Way of the Peaceful Warrior Read Online Free PDF

fly--for short distances only, of course.”  
    “Of course,” I agreed, feeling the door to the dream world blow open with a chill gust. I wondered what he was leading up to, when he beckoned me into the garage where he was working on a Japanese sports car.  
    “Got to change the plugs,” Socrates said, ducking his head  under the sleek hood.  
    “Yes, but what about the rooftop?” I urged.  
    “I'll get to it in a moment, as soon as I change these plugs. Be patient. What I'm about to tell you is worth waiting for, believe me.”  
    I sat toying with a mallet lying on the work table.  
    From Socrates' corner I heard, “You know, this is very amusing work, if you really pay attention to it.” For him it was, perhaps.  
    Suddenly he put down the plugs, ran over to the light switch, and flicked it. In a darkness so total that I couldn't even see my hands in front of me, I began to get nervous. I never knew what Socrates would do, and after that talk about ninja ....  
    “Soc? Soc?”  
    “Where are you?” he yelled from directly behind me.  
    I spun around fell onto the hood of a Chevy. “I don't know!” I stammered.  
    “Absolutely right,” he said, turning on the lights. “I guess you are getting smarter,” he said, with a Cheshire cat grin.  
    I shook my head at his lunacy and perched myself on the Chevy's fender, glancing under the open hood to find its innards missing. “Socrates, will you quit clowning and get on with it?”  
    As he deftly screwed in the new plugs, unsnapped the distributor cap, and examined the rotors, he continued.  
    “These ninja were not practitioners of magic. Their secret was the most intense physical and mental training known to man.” “Socrates, where is this all leading?”  
    “To see where something leads, it's best to wait until you reach the end,” he replied and continued with the story.  
    “The ninja could swim wearing heavy armor; they could climb sheer walls like lizards, using only fingers and toes in tiny cracks. They designed imaginative scaling ropes, dark and nearly invisible, and used clever means of hiding; tricks of distraction, illusion, and escape. The ninja,” he finally added, “were great jumpers.”  
    “Now we're getting somewhere!” I almost rubbed my hands in anticipation.  
    “The young warrior, when still a child, would be trained in jumping in the following manner: He was given a corn seed and told to plant it. Just as the stalk was beginning to grow, the young warrior would jump over the small stalk many, many times. Each day the stalk would grow; each day the child would jump. Soon the stalk was higher than the child's head, but that wouldn't stop him. Finally, if he failed to clear the stalk, he would be given a new seed and would begin over. Eventually, there was no stalk that the young ninja could not leap over.”  
    “Well, then what? What is the secret?” I asked, waiting for the final revelation.  
    Socrates paused and took a deep breath. “So you see, the young ninja practiced with cornstalks. I practice with gas stations.”  
    Silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Soc's musical laughter pealed through the station; he was laughing so hard he had to lean against the Datsun he'd been working on.  
    “So that's it, huh? That's what you were going to tell me about rooftops?”  
    “Dan, that is all you can know until you can do,” he answered.  
    “You mean you're going to teach me how to jump up on the roof?” I asked, my demeanor suddenly brightening.  
    “Perhaps so, perhaps not. Each of us has our own unique talents. You may learn to jump up on rooftops,” he grinned. “For now, toss me that screwdriver, will you?”  
    I threw it to him. I swear he grabbed it out of the air while looking in the other direction! He finished with it quickly and tossed it back to me, yelling, “Heads up!” I dropped it and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. This was exasperating; I didn't know