Free Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman

protest. Socrates continued, regally waving a carrot slice at me.  
    “The rain was a perfectly lawful display of nature. Your 'upset' at the mined picnic and your 'happiness' when the sun reappeared were the product of your thoughts. They had nothing to do with the actual events. Haven't you been 'unhappy' at celebrations for example? It is obvious then, that your mind, not other people or your surroundings, is the source of your moods. That is the first lesson.”  
    Swallowing his potato salad, Soc said, “The second lesson comes from observing how you became even more angry when you noticed that I wasn't upset in the least. You began to see yourself compared to a warrior--two warriors, if you please.” He grinned  at Joy. “You didn't like that, did you, Dan? It might have implied a change was necessary.”  
    I sat morosely, absorbing what he'd said. I was hardly aware that he and Joy had darted off. Soon it was drizzling again.  
     
    Socrates and Joy came back to the blanket. Socrates started jumping up and down, mimicking my earlier behavior. “God damn rain.” he yelled. “There goes our picnic.” He stomped back and forth, then stopped in mid-stomp, and winked at me, grinning mischievously. Then he dove onto his belly in a puddle of wet leaves and pretended to be swimming. Joy started singing, or laughing--I couldn't tell which.  
    I just let go then and started rolling around with them in the wet leaves, wrestling with Joy. I particularly enjoyed that part, and I think she did too. We ran and danced wildly until it was time to leave. Joy was a playful puppy--yet with all the qualities of a proud, strong woman. I was sinking fast.  
    As the bus rocked and rolled its way down the curving hills overlooking the Bay, the sky turned pink and gold in the sunset. Socrates made a feeble attempt to summarize my lessons while I did my best to ignore him and snuggle with Joy in the back seat.  
    “Ahem--if I may have your attention,” he said. He reached over, took my nose between two of his fingers, and turned my face toward him.  
    “Wad to you wad?” I asked. Joy was whispering in my ear as Socrates held onto my nose. “I'd rather listed to her thad to you,” I said.  
    “She'll only lead you down the primrose path,” he grinned, releasing my nose. “Even a young fool in the throes of love cannot fail to see how his mind creates both his disappointments and his---joys.”  
    “An excellent choice of words,” I said, losing myself in Joy's eyes.  
    As the bus rounded the bend we all sat quietly, watching San Francisco turn on her lights. The bus stopped at the bottom of the hill. Joy rose quickly and got off the bus, followed by Socrates. I started to follow, but he glanced back and said, “No.” That was all. Joy looked at me through the open window. “Joy, when will I see you again?” “Perhaps soon. It depends,” she said.  
    “Depends on what?” I said. “Joy, wait, don't go. Driver, let me off!” But the bus was pulling away from them. Joy and Soc had already disappeared into the darkness.  
    Sunday I sank into a deep depression over which I had no control. Monday in class I hardly heard a word my professor said. I was preoccupied during the workout, and my energy was drained. I'd not eaten since the picnic. I prepared myself for my Monday night gas station visit. If I found Joy there I'd make her leave with me--or I'd leave with her.  
    She was there, all right, laughing with Socrates when I entered the office. Feeling like a stranger, I wondered if they were laughing at me. I went in, took off my shoes, and sat.  
    “Well, Dan, are you any smarter than you were on Saturday?” Socrates said. Joy just smiled, but her smile hurt. “I wasn't sure you'd show up tonight, Dan, for fear I might say something you didn't want to hear.” His words were like small hammers. I clenched my teeth.  
    “Try to relax, Dan,” Joy said. I know she was trying to help, but I felt