Take Me for a Ride Part 35

A few minutes later Rama said, "Fake obvious things fool everybody."

Then he said, "Humans are continually knocking on your door.

As long as they are alive, they try and suck your power. You need to get strategic and learn to intensely dislike them. Cut them.

Push them away--anything to get them to f.u.c.k off."

I wrote, "cold."

About an hour later, Rama had us watch The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai on the VCR. I sat several feet back from the group.

After the movie Rama announced, "Someone is way off. Can anyone see who it is?"

The disciples glanced at me.

"Of course, you all know that it's Agni. Now what's the matter, baby?"

I told him that things in my life were not working out.

I told him that I needed to try something new.

"If you wish to leave, please don't bring everyone else down."

"Sorry, Rama."

When I got home, I wrote, "good. i feel much better already.

keep breathing. slow. keep remembering Mark Eliot, is the breather.

Before he met any of these people he was the breather; so too after.

Before he dreamed himself into a don Juan/CC [Carlos Castaneda]

world extravagansa...Fred--he's cool. But he was formatted improperly by a bad occultist. Simple. He also wanted to be a Guru, told me so in a UCSD parking lot. But cool guy. Powerful attention level.

Controls every situation impeccably. cares about others what seems to be an enormous amount. Yet detached. cold. warm. whatever he was projecting. A master illusionist. Created/s dreams & realities with the flick of a wrist. This has not been healthy for me.

7 years occult training school has wiped me. Nothing wrong with it-- taught by an impeccable 8th degree Black belt; only, I don't handle it too well. So, I recognize i tried something, and it didn't work.

I have the humility to realize that it isn't working for me.

And for G.o.d sakes, try new things in your life, as FDR says.

But Fred is definitely bent out of shape. 'Let your hate grow,'

devil ref's, paranoia... Not to blame him. Had weak 1st attention as a kid. Dad...Teacher bent. Important: i believe that the good side of Fred respects what I am doing & wishes me well.

i have no desire to speak or see anyone with whom I didn't know 7 1/2 years ago...Still coming down, here, from 3 hits of 6-7?th Acid trip.

Good thing. boy does that stuff make me sick! good for changing though.

thrown away much unk stuff!...The journey, Eliot Mark Laxer, has just begun! Don't turn back! Go! & keep moving.

I have graduated (7 yrs) an EKATEST [Electric Koolaid Acid Test]!

Congrad!"

That night I wrote to Robert, the disciple who had gotten shot, "...the past 4-5 years have been a bad trip, a bad format.

i was getting sicker, weaker. it is necessary for my well being that i live off my own power. i have no need to convince you of this.

this my body knows. my body has been telling me for years to leave Rama. Finally, he stopped convincing me to stay.

Then i couldn't make it on my own. So i left & came back.

Now i'm stronger; off my own steam...unlike past times when i left Rama's Attention field, i'm not going to waste thoughts & power on the past.

The past, people's thoughts about me, my thoughts about me-- are all like Nately's Wh.o.r.e, in Catch-22; only she misses, and i jump..."

About a week later, Dana called me with a "Warrior's task."

Rama, she explained, wanted me to get former disciple Tom to call him.

I told her that I was not looking for a Warrior's task-- or any task for that matter. "You know I have left the Centre,"

I said.

"Don't you think you might be following your gut feelings?"

she asked.

"You bet!"

I also followed my gut feelings during the group acid trip earlier that month when Rama asked the disciples to remain inside.

I had walked outside and watched the small birds fly. "The bottom line is that he's wrong about me," I thought, my self-confidence germinating the way pine seeds flourish when their cones are scorched by fire.

"I'm not possessed by demons, mentally ill, or bent on destruction.

I'm okay."

20. The Last Supper

In August, 1985, I began spending time with old friends and with people from work. I felt awkward. I did not know what to talk about.

They used words like concerts, bar hop, chaser, dive, dude, hot babe, married, pregnant, job security, tax break, investment, global economy, third world, cold war, Reagan, Sat.u.r.day Night Live, and Letterman.

Their language felt alien to me. They used "party" as a verb, not as a noun.

They used "to see" as a way to describe what they did with their eyes and with their mind, not what they did with their inner being.

I learned to navigate within their world, but felt like I did not belong.

The initial reentry into society was difficult in other ways.

I found myself constantly reverting back to Rama's world of fear, isolation, and self-doubt. When I had eye contact with someone, for instance, I had to remind myself that my reservoir of mystical power was not being drained. When I saw a flicker of light, I had to remind myself that the reflection was not Negative Forces.

When a non-disciple told me of his or her hopes and dreams, I had to remind myself that theirs was not simply a world of illusion.

And when I thought of my own hopes and dreams, I had to remind myself that I was not a mentally ill zombie unable to deal with the real world.

I realized that Rama had taught me to think this way.

I also realized that I could, in time, unlearn these a.s.sociations.

I told myself I was doing okay. I was doing well at my job.

I was saving money and paying off loans. I was commuting to work each day by bicycle. I was slowly getting stronger.

One day I had a conversation with the vice president of my company.

I respected him. He seemed to be creative, bright, and energetic.

He told me that he read a great deal. "I try to learn many different philosophies," he said. "A philosophy that discourages you from learning other philosophies is a good one to avoid."

I liked his approach to knowledge. I was impressed that such wisdom was available in an office building in downtown Boston. I was impressed that in his own way, my boss was a seeker.

Another weekend a childhood friend invited me to a beach party in New York.

There I met Christina, a young woman with long legs and deep blue eyes.

I started driving to New York often. One evening, the phone rang.

I had been expecting a call from Christina.

"Hi, Agni," said a woman's voice. It was Dana.

"I should have changed my number," I thought.

"There's going to be a meeting at Rama's for the Stony Brook group,"

she said. "Can you make it?"