Way of the peaceful warrior (Version 0) a book that Changes Lives dan millman

EPILOGUE


LAUGHTER IN THE WIND

I'd passed through the gate; seen what there was to see; realized, high on a mountain, my true nature. Yet, like the old man who shouldered his burden and continued on his way, I knew that though everything had changed, nothing had changed.

I was still living an ordinary human life with ordinary human responsibilities. I would have to adapt myself to living a happy, useful life in a world which was offended by one who is no longer interested in any search or problem. An unreasonably happy man, I learned, can grate on people's nerves! There were many occasions when I began to understand and even envy the monks who set up housekeeping in faraway caves. But I had been to my cave. My time for receiving was finished; now it was time for giving.
I moved from Palo Alto to San Francisco, and began working as a house painter. As soon as I was settled into a house, I attended to some unfinished business. I hadn't spoken with Joyce since Oberlin. I found her number in New Jersey and called her.
“Dan, What a surprise! How are you?”
“Very well, Joyce. I've been through a lot recently.”
There was a pause on the line. “Uh, how is your daughter and your wife?”
“Linda and Holly are doing fine. Linda and I were divorced some time ago.”
“Dan”---there was another pause, “Why did you call?”
I took a deep breath. “Joyce, I want you to come to California and live with me. I have no doubts at all about you--about us. There's plenty of room here ....”
“Dan,” Joyce laughed. “You're going much too fast for me!
When do you propose this little adjustment should take place?”
“Now, or as soon as you can. Joyce, there's so much to tell you--things I've never told anyone. I've held it in so long. Will you call me as soon as you've decided?”
“Dan, are you sure of this?”
“Yes, believe me, and I'll be waiting here every evening for your call.”
About two weeks later, I received a call at 7:15PM. “Joyce!”
“I'm calling from the airport.”
“From Newark Airport? You're leaving? You're coming?”
“From San Francisco Airport. I've arrived.”
For a moment, I didn't get it. “San Francisco Airport?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “You know, that landing strip south of the city? Well? Are you going to meet me, or shall I hitchhike?”
In the days that followed we spent every free moment together. I'd quit my painting job and was teaching in a small gymnastics studio in San Francisco. I told her about my life, much as is written here, and all about Socrates. She listened intently.
“You know Dan, I get a funny feeling when you tell me about that man--as if I know him.”
“Well, anything's possible,” I smiled.
“No, really, like I knew him! What I never told you before, Danny, is that I left home just before starting high school.”
“Well,” I responded, “that's unusual, but not too strange.” “The strange part is that the years between my leaving home and coming to Oberlin are a complete blank in my memory. And that's not all. At Oberlin, before you came, I remember having dreams, very strange dreams, about someone like you and about a white haired man! And my parents--my parents, Danny . . .” Her large, luminous eyes opened wide and filled with tears. “... my parents always called me by my nickname . . .” I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. In the next moment, like an electric shock, a place in our memories opened up as she said, my nickname was Joy.”

We were married among our friends, in the mountains of California. It was a moment I would have given anything to share with the man who had begun it all, for both of us. Then I remembered the card he had given me--the one I was to use if I ever really needed him. I figured now was the time.

I slipped away for a moment, and walked across the road to a small mound of earth, overlooking the woods and rolling hills. There was a garden there with a single elm tree, almost hidden among the grope arbors. I reached into my wallet and found the card there among my other papers. It was dog-eared, but still glowing.

Warrior, Inc. Socrates, Prop. Specializing in:

Paradox, Humor, and Change Emergencies Only!
I held it in both hands and spoke softly. “All right, Socrates, you old wizard. Do your stuff. Come visit us, Soc!” I waited and tried again. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. The wind gusted for a moment--that was all.
My disappointment surprised me. I had held to a secret hope that he might somehow return. But he wasn't coming; not now, not ever. My hands dropped to my sides, and I looked down at the earth. “Goodbye, Socrates. Goodbye, my friend.”
I opened my wallet to slip the card back in, glancing again at its lingering glow. The card had changed. In place of “Emergencies Only” was a single word, glowing brighter than the rest. It said, “Happiness.” His wedding gift.
In that moment, a warm breeze caressed my face, mussed my hair, and a falling leaf slapped my cheek as it floated down from the elm.
I threw my head back, laughing with delight, and looked up through the elm's outstretched branches, into the clouds drifting lazily by. I gazed above the stone fence, out over the houses dotted in the green forest below. The wind gusted again, and a lone bird soared by.
Then I felt the truth of it. Socrates hadn't come, because he had never left. He was only changed. He was the elm above my head; he was the clouds and the bird and the wind. They would always be my teachers, my friends.
Before walking back to my wife, my home, my friends, and my future, I surveyed the world around me. Socrates was here. He was everywhere.