Way of the Peaceful Warrior (16 page)

“Oh, you mean cooking?”
 

“Not exactly. Joseph doesn't heat food much; it destroys the natural enzymes needed to fully digest the food. He prepares natural foods in a way you'll soon see for yourself. After a taste of Joseph's culinary magic, you'll have no tolerance for fast food joints ever again.”
 

“What's so special about his cooking?”
 

“Only two things, really--both subtle. First, he gives his complete attention to what he does; second, love is literally one of the primary ingredients in everything he makes. You can taste it afterwards for a long time.”
 

Soc's replacement, a lanky teenager, came in with his usual granted greeting. We left, crossed the streets, and headed south. My limping pace quickened to keep up with Soc's strides as we took the scenic route down side streets, avoiding early morning rash-hour traffic.
 

Our feet crunched over dried leaves as we walked past the varied  array of dwellings that characterize Berkeley's housing, a mixture of Victorian, Spanish Colonial, nee-alpine funk, and boxlike apartment houses catering to many of the 30,000, students.
 

While we walked, we talked. Socrates began. “Dan, a tremendous amount of energy is necessary to cut through the mists of your mind and find the gate. So purifying, regenerative practices are essential.”
 

“Could you run that by me again?”
 

“We're going to clean you out, take you apart, and put you back together again.”
 

“Oh, why didn't you say that in the first place,” I teased. “You're going to readapt your every human function--moving, sleeping, breathing, thinking, feeling--and eating. Of all the human activities, eating is one of the most important to stabilize first. '
 

“Wait a minute, Socrates. Eating isn't really a problem area for me. I'm slim, I generally feel pretty good, and my gymnastics proves I have enough energy. How is changing a few things in my diet going to make a difference?”
 

“Your present diet,” he said, glancing up through the sunlit branches of a beautiful tree, “may give you a 'normal' amount of energy, but much of what you eat also makes you groggy, affects your moods, lowers your level of awareness, and interferes with your body's optimal vitality. Your impulsive diet results in toxic residues that have a long-
range effect on your longevity. Most of your mental and emotional problems could be minimized by simple attention to proper eating.”
 

“How can changing my diet affect my energy?” I argued. I mean, I take in calories, and they represent a certain amount of energy.'
 

“That is the traditional view, but it is a shallow one; the warrior must recognize more subtle influences. Our primary source of energy in this system,” he said, waving his arm to indicate the solar system, “is the sun. But in general, the human being--that's YOU.”
 

“Thanks for the concession.”
 

“... in his present state of evolution, has not developed the ability to make direct use of the sun's energy; you cannot 'eat sunlight' except in limited ways. When humanity does develop this ability, the digestive organs will become vestigial and the laxative companies will go out of business. For now, food is the form of stored sunlight which you need.”
 

“A proper diet allows you to make the most direct use of the sun's energy. The ensuing store of energy will open your senses, expand your awareness, and sharpen your concentration into a slashing blade.”
 

“All that is going to happen by eliminating cupcakes from my diet?”
 

“Yes--by eliminating cupcakes, and a few other odds and ends.”
 

“One of the Japanese Olympic gymnasts once told me that it's not your bad habits that count, but your good ones.”
 

“That means your good habits must become so strong that they dissolve those which are not useful.” Socrates pointed ahead to a small cafe on Shattuck near Ashby. I'd walked by there many times without really noticing it.
 

“So, you believe in natural foods, Soc?” I said as we crossed the street.
 

“It's not a matter of believing but of doing. I can tell you this: I eat only what is wholesome, and I eat only as much as I need. In order to appreciate what you call natural foods, you have to sharpen your instincts; you have to become a natural man.”
 

“Sounds positively ascetic to me. Don't you even have a little ice cream now and then?”
 

“My diet may at first seem spartan compared to the indulgences you call 'moderation', Dan, but the way I eat is actually filled with pleasure, because I've developed the capacity to enjoy the simplest foods. And so will you.”
 

