the intentional channeling of awareness. I felt my body again, as a hollow vessel. I looked at my legs; they filled with warm, radiant light, disappearing into brightness. I looked at my arms, with the same result. I focused attention on every part of the body, until I became wholly light once again. Finally, I realized the process of real meditation to expand awareness, to direct attention, to ultimately surrender to the Light of Consciousness itself.

A light flickered in darkness. I awoke to Socrates shining a flashlight back and forth across my eyes. "Power failure," he said, baring his teeth like a Halloween pumpkin as he held the light up to his face. "Well, is it all a bit clearer now?" he asked, as if I had just learned how a light bulb worked, rather than seen the soul of the universe. I could hardly speak.

"Socrates, I owe you a debt that I can never repay. I understand everything now, and I know what I must do. I don't suppose I'll be needing to see you again." I was sad that I had graduated. I would miss him.

He looked at me, a startled expression on his face, then started to laugh more uproariously than I'd ever seen before. He shook all over; tears ran down his cheeks. Finally he calmed and explained his laughter. "You haven't quite graduated yet, junior; your work is hardly started. Look at yourself. You are fundamentally the same as when you stumbled in here months ago. What you saw was only a vision, not a conclusive experience. It will fade into memory, but even so, it will serve as a basis for your practice. Now relax and stop acting so serious!"

He sat back, as mischievous and wise as ever.

"You see," he said lightly, "these little journeys do save me some difficult explanations I must go through to enlighten you." Just then, the lights flashed on, and we laughed.

He reached into his small refrigerator next to the water cooler and brought out some oranges, which he started to squeeze into orange juice as he continued. "If you must know, you're doing me a service, too. I'm also 'stuck' in a place in time and space, and owe a kind of debt myself. A lot of me is tied up with your progress. In order to teach you," he said, tossing the orange rinds back over his shoulder into the wastebasket (making a perfect shot every time), "I literally had to put a part of me in you. Quite an investment, I assure you. So it's a team effort all the way."

He finished the juice and handed me a small glassful. "A toast then," I said, "to a successful partnership."

"Done," he smiled.

"Tell me more about this debt. To whom do you owe it?'"

"Let's say that it's part of the House Rules."

"That's silly, that's no answer at all."

"Silly it may be, but still I must abide by a particular set of rules in my business." He took out a small card. It looked normal enough, until I noticed a faint glow. In embossed letters, it said, Warrior, Inc.