I would massage his calves and feet and he could stroke my hair or pull my head into his lap while we watched TV. "Sir, what would you like to drink?"...I asked. "Whiskey tonic," he answered. I walked to the bar and ordered his drink. I also asked for a small empty glass. I felt the stares of eyes on my form, but did not look up at any of the men. I only had eyes for my Master. I walked back and placed the drink in his hand. I stood up to go back to my chair, but not before I stopped to whisper. My focus came quickly and I danced in celebration. I felt as if I were barely touching the floor. When I finished I dropped to sit with my short staff across my knees, supported by both hands. I felt--different. Soon I felt a hand on my shoulder. I rose and turned to see an older monk, bald and wrinkled. I suspected that he hadn't a tooth in his head. "I have never seen such a gift to the Buddha before. Come, let us have tea." Well, could I say no?We sipped tea as he gathered his thoughts. "We. More

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