Take Me for a Ride Part 18

I was occasionally buoyed by the realization that I desperately needed rest, that I needed time to think, and that I needed to take a break from Atmananda's all-night meetings. But I was mostly slapped by waves of fear of Atmananda's Negative Forces, and pulled under by the weight of s.h.i.+fting etiquette, meta-rational rhetoric, and sleep deprivation.

Roughly two weeks into the post-coup program, Atmananda began to publish WOOF! The Weekly Newsletter of Anahata. Having named his organization after the anahata chakra--the "psychic energy center of love"--he initially distributed WOOF! to the fifty Anahatans.

Weeks later, after having renamed his organization "Church of Atlantis"

(C.O.A.), Atmananda decided to distribute WOOF! The Voice of Southern California to tens of thousands of San Diegans.

WOOF! provided work for Atmananda's devotees and helped bind the fledgling group. We ill.u.s.trated, laid out, distributed, and laughed over each edition. We laughed, for instance, at Atmananda's fabricated advertis.e.m.e.nt about an imaginary bank (Issue #3; January, 1981): "Interloka Bank is pleased to announce the opening of a new branch in Mark's room. We will be giving away the first 500 customers as valuable gifts...We at Interloka are dedicated to serving you totally, and are proud to take you for all we can, whenever we can. We are the only authorized distributors of the GOLDEN GWIDcard...Interloka Bank--We Own You..."

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, the desire to believe in our friend and mentor, or the need for comic relief that blinded us to the grim foreshadowing of Atmananda's humor.

I laughed the hardest at Atmananda's ads and columns in which he satirized televangelists, Indian gurus, the Moonies, and New Age healers (see Appendix A). I felt justified in laughing at other spiritual groups, partly because they seemed to merit it and partly because Atmananda said that they needed to be laughed at. He wrote in an editorial (Issue #6; March, 1981): "WOOF!, the all-natural and organic paper that millions use to line their bird cages, makes fun of it all.

We act as a consumer's representative for you in the field of New Age consciousness. We feel that if what people have to offer is genuine then they won't mind us poking a little fun at them.

And if they do mind--then maybe the products or services they offer deserve careful scrutiny, and we should re-evaluate the truthfulness of their claims..."

In my naive, sleepless stupor, I accepted Atmananda's mission of poking fun at others, and did my best to train and coordinate the WOOF! distribution teams.

Perhaps it was to dispel doubts about his own authenticity that Atmananda proceeded to poke fun at himself. Appearing beside his photograph was the following ad (Issue #6; March, 1981): "His High Holiness SWAMI UGULA UGLE From The Himalayan Inst.i.tute For The Strange will be appearing in Del Mar on March 37th at 2 a.m.

for the high himalayan karrmuppet hat dancing & tea ceremony.

$$ Bring Lots Of Money $$ His high Holiness Swami Ugula Ugle is a direct lineal descendant of Llama Fred. He personally a.s.sisted in the baking of several LARGE rye breads at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram.

A devotee of Sri Ramana Mahars.h.i.+ and baseball, the Swami actually is a good guy. He doesn't claim to be any better than the rest of us. But he's happy. So maybe happiness can be learned?

Come and find out...We may hit you for a few bucks - but we'll give you a good time...Lots of pomp and ceremony for you Western types who can't accept that enlightened souls can look and act like normal human beings..."

I liked the ad. I saw no reason why enlightened souls should not look and act like normal human beings. I liked the way Atmananda poked fun at the pomp and ceremony which had distanced Chinmoy from many of his disciples. I also found Atmananda's deflated view of himself a relief.

A number of Atmananda's advertis.e.m.e.nts, however, were of a more serious nature. In the first issue, for instance (January, 1981), he wrote: "1st WORKSHOP OF 1981...another exciting Castaneda experience at UCSD...inspired posterers--here's your chance!"

In later issues, he repeatedly ran "The Experience of Luminosity" ad (Issue #6; March, 1981): "DR. FREDERICK LENZ is a spiritual Benefactor.

