Maharishi & Me
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Note for Readers: This book is based upon both the author’s recollection of past events and historical research. Some characters, events, and quoted statements have been edited, composited, or fictionalized. Often cited quotations are shortened without using ellipses. Check original citations for full quotations. Nearly all names have been changed to protect people’s privacy, except for public figures, authors, and Transcendental Meditation organization leaders. Maharishi founded many organizations. The author mostly uses the term “TM Movement” or “Movement.” Maharishi referred to TM teachers by various titles. The author uses the term “Initiators” in most cases.
Copyright © 2018 by Susan Shumsky
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Cover design by Rain Saukas
Cover photo credit ©Getty Images/Rolls Press/Popperfoto (Maharishi) and By Parlophone Music Sweden [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons (Beatles)
ISBN: 978-1-5107-2268-2
Ebook ISBN 978-1-5107-2269-9
Printed in the United States of America
Photo courtesy of Fred den Ouden
Arise, awaken, seek an illumined teacher and realize the Self. Like the sharp edge of a razor is that path, difficult to traverse and hard to tread. Thus say the wise.
—KATHA UPANISHAD 1:3:14
Praise for Maharishi and Me
“Susan Shumsky had a front-row seat at a spiritual revolution that profoundly affected all of us. She tells the tale with personal candor, a keen eye for pertinent detail, and a perspective seasoned by time and experience.”
—Philip Goldberg, author, American Veda: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation, How Indian Spirituality Changed the West
“Susan Shumsky’s book Maharishi & Me is a powerful exploration of guru and discipleship. Her humor, insight, and the intimate feeling you receive about their relationship is extraordinary. A great read for anyone interested in learning.”
—Lynn V. Andrews, bestselling author, Medicine Woman and Jaguar Woman
“So many emotions churned within me as I read Maharishi & Me. In her incredibly heartfelt book, Susan Shumsky gives us a glimpse into a world that few people have ever experienced. Her graphic descriptions portray her awakening consciousness that occurred under Maharishi’s guidance and also evoke the tempest that swirled around this iconic guru. Fascinating reading from a great writer!”
—Denise Linn, bestselling author of Sacred Space
"I met Maharishi in Rishikesh, India, in 1968 where I took some iconic photos of the Beatles. There I learned TM, which healed my broken heart, and I found a sense of peace never experienced before. Susan Shumsky’s book Maharishi & Me captures that time in Rishikesh and tells her emotionally-charged, spellbinding story of 22 years of awakening and transformation under Maharishi’s tutelage and beyond. For anyone seeking spiritual understanding, I highly recommend this book."
—Paul Saltzman, bestselling author and photographer of The Beatles in India
CONTENTS
Prologue: My Real Birth Day
PART I: HIPPIENESS TO HAPPINESS
1 Losing the self to Find the Self
2 Into the Land of Oz
3 A Natural High
4 Feelin’ Guru-vy
PART II: BLISSED-OUT
5 Home to India
6 Melting in Maharishiville
7 Bees to Honey
8 Maharishi Merry-Go-Round
PART III: OPEN-EGO SURGERY
9 From Bliss to Blitzkrieg
10 A Sacrificial Lamb
11 Wham Bam, Ego Slam
12 Heights of Heavenly Hell
PART IV: MAHARISHI’S SPELL
13 Eye of the Hurricane
14 Under the Influence
15 The First Shall Be Last
PART V: THE BEATLES’ GURU
16 The Beatles Invade India
17 And They Write a Lot of Music
18 Dropping the Beatles Bomb
PART VI: INEVITABLE AND INESCAPABLE
19 Shattered, Shaken, and Stirred
20 Frog-Hopping to Enlightenment
21 Riding the Indian Express
22 Guru Tricks and Celebrity Treats
PART VII: RIDICULOUS TO SUBLIME
23 From Tear-Filled to Fear-Field
24 Into the Heart of God
25 Letting Go of the Dream
26 Now Miracles Could Begin
27 How to Spot an Enlightened Master
Epilogue and Epitaph
Appendix: Who’s Who in TM
Bibliography
Endnotes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Photos
PROLOGUE
MY REAL BIRTH DAY
AUTUMN 1966
The search for total knowledge starts from the Self and finds fulfillment in coming back to the Self, finding that everything is the expression of the Self.
—MAHARISHI MAHESH YOGI
Not everyone remembers their own birth. But I do. That’s because my mother’s womb was not my real birthplace. My true birth took place on a sunny, Indian summer day of 1966 in Oakland, California—long after the date on my birth certificate.
I’d already embraced the bohemian lifestyle propagated by Timothy Leary: “turn on, tune in, drop out,” and by the message of Bob Dylan’s song “The Times They Are A-Changin.” I’d moved from Colorado to counterculture-central—the San Francisco Bay area. I’d enrolled in a school of hippie students and beatnik teachers—California College of Arts and Crafts.
