The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari | Page 5

had settled down in India, a place so diverse that
even a restless soul like his could have made it his home. Or maybe
he was trekking through Nepal? Scuba diving off the Caymans?
One thing was certain: he had not returned to the legal profession.
No one had received even a postcard from him since he left for his
self-imposed exile from the Law.
A knock on my door about two months ago offered the first
answers to some of my questions. I had just met with my last
client of a gruelling day when Genevieve, my brainy legal
assistant, popped her head into my small, elegantly furnished
office.
"There's someone here to see you, John. He says it's urgent
and that he will not leave until he speaks with you."
"I'm on my way out the door, Genevieve," I replied impatiently.
"I'm going to grab a bite to eat before finishing off the Hamilton
brief. I don't have time to see anyone right now. Tell him to make
an appointment like everyone else, and call security if he gives you
any more trouble."
"But he says he really needs to see you. He refuses to take no
for an answer!"
For an instant I considered calling security myself, but,
realizing that this might be someone in need, I assumed a more
forgiving posture.
"Okay, send him in" I retreated. "I probably could use the business
anyway."
The door to my office opened slowly. At last it swung fully
open, revealing a smiling man in his mid-thirties. He was tall, lean
and muscular, radiating an abundance of vitality and energy. He
reminded me of those perfect kids I went to law school with, from
perfect families, with perfect houses, perfect cars and perfect skin.
But there was more to my visitor than his youthful good looks. An
underlying peacefulness gave him an almost divine presence. And
his eyes. Piercing blue eyes that sliced clear through me like a
razor meeting the supple flesh of a fresh-faced adolescent anxious
about his first shave.
'Another hotshot lawyer gunning for my job,' I thought to myself.
'Good grief, why is he just standing there looking at me? I hope that
wasn't his wife I represented on that big divorce case I won last week.
Maybe calling security wasn't such a silly idea after all.'
The young man continued to look at me, much as the smiling
Buddha might have looked upon a favored pupil. After a long
moment of uncomfortable silence he spoke in a surprisingly
commanding tone.
"Is this how you treat all of your visitors, John, even those who
taught you everything you know about the science of success in a
courtroom? I should have kept my trade secrets to myself," he
said, his full lips curving into a mighty grin.
A strange sensation tickled the pit of my stomach. I immediately
recognized that raspy, honey-smooth voice. My heart started
to pound.
"Julian? Is that you? I can't believe it! Is that really you?"
The loud laugh of the visitor confirmed my suspicions. The
young man standing before me was none other than that long-lost
yogi of India: Julian Mantle. I was dazzled by his incredible transformation.
Gone was the ghost-like complexion, the sickly cough
and the lifeless eyes of my former colleague. Gone was the elderly
appearance and the morbid expression that had become his
personal trademark. Instead, the man in front of me appeared to
be in peak health, his lineless face glowing radiantly. His eyes were
bright, offering a window into his extraordinary vitality. Perhaps
even more astounding was the serenity that Julian exuded. I felt
entirely peaceful just sitting there, staring at him. He was no
longer an anxious, "type-A" senior partner of a leading law firm.
Instead, the man before me was a youthful, vital � and smiling�
model of change.
CHAPTER THREE
The Miraculous
Transformation of Julian Mantle
I was astonished by the new and improved Julian Mantle.
'How could someone who looked like a tired old man only a
few short years ago now look so vibrant and alive?' I wondered in
silent disbelief. 'Was it some magical drug that had allowed him to
drink from the fountain of youth? What was the cause of this
extraordinary reversal?'
Julian was the first to speak. He told me that the hypercompetitive
legal world had taken its toll on him, not only physically
and emotionally but spiritually. The fast pace and endless
demands had worn him out and run him down. He admitted that
his body had fallen apart and that his mind had lost its lustre. His
heart attack was only one symptom of a deeper problem. The
constant pressure and exhausting schedule of a world-class trial
lawyer had also broken his most important�and perhaps most
human�endowment: his spirit. When given the ultimatum by his
doctor either to give up the Law or give up his life, he said he saw
a golden opportunity to rekindle the inner fire he had known
when he was younger, a fire that had been extinguished as the
Law became less a pleasure and more a business.
Julian grew visibly excited as he recounted how he sold all his
material possessions and headed for India, a land whose ancient
culture and mystical traditions had always fascinated him.