a little of
both when, a minute or so later, Atmananda asked Sal to wait outside.

"You've got to admit, kid," Atmananda said to me. "We have a good time
here."

I glanced in the direction of my backpack.

Atmananda made a fist and shut his eyes.

"Watch out!" cried my rational side. But he seemed sincere and
vulnerable, and I found myself gazing at him.

"Contemplate mountains--not him!" I thought. But in him I saw a man
who could see; who read people's inner thoughts and feelings; who
predicted the future; who glowed after I stared at him intensely for
several minutes; who spent hundreds of hours teaching me about worlds
of enchantment, excitement, and nobility; and who banked on a career of
making millions happy.

"Sure he's got a lot to offer," I thought, "but he's got that other
side--I need to get away!" But in him I saw the community I had helped
build, a community which included all my current friends.

"Help build another community! Find new friends!" But in him I saw my
aspiration to be a seeker of Truth--as well as my desire to wield power
over others.

"He's playing a power game--run!"

Atmananda opened his eyes. He seemed displeased and hurt. He appeared
as both a mother and father figure. He towered over me. He exuded
self-confidence.

I grimaced. Over the past few years, I had occassionally questioned
Chinmoy's authenticity in the back of my mind. Over the past few
months, I had occasionally questioned Atmananda's authenticity in the
back of my sleepy mind. Over the past few days, I had continuously
questioned Atmananda's authenticity in the forefront of my rested mind.
But now, the conflict, which pitted my rational nature against my
mystical nature, became too much to endure.

He opened his fist and demanded, "What do you see?"

I saw memories of him telling me to act like a warrior before the
Forces destroyed what we had worked so hard to achieve. I saw him
telling me with a concerned look on his face that he had spent more
time with me than with any other student.

"I... "

I had developed over the years a deep trust in him, as if he were
family. I had allowed him to access and to control an important part
of me, my imagination, and now I feared that without him, the window to
worlds of dreams and fantasy would never open up again. There were
other fears: of death, of God, of the absence of God, of being lost
without a world, without a friend...

"I... "

I co