Esteemed Reader of Our Magazine:

I was once persuaded to take my vacation at sea—on a cheap cruise ship floating like a bloated corpse between Sarasota, Florida, and Cozumel, Mexico. I would not have given my assent to join this voyage if the invitation had not come from a certain teacher of shamanic practices; a teacher, it should be said, who is known for choosing unusual or at least unexpected settings for the study of esoteric principles.

In his invitation he was adamant the trip was strictly for relaxing. If I had believed him I would not have gone, for I can think of far better places to relax than a prison-ship specially designed to induce maximum consumption of the lowest-quality pabulum. No, I was sure there was some learning to be had in the endeavor.

Arriving on board I found my berth—depressing quarters that resembled every cheap, antiseptic motel room America. When I discovered that the lone window was fake—illuminated from behind by a dim fluorescent light, the space felt suddenly claustrophobic as I remembered the Lusitania.

The first evening's dinner at sea made clear what I was in for. The insipid, unfresh food arrived in massive quantities. The teacher seemed not to notice. Our two tables were full of his students, several wives, and children. He was all smiles and seemed to enjoy the pallid fare with gusto, praising each course more than the last. I was dumbfounded and assumed that though he may be a good shaman, and despite his Tuscan ancestry, he was obviously handicapped when it came to recognizing good food. As well I was reminded of the story of the dervish and the scholar—the one in which the scholar, spying on the dervish in the market, becomes convinced the dervish is a charlatan because he is sold a melon that proved to be tasteless (later the scholar is taught to understand how this error could be consistent with the perceptivity dervishes are famous for).*

After dinner we journeyed to the casino, and I quickly realized that this was the place where our spiritual training would take place. I had never gambled in a casino or played blackjack or craps before so I mooned about for awhile, somewhat overwhelmed by the cacophony of bells and sirens, music, shouts, and flashing lights. I watched the craps table, for that was where the shaman teacher was playing. He was getting started fast, placing bets that seemed huge. I observed for awhile before I could tell that he was winning almost every bet, whilst laughing and joking. He was having a great time, with not an inebriant in sight. Joining him at the table he looked at me and spoke with quiet intensity, as though there was no one else in the room.

"It doesn't get any better than this!"

He said it like there was nothing to be happy about. It was simply a statement of fact, a description.

I arrived at the casino when it opened at 3p.m. the next afternoon. Armed with a review of the rules I sidled up to the blackjack table and plunked down a green chip. I looked at my cards and asked for another one. I knew it was a long-shot but I got the card I was looking for, and my $25 became $100. I bet again and the $100 became $400. The night was going well. I took my winnings and went back to the craps table where the teacher was hooting and yelling like he had just won the big one. I asked one of his wives what happened.

"He just topped $10 thousand in losses tonight."

He was still laughing and joking exactly as he had the night before. He placed another eight green chips and threw the dice. By his response I though for sure he had won, but then I saw the dealer's rake shoot out and pull back the eight green chips.

The teacher turned to me once again, and in the same voice, but without a hint of self-repetition, he reiterated:

"It doesn't get any better than this."

Debarking from the cruise my winnings were greater than the extra money in my pockets. I had a new insight that has carried forward to this moment, which is the only moment. And I know it is always true—even if something finer is possible, the doorway to it is only through this; here, where I am now, for this is the only place any recourse is possible. Not tomorrow, later, before, or yesterday. Only now. This is it! It doesn't get any better than this!