"Whew," I thought, happy to forget about it.
Perhaps Atmananda had been happy to forget about it too because he
began giving me other things to think about. He gave me the task,
for instance, of starting a meditation club at my new school,
the University of California at San Diego (UCSD). He understood
that by controlling a university club, he gained legitimacy,
prestige, and unlimited access to free lecture halls.
I saw no harm in Atmananda's request. We were, after all,
using the club to help Guru. So I set out to find three full-time
students who were willing to sign up as the club's officers.
"Hi!" I said, approaching one student. "I'm starting a meditation
club and was wondering if you might be interested in helping out."
"What's a meditation club?"
"We're going to have guest lecturers teach Zen and relaxation--
you know, stuff like that."
"Sounds cool, dude, but I'm already relaxed."
"Great--but maybe you could take a moment and help people who are not."
And so, by soliciting signatures from those not particularly
interested in meditation, I became the club's sole proprietor.
Meanwhile, Dana designed, Rachel mostly payed for, and Atmananda
"zapped" the new stack of posters, which I then placed around UCSD,
San Diego State University (SDSU), and the neighboring communities.
The talks went well, and I soon handed out many maps to the Centre.
Before the potential recruits arrived, Connie spent hours cleaning
the Centre. According to Atmananda, this was something her soul
loved to do. My soul, he pointed out, loved to greet people.
"Howdy--I'm Mark!" I said.
"Hello," she replied. She was graceful and alluring. "I'm Mandy."
"This one," I thought, "is gonna need some heavy protecting."
During the lecture, Atmananda predicted that the world would enter
a spiritual dark age in 1985. "The darkness will last for thousands
of years, and it will become increasingly difficult to meditate
and to think clearly. Spiritual warriors will need to band together
under the protection of a guru who can fight the Negative Forces
and forge a path toward freedom and Light through a world turned
murky and grey." Then we had cookies.
After several public meetings at the Centre, Atmananda invited
those who were interested in studying with Chinmoy to stay afterwards.
"What do you do for a living?" Atmananda asked each of the three.
"I'm a flight attendant," said Mandy.
"I know a few things about flying," Atmananda interjected.
"I cane chairs," said a woman with long, brown hair.
"I cane people," said a man with a crewcut.
"If you sincerely want to take the next step in your spiritual evolution,"
Atmananda said, "we will mail your photographs to Guru.
Guru will use his psychic vision to see if you are meant to study
with him."
By the time Chinmoy accepted the flight attendant, the crafts-person,
and the marine, there were many more applicants to be processed.
Despite the intensity of the recruitment drive, Atmananda found time
to assist certain seekers on a one-on-one basis. Mandy, in particular,
must have exhibited potential because he often spent nights
at her condo.
I figured it was okay for Atmananda to sleep with Mandy,
though it was not okay for me to appreciate her beauty. He was,
after all, an advanced disciple and knew a lot more about these
things than I. (He said on occasion that I could have a girlfriend
outside the Centre, but mostly he said that I shouldn't.)
My perceptions might have changed, however, had I known that he
was sleeping with *numerous* women disciples. My perceptions
also might have changed had I known about the "Bedroom Incident."
When Atmananda first flew with Rachel to La Jolla in search of a rental,
he chose a house with "good vibes"--but with only four bedrooms.
He told Rachel that he would take the large bedroom, that she
would take the dining room and living room areas, and that they
would switch.
But he never allowed her to use the living room. Nor would he switch.
To complicate matters, he often sat outside her makeshift bedroom,
advising disciples through the night and early morning how they could
accelerate their march toward a wordless perfection.
Unlike Atmananda, Rachel had to wake up in the morning and go to work.
After too many nights of too little sleep, she grew tired, angry,
and confused.
When Atmananda sensed that she was not her usual, happy self, he did
not openly communicate his displeasure. Instead, he ignored her.
He let the other women know that she was in a bad consciousness and
should be avoided whenever possible. He began to treat her as if she
were an outsider.
Rachel grew increasingly flustered. She reached out in her thoughts
to Guru, to family, and to friends. When Atmananda asked her
to move out of the house, she breathed an exhausted sigh of relief.
In the meantime, without a clue, I studied literature, worked
part-time, read Guru's books, meditated one-and-a-half hours a day,
tried to see, organized poster teams, attended Atmananda's talks,
and immersed myself each day in water over my head.
I felt so good about my life and the community I was helping
to build that it seemed like I was living in paradise.