Never to Return: A Modern Quest for Eternal Truth, Chapter 41: A Shifting Path

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NEVER TO RETURN:

A MODERN QUEST FOR ETERNAL TRUTH

A Multimedia Spiritual Adventure Memoir
by Sharon Janis

Author of:

Chapter Forty-One

A SHIFTING PATH

IN THE YEARS SINCE I'D LIVED in the ashram, its policies had changed quite a bit and become much more corporate and controlled. In fact, the whole world was shifting and evolving (or in some cases perhaps devolving) very quickly. The internet and media revolutions brought a 24-hour connection with any and every element of every kind of culture and subcultures. Enough people had discovered spirituality, in part due to the passionate work my guru had done through his three world tours, that ideas like yoga and meditation were starting to become mainstream, with all the benefits and drawbacks from that. And at the ashram, the base number of devotees of all shapes, sizes, and levels of commitment continued to grow.

With so many more people participating, this also meant the addition of so many more kooky people, ambitious people, power-hungry people, and greedy people, along with the full-hearted spiritually attuned yogis who came mainly to serve and grow. When more people get involved in just about any effort, things inherently become more political and complicated. In this case, some of the people who were coming and going to and from the path started saying all kinds of things — positive and negative, intelligent and ridiculous — about the guru and the path.

One of these people who left decided to become an enemy to the path, and made it a mission to destroy the path and the organization. Dave had spent many years enjoying the benefits and growing from the blessings and challenges of serving in the programming department of the main ashram in upstate New York, and traveling to centers around the country. He had come to the path in a desperate situation, unable to achieve his goals, unhappy, and addicted.

During his ashram years, Dave went through triumphs and letdowns, praise and insults, and kindness and cruelty, and certainly had a valid mixture of reactions to the experiences. It was very easy to see that Dave's years in the ashram had brought a significant improvement to the way he felt about himself and his life, and that these teachings, practices, and experiences had more or less transformed him into a fairly confident and accomplished person.

I had spoken with David a few times during my decade of living in the ashram. One time, he came to the video editing room to speak with me about a project I was creating for the programming department. While there, he started being inexplicably belligerent and saying all kinds of odd and insulting things. I didn't take his words too personally, but was concerned for his well-being.

I saw David later that day and said something friendly to him. Apparently he thought my demeanor indicated that I'd been informed about his being asked by one of the higher-level manager types to come into my editing bay and taunt and insult me to see how I would respond. He confessed all the details to me and said that he was glad I'd found out, not knowing that he was the one informing me. Fortunately, nobody ever asked me to harm or harass anyone during my years of living in the ashram. I suppose we each get the experiences we need to have wherever we are to learn the lessons we are here to learn.

One element of David's transformation during his years of monastic life came when our guru and the organization offered to loan him $20,000 from the ashram funds so he could have his fairly severe cleft lip repaired by a top surgeon, with an agreement that Dave would repay the money whenever he left the ashram.

As they say, love of money is the root of evil, and in most cases, bad behavior can ultimately be traced to that love of money. After leaving the ashram, Dave began paying the first $1000 of this debt, and then realized that he didn't want to pay the rest (he shared this information in an online discussion forum). It seems that his resistance to paying the remaining money combined with memories of the challenging experiences that he'd had at the ashram to create an extreme vendetta of vengeance against the path.

Dave decided not to pay the rest of his debt, and used the funds to go to school to become an anti-cult expert. Instead of just saying the path was no longer working for him and moving on - which everyone was completely free to do - Dave began actively trying to destroy the path using the media and internet, contacting journalists, taking on many online personalities to all agree with himself on the message boards, and working hard to convince other devotees and ex-devotees that they too should feel like victims of the path.

In 1994, Dave had participated in an explosive article published about our path by a large national magazine, The New Yorker. I was surprised to find the story written more in the style of the National Enquirer than The New Yorker, with this reporter digging up and exaggerating as much dirt as possible and using trigger words to make even a smile by our guru to the article's author sound like a scene from a horror movie. Certainly, some of what was included in the article was based on true events, but the presentation was ridiculously slanted against my guru, while giving mostly a pass for her brother who had stepped down as co-guru.

To give an almost unfairly brief synopsis of my view of this complex, long-term set of events: Our original guru had left two successors, sister and brother. The brother was an easy-going fellow who had always been friendly with me, and once gave me a piece of delicious chocolate cake during my fairly austere ashram years. After he'd become a swami and taken vows of monkhood, the brother had also very kindly kept a greedy music department person from stealing away my scheduled opportunity to play harmonium for our guru as he prepared to leave the United States for the last time, setting the stage for the initiation experience I describe in an earlier chapter called “That Gracious Glance.”

This young brother swami used to hang out with some of the other ashram teenage boys who worked with the video department where I also worked, so I'd get to see and hear about their usual and unusual teenage games. Two that I remember finding a bit in contrast to the ashram atmosphere were when the group of young men tried snorting sugar to see what it would feel like to snort cocaine, and when they would dress in army fatigues to "play army" in the woods behind the ashram until all hours of the night. I suppose it must have been quite a challenge to go through their teenage years in such a monastic environment, and that they needed to have some outlet for their rebellious energies.

Soon after this time, the young swami and his sister, who also took the vows of monkhood, were named as co-successors to our guru through an elaborate ceremony. When our first guru passed in 1982, these two young gurus became the spiritual heads of our lineage.

