Richard from Texas has some cute habits. Whenever he passes me in the Ashram and no-tices by my distracted face that my thoughts are a million miles away, he says, "How's David doing?"
德州理查有一些可爱的习惯。每当在道场和我擦身而时，从我六神无主的表情留意到我的思维飘到十万八千里之外，他便说：“大卫好吗？”

"Mind your own business," I always say. "You don't know what I'm thinking about, mister."
“甭管闲事，”我总是说，“你不清楚我在想什么，先生。”

Of course, he's always right.
当然他总未猜错。

Another habit he has is to wait for me when I come out of the meditation hall because he likes to see how wigged out and spazzy I look when I crawl out of there. Like I've been wrest-ling alligators and ghosts. He says he's never watched anybody fight so hard against herself. I don't know about that, but it's true that what goes on in that dark meditation room for me can get pretty intense. The most fierce experiences come when I let go of some last fearful re-serve and permit a veritable turbine of energy to unleash itself up my spine. It amuses me now that I ever dismissed these ideas of the kundalini shakti as mere myth. When this energy rides through me, it rumbles like a diesel engine in low gear, and all it asks of me is this one simple request—Would you kindly turn yourself inside out, so that your lungs and heart and offal will be on the outside and the whole universe will be on the inside? And emotionally, will you do the same? Time gets all screwy in this thunderous space, and I am taken—numbed, dumbed and stunned—to all sorts of worlds, and I experience every intensity of sensation: fire, cold, hatred, lust, fear . . . When it's all over, I wobble to my feet and stagger out into the daylight in such a state—ravenously hungry, desperately thirsty, randier than a sailor on a three-day shore leave. Richard is usually there waiting for me, ready to start laughing. He always teases me with the same line when he sees my confounded and exhausted face: "Think you'll ever amount to anything, Groceries?"
他还有个习慢，走出禅堂时等我，因为他喜欢看我气得吹胡子瞪眼爬出来的模样，好像我才跟鳄鱼恶鬼打过架。他说从未见过哪个人跟自己交战得如此激烈。这我不清楚。不过在那间黑暗的禅堂内，对我而言，情况的确可能变得相当激烈。当我放开最后一丝恐惧，让一股能量沿着脊柱驱使而上之际，一种强烈体验于焉到来。“昆达利尼莎克蒂”竟被我当做一种夸张的说法，如今想来甚是好笑。这股能量通过我时，像低速档的柴油引擎隆隆作响，只对我有个简单的请求——“能不能请你朝外翻转，让你的五脏六腑摊在外面，而整个宇宙变成在你里面？能不能请你也以同样方式处理感情？”在轰隆隆的空间中，所有的时间混在一起，我——僵硬的、无言的、受惊的我——被带往各式各样的世界里去，我体验到每一种感官强度：火、冷、恨、欲、忧虑……结束时，我摇摇晃晃地站起身来，蹒跚走入白昼中，处在一种比上岸休三天假的水手更如饥似渴的状态。理查通常在那儿等着我，准备开始取笑我。他看见我困惑疲倦的面容时，总是拿相同的话嘲笑我：“食品杂货，你想你会不会有一天变得有出息点？”

But this morning in meditation, after I heard the lion roar YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW STRONG MY LOVE IS, I came out of that meditation cave like a warrior queen. Richard didn't even have time to ask if I thought I'd ever amount to anything in this life before I looked him eye to eye and said, "I already have, mister."
可是这天早晨的禅坐，在我听见“你无法想象我的爱有多么强烈”的狮吼之后，我像勇士皇后般走出禅坐洞。甚至没等理查问我觉得自己这辈子能否有一天有出息，我正视着他说：“我有出息了，先生。”

"Check you out," Richard said. "This is cause for celebration. Come on, kiddo—I'll take you into town, buy you a Thumbs-Up."
“你通过了考验，”理查说“我们该庆祝庆祝。来吧，老姐——我带你进城，请你喝‘大拇指’。”

Thumbs-Up is an Indian soft drink, sort of like Coca-Cola, but with about nine times the corn syrup and triple that of caffeine. I think it might have methamphetamines in it, too. It makes me see double. A few times a week, Richard and I wander into town and share one small bottle of Thumbs-Up—a radical experience after the purity of vegetarian Ashram food—always being careful not to actually touch the bottle with our lips. Richard's rule about traveling in India is a sound one: "Don't touch anything but yourself." (And, yes, that was also a tentative title for this book.)
“大姆指”是一种印度的软性饮料，有点像可口可乐，却大约是九倍糖浆，三倍咖啡因。我想可能还放了甲基安非他命。喝下后使我眼睛发花。理查和我每个礼拜进城数次，共享一小瓶“大拇指”——在道场的纯净素食后，是一种激进的体验——我们总是小心翼翼不让自己的嘴唇碰到瓶子。在印度旅游，理查有项明智的规定：“别碰任何东西，除了你自己。”（是的，这也是本书暂定的书名。）