The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

CHAPTER SIX

The Wisdom of

Personal Change

I am an artist at living — my work of art is my life.

Suzuki

True to his word, Julian showed up at my home the next evening.
At about 7:15 p.m., I heard four quick knocks on the front door of
my house, a Cape Cod design with awful pink shutters that my
wife believed made our house look like something out of
Architectural Digest. Julian himself looked strikingly different
than he had the day before. He still embodied radiant health and
exuded a wonderful sense of calm. It was what he was wearing that
made me a little uncomfortable.
Adorning his obviously supple body was a long red robe
topped by an ornately embroidered blue hood. And though it was
another sticky night in July, the hood covered his head.
"Greetings my friend," Julian offered enthusiastically.
"Greetings."
"Don't look so alarmed, what did you expect me to wear —
Armani?"