In his youthful rebellion as guru, this young brother guru went down an all too common slippery path of spiritual figures having sex with disciples, including with some of the celibate swamis, which I personally think was his worst misdeed. It is one thing to choose to break your own vow, and quite another to use your guru power status to entice others to break theirs. It was difficult for me to watch several women swamis give up their swami robes due to breaking the celibacy that was considered to be an essential part of their vow.

This young brother guru also seemed focused on things like buying expensive cars that he would drive super fast (almost running me off the road once!). He liked going bowling, hanging out with friends, and using the free service of devotees to build lavish living quarters for himself. Although I had considered this fellow as a friendly acquaintance, I had no real sense of him as being my guru, or even a guru. His talks struck me as sometimes unintelligible, and as the ashram's video editor, I had a difficult time editing good videos of him. Once, his assistant/girlfriend chastised me for not editing as many videos of him as I did of his sister, who I considered to be a fine guru and my guru.

The sister guru had stepped much more readily and naturally into the role of guru, and seemed much more focused on serving those who had come for spiritual upliftment than on her personal comforts and enjoyments. She had worked extremely hard as our first guru's translator for talks, private meetings, and many books, and as the new guru, she continued to work hard and joyfully, day after day, to teach and be a spiritual guru for what soon grew to tens and probably hundreds of thousands of active devotees of the path.

This woman guru was vibrant, beautiful, ecstatic, and energizing, and her talks were brilliant, humble, humorous, musical, and very personally useful for me and others in attendance. The path kept getting bigger and bigger. Movie stars, college professors, singers, dancers, scholars, politicians, yoga instructors, and people from every country and possible walk of life arrived to join in the spiritual jamboree.

During times when my guru and her brother shared the guru's chair, the difference between them became visible. Her talks were inspiring and intelligent, while his tended to be laborious and boring. The brother guru had a strong Indian accent as well as an “Elmer Fudd” style speech impediment that made it even more difficult to figure out the words he was saying, only to realize that what he was saying wasn't so interesting or inspiring anyway. He would often seem bored with the whole scene. Sometimes he said things that indicated his disinterest in the role, such as, “I sometimes wish that some great being would come and dethrone me.”

At the end of programs, devotees would come up to have a darshan greeting with the gurus, and very often there would be a most uncomfortable scene of having a line of devotees that went out the door on the side of the sister guru, and a few straggling devotees who were either his devotees or especially detached or compassionate people coming on the brother guru's side.

The brother guru eventually stepped down from the position of co-guru through a dramatic sequence of events. In today's reality television terms, one might say that he was "voted off the island," although he technically stepped down after being confronted by a group of women who felt that he'd taken advantage of them. After stepping down, this brother was intending to study engineering and marry the woman who had been his assistant/girlfriend, only to later change course and create his own separate spiritual path to lead, apparently having gained greater maturity and self-control. Although I didn't ever consider him to be my guru, I did and still do wish him well on his journey, and hope that he is now living up to the trust given to him by our first guru.

With the brother gone, my friend and nemesis Ralph rose into greater realms of power as our guru's main assistant. He was as creative as could be, and loved anything flashy, expensive, and involving lots of celebrities. Celebrations on the path became more lavish and extravagant, with stages being built in the middle of our lake for full orchestras and dance troupes, fireworks and laser show displays, performances from the top singers and musicians of the day, representations of every possible spiritual and cultural tradition, extensive American Indian rituals, and much more.

The dedicated ashram residents who worked day and night to keep everything going were more or less relegated to a somewhat lower caste status in favor of the wealthy celebrity types, who would be courted and sometimes treated almost like royal guests. After all, we had the blessing of living in this holy place full-time, so I think most of us felt fine about stepping aside and focusing more on the service. Personally, I wasn't that big a fan of extravagant hoopla, although I think that experiencing it did help to upgrade my taste in culture, arts, and entertainment.

I did get to experience what it would be like to be a celebrity-type guest, several years after I'd left the ashram.    I'd recently offered thousands of dollars in donations, and then came for a two-week visit, only to find that I'd been put on the "special consideration" list — a kind of VIP list of guests who were given extra attention and care, perhaps with an acknowledgment that rich folks do tend to need some extra TLC, especially in the always vibrant, energized, and challenging ashram life. Being able to afford to stay in a single room would surely lessen the potential challenges of having roommates keeping you up all night (for those of us who are light sleepers), but single room or dorm room, you were sure to meet challenges. This ashram was filled with practices, teachings, and a tangible spiritual energy that were always pushing us up to higher levels of conscious awareness, and breaking us free of old habits of action and thinking. It was bound to be challenging, as significant growth tends to be.

So here I was, several years after leaving the ashram, coming for a visit and finding a little "welcome" fruit basket waiting on my nicely made bed. A very friendly woman named Terry would check with me every now and then to see if I was enjoying my stay. In a way, it was nice to be cared for, but it was also creepy. I was not a guest, but a monastic! This was my home, my spiritual home. I didn't need to be coddled. Basic plain mutual respect and kindness were enough for me. I mentioned to Terry that I didn't really need to be on this VIP list, and was eventually removed from it. Of course, there were times in future years where I felt that I'd been placed on more of a shit list, and might have liked to invoke a bit of that good old VIP treatment!

