by Deane H. Shapiro, Jr., Ph.D.
A little over ten years ago, in the summer of 1970, I was sitting in the meditation room of a Zen monastery, Daitoku-ji, in Kyoto, Japan. The master has raised a large stick over his head, and was about to give me a KWAT! on my shoulder. I watched his diaphanous white robe quiver, noted the soft movement of the candle flame, and then felt the blow. He bowed, I bowed. My sagging, tired body, my drowsy, thought-filled mind had returned abruptly to the on-going present.