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Showing posts from June, 2008

Fight on the Block

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"He insulted you, Guru." I was quietly sobbing into the phone, standing in the Smile's scullery. Guru told me not to worry. "I'm very proud of you, good boy." It had all happened rather quickly just a few minutes earlier. A table full of teenagers had just finished their lunch. One of them, however, had snuck out without paying. I followed him out and browbeat him back into the Smile to pay. At that point, while still outside on the block, one of his friends said, "Fuck the Guru." As I later learned, the local teenagers referred to disciples as "gurus," but at the time, I thought he was insulting Guru directly. I blew my stack. I aggressively shoved the guy, who was tall -- six feet easy. In one movement he handed a textbook he was carrying to his buddy and swung around and belted me just beneath the left eye. Dazed, I stumbled backward a step or two. Then, I sprung on him, closing the distance between us and put him in a headlock, bring

Premik

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Sometime shortly after April Celebrations 1987, I stepped into Guru Health Foods for a snack after work. Ashrita was working behind the counter and there were a few other customers in the store, including a guy who sang in the boys' singing group with me. His name was Premik. "He Yogaloy," Premik said. "You know anyone looking for a room to rent." Although Premik was in the Connecticut Center (which actually met in Queens with all the other local Centers) and worked at a disciple-run restaurant in Greenwich, he lived just a few blocks from the Smile. I'd never been in the house where he lived, but it looked big on the outside and inconspicuous. Unlike many of the disciple-owned houses in Jamaica which were painted bright blue, Premik's place was pale yellow and indistinguishable from the others on the block. The only other thing I knew about the house was that during the day, another disciple (who I think owned the house) ran a small mail order business

Birthday Blessing

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Just a few days after Guru's warning to me -- and with Celebrations underway -- I turned 22. It was bittersweet. On the one hand, I was still bumming about Guru's warning . On the other hand, Jeevan and Liz were in town and I was happy to see them. They were upbeat and inspired -- just the antidote I needed. On the night of my birthday, there was a function at P.S. 86. Near the end of the night, I was standing in the back of the school's auditorium commiserating with Jeevan and Liz. Liz had brought a bag of birthday gifts which were wonderful -- the first birthday gifts I'd received in a long time. Then Guru -- sitting in a reclining chair in front of the stage at the front of the auditorium -- pulled his microphone over and called my name. I took off my shoes and then jogged up to Guru's chair. He had a rose in his hand and beckoned me closer. I kneeled before him with folded hands and he placed his right hand on my head. The blessing lasted just a minute or so,

The Saint

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If 1986 was the year of personal breakthroughs for me, then 1987 was the year that I simply broke. It started with a phone call from Ashrita in early April 1987, just before Celebrations began. “Smile of the Beyond, may I help you?” “Yogaloy? It’s Ashrita.” Ashrita was the official messenger to and from Guru. Something was wrong. From all of the phone calls I had had with him the previous summer about my sister Liz , I recognized the tone of his voice. “What’s up,” I asked. “Yogaloy, Guru wants you to be careful. He’s received complaints that you’re becoming too friendly with Jayanti.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was stunned. “When I spoke to Guru," Ashrita continued, "he said ‘Yogaloy is a saint,’ but he wants you to be careful.” He paused. It seemed like Ashrita was waiting for a response from me to carry back to Guru. My head was spinning. “Thanks,” I said, and hung up the phone. Jayanti is Ketan’s little sister. At the time, I was about to turn 22, Keta

7,063

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I was right -- there was something unusual going on at Guru's house that night. Guru was going to attempt a mega-lift of some kind. As it turned out: 7,063 and three quarters pounds. Almost immediately upon my arrival, I was swept into action. The apparent mission: to schlep every single 100 pound cast iron plate in Guru's house into his living room. Quite a task. By that time (January 1987), Guru had accumulated a lot of weights and he had weightlifting machines all over his house: in the basement, in the unattached garage area, and upstairs in his bedroom. As I've made clear in a previous post , I was deeply ambivalent about Guru's foray into weightlifting. While I appreciated the gusto, the sheer audacity with which he threw himself into the endeavor, I thought the way in which his accomplishments were marketed outside the Center was a mistake. That said, one had to marvel at the structure that took shape in Guru's living room that night. Just look at it (above)

The Year Ends

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Like most years, 1986 ended with Guru and many of the local disciples going away on vacation. Though I didn't get to go, it had been a good year. Before leaving, Guru gave what was becoming a standard talk on how he hoped that no disciples "disappeared" while he was away. Though the idea hadn't yet occurred to me, there was a bit of the "while the cat is away, the mice will play" attitude amongst some of the local disciples. Rules were broken in Guru's absence. Usually, a few would take the further step of leaving the Center. I sort of enjoyed the solitude. I'd do my regular work hours at the Smile and then go for a run in the cold, dark early evenings. After dinner, I'd walk over to Ketan's place -- a granny flat behind his parents' house. Ketan was away on the trip, but he had generously given me his key so that I could go in and watch TV. When Guru returned in mid-January, the pace quickened again. Before leaving for the trip, Guru ha