The expansion of the monastic ashram continued through the 1990's. The one hotel that we had used as an ashram soon became three hotels with additional buildings, over an expanse of several miles. To deal with the additional needs, the ashram staff had to keep growing and expanding. Much more money was needed just for basic maintenance of these aging hotels in the Catskill Mountains. Just the heating bills during those freezing upstate New York winters were shockingly expensive.

During the summer retreats, we'd have up to ten thousand people in the ashram at one time. The darshan lines to come up for an individual greeting and blessing with the guru would go on for hours. Suddenly, the ashram became a full-fledged spiritual resort, with endless needs and requirements just to make sure that everyone had a place to sleep and meals to eat, not to mention all the courses, programs, and creative productions. By necessity, the group focus began to shift from our simple spiritual practices to taking care of all these needs. Individually, we each still had the option to keep our focus on our personal spiritual practices and journey, but the general vibe felt more like a big, active hotel resort.

All kinds of people would come for the day, for a week, month, or year. Some were sincere seekers of spiritual truth, while others came for every reason imaginable. In the midst of all this expansion came that negative national article, which attempted to dig up every morsel of potential dirt on the path, some of which could be traced back to the actions of Ralph, who left the ashram soon after the article came out. The brother guru who had stepped down was practically presented as a saint by this clearly biased reporter.

Sometimes, what looks like a negative event can be a blessing in disguise if we remain open and trusting in the ultimate beneficence of God. When an event happens in my own life to shake things up and force me to look at where I might be going down the wrong path, my hope is to open to its guidance and hidden blessings.

In the same way, this explosive article, which painted a very negative and lopsided, but partially accurate picture of the questionable aspects of this spiritual path, may have also been a blessing in disguise. Right off the bat, many devotees were very happy to have Ralph out of the picture, since, along with his vision and enthusiasm, he had brought a certain distorted element of power and control to nearly everyone involved with the ashram — from scholars to swamis to devotees.
This article upset many on the path. Some were upset that it had been written at all, remaining firm in their trust and commitments to the path. Others were upset by the content, questioning whether they have been involved with some kind of terrible path for all these years. The fact that I was going through a similar situation of having people on the path spread false, negative rumors about me helped me to look more objectively at the tabloid picture being painted by the masterful magazine reporter in what most would consider to be an honorable magazine, the New Yorker Magazine .
Just as fellow devotees were ready to believe the untrue rumors about me without questions, shifting their entire view to perceive me as some horrible ogre; so some devotees also chose to believe this tabloid journalism about their spiritual path without questioning, remembering, or considering their own personal experience of the positive versus negative aspects of the path.

Sure, there were areas of the path where choices and actions could be improved or questioned, but this is the nature of life in this world at this time. Truly, anything and everything that exists in this world — especially involving human beings — is going to be a mixture of positives and negatives. That is the nature of life at this level of experience and manifestation.

It is possible that something or someone who becomes completely pure would by nature no longer even exist on this particular physical earth plane of existence. This is how many people look upon gods, goddesses, saints and avatars. But for the rest of us, it is our call while living on this plane of existence to do our best, while acknowledging that something very good can still have flaws, that good things can sometimes change into not so good things, and vice versa.

My feeling upon reading the negative national article was that this path was a precious, priceless gem of great wisdom and grace for me and many others. If you receive such a precious jewel and find some small flaws in it, you wouldn't just throw the jewel away!

This doesn't mean that everyone should stay committed to one path for their whole lives. I think that each person has to follow the roads of their own personal journeys as they branch off in unique ways.

Sometimes we change; sometimes a path changes, and often both will change. Sometimes we have to leave one road to enter another or to turn in a new direction, and ultimately any outer spiritual roads must turn inward, where the true treasure of spirituality exists.

If one path ends and turns into another, there is no need to spit back on a path we've been walking on, especially one that has brought us to great new fields of spiritual wisdom and riches. I say, kiss the earth, and walk whatever path leads to your own direct connection with qualities such as wisdom, goodness, and blessings.

I was living in Los Angeles when the negative article about our path came out in the New Yorker Magazine. Of course, I had some concerns about what the effects of such an article might be, however I also hoped that this challenge might inspire a shift in the path, such as inspiring some changes in the hierarchical structures and problematic tendencies, sloughing off some of the "spiritual tourists" who weren't necessarily looking for spiritual growth, and bringing the path's focus back onto the basics of spiritual practice.

Quite a few people did leave when the article came out, including some who had been involved in the path for many years. Some left happily, and some left angrily. Since our path was not membership-based, people were free to leave as they pleased.

For some, perhaps, this article gave an excuse for them to move on to new learning experiences instead of remaining in the spiritual status quo of identifying themselves as a member of a particular group or path. Our destinies are often meant to unfold through a variety of life experiences, however the group mentality and attachment to one particular path or mode of living can keep us from growing in other ways. For others, a particular path can be a lifelong guide and friend.

It was soon after this article came out that Suze and her friends began spreading their negative and untrue rumors about me throughout our worldwide spiritual community. The timing of this article and the resulting "fleecing of the flock" created an especially fertile soil for their seedy lies. With many devotees leaving the path, a sense of paranoia took hold in some of the remaining devotees, who wanted to know who was "in" and who was "out". Suze and her friends did what they could to make people think that I was "out" by actively spreading a rumor that I had left the path, turned against the guru, become a born-again Christian, and gone off the deep end.