We “flower children” were desperately seeking altered states of consciousness (whatever that meant—I was pretty hazy about it). But after a few trips down the rabbit hole with Owsley’s sugar cubes, I suffered a case of astral possession so alarming, it even shocked head shrink Dr. Stein. He labeled my condition “full-blown psychotic episode,” complete with audible hallucinations, earthbound spirit attachments, terrifying LSD flashbacks, and, apparently, the requisite dose of Thorazine.
Once I’d partially recovered my sanity, my pleasures included a daily stroll home from college. There I relished a lavishly multicolored potpourri of tropical flowers in riotous vibrant hues, eucalyptus, and grassy perfume, swelling with fragrant intensity. On this particular day in 1966, however, after wandering through the maze of multi-scented florae, I encountered a most unusual emanation—on the sidewalk outside my apartment.
A kindly stranger approached. Though his commanding presence seemed ageless, he looked about age twenty. Standing 5’10”, with an oval face, shiny black hair, and smooth, lustrous, unblemished skin, his body appeared soft and undefined, neither thin nor fat. Nothing about him was hard, athletic, or muscle-bound. He whispered through the air with fluid movement, without the faintest resistance. His pos
ture and demeanor radiated a certain grace, even a glow.
Obviously out of his element, he seemed neither art student nor hippie. There were no paisley prints, beads, bell-bottoms, vests, buckles, hats, boots, sandals, mustache, beard, or long hair. His forgettable attire, consisting of a white cotton button-down shirt, brown khaki trousers, and loafers, made what came afterward all the more remarkable.
He regarded me with kind, twinkling brown eyes. They emitted a certain inscrutable feeling, hard to pin down. I sensed zero sexual energy around him, and, to my surprise, none toward me. His awareness drew inward rather than radiating outward. My impression was he was a monk, though I’d never met one, so I had no frame of reference.
A mysterious force surrounded him—loving, sweet, powerful, yet tranquil. He possessed a kind of magnetism and vibrated great peace—not a familiar feeling to me. He appeared happy, carefree, and serene, without hang-ups, agendas, or needs—unlike anyone I’d ever met.
He called himself Bob, and I asked if he wanted lunch. He said yes and we went upstairs. This wasn’t unusual. I often invited strangers in. As a hippie, I’d broken free from my conventional Jewish surgeon’s daughter’s background. My free-spirit attitude was let-live, live-free, and be-me.
I told Bob all I had to offer was canned spaghetti and meatballs. He answered, “I will have a cup of tea, but I don’t take meat. I am vegetarian.” The only vegetarian I’d ever met was our cleaning lady, a Seventh Day Adventist, during my childhood.
Bob and I drank tea at my tiny breakfast table in the corner of the combined living room/bedroom of my two-room apartment. After tea, we adjourned a few steps to the couch. In the free-love spirit of 1966, I contemplated behaving my usual flirtatious way, but his body language, entirely self-contained, acted as a kind of anti-flirt sex-repellant. Though I wanted to seduce him, something inside stopped me dead.
“What have you been doing to clean your house?” he asked out of the blue.
What an odd question, I thought. I glanced around my tiny living space, but noticed nothing out of place. I answered, “I’ve been busy at art school, so not much cleaning has gone on lately.”
He said, “I am a yogi, and because I am a yogi, I have the time to spend all day polishing the things in my house.” As he said this, he motioned with his hands, as though polishing an imaginary vase or candlestick with a cloth.
What a bizarre and baffling statement. I wondered, What’s a yoggee? I didn’t think my house was dirty.
“Do you go to college around here?” I asked.
“My school is in consciousness,” he answered. “I live and teach the wisdom of the ages.”
This guy’s really far out, I thought. But what in God’s green earth is he talking about?
“I go to California College of Arts and Crafts,” I informed him.
“I am an artist, also. My canvas is the blank screen of the mind, from which all thought springs. On this screen I create the art and craft of immortal life,” he answered. He continued for several more minutes, making obscure statements I didn’t understand and have long since forgotten.
Just as I was trying to figure what to make of him, Bob suddenly declared, “I have to go now, but I stay with you. I will never leave you. I will be with you always.” He walked out the door and down the hallway, never to appear again (in that form, anyway). His abrupt exit after no more than a cupful of tea sprinkled with a brief repartee of enigmatic expressions, left me stunned and bewildered.
I was entirely unaware this encounter with “Bob” was my real birth—the beginning of my new life as spiritual seeker and ultimately spiritual finder. A few days later I chanced upon the book Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda, where I read about an immortal Himalayan yogi named Babaji, who could appear anywhere to anyone at any time.
PART I
HIPPIENESS TO HAPPINESS
Water the root to enjoy the fruit.
—MAHARISHI MAHESH YOGI
Daily Mail/REX/Shutterstock
1
LOSING THE SELF TO FIND THE SELF
Disciples cannot take knowledge from a master until they raise their level of consciousness so knowledge will flow to them.
—MAHARISHI MAHESH YOGI
Spinning in the eye of his hurricane was at once glorious, stirring, and electrifying, and wholly devastating, maddening, and mortifying. Riding an emotional roller-coaster, I ricocheted from heavenly delight to hellish desolation and back.
