Free Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman Page A

overwhelmed, criticized by both of them.  
    “Dan,” Socrates continued, “If you remain blind to your weaknesses, you can't correct them--nor can you play up your strengths. It's just like gymnastics. Look at yourself!”  
    I could hardly speak. When I did, my voice quavered with tension, anger, and self-pity. “I am l--looking” I didn't want to act like this in front of her!  
     
    Blithely, Socrates went on. 'I've already told you that your compulsive attention to the mind's moods and impulses is a basic error. If you persist, you'll remain yourself--and I can't imagine a worse fate!” Socrates laughed heartily at this, and Joy nodded approvingly.  
    “He can be stuffy, can't he?” she grinned at Socrates.  
    I sat very still and clenched my fists. Finally I could speak. “I don't think either of you is very funny.” I kept my voice tightly controlled.  
    Socrates leaned back in his chair and, with cold-blooded cruelty, said, “You're angry, but do a mediocre job of hiding it, Jackass.” (“Not in front of Joy!” I thought.) “Your anger,” he continued, “is proof of your stubborn illusions. Why defend a self you don't even believe in? When are you going to grow up?”  
    “Listen, you crazy old bastard!” I screeched. “I'm fine! I've been coming here just for kicks. And I've seen what needed to see. Your world seems full of suffering, not mine. I'm depressed all right, but only when I'm here with you!”  
    Neither Joy nor Socrates said a word. They just nodded their heads, looking sympathetic and compassionate. Damn their compassion! “You both think everything is so clear and simple and so funny. I don’t understand either one of you and I don’t want to.”
    Blind with shame and confusion, feeling like a fool, I lurched out the door, swearing to myself that I would forget him, forget her, and forget I had ever walked into that station late one starry night.
    My indignation was a sham, and I knew it. What was worse, I knew they knew it. I’d blown it. I felt like a small boy. I could bear looking stupid in front of Socrates, but not in front of Joy. And now I felt sure I’d lost her forever.
    Running through the streets, I found myself going in the opposite direction of home. I ended up in a bar on University Avenue, near Grove Street. I got as drunk as I could, and when I finally made it to my apartment, I was grateful for unconsciousness.
    I could never go back. I decided to try and take up the normal life I’d tossed aside months ago. The first thing was to catch up in my studies if I was going to graduate. Susie loaned me her history notes, and I got psychology notes from one of my teammates. I stayed up late writing papers; I drowned myself in books. I had a lot to remember--and a lot to forget.  
     
    At the gym, I trained to exhaustion. At first my coach and teammates were delighted to see this new energy. Rick and Sid, my two closest workout buddies, were amazed at my daring and joked about “Dan’s death wish”; I attempted any move, ready or not. They thought I was bursting with courage, but I just didn’t care--injury would at least give me a reason to ache inside.
     
    After a while, Rick and Sid’s jokes stopped. “Dan, you’re getting circles under your eyes. “When’s the last time you shaved?” Rick asked.  
    “You look--I don’t know--too lean,” said Sid.
    “That’s my business,” I snapped. “No, I mean, thanks, but I’m fine, really.”
    “Well, get some sleep now and then, anyway, or there’ll be nothing left of you by summer.”  
    “Yeah, sure thing.” I didn’t tell them that I wouldn’t mind disappearing.  
     
    I turned what few ounces of fat I had left into gristle and muscle. I looked hard, like one of Michelangelo’s statues. My skin shone pale, translucent, like marble.
    I went to the movies almost every night but couldn’t get the image of Socrates sitting in the station, maybe with Joy, out of my mind. Sometimes I had a