Due to the rumor's timing, it was almost universally believed by members of the path who happily passed it on and sometimes added in their own bits for good (actually bad) measure. In spite of the fact that I continued to regularly visit the ashram and spend time in our guru's retreats, people believed what they heard above what they saw with their own eyes. I'm sure this is similar to how some politicians and celebrities must feel when they are smeared with nasty untrue tabloid aspersions, wondering, can't people see that these things aren't true?

For me, the juxtaposition of remaining involved and being looked upon as a traitor brought an entirely new kind of experience into my world. The closest I'd come to being judged in this way took place during my turbulent childhood, when my family moved from Detroit to a more affluent suburb without also upgrading our clothing, grooming, and social skill levels.

Now, all of a sudden, I was a "cootie" on our spiritual path. People who used to be my friends wouldn't look at me or talk to me. I had been falsely accused, and it seemed that nobody was even questioning whether the accusations were true. I remembered my guru's words many years earlier, when she'd told me, "You never stick up for yourself. You just let anyone say anything they want about you. That's why everyone thinks you're whimsical." I would have liked to stick up for myself and stop the rumors, but how can you disprove something that isn't true? How can you unring a bell, especially without knowing who has heard its ring? In today's gossip-based society, we've all seen celebrities and politicians be torn down -- which is troublesome enough to watch -- but what place do such destructive lies have on a spiritual path that is supposed to be based on love, respect, and a universal awareness of the divinity in all?

Of course, it was also my calling to see the hand of divine grace moving even through those who were mistreating me. Upon contemplation over many years, I came to feel that the universe was most likely wanting to break my attachment to the community, perhaps because many there were not the best of company, especially for certain creative types. If someone at the local center asked me what I'd been doing and I had something interesting to share in response, such as being in the midst of writing a book, producing a video, or creating the Night Lotus website of free multimedia spiritual resources, these devotees would become upset, sometimes even angry, with several of them telling me that my skills or accomplishments made them feel bad about themselves. Of course that is not something I wanted to do -- in fact, my hope in sharing about my inspirations or sacrifices was to inspire others to also follow their guidance through the hills and valleys of passionate spiritual living and giving.

It is amazing how, when you hear negative rumors about someone, there's a tendency to see all of their qualities in the worst possible light, and that's what happened to me at the local meditation center. I was penniless and still quite physically ill, and this was interpreted as a refusal to give donations and service to the center. I played the drums and chanted enthusiastically, and this was interpreted as my having a big ego, and soon I was banished from participating and sometimes harassed when I would come to the evening programs.

Here I was with this round, Charlie Brown-style face that would draw friendly smiles from all sides as I walked through the world. Then, I'd walk in the door at my Guru's meditation center to be often ignored or greeted by these "spiritual sisters and brothers" with empty, judgmental, or disgusted stares, along with the occasional, "Hi Kumuda," drawled out with dripping condescension.

Eventually, I stopped going to the evening programs at the meditation center, but continued to attend their Sunday morning recitation of the Guru Gita. For decades, this chant had been one of my favorite ways to connect with spirit in a powerful way, and to offer honor, love, and respect to God and Guru. In spite of the slightly distracting behaviors of some of these center leaders, I nevertheless found that this group recitation would help to realign my spirit with the greatness I'd experienced and learned during my monastic years, when we'd sung this hour and a half chant every morning for ten years.

After the morning chant, the local meditation center would open a small café with Indian spiced tea, called chai, bagels, and other brunch items. I would sometimes stay for a snack, and several members of the community befriended me, and would join me for fun conversations in our post chanting ecstasy.   I did my best to stay true to my friendly nature, although some of the interpersonal antics I'd watch between certain devotees during these post-Sunday morning chant brunchtimes reminded me a bit of the mental health inmates in the movie "One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest." During this time I was becoming more and more reclusive in general, and so perhaps wasn't as easily assimilated into what looked more and more to me as an unappealing social hierarchical system of steering committees, department heads, and the various castes of people who attended, with the kind of strange power plays that can come forth when people are put in charge of management responsibilities in a spiritual organization without necessarily having the needed spiritual or management experience.

One woman who I'll call Mattie -- one of the steering committee members -- once told a woman to move from the chair she was sitting in -- in the midst of a large section of empty chairs right in the middle of the morning chant because Mattie's husband happened to like sitting in that particular spot. The woman had just about had it with being mistreated at the center, and as she stood up, she gave Mattie quite a whack with her purse and then left the center never to return, which I also did around the same time.

When people are being nice to you, it is easy to overlook their blips and blurbs and idiosyncrasies and habits. Due to the untrue rumors about me that had been spread through our spiritual community by Suze Orman and her posse, I was relieved of the obscuring comfort of being treated nicely by this community, and could look at members of the path with a somewhat more objective view.

But these meditation center folks were not looking at me with a very objective view, and in spite of my generally friendly nature, some of the inner circle center folks who had heard the rumors turned me into somewhat of a legend of horror and disdain. People later told me that when they first arrived at the center, some of these center leaders had told them to "stay away from Kumuda," and the people would say this had confused them because I seemed like a very nice person. If the steering committee folks overheard me talking about whatever book or project I was working on, I'd be pulled aside and reprimanded as though I were trying to drum up business.