Each month...he offers several free workshops to members of the San Diego community. At these workshops he provides solid information and techniques that will help you to gain inner peace and happiness.

Dr. Lenz does this by discussing the most helpful aspects of Buddhism, Yoga, Vedanta, Zen, Taoism and the psychic and spiritual arts...During meditation, Dr. Lenz enters into Samadhi and directly channels Peace, Light, Power and Ecstasy to you...ADMISSION FREE..."

At the top of this full-page ad appeared the words, "Paid advertis.e.m.e.nt"-- as if WOOF! had been published by someone other than Dr. Frederick Lenz.

Atmananda, who at times seemed as cautious as he was bold, told me to instruct WOOF! distribution volunteers to be highly inaccessible.

I kept this in mind one Sat.u.r.day afternoon as I approached a health food store with Marty, a shy, soft-spoken UCSD student with a sense of wonder in his eyes. Marty had been a disciple of Chinmoy for about a year.

Raising the WOOF!'s to the counter, I said, "Could we leave these by the door? They're free!"

"Sure," the manager replied and he took one.

I placed my stack, and Marty, who had been lugging additional copies, placed his as well. We were almost out the door when the man said, "Say, who puts out this...WOOF!?"

I was about to reply that we did not know, that we were only doing this for money, when Marty suddenly blurted, "What WOOF!?"

And in a flash we were gone.

When I told Atmananda this story, he seemed pleased with me.

He was pleased with the large turn-outs at his public lectures, and he said I was doing an impeccable job overseeing the ten or so WOOF! and poster distribution volunteers. Perhaps it was in antic.i.p.ation of unbridled expansion that, using doubt-diffusing humor, he wrote and published the "Cult Of The Gwid Spreads Throughout Rancho Bernardo" article (Issue #6; March, 1981): "In a seemingly unstoppable tide of fanatic cultism, proponents, adherents and admirers of the Gwid have firmly rooted themselves in Rancho Bernardo and are expanding at an alarming rate. The concerned people of Rancho Bernardo are helpless in the face of such determined behavior and many have resigned themselves to their fate and joined ranks with the lively followers of the Gwid...the Gwid rea.s.sured and won the hearts of the entire Rancho Bernardo community when he gave a public speech yesterday outlining his major beliefs and ideals.

Excerpts follow: 'I do not wish to own your sons and daughters, merely to use them as a tax break. It is not the acquiring of wealth that interests me, but rather the actual possession of it.

All else is useless to me unless it involves adventure, limber bodies, cunning and chocolate...In closing, I stand for freedom, a cheese in every hand, the dignity to live a free and happy life under my close supervision...'"

As the month wore on, Atmananda often stopped by my room to perform what he called "reality checks." This involved chatting and meditating with me until my consciousness was "in a good place."

He was probably concerned that, as a member of his inner circle, I might unduly influence his disciples. But I was too tired, too fearful of the Negative Forces, and too busy coordinating WOOF!

and poster distribution teams to seriously reflect on or pose a threat to his self-anointed position of power.

Occasionally, though, I did think about the change. But instead of confronting guilt from having abandoned Chinmoy, and instead of confronting doubts about Atmananda, I found it easier to laugh and laugh at spiritual groups and the absurd things that they did.

12. Thwarted Escape

Months after the coup, Atmananda held late-night meetings less often, and I soon caught up on sleep. Refreshed from the rest, I tried to understand the changes that had been taking place within the Centre and within Atmananda. My thoughts were frequently interrupted by squawks from Atmananda's fourteen blue-and-gold macaws.

He kept them in a room in the garage. He was unaware that they were gnawing a hole in the roof. He planned to tame them and to sell them at a profit.

One time I lay in bed thinking about One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, a book Atmananda had recommended to me. At first I thought about the similarities between Atmananda and R. P. McMurphy, the novel's free-spirited protagonist. Both men, I realized, exuded auras of self-confidence. Atmananda, for instance, had once offered to teach me the secret of attracting women.

