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Thanks for taking the
time to write that Cynthia.
What angers me most about the contradictions
CR made about marriage vs. being in the ashram is
that I had that abortion--against my will and
desires at that time which were based upon a belief
that CR was against abortions.
I heard that Maharaji was outspokenly against
abortions (it's a very sensitive subject I know).
This made it all the more surprising to me when
various posters insinuated here that there were
premie women who have had abortions on his
advice.
I became pregnant and had an abortion based
on extreme pressure from the father's family, as
well as advice from Charanand.
The more I hear about Charanand the more I go
off him. He sounds very, how shall I say, shallow.
For a so-called man of principle. No doubt he was
just passing on Maharaji's 'everyone should move
into the ashram - lose your wives & husbands '
line, and was extending it to 'kill your babies'.
This is of course a very serious matter-depending
on your views on abortion I guess.
Everyone looked up to Charanand as a 'great
saint' -he was treated with great respect. All
these instructors who preached celibacy etc. were
very hypocritical in their real lives. I have heard
from a trusted premie friend that Charanand was
successfully seduced by a teenage premie siren
circa 1977. I mean - in a way, good for him - at
least he broke the rules -but then to preach the
opposite to others shows total lack of integrity
and character.
every moment I spent in the ashram I obeyed
the rules. Sure, I had crushes on a couple of men
in the community, especially after I was shipped to
Gainesville, FL, but I was so confused,
disoriented, and deeply saddened to have been
rejected by CR. And I never followed through on any
sexual desires because CR had made it abundantly
clear that the ashram life was a lifetime
commitment.
Me too. I trusted him and followed the rules.
Let us not forget that Maharaji also advocated that
if you 'aspired' to be in the ashram, you should
adopt that lifestyle beforehand if possible.
Unfortunately I did. Furthermore I remember hearing
him say (when the ashrams closed circa 1981) that
the ashram closures didn't mean that as an'ashram
premie' you should stop living like one. The
implication was still there to remain renunciate.
Of course no one did.
The first thing I did (as a 25 year old
Scorpionic male who hadn't had sex for years) was
to bed the first willing female who came along. I
was a bit naive and of course got hooked into a
relationship straightaway which didn' t really work
out.
I remember weeping every day because I had
been near CR so much and considered him to be my
lord. I was thrown away because I became useless to
him.
Emotions that make us Weep.
I am embarrassed because I stifle a blub in
nearly all films - nowadays (since I have babies)
that means films like Mr Grinch, The Emporer's New
Groove, Dinosaurs etc. Anything that has as a theme
the triumph of good over evil, freedom over
oppression, is guaranteed to bring up a surge of
emotional recognition that this is somehow what I
want my life to be about. Last night I watched
'Gladiator' and I could feel myself reaching for my
son's plastic armour and sword - I could identify
with the noble cause to defeat the corruupt
emperor. Films are often about finding and
fulfilling a purpose against all odds. That is no
coincidence because that is emotionally what lies
in our hearts - AND WHAT IS HAPPENING IN OUR
DRAMAS.
I know it sounds a bit pathetic but I confess
that I used to spend a lot of time silently weeping
under my meditation blanket in the ashram. To
explain these strong emotions I need to relate some
background:
I had first been inspired with love for God as a
child. I believe this is a natural and common
childhood emotion. I really loved God a lot.
Interestingly my 4 year old daughter has expressed
the same innocent love (emotion) without any
prompting from me. It seems natural to love life
when, as a fresh young child, one's innocent heart
responds to the beautywe behold in the world in
which we arrive.
Anyway, aged 16, after leaving a British public
school where I had been primed and was priming
myself to be unleashed on the world to fulfill some
grand destiny - I got Glandular fever.
I was bed-ridden for 3 or 4 weeks. Prior to this I
had been enjoying a dizzying spell of new
experiences (girls, sex, copious amounts of LSD,
Mescaline, dope and comraderie with friends,
playing music etc.).
Being ill suddenly curtailed all this and I
found myself in contrasting solitary confinment. It
was confronting and gave me time to think deeply
about my life which essentially lay as a blank page
before me. How should I proceed? - I prayed for
guidance -truly begged for whoever, whatever put me
here in this marvelous world, to reveal itself so I
could achieve a higher purpose. I naturally trusted
that this superior power was kindly -that was why I
prayed -that was my intuition and of course what my
christian mother had believed and lived all her
life and impressed upon me. She shone with that
belief actually and was a very kind, good ethical
woman who had seen and been through a lot in her
own life during the war.
At school we were primed to be the best -we were
made confidant that we were being given the best
'launch' in life that was available. But I sought
an even higher purpose than the career that I was
being groomed for. At first I thought this would be
by becoming a musician with a message (I was
already at this young age an up-and-coming
musician). Then I thought that I should find God
first then do what ever great thing I had to do
-get in touch with the Ultimate Artistic
Inspiration.
