Maharishi & Me

by Susan Shumsky

  Those who suspected Maharishi’s dalliances reacted first with disbelief, denial, then condemnation. Staunch devotees discarded the rumors as lies, dreams, or fantasies. The TM Movement’s official position was Maharishi was a life celibate. Women who claimed to be Maharishi’s paramours were branded “psychotic.”

  Remarkably, some devotees believed Maharishi’s many lovers proved he was “The Messiah,” since Lord Krishna had hundreds of concubines called gopis. That’s quite a stretch. But hey, nearly every other famous guru’s disciples claim him/her to be an avatar (God incarnate). So why not join the club of ludicrous claims?

  A long list of Indian yogis, after hitting the West, seemed to contract amnesia concerning their brahmacharya vows. Scantily clad women in miniskirts batting eyelashes at powerful male virgins raised in a culture where it was scandalous for women to show their ankles—it was like living in a porn movie. Maharishi seemed yet another guru caught with his dhoti down.

  As of today, I don’t care what Maharishi did in his private bedroom. He never made a pass at me. If he had, I would have run far, fast, and final. Since he seemed to pursue petite, curvaceous “girlfriends,” at nearly a foot taller than him and a beanpole at 5’9” and 110 pounds, I probably wasn’t his type. Thank God!

  One time in Switzerland Maharishi said to a small group of us in his private meeting room, “I thought I had to be a monk and live the lonely life. But I was wrong.” October 14, 1969 on BBC, Maharishi declared to reporter Leslie Smith, “I had the idea that I must renounce the world in order to be really a spiritual man, a yogi. But, what I found out is that this spiritual life is not dependent on the renunciation of the world. It’s only solely dependent on morning and evening practice of meditation.”260 He repeatedly refused to be any kind of role model, and often told us, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

  In India it’s believed enlightened masters know they’re not the “doers” of action. They don’t identify with ego as the doer, because they’ve realized their higher self is God, and God’s activity is done through them.

  People in ignorance believe “I am the doer” and thereby incur karmic consequences. In Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna says all action and reaction are the play of gunas—modes of operation (sattva: purity and creativity, rajas: desire and action, and tamas: ignorance and destruction).

  When we realize our true nature, we rise above these gunas. Our higher self is then silent witness to gunas acting upon each other: “I AM not the doer.” Actions of the enlightened are always life supporting and free from karmic consequences.

  So the question is whether Maharishi’s female encounters were based on ignorance (with karmic results) or enlightenment (free from karmic results). While writing this book, I called upon Maharishi in spirit and asked him why he had sexual relations with women. He answered, “Very necessary. It was necessary for their soul growth and evolutionary path.”

  You might disagree with Maharishi’s explanation—or question the validity of the message’s source. Or you might reject the entire concept of Maharishi having a sex life. But Maharishi’s spirit did ask me to include his answer in this book.

  If Maharishi had publicly denied being a monk, would disciples have forgiven or condemned him? Knowing how insanely twisted people are about sex (especially related to spirituality), I believe his confession would have destroyed the good he was doing by teaching meditation to millions. Still, it’s surprising he successfully kept his secret until his death.

  Since Maharishi professed to be a monk and never denied it, several golden boys branded him a hypocrite. They were especially angry (and still are), since they were requested to maintain celibacy while, as they put it, “Mahesh was getting all the action.”

  It was a shock when some of the brightest of Maharishi’s flock walked out. He said, “I’m in a lot of pain. It’s too hard to lose these people. I’m going to put a lot of restrictions now on who can come on courses.”

  Maharishi reacted by stripping nearly all semblance of freedom from the Movement, and imposing unbearably strict policies recalling George Orwell’s dystopian 1984 “Thought Police.” Maharishi’s frequent rants reviled everything unless its name was “TM.” He became wary of turncoats, warning TM teachers in an official statement: “Don’t talk to your friends, because your friend might be a spy of the destructive forces.” In Courchevel he went so far as ordering skin-boys to read course participants’ private mail before it went out.

  Maharishi controlled us through fear and intimidation. If we didn’t “fly” regularly in the dome, we’d be responsible for nuclear holocaust or the end of the world. Every telephone-broadcast from Maharishi in the domes terrorized us. His coercive brainwashing methods were extremely effective motivators.

  Maharishi used highly successful bait—susceptibility to flattery. He convinced us of our superiority over the Great Unwashed. We were highly evolved Sidhas, Governors, and Citizens of the Age of Enlightenment—or whatever outlandish title he bestowed that week (Title-of-the-Week Club, or rather, Title-of-the-Weak Club). Our vanity hooked us into his artificially devised hierarchy.

  We lived in Fear-Filled, not Fairfield. Sincere, guileless TM devotees lived under extreme fear of the Board of GovernNazis policing the Movement. No one wanted to chance banishment from the presumptive heavenly paradise of the TM umbrella.

  But isn’t an umbrella a rather small place to make your home?

  In the 1960s, everything had been simple. In the 1980s, I still loved TM and Maharishi’s knowledge, but I hated his pitiless policies. Meditators blamed administrators for the unbending rules, but I knew who maintained control, micromanaged every detail, and delegated authority only to those who never deviated one millimeter.