In the Los Angeles center, people had often shared about their worldly works and projects. In fact, I'd helped many of the Los Angeles devotees to get jobs and begin new careers, using my contacts in the industry, and in some cases training them to use editing equipment. But the San Diego center had many new rules, some of which seemed to be aimed specifically at me.

The shift to harassing behavior by local center leaders took place rather dramatically after I'd been living in San Diego for about a year. It happened after Victoria, the main steering committee person, spent a month at one of our guru's retreats in Palm Springs, which I had also attended. Victoria's roommate at the retreat was Marissa, the woman who Suze had "left me for." At the time, Marissa was also participating in spreading the negative rumors about me throughout the path.

This San Diego steering committee head came back from the retreat thinking that I had been banished from centers but was continuing to come in spite of being told to stay away, which had no basis in fact. This banishment idea had been added onto the original Suze rumor somewhere along the way. Victoria told many San Diego and Los Angeles devotees this untruth, and they told others, as this idea that I'd turned against the guru and been banished from the path revealed yet another layer of Suze's repayment of my loving assistance to help her achieve her dreams. I'd imagine Suze was as happy to see the circumstances of my life going down as Osama Bin Ladin must have been thrilled to see the twin towers fall to the ground. However the difference between Suze Orman and Osama Bin Ladin is that he didn't know any better, whereas Suze did, but chose to do wrong regardless, which in my view made her more evil than him.

Even devotees who didn't know me were spreading these rumors. Soon an image had been created of me as being quite a horrible ogre. Do I have faults? Sure. Do I often talk too much about myself and my works at hand? Yes. Do I stand firm in my beliefs without always bowing to the group think wishes of a community? Probably, although I didn't in any way create a ruckus or trouble at the center. Certainly I hadn't done anything to justify being treated like a creature from the dark lagoon.

Nevertheless, I trusted that my guru understood the truth about me and my dedication and loyalty, and that faith helped keep me going throughout all the false aspersions and mistreatment. Before beginning to write my autobiography, I'd written to my guru and explained my motivation and why I felt it was important for me to write my story honestly and intimately. I knew that some on our path might be concerned about someone sharing their experiences on the path honestly, especially someone who had been around and close enough to have some tales of challenges, tests and lessons from guru to disciple, which can appear to be overly harsh to an onlooker (and also sometimes to the disciple!)

However, in my opinion, trying to hide any small imperfections in anybody related to the path would end up tainting the truth of the glory and greatness of the path.

I first encountered this fairly new tendency for people on the path to want to project an unnatural impression of outer perfection during my early years in Hollywood, when I was asked to write an article for the ashram's very well-produced magazine. Darshan Magazine focused on monthly topics and included transcriptions of our gurus' talks as well as teachings, stories, artwork, and more from just about every possible culture, religion, and tradition. It was a great accomplishment for the publications staff to create such an interesting, artistic, and professional magazine every month, and these offerings helped give devotees a well-rounded exposure to many different teachings and topics.

My article was for the Bhagavad Gita issue, and it was on the topic of, “Learning to Step Back” – a state of inner freedom and allowing that opens the door to many abilities and blessings. As part of the article, I shared a story regarding the miraculous production of a video of our grandfather guru, who we affectionately called “Bade Baba,” or great father.
This event took place when I was the ashram's main video editor. We were in the middle of what was probably the busiest weekend we'd ever had. The ashram had expanded from one hotel to three, and about ten thousand guests were on the ashram grounds. This weekend was a celebration of the passing or great absorption of our grandfather guru, Bhagavan Nityananda. The weekend was filled with special chants, meals, and events, including a weekend retreat called a shaktipat intensive, where the spiritual energy was said to be ignited.
As the final intensive session wound down on Sunday afternoon, our guru announced that after dinner we would be showing a brand new video of Bade Baba Nityananda. Everyone was very happy to hear this, since most devotees had only seen a few photos of Nityananda, who hadn't been much interested in having paparazzi.

But there was one problem — this video did not exist. Someone was supposed to have told me to create this video much earlier in the day, but they had forgotten. Even to edit such a video in one day would be quite an accomplishment, and here I was at 7:00 pm, finding out that thousands of people would be filling the halls to watch this brand new video.

It was impossible to do. But it couldn't be. I was not willing to let my guru down, and with the same kind of inner strength that allows grandmothers to lift cars off of their grandchildren, I set about to make a 15-minute video in 30 minutes.

First, I laid down a track of chanting about Bade Baba for around 12 minutes while I gathered the five or so videos we had of his photos and old super-8 film. Then, I put each tape in, fast-forwarded randomly, and whatever was there when the tape stopped got edited into the video. Then I'd forward to another spot and did the same, changed tapes, and wherever the tape landed became the next shot. With a fast and focused mind, heart, and soul, I assembled this 12-minute video without choosing a single shot. I rewound the tape and ran it downstairs to the playback room, hoping that I hadn't left any blank spots or “black holes” in the middle of the piece.

The master of ceremonies was standing in front of a packed hall, with other packed overflow halls watching on big screen TVs. We put the tape into the video machine, and hit play.

I stood in the back of the big hall as the video played. It was flawless, even divinely organized. Each shot seemed to flow perfectly into the next, even to the point of having one shot with Nityananda on the right side dissolving into another of him on the left.