In short I believed that my destiny would be
something really marvelous -I could live a life
that reflected the beauty of the creator of the
endless universe -the stars that I thrilled to
behold from my parents country farm as a child. I
wanted my life to be an expression of love to God
-a celebration. I needed some experience to replace
the drugs through which I had glimpsed ecstacy. I
needed someone, like the Jesus of the bible, to
return and guide me. Of course there seemed no one
like this around and so my intense prayers, my
supplications to God for my own revelation,
represented an enormous thirst which often made me
cry with longing.
Then along comes Maharaji (initially in the
guise of John Brauns) and it's a prayer answered.
The whole package is there -The opportunity to
serve the Living Lord -to dedicate my life - to be
given a destiny. So much happiness -so much joy- so
much relief- so much hope -so much trust-so much
good will.
Later I find myself herded (like the Pied
Piper's flock) into the Ashram. Since I am still
high on trust I ignore my doubts about the
weirdness and inhumaness - I suffer the sacrifices
and submit to the regime of stripping away
attachments, still hoping in the bottom of my heart
- from that same child's heart that had
originally cried and longed to know it's
source, that my new God (who now has a face and
name, lives and gives 'orders') will give me a
glorious part to play - he will give me a life. He
promised that the ashram was the place to become
fulfilled. It all made sense. It was the ONLY way
to live as a truly commited follower. He said so.
To recieve your Life first you needed to give it.
This was the ultimate sacrifice - a leap of faith.
Maharaji even used the word sacrifice often to
describe the requirements of becoming his ashram
premie.
As time goes on, the bleakness and harshness of
renunciate life hits home. The only consolation is
the Knowledge itself which is disappointingly not
enough comfort in these new intensive
circumstances. The premies are all behaving
weirdly, and my talents, that I had honed for
serving God, are not being used. It seems to not be
working. Even 'Holy Name' seems to be a feeling
that I associate more with long, heavy, all-weekend
satsangs, the same old intense faces. Life, my
youth, my God-given resources, seem to be slipping
by. Maharaji is shouting at us now -bullying us -he
seems a little crazy -demanding respect and
gratitude. Whatever happened to the happy little
boy I had been in my childhood Sussex farm
heaven.
So under my meditation blanket, where I
privately still communed with my original God, my
tears would daily roll. They rolled as I beseached
Him to make sense of what had befallen me. When
would I be given something to do? Some purpose?
They rolled as I struggled to understand why I
should not be allowed to see my beloved and dying
father, they rolled as I grieved for my devotion to
be reciprocated, they rolled as I burst with
sincerity and so much to give and yet no
opportunity. They rolled as I struggled to keep
Maharaji enthroned in my heart as the human
representative of the formless God who, from simple
gratitude, I had long wished to deeper know.
WAKEY WAKEY! Okay, it's 8.30 am - meditation
over -time to go to work -to get money for the
ashram and to pay for Maharaji's wants. The real
world, the tedium of going to work as a draughtsman
in Lowestoft every day, followed by 'Satsang' every
night and then weekends of seemingly endless
all-day 'Satsang'. Sometimes we in the ashram had
given so much money that we could not afford to,
and were expected not to even go to the programs
that were such cherished opportunities for most to
go and see the Master and to relieve the mundanity
of their lives. So on went the story until the
dream gradually crumbled and a most unexpected
reality dawned.
It is for us to turn our frustrations and
vengeful feelings to our advantage. To dedicate
ourselves with renewed vigour to truthfulness and
to Life itself, to take courage in our convictions
and to live our own lives with complete integrity.
These days I am so envigorated and inspired by
having the courage to face the idol that placated
my beloved formless God, that I even sense that if
there is such a thing as 'Grace' then it will be on
my side!
Talking of emotions, I have been writing some
music for a video called 'Samadhi' which is a
computer generated trip into heaven. In the middle
there is a section where I use a King's College
choir boy singing the following words (which I
composed in pig-latin rather quickly) over a
gloriously triumphant and exultant chorus:
'Gloria in excelsis Omnes! Gloria creatore mundi
!'
literally - (Glory to everyone in the Highest!
Glory to the Creator of the world!)
When I heard it it brought a tear to my eye, as
it did to the animator who had to remove his
glasses to wipe his eyes!
Let's get back to celebrating the wonder of life
without the degenerate sham that Maharaji worship
and Knowledge became! Let's take back the power
from the priests! Let's have courage to face the
powerful oppressors! Let's free the slaves!
(Sorry I really think that Gladiator film got to
me!)
Right, this has to be posted now - mistakes and
all - no time for spell check -gotta go and pick up
kids -and buy my son a new sword to replace the one
he broke in battle yesterday.
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