This extraordinary man, who moved me so intensely, came from India—a land of mysteries. Until the mid–twentieth century, its vast spiritual treasures remained largely hidden from the West. A significant change occurred when he left for America’s shores and made “meditation” a household word. His brush with celebrities placed him in the spotlight. But his true legacy was Transcendental Meditation.
As a former disciple, I lived in his ashrams for twenty-two years and served on his personal staff for six years. For extended periods, I enjoyed close proximity to the most renowned guru of the twentieth century—Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
Submission to a guru is an abhorrent idea in the West, where worldly achievements, individual assertion, and winning define us. Eastern wisdom is considered inferior to science. However, the venerable Indian tradition seeks loftier treasures. There the goal is to trade up ego identification for realization of the higher self (atman).
India is where disciples seek gurus to guide them toward spiritual enlightenment. But the alchemical process rendering this transformation has largely been concealed. Disciples seldom write about their “spiritual makeover,” as frankly, it’s incredibly embarrassing. Gurus don’t reveal their closely guarded methods. Otherwise the spell they cast on disciples would be broken.
Loyal devotees impart only highest reverence toward their gurus and paint romantic pictures. They extol their guru’s God-like qualities or quote their bespoken pearls of wisdom. Rarely do they divulge anything other than how great the master was, what miracles transpired, and what marvelous experiences were had.
Practically no one discloses the fact that, for the disciple to achieve moksha (freedom from the karmic wheel), the ego must die. The raw truth is this: realizing who we really are (infinite being) rather than who we thought we were (limited self), means giving up ego. That’s why higher consciousness is termed egoless. Ego death isn’t romantic. It can be devastating and shattering.
Irina Tweedie, author of Daughter of Fire, said that to realize their higher self, disciples must undergo “self-annihilation”— “turned inside out, burned with the fire of love so that nothing shall remain but ashes and from the ashes will resurrect the new being, very unlike the previous one.”1
Many authors willing to let us peek through ashram windows are disenchanted dropouts who label ashrams “cults” and gurus “cult leaders.” Such exposés portray insulting, exacting bearded men severely rebuking and correcting disciples.
To our Western mind, gurus might appear angry or abusive. But at what point do tough-love tactics cross into “abuse”? How do gurus differ from coaches, athletic trainers, or drill instructors? Why is it okay for tough trainers to coach protégés, yet not okay for tough gurus to train disciples?
Just as coaches bring out the best in their charges, true spiritual masters elevate their students. In a unique relationship of unconditional love, disciples surrender to gurus, and gurus lift disciples to God-realization. This time-honored Eastern tradition, which transforms students into masters, has survived for millennia—because it works.
I wouldn’t dare liken myself to revered saints who’ve achieved enlightenment at their gurus’ hands. However, Maharishi’s relationship with his students, which I witnessed over two decades, was similar to that of other disciples with their great masters.
Why do Westerners find gurus and cultish ashrams repugnant, considering our dominant religion began with a spiritual master and twelve devoted disciples? That master treated disciples with tough love in a way that might res
emble Maharishi. The disciples responded as we did under Maharishi’s guidance—with actions deemed timid, immature, clueless, and sometimes faithless.
Only a handful of six million who learned Transcendental Meditation (The TM Technique) spent any time whatsoever in Maharishi’s presence. Out of those who witnessed his antics, few understood his motives. Many who got scorched by his fire still remain baffled. A good number consider themselves victims.
This memoir will raise the veil to uncover how Maharishi captivated me, transformed me, and then released me to find self-empowerment in my own spiritual pathway. As I morphed from a painfully shy teenage rebel to a disturbingly self-doubting but determined young seeker, then into a spiritually aware teacher, I found what I was seeking, but not as expected.
Ultimately, I discovered the divine presence within me. Even though I no longer have a guru in physical form, I enjoy an intimate relationship with the inner guru. Any-one can experience this divine source directly, without accepting dogma, and without middlemen, such as priests, pastors, psychics, astrologers, rabbis, or gurus. Once we let go of ego attachment, we become our own guru and miracle maker. The kingdom of heaven is within us.
I feel Spirit has guided me always. A higher plan has been at work, threading my life with divine intervention. Some might say I live a “charmed life.” Though my days have been peppered with challenges, multitudes of blessings continually fall into my lap. Even during crisis, the solution always appears—usually instantly. Generally I don’t let anything, including myself, stand in my way. If I want to accomplish something, I just do it.
Luckily, I found a simple way to experience divine love directly, at will—anytime I ask. This has given me great solace. Once I made this connection, never was I alone again. The anguish of separation was gone. This mystical connection of love, light, grace, and wisdom is the pearl of great price, more precious than rubies or gold.
This book is a way of sharing a few glimpses into my spiritual journey, and hopefully will help you make your own spiritual connection. My life has been (and continues to be) lived in devotion, led by Spirit daily—even when I was younger and didn’t know it. For my journey started under unlikely circumstances—a family of self-professed atheists and agnostics. But that’s for another book.