I was surprised and frightened at what he had done. The Master had stolen our complacency, and thrown this one essential decision entirely upon us. In view of the respect that I have for the Master, myself, and our relationship, how could I possibly shirk this responsibility?

For a number of years Buddhist Studies has been my life's work. I felt in the past that I had some understanding of the matter of man's spiritual life, and could make some contribution to its study. But how could I ever really dare to conjecture about and teach Buddhism, or speak about practicing Buddhism, if I couldn't even summon the integrity and courage to face the single most essential issue? I would be the greatest liar to even think to discuss it.

Such thoughts as these began to boil up in my mind. The week passed in a turmoil of emotions. Sometimes I felt guilty or condemned, incurably corrupt and weak. Sometimes I was very sad, or angry and frustrated. Sometimes I felt regretful, and sometimes I felt exalted and full of bliss.

Sometimes I felt as if I had gone too far. There was no possibility of finding comfort in turning back. All security was gone, and I looked on, terrified, as if some abyss of incurable insanity yawned before me. Everything was different, and I felt very shaken and in awe of the true immensity of the question we were asking. It was no toy, but very serious indeed! Could I really trust these strange bald-headed people, speaking a different language, and with mannerisms different from anything I had known? What if the Master misunderstood, or wasn't really in control!

Daily I poured these emotions out to the Master; I never felt so emotionally raw and exposed. Sometimes he would console me, sometimes praise me, and sometimes confront me in the most direct and devastating manner. Often I was terrified of the interview.