Nor would he switch.
To complicate matters, he often sat outside her makeshift bedroom,
advising disciples through the night and early morning how they could
accelerate their march toward a wordless perfection.
Unlike Atmananda, Rachel had to wake up in the morning and go to work.
After too many nights of too little sleep, she grew tired, angry,
and confused.
When Atmananda sensed that she was not her usual, happy self, he did
not openly communicate his displeasure. Instead, he ignored her.
He let the other women know that she was in a bad consciousness and
should be avoided whenever possible. He began to treat her as if she
were an outsider.
Rachel grew increasingly flustered. She reached out in her thoughts
to Guru, to family, and to friends. When Atmananda asked her
to move out of the house, she breathed an exhausted sigh of relief.
In the meantime, without a clue, I studied literature, worked
part-time, read Guru's books, meditated one-and-a-half hours a day,
tried to see, organized poster teams, attended Atmananda's talks,
and immersed myself each day in water over my head.
I felt so good about my life and the community I was helping
to build that it seemed like I was living in paradise.
7.
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