Full Moon, New Moon

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Do you know that story from the Ramayana ? The demon king Ravana had kidnapped Lord Rama's wife, Sita. Back at his palace, Ravana asked Sita what she thought of him. "You are like the full moon," Sita replied. "While Rama is like the new moon." Ravana was pleased, thinking it a compliment. What Sita meant, though, was that Ravana's power was at its peak -- like the full moon, his power would only wane from that point. Rama's power, however, like the new moon's, was on the rise. That's what I'm reminded of when I look back at this picture of me and Jeevan from October 1986. I was at the height of my discipleship -- the full moon to Jeevan's up and coming new moon. Guru had made a trip to the Bay Area, which included a visit to my old Center in San Jose. Giribar had since opened up a juice bar and gallery. That's where Jeevan worked and the picture was taken. On his way out of the gallery, Guru stopped in front of Jeevan and me and b

The Limits of Power

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In the days after my Rutgers experience, I was psychically intoxicated during my waking hours, more so than I had been for the previous year. In that state, I learned something important about the limits of my spiritual power (such as it was). As it happened, I left the Smile with Guru’s lunch in hand one day. Though it’s not clear how often he actually ate it, Guru had a standing lunch order with the Smile: a half grilled cheese sandwich (American cheese on white, with grilled white onion and tomato) and a cup of cauliflower curry soup. We were to deliver Guru’s lunch to the house by noon and on the day in question, I got delivery duty. So, I turned left out of the Smile and left again on 86th Avenue. I always loved walking to Guru’s house, but in my spiritually inebriated state following the Rutgers concert, I was quite literally ecstatic as I walked up 86th towards 150th Street with my eyes half closed, basking in an internal glow. That’s when I noticed Lavanya walking towards me

The Gates Open

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Seemed like just another day. Guru had a concert that night in New Jersey and I was leaving work a few hours early. Sahishnu , my boss at the Smile, was grumpy and he had a right to be. I was congenitally late for work, what with my late night hours spent doing other forms of selfless service. Now I was leaving him and the other guys to close up the store by themselves. It wasn't fair. It was my job, though, to help Vinaya load up Guru's instruments and get them to the concert. Priorities. So, at about 3 p.m., I walked home, showered, and then walked over to Guru's house where I met Vinaya. Guru dabbled in a lot of instruments and most of them were stored in what must have started out as a small, separate garage on the property, which was now accessed via a simple cipher lock. Guru, however, kept his main instruments -- esraj , cello, flute, and harmonium -- inside his living room. The packing job didn't take long and once we had Vinaya's station wagon loaded, we

Doubting Thomas

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I hated Guru's weightlifting. Okay, that's a bit strong. But of all of Guru's multifarious activities -- and there were many -- I liked his weightlifting the least. The beginning was fine -- 100, 200 pounds with one arm -- but by the fall of 1986, Guru was attempting big, big numbers. And it wasn't the numbers, per se, that bothered me, but how each successive lift was promoted to the public -- as if they were world records. I found it embarrassing. Not the weightlifting itself, which Guru attacked with the same gusto that he applied to each new endeavor. I was fine with that. Instead, I was embarrassed by the over-promotion, the hard sell used to attract praise from weightlifting luminaries outside the Center. It's tempting to blame the very small group of eager beaver disciples in charge of promoting Guru's weightlifting achievements. I think they did Guru a disservice by their gushing descriptions of his lifts and their attempts to get various sanctioning bo

August Drama

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"Smile of the Beyond, how may I help you," I answered the phone. I was at work and still puzzled by Lizzie's call just an hour earlier. When had she taken an interest in Guru? Was she actually interested in Guru? Maybe she just thought it would be fun to come to New York. "Hey Yogaloy." It was Guru on the phone. "Of course your sister may come to Celebrations. Her soul has come to me many, many times." Guru went on a bit more, but that was the gist of it. Liz was in. I hung up the phone, pleasantly stunned. I had never mentioned Liz to Guru before. Yet, he spoke as if he knew her intimately -- actually excited that she was coming to Celebrations. So, I was excited, too. Little did I know what a shit storm was brewing. To fully appreciate the situation that was about to unfold, you've got to keep in mind two simple factors: the boys and the girls. In the Center, the two generally don't mix. At all functions, meditations, concerts -- the girls s