Free Grace by Calvin Baker Page B

knows—thousands and thousands of them.”
    I fell quiet, thinking of how she must have wanted to protect him from knowing, from carrying her burden. “I always thought of the Holocaust as people’s grandparents” was the only thing I managed to say.
    â€œThe past is never as far away as you think,” he returned, implacable to the point of nonchalance. “Her real point, or part of her point I think, was to understand the difference between passing emotions and situations, and the steadiness of what lies behind them.”
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œEvery day Zuigan called to himself, ‘Master.’ And he would answer, ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘Become sober.’ ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘And after that do not be deceived by yourself or others.’ ‘Yes, Master.’”
    â€œIt is beautiful. What is it?”
    â€œIt is my koan, since I was a boy.”
    â€œDo you follow it?”
    â€œWe both know I am too vain to go all the way with it. Still, I like to remember it is there.”
    â€œWhy not follow it all the way, if you have followed it so long?”
    â€œOnce you begin to grasp it there will come the question of how sober you wish to be.”
    â€œHow did you and Elsa meet?” I asked, changing the subject, as I tried to parse whether it was only something he had read, or Davidson actually knew something serious and true.
    â€œIngo,” he answered breezily.
    â€œSeems right.” Ingo was one of Davidson’s aristocratic investors. “What does she do?”
    â€œGive away money.”
    â€œTo whom?”
    â€œOrphans. Museums. Needy politicians.” He lowered his voice. “You know, she’s the tenth wealthiest woman in Paris. She has a title, too.”
    â€œShe won’t anymore if she marries you,” I whispered back.
    Davidson continued undaunted. He was never daunted. Even in the throes of a nervous breakdown he had greater magnetism and power than most people in their primes. Not just worldly power to work his will, power from faith in his abilities and himself as a man, no matter the company. In his own personhood. That was his security and his charm. “Can you imagine keeping a fortune that size intact that long?” he asked.
    â€œWhere did the fortune come from?”
    â€œI believe it marched its way from the frigid, ungiving North Sea into the open-hearted embrace of her Monaco bank.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œWhy don’t you ask her, if it worries you?”
    â€œIt is not my business.”
    â€œThen why ask me?”
    â€œYou brought it up.”
    â€œThere was a reason.”
    â€œWhich was?”
    â€œYou still have the didact in you.”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œSure you do. Not five minutes ago you liked her. Now here you are sitting in judgment, wanting to know if her grandfather was the Antichrist. What if he were? Would you then be curious to know what is available to her besides shame, denial, or capitulation, and how she obtains it? So long as she is fully within herself, it does not matter.”
    â€œIt matters.”
    â€œTo what? To her character, or to your own particular hypocrisy that you do not see.”
    â€œI’m not a hypocrite,” I said.
    â€œAs I said, it is not your fault, but whatever politics they whipped up for you as a boy do not describe the human world, just a momentary politics of relative power. But kings give way to presidents. Priests to painters. Painters to entertainers. Presidents to industry. Paupers to billionaires. All in their turn. The money and power only project whatever picture show is already playing inside the people. Vanity, deceit, insecurity, greatness.”
    â€œThat is the same as to say what we do does not matter.”
    â€œThat is to say what matters is exactly what we ourselves do. When you come to Hollywood you will see it everywhere, people who think when the world