she waved to Ted, the priest turned and walked away, apparently busy with his own matters. Angel waited for Ted to join her and wondered if the two of them were up to the task before them.
8
Ted sat on the meditation pillow—a brown corduroy cushion that felt like Velcro on wolf fur—and waited for further instructions. Getting comfortable in his new surroundings was a tall task. Bertha’s interior was a rather strange hodgepodge of steel, animal skins, incense, candle sconces, calendars from the last century, bones from some archeological dig, old bookshelves, a metal librarian’s desk—still anchored to the driver’s side wall—blankets, pillows, clothing, tools, towels, and items that generally appeared to be broken, discarded, and evidently of no further value to the civilized world. Most of the bookshelves had been removed from the walls, but some of the mounting brackets remained. Also on the wall of the driver’s side was one remaining set of floor-to-ceiling shelving. On the shelves were just under a hundred of Angel’s favorite books. Between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat was an open space where No Barks liked to perch.
Angel began her first lesson by pulling from the shelves and tossing in Ted’s direction paperback copies of what she considered to be classic spiritual texts. He glanced quickly at the first three titles that rained down at his feet—StephenBatchelor’s
Buddhism Without Beliefs
, Richard Rohr’s
The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See
, and John Neihardt’s
Black Elk Speaks
. Editorializing on her selections, Angel said, “These books may seem inconsistent, and yet, in their own way, each finds the same truths about why we are here on this planet and our life purpose.” She finally stopped tossing books and concluded, “Reading may not be a substitute for doing, but it’s a start.”
Angel walked away from her bookshelf and began to shove some of her belongings into a pile toward the front of Bertha. “For now, you take the back and I’ll take the front. We’ll do some work here together at the monastery first. Later today we can drive up into the mountains. Father Chuck and I have an exercise in mind for you. You’ll love it.”
When Ted tried to inventory his surroundings, what struck him as most strange about Bertha was not what was there but what was missing: there was no bed, no proper kitchen, a very inadequate bathroom, no microwave, no dishwasher, no refrigerator, no sound system, no flat screen, no iPhone docking station, and only one electrical outlet. Ted sighed. If he’d paid for this school, a tuition refund would be in the works. This vehicle was ready for salvage.
Once Angel finished dealing texts to Ted like playing cards and reshuffling her belongings, she grabbed a pillow of her own and sat down close to Ted in the open area of Bertha, just behind the driver’s seat. “Ready for your first class at Spirit Tech?” she asked.
“Let’s start.”
“Father Chuck and I believe that there are some preliminary lessons you should complete before you’ll be able to do any serious work. Each of the three preliminary lessons—we call them realizations—will have two parts: instruction and practice. I could try to introduce all three realizations to you today, but it’s a great deal of work and it’ll take at least several hours. Are you up to this much work after a long drive?” Angel gazed at her student intently.
Ted looked around the bookmobile, still having major misgivings about Spirit Tech on Wheels. His dog, however, had no such problems. Argo, nestled in by No Barks, gently licked the wolf’s ears. If Argo was comfortable with the wolf, Ted decided that he could get comfortable with a Lakota spiritual consultant teaching from a dilapidated bookmobile. “Let’s push ahead.”
After a few moments of stillness, Angel began. “Let’s start where we left off earlier this morning. You passed out before I could finish the
8
Ted sat on the meditation pillow—a brown corduroy cushion that felt like Velcro on wolf fur—and waited for further instructions. Getting comfortable in his new surroundings was a tall task. Bertha’s interior was a rather strange hodgepodge of steel, animal skins, incense, candle sconces, calendars from the last century, bones from some archeological dig, old bookshelves, a metal librarian’s desk—still anchored to the driver’s side wall—blankets, pillows, clothing, tools, towels, and items that generally appeared to be broken, discarded, and evidently of no further value to the civilized world. Most of the bookshelves had been removed from the walls, but some of the mounting brackets remained. Also on the wall of the driver’s side was one remaining set of floor-to-ceiling shelving. On the shelves were just under a hundred of Angel’s favorite books. Between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat was an open space where No Barks liked to perch.
Angel began her first lesson by pulling from the shelves and tossing in Ted’s direction paperback copies of what she considered to be classic spiritual texts. He glanced quickly at the first three titles that rained down at his feet—StephenBatchelor’s
Buddhism Without Beliefs
, Richard Rohr’s
The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See
, and John Neihardt’s
Black Elk Speaks
. Editorializing on her selections, Angel said, “These books may seem inconsistent, and yet, in their own way, each finds the same truths about why we are here on this planet and our life purpose.” She finally stopped tossing books and concluded, “Reading may not be a substitute for doing, but it’s a start.”
Angel walked away from her bookshelf and began to shove some of her belongings into a pile toward the front of Bertha. “For now, you take the back and I’ll take the front. We’ll do some work here together at the monastery first. Later today we can drive up into the mountains. Father Chuck and I have an exercise in mind for you. You’ll love it.”
When Ted tried to inventory his surroundings, what struck him as most strange about Bertha was not what was there but what was missing: there was no bed, no proper kitchen, a very inadequate bathroom, no microwave, no dishwasher, no refrigerator, no sound system, no flat screen, no iPhone docking station, and only one electrical outlet. Ted sighed. If he’d paid for this school, a tuition refund would be in the works. This vehicle was ready for salvage.
Once Angel finished dealing texts to Ted like playing cards and reshuffling her belongings, she grabbed a pillow of her own and sat down close to Ted in the open area of Bertha, just behind the driver’s seat. “Ready for your first class at Spirit Tech?” she asked.
“Let’s start.”
“Father Chuck and I believe that there are some preliminary lessons you should complete before you’ll be able to do any serious work. Each of the three preliminary lessons—we call them realizations—will have two parts: instruction and practice. I could try to introduce all three realizations to you today, but it’s a great deal of work and it’ll take at least several hours. Are you up to this much work after a long drive?” Angel gazed at her student intently.
Ted looked around the bookmobile, still having major misgivings about Spirit Tech on Wheels. His dog, however, had no such problems. Argo, nestled in by No Barks, gently licked the wolf’s ears. If Argo was comfortable with the wolf, Ted decided that he could get comfortable with a Lakota spiritual consultant teaching from a dilapidated bookmobile. “Let’s push ahead.”
After a few moments of stillness, Angel began. “Let’s start where we left off earlier this morning. You passed out before I could finish the
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