But I felt that I had come a long way since 1981. I felt confident
that I could handle myself. Besides, I was curious. I let Laura
lead me to him.
Rama, Anne, and a few others were in the room. They looked somber.
Rama had us stand in a circle and hold hands. He told us we
were a tribe. It felt odd, holding hands. It wasn't the sort
of thing he'd normally have us do. After a brief meditation,
he took me to another room and gave me a long hug. I drove away
feeling sad.
For the next few days I rode east, driven by childhood memories of
New England, and by the notion that I had *seen* Boston as the target city.
In Nebraska and Iowa, I felt good about my decision to leave.
But I had developed no system with which to support my new
interpretation of the world, and the decision seemed more distant
with each passing state. I had devised no language of rebellion,
forged no icons of discontent, and, on a more practical level,
had no sense of what I wanted to do or whom I wanted to be.
I had met Rama when I was seventeen. Now I was twenty-four. I had never
experienced successes or failures from following a path of my own design.
I had been deprived of this ritual of passage into adulthood.
I had come of age in a destructive cult.
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