Sensei of Shambala - Novykh Anastasia. Страница 8

I noticed that, even though this peculiar lecture was not quite clear to me, my thoughts started to search for the ways of a possible cure in it. “Maybe he will be able to heal me?! Although, of course, it’s very hard to believe, but maybe…” Encouraged by the elusive hope, I started to listen much more diligently to the convincing speech of “the sensitive one,” already not paying any attention to his appearance.

“… My might, as I was perfecting it, became immense…Here, as you can see, this is one of its manifestations,” and he pointed out the stuck spoons.

It looked quite strange. Making circles around the listening crowd, he stuck his stomach out further and further and slightly leaned back, like a penguin. I looked at Sensei. He stood, with hands crossed on his chest and a slightly lowered head, probably already tired of listening. He was smiling ironically.

“…I achieved this perfection due to some mysterious knowledge that is not known to anyone on Earth except the chosen ones. On the basis of that secret information, I developed my own system of spiritual development. But it’s not available to every mortal. Even that one, who due to the hardest work and through the atonement of sins and privations will reach the tenth level of my system of perfection, won’t be able to realize by himself the great mystery of this teaching. Because it reveals itself only to best of the chosen ones. Only people like me who are able to unite the perishable body with the great spirit, the spirit of Universal Reason, possess the all-mighty of God!”

It seemed like those words were the last drop on Sensei’s nerves. Judging by his light wave of movements, it seemed to me that he would lose his temper and punch this man with so much force that even the so-called power of this “alien” wouldn’t be able to save him. But despite my forecast, Sensei, clearly enunciating every word, said:

“Mister, isn’t it too much responsibility to take on yourself? So far, you haven’t demonstrated to us anything that would have proved your words.”

“What do you mean, haven’t demonstrated?!” Vitaliy Yakovlevich demanded angrily. “Don’t you see this?!”

“All this is rubbish,” continued Sensei. “Any body can do it. And there is nothing extraordinary or special in it. You simply need to wash yourself more often.”

The whole crowd rolled with laughter. Kostya, hitting himself on the forehead, said in excitement, “Of course! I remember I’ve read about this trick. He just has a sticky and wet body; that’s why the spoons got stuck.”

The self-proclaimed Ruler of the Universe and the whole Earth became even more furious and shouted across the sports hall towards Sensei, “What? You are too young to make judgements about such great knowledge! What else can you do except flap your legs?”

Sensei gazed at him seriously. Then he came up and easily took one of the spoons that were slipping away. Everybody around them froze. The Teacher stretched out his hand, holding the thin end of the spoon, and started to make a series of breathing exercises, working on deep breathing. In a minute, his face relaxed and his emotions disappeared. His eyes changed, and it seemed to me they became fathomless. He froze for a split second, fixing his eyes on the spoon. His figure seemed to look like a great sculpture. And at that moment the spoon started to bend fast like a soft fading flower, as if it weren’t made from tough metal but from some plastic material. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Impossible, but it’s a fact!

Sensei regained his usual appearance in a few seconds and calmly said to the shocked Vitaliy Yakovlevich as he returned the bent spoon, “When you can demonstrate for us at least this simple trick, then we will listen to you with great pleasure.”

And quickly turning to the crowd Sensei added, “I would like to inform those who haven’t changed yet that the training will start in two minutes. The ones who don’t make it in time will have to do the push-up penalty.”

Having heard these words, we rushed to the changing rooms, outrunning each other, missing the most interesting part: how this newly born God-like bum recovered from his stupor.

“Senior sempai! Why are there strangers in side?!” We heard the voice of Sensei behind us.

During the warm-up I revised my thoughts: “How could I even allow the thought that this bum is able to help me somehow?! Well… But on the other side, in my desperate situation, all I can do is believe in miracles and hope for the best. Here you grasp at any straw just to survive. That’s why these silly thoughts arise, because of an internal, almost panic level of fear. No. I should control my self. Anyway, I will find a saving loophole. I’ll try to survive. I shouldn’t lose hope, and I will fight to the very end!” The most amazing thing was that my firm belief was based on some deep, subconscious feeling, on that something I was looking for so hard. But all this became apparent in vague guesses.

Meanwhile, the warm-up ended up and we started to exercise the bases under the supervision of the senior sempai. Sensei was sitting on a bench discussing something with the gangly old man. “I wish I could hear what they are talking about,” I thought to myself. But evidently those curious thoughts were present not only in my head. During the training, despite the fact he was a man with grey hair, Dumpling was always trying, as if by accident, to take a place closer to the Teacher. And with each try he caused in me an indescribable feeling of envy and jealousy. And judging by the accusing gazes of our guys, I was not the only one who felt it.

During the noisy and monotone basic exercises and loudly announced commands, I again got deep into my thoughts. “How did Sensei manage to bend the spoon? And why did he call that phenomenon simply a trick? If that were a trick, then, in my understanding, it should have been thoroughly prepared. But he just took the spoon and bent it with his gaze alone.”

I could say that I believed and disbelieved it at the same time. I believed because somewhere I’ve read about people who possessed such abilities. I recalled that there were described people-magnets. But any objects, regardless what material they were made of – wood, metal, plastic – would stick to them. I remember that I was amazed most of all by the weight those people could hold up: more than ten kilos!

It was a paradox, but I didn’t believe that I had seen all that with my own eyes, as they say, “live.” Or rather, this disbelief was caused by my reluctance to realize that this fact itself was real. Everything seemed so mysterious. I would have understood if our crowd had been hypnotized, had had it explained to use beforehand what we would see. But Sensei just took it calmly and did it. How?!

Nevertheless, the fact that it was possible was very important for me. It was some kind of, not yet known to me, firm platform formed by Sensei’s knowledge. And my subconscious was intensively grasping it in every way possible, resisting those antagonistic thoughts. I don’t know why, but I started to trust that interesting man. At least, he obviously knew where there is truth and where there is fantasy.

After the basics, finally came the moment long expected by our company. This part of the training we used to call “the free style program” because people, having split up into pairs, were exercising old techniques or some peculiar techniques from the previous trainings. Andrew picked up his nunchaku and being followed by our curious glances came up to the Teacher.

“Is it possible to do something against nunchaku?”

“And do you know how to use them?” Sensei replied with a smile.

“Of course!” bragged Andrew self-satisfied. “I haven’t put them down for four years. One could say, I eat and sleep with them.”

Andrew demonstrated a couple of, in our opinion, complex movements.

“Not bad,” Sensei said.