"Actually those file records are someone else's opinion," He said opening the door to his office.<br/><br/>"I can't see you being labeled by anyone and not having something to say about it," He motioned for her to go first then followed.<br/><br/>The door automatically closed and locked behind him. He motioned her to the computer desk. There where a computer should be was instead a 12 by 12 inch  mandala. A sand painting of intricate design.<br/><br/>He motioned her to the desk.<br/><br/>It was a square with four gates containing a circle with a center point.  Each gate was in the shape of a T. It was filled with concentric shapes. Organized, bright colored and spaced exactly so.<br/><br/>He allowed her to have a good look as he spoke.<br/><br/>"Its symbolic nature can help one to access progressively deeper levels of the subconscious, ultimately assisting the meditator to experience a mystical sense of oneness with the ultimate unity from which the cosmos in all its manifest forms arises."<br/><br/>However, Master GoodFellow,  used it to focus the attention of aspirant subs and adept slaves, as a spiritual teaching tool, for establish subspace and as an aid to meditation and trance induction. But he didn't tell her that.<br/><br/>"Its colored sand along some geometric designs which are more or less drizzled into position from a funnel. That particular mandala took me four weeks to achieve," He told her for his own reasons she would discover soon enough.<br/><br/>"Any thoughts?"<br/><br/><br/><br/>