We knocked on the door, and Joseph opened it. “Come in, come in,” he said enthusiastically, as if welcoming us to his home. It did, in fact, look like a home. Thick carpets covered the floor of the small waiting room. Heavy, polished, rough-hewn tables were placed around the room, and the soft straight-backed chairs looked like antiques. Tapestries hung on the walls, except for one wall almost completely hidden by a huge aquarium of colorful fish. Morning light poured through a skylight overhead. We sat directly below it, in the warm rays of the sun, occasionally shaded by clouds drifting overhead.
 

Joseph approached us, carrying two plates over his head. With a flourish, he placed them in front of us, serving Socrates first, then me. “Ah, it looks delicious!” said Socrates, tucking his napkin into the neck of his shirt. I looked down. There before me, on a white plate, were a sliced carrot and a piece of lettuce. I stared at it in consternation.
 

At my expression, Socrates almost fell out of his chair laughing and Joseph had to lean against a table. “Ah,” I said, with a sigh of relief. “It is a joke, then.”
 

Without another word, Joseph took the plates and returned with two beautiful wooden bowls. In each bowl was a perfectly carved, miniature replica of a mountain. The mountain itself was a blended combination of cantaloupe and honeydew melon. Small chunks of walnuts and almonds, individually carved, became brown boulders. The craggy cliffs were made from apples and thin slices of cheese. The trees were made of many pieces of parsley, each pruned to a perfect shape, like bonsai trees. An icing of yogurt capped the peak. Around the base were halved grapes and a ring of fresh strawberries.
 

I sat and stared. “Joseph, it's too beautiful. I can't eat this; I want to take a picture of it.” Socrates, I noticed, had already begun eating, nibbling slowly, as was his manner. I attacked the mountain with gusto and was almost done, when Socrates suddenly started gobbling his food. I realized he was mimicking me.
 

I did my best to take small bites, breathing deeply between each bit as he did, but it seemed frustratingly slow.
 

“The pleasure you gain from eating, Dan, is limited to the taste of the food and the feeling of a full belly. You must learn to enjoy the entire process--the hunger beforehand, the careful preparation, setting an attractive table, chewing, breathing, smelling, tasting, swallowing, and the feeling of lightness and energy after the meal. Finally, you can enjoy the full and easy elimination of the food after it's digested. When you pay attention to all these elements, you'll begin to appreciate simple meals; you won't need as much food.
 

“The irony of your present eating habits is that while you fear missing a meal, you aren't fully aware of the meals you do eat.”
 

“I'm not afraid of missing a meal,” I argued.
 

“I'm glad to hear that. It will make the coming week easier for you. This meal is the last one you'll be having for the next seven days.” Soc proceeded to outline a purifying fast that I was to begin immediately. Diluted fruit juice or plain herb teas were to be my only fare.
 

“But Socrates, I need my protein and iron to help my leg heal; I need my energy for gymnastics.” It was no use. Socrates could be a very unreasonable man.
 

We helped Joseph with a few chores, talked for awhile, thanked him, and left. I was already hungry. While we walked back toward campus, Socrates summarized the disciplines I was to follow until my body regained its natural instincts.
 

“In a few years, there will be no need for rules. For now, however, you're to eliminate all foods that contain refined sugar, refined flour, meat, and eggs, as well as drags including coffee, alcohol, tobacco, or any other non-useful food. Eat only fresh, unrefined, unprocessed foods, without chemical additives. In general, make breakfast a fresh fruit meal, perhaps with cottage cheese or yogurt. Your lunch, your main meal, should be a raw salad, baked or steamed potato, perhaps some cheese, and whole grain bread or cooked grains. Dinner should be a raw salad and, on occasion, lightly steamed vegetables. Make good use of raw, unsalted seeds and nuts at every meal.”
 

“I guess by now you're quite an expert on nuts, Soc,” I grumbled.
 

On the way home, we passed by a neighborhood grocery store. I was about to go inside and get some cookies when I remembered that I was no longer allowed to eat store-bought cookies for the rest of my life! And for the next six days and twenty-three hours, I wouldn't be eating anything at all.
 