After the video ended, there was none of the usual applause. People were so strongly affected by the energy of this powerful being, edited by something greater than myself, and they just sat silently in various states of deep inner absorption and meditation. I learned how by my stepping out of the way, something great had come through.

It was a great story to include in my Darshan Magazine article to demonstrate the Bhagavad Gita's focus on acting with purity and the freedom that comes from a higher consciousness awareness.

However, one of the magazine's editors sent feedback asking me to adjust my story. This editor felt that the fact that someone forgot to tell me earlier in the day that I was supposed to make a video would reflect badly on the path and make it look like people on the path weren't organized!

I was surprised. Not only were people trying to paste this ridiculous expectation of complete outer perfection on our guru, who was great enough without having to be flawless in every way, but now they were trying to paint this pollyanna perfect face on everyone who was involved in the path. Good luck with that!

Along with not wanting to corrupt the point of my story, I thought this editor's approach was a sign of problems to come in the path. When the truth is amazingly wonderful, why try to cover it up? If you try to hide small things, then the big things cannot be trusted, and in my opinion and experiences, the deeper qualities and foundation of this path were magnificently great indeed.

Eventually, I was guided to write a memoir about my experiences — the first edition of this book. I sent a letter to my guru about the decision and reasons for sharing my experiences in the autobiography. My guru's response came through her very sweet, strong, and kind secretary, Prema, who sent our guru's blessings to me, and began a yearlong ongoing telephone dialogue with me while I wrote the book and shared with her some of the manuscripts in progress.

Prema offered some excellent feedback, and we discussed many topics, including some of my feedback about the direction of the path, shared experiences we'd both had in our journeys, and stories that might be included in the book. Our conversations were friendly, respectful, and for me, a glass of fresh water in the midst of so much animosity from many other devotees. Prema did not try to control my writing, and when she gave feedback on the book, it was feedback intended to improve the writing, rather than to hide anything. I was very impressed by her openness and trust, and felt that it must have also indicated my guru's trust in me.

One day, I finished writing the book and sent it off to the designer. The next day was a Friday, and for the first time, perhaps ever, I woke up with nothing to do. There would be a bit more work involved with doing final polishing on the book design, but basically I woke up without having anything to do. The transition of completing such a huge creative project always brings a mixture of exhaustion, satisfaction, gratitude, and restlessness.

I opened my eyes, and asked, out loud, "Okay God, what's next?"

There was no immediate response. Two more times that day, I asked, "Okay God, what's next?" in the same way that I might have gone back to the service assignment desk at the ashram after completing one project and being available for another. By evening time, I had not received a response, and so I turned up the heat in my personal, internal dialogue with God, not knowing that I'd ever share this dialogue with anyone else, much less in a book. "Okay God, if you want me to stay, you have to entertain me!"

Talk about chutzpah. But I meant it. I had been preparing to leave this world for several years, and if there was nothing more for me to do, I was ready to go.

The next morning I awoke to an early morning phone call. It was the video department at the ashram. They had just purchased a new Avid editing system, and wanted to know if I might be able to come for a month or so to train their staff on the equipment and to edit a documentary video of our guru's powerful visit to Ayers Rock in Uluru, Australia. I was ever so happy to oblige!

During my first evening at the ashram, I ran into Charlene, who was doing some work in the video department. I'd known Charlene for many years while living in the ashram, and we'd even worked together on videos a few times. Charlene had been in charge of PR and programming at various times, and she was often in meetings with our guru, so carried some of the power of that proximity.

Charlene was usually nice enough to me - in fact, she had praised my editing abilities and enthusiasm many times. However, if someone came along whom she didn't like, she would be ruthless with them. The image I have of some scenes I witnessed was of a wolf tearing apart her prey. I had never seen anybody mistreat people the way Charlene could, and I'm sure many who experienced her wrath had to deal with all kinds of emotional traumas from the experience. One fellow even left the path and went on to write negative articles about it, certainly from other experiences as well, but he also mentioned the ruthlessness he experienced from Charlene, who many also called a "shark." Of course, since that time, Charlene has gone on to do what? She writes very fine books on how to treat volunteers! Live and learn, and then teach.

Charlene asked me if she could read a copy of the nearly completed autobiography, and I foolishly agreed. The next morning was a special holiday called Rakhi Day, where brothers and sisters place bracelets and strings around each other's wrists to request and offer protection to one another. We also would do so with friends and our guru, either physically or symbolically.

On this Rakhi Day, our guru gave a monumental talk, which was to set the stage for many upcoming changes in the path. (quote from talk) I very much appreciated her words, and felt that I was already living in harmony with them. Feeling inspired, I left the outdoor pavilion and headed toward my dorm room.

 Right on the path outside the pavilion was Charlene, waiting for me. She put on a look of deep compassion and said in a loud, whiney, and sad voice, "I had no idea you had such a troubling childhood!" I was confused by this strange behavior from her, and explained that this was not at all the point of my sharing the stories, and that they were intended to be educational and ultimately uplifting, although honest. Charlene then moved it up a notch. "And I had no idea you were so unhappy in the ashram - you always seemed so happy!" Again, I explained that this response missed the point of what I had shared from that time.

