Now, buoyed by Atmananda's legendary strength, I rode the swells beyond the breakers to where my feet dangled above the ocean floor. After thirty minutes or so, we rode the waves toward the shore. At this time Atmananda often disappeared beneath the surface. We stood there in the waist-deep water, waiting, watching, and trying to figure out his next move--when suddenly there was a scream! Still underwater, Atmananda had seized and was tickling someone's foot. Then we sat on the beach, soothed by gentle currents of the herb-scented air. I looked to the west. Blue on blue stretched across the horizon. I looked to the east. White buildings gleamed behind a row of tall, healthy palms. I remembered Atmananda's advice: "If you want to live in a pretty world, just cry inwardly to Guru." I could not help but feel that I had entered one of Dr. Seuss' fantasy-gardens for children. Atmananda drove us back to the Centre, where we gazed for forty minutes or so at the Transcendental. Then we ate nachos--a perfect ending, I thought, to a perfect day. I was so absorbed in having fun with my new family, I did not think to contact my parents or my brother. Several days after we arrived in southern California, Atmananda took us on a bus tour of the San Diego Zoo in Balboa Park. The guide pointed to an elephant and said, "This is Peanuts. Peanuts has been with us for seven years." "This guy is making it up as he goes," whispered Atmananda, who seemed to resent having someone else control the conversation. The guide pointed to a giraffe. "This is--" "Fwazznoid," interrupted Atmananda loudly. "--and Puzzles has been with us for three years," continued the guide, trying to ignore the man monkeying around with the four laughing hyenas. One time during our first few weeks in California, Atmananda saw me standing on a wall in the yard. He later told me that he had seen me fly. "Really?" I said. "Yes," he replied. "I saw your Astral Body hovering over the canyon." "Wow!" Suddenly, his kind encouragement transmogrified into a cold, penetrating glare. I felt he was looking right through me. "I can see that you still doubt me," he said, turning away. I was upset with myself. As usual, he was right. Yet I sensed there was something more, something in the way he looked at me... But he was smiling now. "Don't let it bother you, kid. You're doing fine." "Whew," I thought, happy to forget about it. Perhaps Atmananda had been happy to forget about it too because he began giving me other things to think about. He gave me the task, for instance, of starting a meditation club at my new school, the University of California at San Diego (UCSD). He understood that by controlling a university club, he gained legitimacy, prestige, and unlimited access to free lecture halls.