“Socrates, I'm hungry.”
 

“I never said that the training of a warrior would be a piece of cake.”
 

We walked through the campus just between classes, so Sproul Plaza was filled with people. I gazed wistfully at the pretty coeds. Socrates touched my arm. “That reminds me, Dan. Culinary sweets aren't the only indulgence you're going to have to avoid for awhile.”
 

“Oh-oh.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “I want to make very sure I don't misunderstand you. Can you be more specific?”
 

“Sure. While you may of course enjoy intimate, heartfelt relationships, until you're sufficiently mature, you're to refrain completely from your preoccupation with sexual release. To spell it out for you: Keep it in your pants.”
 

“But Socrates,” I argued, as if on trial for my life, “that's old fashioned, puritanical, unreasonable, and unhealthy. Cutting down on food is one thing, but this is different!” I started quoting the “Playboy Philosophy,” Albert Ellis, Robert Rimmer, Jacqueline Susann, and the Marquis de Sade. I even threw in Reader's Digest and “Dear Abby,” but nothing moved him.
 

He said, “There's no point in my trying to explain my reasons; you're just going to have to find your future thrills in fresh air, fresh food, fresh water, fresh awareness, and sunshine.”
 

“How can I possibly follow every discipline you demand?”
 

“Consider the final words of advice the Buddha gave to his disciples.”
 

“What did he say?” I awaited inspiration.
 

“Do your best.” With that, he vanished into the crowd. The next week, my rites of initiation got under way. While my stomach growled, Soc filled my nights with “basic” exercises, teaching me how to breathe more deeply and slowly--mouth lightly closed and the tongue on the roof of the mouth. I plodded on, doing my best, feeling lethargic, looking forward to my (ugh!) diluted fruit juice and herb tea, dreaming about steaks and sweet rolls. And I didn't even particularly like steaks or sweet rolls!
 

He told me to breathe with my belly one day, and to breathe with my heart the next. He began to criticize my walking, my talking, the way my eyes wandered around the room as my “mind wandered around the universe.” Nothing I did seemed to satisfy him.
 

Over and over he corrected me, sometimes gently, sometimes harshly. “Proper posture is a way of blending with gravity, Dan. Proper attitude is a way of blending with life.” And so it went.
 

The third day of the fast was the hardest. I was weak and cranky; I had headaches and bad breath. “All part of the purification process, Dan. Your body is cleaning out, getting rid of stored toxins.” At workout, all I did was lie around and stretch.
 

I was actually feeling good--even cocky---the seventh day of the fast. I felt I could go longer. My hunger had disappeared; all I felt in its stead was a pleasant lassitude and a feeling of lightness. Workouts actually improved. Limited only by my weak leg, I trained hard, feeling relaxed and more supple than ever.
 

When I started eating on the eighth day, beginning with very small amounts of fruit, I had to use all my will power not to start gorging myself on whatever I was allowed to eat.
 

Socrates tolerated no complaints, no back talk. In fact, he didn't want me to talk at all unless it was absolutely necessary. “No more idle jabbering,” he said. “What comes
out of your mouth is as important as what goes into it.” I was thus able to censor the inane comments that used to make me appear a fool. It actually felt pretty good to talk less, once I started getting the knack of it. I felt calmer, somehow. But after a few weeks I tired of it.
 

He laughed again at my shocked expression. Then he looked at me; I thought he wanted to say something else. But he only resumed his paperwork and said, “Do your best.”
 

“Well, thank you for the stirring pep talk.” Deep down, I was offended by having another person--even Socrates--direct my life.
 

Still, I fulfilled every rule with teeth-clenching determination until one day, during workout, in walked the dazzling nurse who had starred in my erotic fantasies since my stay in the hospital. She sat down quietly, and watched our aerial routines. Almost immediately, I noticed, everyone in the gym was inspired to a new level of energy, and I was no exception.