I realized that I wanted to be part of their fellowship.
My brother and I found Atmananda outside, addressing a group
of Stony Brook Chinmoy disciples.
"Do you want to go with us to Au Natural?" he asked us.
At that moment I would have gone with him anywhere, partly because I
was not keen on going home, and partly because he was so compelling.
There was something about him that felt nurturing yet electric,
casual yet happening.
"Yes!" we chimed.
Atmananda organized rides, gave directions, warned us about
potholes and drunk drivers, and suggested that we maintain
a meditative consciousness, lest we lose the Guru's light.
Then he led us away from the other Chinmoy disciples, from the chapel,
from the campus, and onto the streets.
I watched the blur of city lights from the back of Atmananda's Saab,
which hurtled through the streets at a velocity close to that of a
New York taxi. He skillfully avoided potholes and drunk drivers.
He told my brother of his plan to have Stony Brook disciples advertise
his free public lectures by placing posters in Manhattan. I relaxed,
believing he was in control.
At Au Natural, a yogurt shop, Atmananda introduced me to the Stony
Brook disciples. There were Anne, Dana, and Suzanne, the sari-clad
women from his lectures.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46