Jutting his chin forward like a boxer's glove, he focused on an imaginary horizon and began taking long and rhythmic strides.

He suddenly seemed eight feet tall, and I watched in awe as he ignored the young women who were checking him out.

Both Atmananda and McMurphy, I realized, shared their knowledge with others. Atmananda, for instance, made a special effort to make his followers feel big. "How can you become strong and self-confident?"

he asked at Centre meetings. "By doing all the things I have been recommending. By meditating. By leading impeccable lives.

By cutting off those--such as your family--who are draining your power.

And by learning to trust in yourselves."

Both Atmananda and McMurphy, I also realized, were teachers of self-sacrifice. Atmananda, for instance, lectured on Jesus Christ, Gandhi, and McMurphy. "McMurphy," he said at Centre meetings, "leads twelve men to the sea and takes them fis.h.i.+ng.

After the fis.h.i.+ng trip, McMurphy is worn out. He is in pain.

He has exhausted his energy so that others might be free.

This is the essence of self-giving. This is why I do what I do."

I reflected on the sacrifices that Atmananda had been making lately.

His efforts at running a spiritual Centre appeared to leave him exhausted and in pain. Dealing with the physical and non-physical demands of a congregation was no doubt an enormous imposition.

And what a spiritual leader he was! I pictured him striding about with his chin jutting forward, exuding that aura of confidence; sharing insights into metaphysical philosophies of the ancients, as well as American pop culture of the early '80s; joking and singing, inspiring and enlivening us; writing and publis.h.i.+ng WOOF!, as well as a book called The Bridge is Flowing But the River Is Not; challenging our intellects with the known and unknowable; recording and selling tapes on a variety of spiritual topics; framing and reframing the ways in which we viewed the world; issuing a recommended book list which included The Way Of Life According To Lao Tzu, The Bhagavad-Gita, How To Know G.o.d, I Ching, The Gospel Of Sri Ramakrishna, Tales Of Power, Tibetan Book Of The Dead, and Walden; distributing geometric patterns on which to meditate; and generating mystical experiences--with Light from the Infinite, of course!

But then I thought about how, unlike McMurphy, Atmananda increasingly blamed others for the role he chose to play. "I incarnated into this world of pain and suffering," Atmananda often claimed, "to help my students from past lives. Many of you don't seem to realize it, but I am in a constant state of pain as a result of the bad energy that you continuously bombard me with.

I am also constantly ill as a result of the ma.s.sive amounts of bad karma that I absorb from you on a regular basis."

I began to think not about McMurphy and Atmananda's similarities, but about their differences. I recalled Atmananda saying, "When you attain my level of enlightenment, you transcend good and evil.

'Good' and 'evil' become mere words, mere concepts in a universe where only experience matters. So why be attached to the good side of the force?"

I wanted to believe that Atmananda meant: "Why worry about being good if you become goodness itself?" But other memories surfaced, and I became overwhelmed by a nauseating sense that he had something else in mind. "Do you know who I really am?" he had increasingly croaked in a low, throaty rasp, his bright eyes mocking me.

"The anti-Christ. I work for the other side. Six-six-six. Think about it."

"He was only joking," I rea.s.sured myself. "Or maybe he was testing me.

That's it--he was only testing me." Yet it was difficult to discount the numerous, bone-chilling times that he had adopted a credible Lucifer persona.

Vivid memories now rushed forward like water through a newly unblocked dam. There were memories of Atmananda telling students that he meditated each day at noon. "Maybe Atmananda's inner being is always in a state of meditation," I thought, recalling the numerous times that I had seen him at noon not meditating. "But then again, maybe he was just lying."

There were memories of Atmananda's recent nightmare. "Guru tried to kill me last night," he had told me several mornings before.

"Really?" I replied, certain that Chinmoy, the peace-and-tennis-loving Guru, would not want to hurt anyone.

"That's right," he continued. "The Guru attacked me in the dream plane and nearly strangled me. Fortunately, I am stronger than he is-- otherwise I would now be dead!"