Clearly, Charlene hadn't gotten the rise she wanted out of me, because then she practically screamed, "It's Rakhi Day! You should be protecting the Guru, not trying to destroy her!!!"

Oh boy, I was shocked. And just as I reeled in the intensity of hearing such a negative interpretation of my heartfelt offering, our guru walked right by us, and gave me a very sweet smile.

But I was still upset and surprised. I ran into Prema outside of the dining hall, and we had one of our long chats. As usual, she was extremely generous with her time and kindness. I told her about being upset by what Charlene had said, and Prema's response was to ask why would I care about what Charlene thinks? I'd been going through our guru throughout the whole writing process via Prema. Who cares what anyone else thinks about it?

This was a great lesson for me, which really strengthened my resolve to follow the inner guidance and personal inclination in spite of negative assessments from others. Little did I know how many opportunities to practice this lesson would lay ahead.

After the book came out, I found out that the rumor had expanded to now include the "fact" that I'd written a negative book about the path. When I gave gift copies to old friends on the path, some acted like I was handing them a vat of poison. One woman who I worked with in the ashram's video department several years later told me that she'd been warned to practically hide in a closet with a flashlight reading my memoir so that nobody would see her reading it, although after reading the book she told me that she thought it was a very positive and uplifting read, as many others had shared. One of the saddest adjuncts to this black-balling experience was to find that several of the monks on the path who I'd considered as sister and brother friends on the path for many years now refused to even acknowledge my existence -- with one of the supposedly enlightened swamis looking through me as if I was invisible when I'd say hello while visiting the ashram to offer video producing or editing services, and another who had been a dear friend coming up to speak for some time with someone I was was in the middle of conversation with before our guru's program in Los Angeles, and refusing to greet, look at, or acknowledge her old friend as I waited inches away to continue my conversation.

Next to the ashram was a fairly large and very nice store of spiritual books and natural products for body, mind, heart, and soul. A nice fellow, Krishna, with whom I'd always had friendly interactions, owned the store. However, once the rumors began, the workers at this store became the final nails in the coffin of my newly created bad reputation. When someone came in to purchase or order one of my books, they would inform the person "We do not carry Kumuda's books, because she has left the path." They would repeat this to customers even when they saw me coming to offer service for weeks at a time at the ashram, thus proving that rumors can be thicker than personal observations! According to my old friend who worked at the store, the main woman managing it was friends with Suze and her band of gossip thugs. In fact, I walked into the book section during several visits to see a virtual altar that had been set up with Suze's books. Even though this was a potentially distressing contrast, it was also intriguing and -- well, I guess you'd have to say it was entertaining. After writing the first edition of my memoir, I'd come to appreciate interesting life situations more, whether they were outwardly pleasant or unpleasant. I guess you could say that I'd discovered one path to spiritual detachment and transcendence -- looking at life as a big story, or as my guru titled his amazing spiritual memoir, "The Play of Consciousness."

One friend told me that she'd created a long list of books that she wanted the Arati store to special-order for her, and the response was that they could order all of the books -- many of which were from other spiritual paths -- except they would not even special order Kumuda's books for her. If anyone had a doubt about whether Suze's rumor was true, years of this kind of communications from my old favorite Arati store basically proved the rumor's authenticity. Many devotees must have felt that the adamant refusal to sell my books in this store, which had close connections to high level people in our spiritual foundation, was proof that the negative banishments of Kumuda had come from the guru.

I didn't think so, although I knew that my guru was aware of what was going on in terms of the rumors. Perhaps she could have done or said something publicly to dismantle the rumor, but she didn't, and I accept her decision. Perhaps this was a lesson that both I and the others involved needed to learn from. Even though I didn't agree with everything that was being done by my guru, nevertheless, I did feel a certain inwardly guided protocol of respect and trust that stayed generally steady even when waves of opinions and doubts may be playing on the surface. I chose to trust.

Some of my friends at the local San Diego center did enjoy reading the book and also listening to some of my tapes and CDs of chanting, although even they seemed a bit wary about letting some of the anti-Kumuda people know that we were friends. One friend was doing some work for the woman who had adamantly brought back the negative rumors to San Diego after having Suze's current lover as a roommate during her monthlong retreat with our guru. Victoria went from being friendly to acting like she hated me with a passion. My friend Kevin worked with Victoria years later, and he said that she was still ranting on and on about me as though she was obsessed. This is someone who I had barely had a paragraph's worth of communications with in my life. Kevin asked Victoria, "Have you even read any of Kumuda's books?" Her reply: "I would NEVER read a book by Kumuda!"

Still, I was continuing to join in for the Sunday morning chanting of Sri Guru Gita at the local center, in spite of the negative vibes from some there. I had a rule not to ever sell anything at the center, and ended up giving away many tapes, CD's, videos, and books there and thousands as gifts and offerings to people I met over these years. At the time I was very strict about not asking for or accepting compensation for these offerings -- I wanted them to be given freely, and to be honest, very few people thought twice about receiving many gifts, even when they were aware of my financial straits. I was especially strict about this rule at the meditation center. If the recipients offered to pay for the items, I would invite them to offer any donation they might like to make on its behalf to the donation box in the center. You might wonder what kind of martyr would direct people to give money to a place that was mistreating me. Well, the donation box I suggested was in the center's lobby, and its contents were sent to the main hub of our guru's spiritual organization, which I was happy to help support. Even if someone wrote in to request a cassette or CD, I wouldn't charge them for the book or even allow them to cover shipping costs -- even if those shipping costs required the last of my basic funds. Years later, I eased up a bit and added some of the CDs that were still available (and still are available) to listen for free online to also be available through Amazon and iTunes. Of course, not many people choose to purchase what they can hear for free, but these few purchases did sometimes allow me to pay the utilities just before they were turned off or to buy some food when funds were gone.

