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One of my best
friends in the world, who wants to remain anon for
a little longer, but reads here and will soon post,
sent me these e-mails about the experience of being
an instructor for Maharaji. After the first one, I
asked his permission to post it, and he sent me the
second, plus permission.
Warning, this is powerful stuff:
First letter:
'There was a lot I liked in 5. Talk of the
goings on at Amaroo made me feel a bit ill. The
whole vibe of a middle school prom and the
jealousies and social hegemony spured on by
position and power plays... Yech, my attachment to
that crap is still pretty strong, and was in fact a
useful tool in extricating myself from the cult.
The goings on at instructor trainings brought up
more sucky feelings in me than I could stand. Some
of it was truly terrible. Once, during a heated
disscussion over the value of Psychology, during a
break, a particular instuctor approached me at
lunch with the most venemous look on his face. He
started yelling at me in the lunchroom projecting
his lifes hate for anything smacking of self
examination, targeting me out of his belief that I
was one of those secretly against Maraji because I
dealt with such things in my personal work. (In the
conference, Maraji bit Psych. and anyone who
practiced any form of it in the ass pretty hard)
Now this guy had his opportunity to vent years of
hatred on me, somehow missing the fact that we
we're in the same room together, ostensibly for the
same purpose. A lot of people were castigated at
that conference, anyone who dealt with ' the mind'
OOOOga booooga! Funny, the one forum letter talks
of how regimented the programs and speakers had
become... That was Loring Bakers -and a number of
others- greatest criticism of me as an instructor;
that I was too much myself, too much of me was in
the presentation! (maybe that's because I cannot
get up and speak to anybody like an automaton!)
Whew, I can still feel my anger over that! Well, in
fact, a lot of the anger I developed over that kind
of poop gave me the strength to split. I wish your
latvian get together was at another time, later in
the summer.'
Second letter:
'I guess the point of my expressing it is, how
ironic it is that M. who speaks eloquently of how
things fit together so beautifully in nature and
life, seeks in his own personality, to divide and
conquer in order to control. While trashing the
study of psychology, and denigrating anyone
involved with it, he created a division amongst the
instructors that demonized those who had
inclinations or experience there, that created deep
levels of mistrust. In fact, his personality, like
anyone's, was obviously run by the same defense
mechanisms we all have. And like most, he seemed
oblivious to them. All this was going on around the
time of great family difficulty, as it was apparent
in his sarcastic remarks that he and Marolyn were
having problems. I believe that it was recommended
that they get counseling. I think he resented that.
Thus, all Psychologists were 'bad'. Pretty basic
stuff. Actually, in hindsight, I remember - between
bouts of anger that he would do that - feeling both
surprised and sad that the 'Lord' would have a
personality so riddled with defensivness. What was
he so insecure about? But I dissmissed all that
quickly, feeling guilty myself for even attempting
to understand the 'divine personality' in the same
terms as I would anyone else. A number of other
instructors however, came up to me and let me know
they felt M. was dismissive and in fact needed
help, and were talking to someone close enough to
him to see if he could be convinced to receive
counseling. Many others of course saw that as crass
arrogance, and I was too confused by my own
unwillingness to admit that what I was seeing was
true. I was too insecure myself in M.'s presence to
trust my own intelligence. Therefore, I denied and
denied, casting myself into a terrible inner
turmoil. I cried at night sometimes, to ease the
pressure of fighting within myself over the seeming
contradictions I saw. How can his behavior be so
... well, petty? I could understand him having
emotional concerns and relationship problems, but
to project them amongst his instructors and set
them against eachother to fight and act out his own
problems? That seemed so like the behavior
exhibited in the unhealthy family structures of
abusers and alcoholics. The secrets, (there were
many) the need for M to be fauned over, ( a lot! )
the parties and such where the competition to be
M.'s favorite, or have him notice you was
indescribably thick as custard... It made me sick.
In fact, after a while of being exposed to it, I
hated being around him. My internal pressure
increased the more I witnessed his petty behavior
and felt the emotional competition among the
instructors, the 'family' of M.'s world. Once, I
won a contest – I scored highest on an
instructor test - and won the 'opportunity' to have
lunch with M. I couldn't eat. I couldn't talk to
him. He seemed to dislike the whole thing as much
as I did. It was all so contrived. There I was, in
front of all the other Inst. having jumped highest
over a stick, now getting the reward of sitting,
with a few other notables, at M's table. People all
around the room would turn around to look, as if
for that one hour, I was a movie-star, the envy of
everyone in the room. Along with the others at the
table, I tried to make some small talk to 'open the
door' and try to get comfortable. M. was
disinterested, stared off in the distance - was
somewhere else - and I felt like a big idiot. The
whole thing, the pretense of it all was revolting.
So I scarfed down my food, got up and left. It took
every ounce of courage in me to walk out of that
room. Every eye was on me. I had forty five minutes
or so of 'bliss time' left, and I walked out on it,
walked away from the Lord. The struggle within
myself was tearing me apart. Were my perceptions
correct? Did M. act like an insecure middle school
bully, a hurt child not able to admit to his pain,
afraid to simply show everyone his vulnerability
and admit it like anyone. Were the other people in
the room just being themselves, or was I right in
sensing the dysfunctional family dynamics I felt
was rampant there. Was I just full of my own shit?
Was it all just my projection and I just couldn't
handle it? I went outside and broke down, sobbing
in disgust and bewilderment, unable to admit that
the whole gathering looked and felt like the worst
nightmares of my childhood, something I vowed never
again to participate in for the rest of my life.
Now, here it was again, as the answer to my prayer
to serve God. I was heartbroken. At that evening's
party, while M was surrounded by adoring women
waiting on him hand and foot, lighting his
cigeretts, pouring him drinks, and he enjoyed
himself by making the guys do stupid humiliating
things, again, I questioned myself. Am I just
jealous? Is it that I really want those girls to be
fauning around me? Again, the same nausea
overwhelmed me and I went back to my room. I wanted
to be an instructer. I believed in knowledge, but I
was deeply disturbed and afraid inside, because I
was so confused about M. I juggled that pain for
the next three years, giving talks and avoiding M.
as much as I could. Yes, if you want, print
this.... I feel too sick to my stomach even now to
continue writting. More later... Disillusioned.'
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