The Abode of Yoga

Ketan and I are tied to each other in some hidden way. Our friendship, however, never developed the natural closeness one might expect to develop between two people who had had so many shared experiences together. Over the coming years, we would live together for a time, work together, do selfless service together, socialize together and often relax together. Had you seen us during those years, you might have expected us to be the closest of friends. But we weren’t close in that way, not in the way I had once imagined friends should be. In some ways, I’m reminded now of David Moretti , my best friend from grade school. After leaving the Center, I met up with Dave a few times. As kids, we had shared many experiences together and had bonded as friends. As adults, however, the passage of time had changed things. We had grown apart and the shenanigans of our youth which had bound us together as kids were no longer enough to hold an adult friendship together. That’s the sort of dynamic I f...

There was some confusion down on the tennis court below. It was late afternoon -- August 1983, a few days after Phanindra had received his name. The afternoon function had been cancelled, so I went and hung out at the tennis court hoping that Guru might drop in. He did, and there weren't many people there. I quickly took a seat in the gallery overlooking the court and began meditating. Guru wasn't playing yet, though. He was talking to a couple of disciples who were down on the court itself, who had the privilege of serving him directly. They, however, appeared confused about what Guru wanted. They kept looking up to the gallery and then back at Guru, not understanding. So, Guru took matters into his own hands. "You there," he called. "You, from San Jose, what's your name?" Oh my God, he was talking to me! "I've forgotten your name," Guru called out again pointing towards me in the gallery. "Joe," I called back, with my hands fol...

August Celebrations that year (1983) was to be a watershed for me. By the fortnight's end, Guru would introduce me to a new circle of friends -- friends who served Guru directly and many of whom were closer to my own age. All I knew when I arrived in Queens, however, was that I was excited to be there. Thanks to Jigisha, I was welcomed again to stay with the same local disciple with whom we had stayed the previous April, as was my French friend Francois. He was lounging in his sleeping bag on the floor when Jigisha and I arrived. Before I could even say hello, Francois told me that he'd brought something for me and reached into one of his bags. Unexpectedly, he pulled out one of the Song-Waves' "Vive la France" t-shirts and gave it to me. I was shocked. The previous April I had mentioned in an off-hand way that I'd admired the French choir's red, white and blue shirts, but I'd forgotten all about it. The shirt itself wasn't that big a deal, but th...

This is Rick. When I had joined the Santa Cruz Center almost two years earlier, I knew little about Rick other than the fact that he had an older brother who lived back East who was a long-time disciple (and kick-ass runner). Rick, himself, kept a very low profile. For most of my senior year in high school, however, Rick was my savior. He drove way out of his way every Sunday night to pick me up a block from my dad's house ( from where I had snuck out ) so that we could then drive an hour north to the S.F. Center meetings. It was on those drives that I got to know him. He's a dynamic and eminently capable man in just about every field in which he endeavors. I owe him a lot. Before I graduated from school, Rick had been living in his own home in Cupertino, California with his long-time, live-in girlfriend. But as my school year progressed -- and as the fledgling San Jose Center lost more members -- it seemed inevitable that we'd eventually have to hold our Center meetings ...

“Joe , would you please stay just a minute.” It was my English teacher, Mrs. Bowles. I was just back from April Celebrations and she looked concerned as I approached her. “Joe , just before Easter break, you asked me for a progress report. I’m afraid I made a mistake on your grade. Your grade in this class is a D , not a B.” Holy crow, I had gotten away with something! She handed me a revised progress report. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I had my husband calculate your grade before and he inadvertently skipped over two pages of entries in the grade book.” As I walked out of the classroom grinning, I couldn’t help but think, “The Lord provides.” I crumbled up the progress report and threw it into the first trash can I saw. April Celebrations had been great! Regardless of my grades, I had just two months left of school and those two months went quickly. Upon graduation, the whole family -- such as it was -- watched me do the cap and gown walk past and then gathered at a local Mexican r...

April Celebrations ’83 was fantastic! I flew to New York, managed to secure floor space smack dab in Queens throughout, made a new friend, and to cap it off, Guru spoke to me again. As for staying locally, I really had Jigisha -- a San Francisco disciple I had become friends with -- to thank. He knew a local disciple living in Queens who needed help promoting some meditation classes he was planning to give. Jigisha said that I could crash in this guy's room during the Celebrations as long as I agreed to do some leafleting. I hated leafleting, which amounted to standing on a Manhattan street corner trying to get passerby to, well, join a cult to be frank about it. I really hated that approach. I mean, if that was the approach to recruiting new disciples, why not just go all the way -- shave our heads, go to the airport, and play finger cymbals? I sucked it up, however. A few hours of public humiliation was a small price to pay to stay local and avoid the hinterland hotel. Ashrit...

With the dawn of the new year (1983), I had one goal: April Celebrations. Despite my success sneaking out to Center meetings twice a week for the last few months, I couldn’t disappear for two weeks unnoticed. I had to get dad’s permission if I were going to go to New York over spring break. Even before asking him, though, I knew what his answer would be: you can go to New York if your grades are good. Fat chance. My grades wouldn’t be good. They sucked. Just look at my first semester grades above! I wasn’t cutting classes like I used to. I wasn’t smoking dope or getting drunk anymore. But neither was I studying outside of class; I never did homework. True, I wasn't technically flunking out, but could I be any closer? A few factors were in my favor, though. The April Celebrations that year would take place before our mid-term progress reports issued at school, so in order to prove my grades worthy, I’d have to ask my teachers to issue tentative progress reports early. In other w...

It wasn’t just Charlie’s departure that bothered Sevika. She was also worried about how a certain group of disciples might affect me. The disciples in question were secretly (and derisively) referred to as “A-bombers” within the Center. They earned that moniker by devoting themselves not only to Guru, but also to his little-known consort or spiritual partner Alo Devi. Alo wasn’t “in the brochure” as they say. I didn’t find out about her existence until just after I had joined the Center. And when I did learn about her, it was only through a whispering campaign and innuendo targeted against her. As I would later learn, Alo was born in Canada and was named Beverly Siegerman. She was about Guru’s age. As a young woman, she traveled to India and landed at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry. That’s where she met Guru. In 1964, at the age of 33, Guru left the Ashram and emigrated to the U.S., where he secured a clerk’s position at the Indian consulate in New York. (To read about this ...

By the beginning of 1983, the San Jose Center was down to just three disciples: me, Rick and Elizabeth. (By then, Prakash was attending the much larger and established San Francisco Center.) Elizabeth, whom I haven't yet introduced, was a classic Santa Cruz hippie. Though only in her mid-20s then, she was a throwback to the 1960s. While we never really got along with each other, I must give my props to her. She was a plank owner of the Santa Cruz Center. When the Center moved to San Jose, she moved with it. No doubt, Elizabeth was a devoted disciple. And as a former jock myself, I had to hand it to her: Elizabeth was tough. At about that time, Guru had issued a challenge to all of his disciples to see who could break certain times in the marathon. For the guys, the standard to beat was 2 hours, 30 minutes for the 26-mile race. For the girls, the standard was 3 hours, 30 minutes. Elizabeth promptly ran 3:28. She was the first girl disciple to do so worldwide. As for the rapid att...