Sometimes on one's spiritual journey, especially in this commercialized and financialized world, you are guided to take a stand and do what you feel is right — even if it is challenging to do, and even if others look down on you for doing it. That is what I felt and what was motivating my online and other offerings. Ringing in my heart and soul was the simple command that had come during my mid-illness prayer session back in Hollywood -- "First you have to share what you've learned." What better command could a spiritually inspired artist want?

So, what did the steering committee people from the meditation center do? For years, they spread rumors through the local and national communities that I was selling books at the center. One of the main steering committee members spreading this untruth was himself selling vitamins at the center, but would step outside the doors to make the transaction. I wouldn't even sell anything to a devotee if I met them in another city, and here these "spiritual haters" were spreading more rumors on top of the false rumors that had already been spread by Suze and company, now saying that I was selling books at the center.

I had to become stronger and stronger inside to deal with the misconceptions being created about me. I could always tell how my inner state was by how much the rude and negative treatment at the center would affect me.

Even as I rejoiced in the great blessings that abounded in my life, such as being able to create and share my works with the world, which was a real dream come true, my heart also became steeped in a deep throbbing sadness that was imprinted, along with all the joys and other impactful experiences I'd experienced, in my psyche, my karmic patterns, what Indian philosophies call the Sushumna Nadi — a subtle energy channel that is said to coexist along the spine, storing subtle impressions of all the experiences from our life, and perhaps from many lifetimes.

The main sadness I carried was to see my guru's magnificent spiritual path go down all kinds of strange twists and turns until it seemed to lose much of what our first guru had seemed to intend, based on his words and works.

Even when I lived and produced videos at the ashram, certain events took place that were confusing to disciples. Many were confused when our guru had passed on, leaving two young disciples as co-gurus. These brother and sister gurus eventually split, with lots of dramas and minidramas woven throughout. I didn't get too involved in ashram dramas, since my work often kept me alone in an editing room with the teachings of the path, which were ancient and imperturbable. From this position, I would see whatever was happening on the path and contemplate the movements of grace within it. From this, I would create videos that helped guide devotees back to the light during times of change.

My technical editing was not necessarily primo professional, but the feeling and care and inspired choices of what footage and quotes to use and how to assemble them came from a deep place of inner soul guidance and flow. My love for the gurus, the wisdom, and the practices of this path came through in my videos — devotees would often be in tears while watching them.

Now I was seeing places where the path seemed to be going in wrong directions, away from the spoken and written intentions of the guru who had founded this branch of the tree of siddha masters.

I did communicate some of my thoughts to my guru's assistant in conversations and letters, and her feedback indicated that there were concerns at that level also, along with faith that God's will is done, regardless of what we think should happen with anything in life, including the future directions of this great spiritual path.

The talks at evening programs and intensive workshops started to sound robotic and like infomercials. Even our guru's talks started sounding more like something being read than her usual spontaneous, humorous, and often brilliant and profound speaking style. Money became more important. The giving of money, called dakshina, was elevated to be one of the top practices on the path — in apparent equal status with meditation and chanting.

Visiting the ashram during special programs and holidays was an experience of crowds and crowd control. With this massive expansion into a kind of spiritual tourism, the individual faces of each devotee seemed to blend into this wave of people who had to be fed, housed, seated in the various halls for various programs, and shuffled up in an hours-long line to have a quick moment face to face with the guru. Of course, for many, that moment face to face brought a shift of energy and consciousness that would uplevel their spiritual journeys to new heights of awareness and enthusiasm. The inner work was still taking place, but the outer path was losing a certain respect for the individual as it kept getting bigger and bigger.

Once I was visiting and walked through the lobby as devotees were headed down the outside walkway to go to the evening program with talks, chanting, and meditation that was being held in our outdoor pavilion called the Shakti Mandap. I passed by the manager, who was chewing out one of the security guards for not controlling the walking devotees well enough, saying, “They're clumping out there! I told you not to let them clump!”

It was both humorous and sad to hear this. Suddenly these precious hearts who had good enough karma and appreciated spirituality enough to go through all the challenges it took to get to the ashram, were what? Red blood corpuscles clumping in an artery?

Eventually, the path started paring down staff and closing access. At one point, I heard about several waves where staff members had to reapply for their service positions, even (and perhaps especially!) if they'd been doing that service for years. Part of the goal was to refresh the staff with the young generation, with an eye toward keeping the path active into future years. I'm sure there were many other reasons as well, but none of the management or decision-makers ever discussed it with me.

And I had virtually no way to participating in helping to heal or bring greater light to these problems, because Suze's rumor had all but destroyed my access to serving the path. Occasionally I would be asked to come and do some video service, which was a wonderful opportunity to offer an uplifting vision and to also see that the grace and shakti energy was still very much alive in the path. So I had to contemplate why all these changes might be occurring — whether it might be downsizing either by design, or by universal design.