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Laxer, Mark Eliot

"Take Me for a Ride: coming of age in a destructive cult"


On one starlit night, Atmananda raised his hands above his head.
As he slowly lowered them, he made a low, whistling sound like
the wind.
"What did you *see*?" he asked afterward.
"I didn't *see* anything," one new follower bemoaned.
"Advanced psychic vision is necessary to perceive what I am doing or,
more accurately, not doing," Atmananda said patiently.
"I hate to sound negative," persisted the follower, "but what exactly
are you doing?"
For a moment I felt tense. The disciple had unearthed a question
that had badly stung me many times before.
"Sometimes I alter actual physical objects, sometimes I alter
your perceptions, and sometimes I alter both," Atmananda said,
dispelling the tension with his gentle, soothing voice.
"Atmananda, I *saw* you become a luminous egg," said another follower,
borrowing a phrase from the Castaneda books.
"Anyone else?"
"I *saw* light from the stars pass through your body," tried another.
"Very good. Who *saw* me disappear?"
I often saw Atmananda disappear after I stared at him for several
minutes without blinking. But during one desert trip in 1983, I saw
him vanish independently of the dilated pupils. Then, a moment later,
I saw him reappear as someone else.


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