  Maharishi could promise anything with impunity. Later, an underling would snatch it away. So many bad cops encircled the good cop, protecting him from wrath—quite convenient. In the Swiss Alps in the 1970s, I didn’t know how unsuitable I was to be one of Maharishi’s cops. I really believed I could be that person—loyal to his Movement forever. Uh … Not so much. My temperament wasn’t compatible with rigid conformity.

  In the 1980s in Fairfield, the ungodly repression became increasingly overbearing. MIU library purged “negative” books and spiritual non-TM books. Books by Ramana Maharishi, Vivekananda, Shivananda, Yogananda, and other God-realized souls were banned. Books on yoga, meditation, and New Age teachings disappeared.

  At MIU and MSAE (Maharishi School for the Age of Enlightenment), teachers reprimanded students for original opinions. Debate was discouraged. Kids who drew “negative” images, such as monsters, were taken to task. If Edgar Allan Poe had attended MIU, “The Pit and the Pendulum” would have received low marks. “Entertaining negativity” was “off the program.”

  When fifty-two hostages were held in the American Embassy in Tehran, the MIU dean called a student who’d missed a flying session to his office and blamed him for the incident. Such insufferable narrow-mindedness intensified youngsters’ rebelliousness, driving them to sex, drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol.

  All the joy of yogic flying vanished when making noise during the program became prohibited. We used to squeal, shout, and laugh our way across the foam. Now we had to curb our enthusiasm like good little silent TM robots.

  Maharishi said TM brought “support of nature,” meaning good fortune, effortless opportunities, and happy coincidences. Some meditators misinterpreted this to mean an ideal life should always run smoothly and perfectly. Therefore problems weren’t faced and solved with maturity. Instead they were deemed bad omens “without nature support.” Such twisting of Maharishi’s words became an excuse to shirk tough responsibilities, and to denounce anyone whose life didn’t match a “nature support” utopian fantasy.

  When Maharishi said to enjoy 200 percent of life, 100 percent absolute and 100 percent relative, Fairfieldians misinterpreted this to mean spiritual plus material success equals “more highly evolved.” This widened the divide between haves and have-
nots. Trust-fund meditators, deemed more enlightened, were treated like royalty.

  TM administrators began to assume a robotic, stilted demeanor, pretentious affectation, and peculiar singsong inflection. The “r” in Maharishi disappeared: “Mahaawshi said this, Mahaawshi said that.” After witnessing such artifices repeatedly, ad nauseam, I felt like stuffing a sock in their mouths and sealing it with duct tape.

  Fairfield residents donated tens of thousands to compete in Maharishi’s artificial, illusory pecking order of snobs. Overextended parents, paying tuition to MSAE plus endless TM programs, were implored to raise additional money for teachers’ salaries. Under great personal sacrifice, they managed to eek out the funds. But all that money mysteriously disappeared. Most teachers were laid off.

  Money raised from Fairfieldians for campus upkeep never found its way to campus. MIU was in shambles. The beleaguered MIU President, straining to keep the university afloat, was forced to solicit money from donors, take flack from haters, keep Maharishi’s wrath at bay, battle his own demons, and maintain a persona of calm optimism.

  One guy worked on MIU staff full-time for fifteen years and subsisted on a pathetic stipend. The moment he was diagnosed with cancer, he was fired and evicted from his dorm. A middle-aged MIU professor who’d served since 1973 was banned from campus after contracting cancer. He went home to California, trying to recover so he could return to the privileged position of working at MIU for room and board, a tiny stipend, and no health insurance.

  In 1995, when MIU morphed into MUM (Maharishi University of Management), several professors and staff, who’d survived twenty-plus years on their stipend, were dismissed without fanfare or pension. These highly educated devotees had founded MIU, written its curriculum, and garnered great respect and high status. Now they were reduced to hanging TM posters on health food store bulletin boards. In 2001, when the rate for TM initiation rose from $575 to $1500, they could no longer make a living.

  Skin-boy Mark Landau said, “Repeatedly I would see [Maharishi] use people and then just kick them out. Oftentimes he would discard them when they ran out of money. He would use people and then brush them off like flies.”261

  Like many spiritual or monastic groups led by a charismatic leader, the TM Movement could be categorized a “cult.” A cult can be healthy, if it cult-ivates enlightenment. But I began to think Maharishi had robbed loyal followers of money, dignity, and self-esteem. I’d spent over two decades in a dictatorial, repressive organization, largely motivated by fear. So had everyone around me.

  I recalled the warning from the man I met at the Guggenheim, twenty years previously. Was he trying to save me from this organization’s manacles?

  My bliss bubble was tearing at the seams. It was ready to burst.

  24

  INTO THE HEART OF GOD

  1985 TO 1986

  One’s happiness is under one’s own control. One’s misery is under someone else’s control. Do not follow me, follow your own Self.

  —MAHARISHI MAHESH YOGI

  Instead of following the TM Movement wearing blinders, my ever-curious mind began exploring other areas. Healers, spiritual teachers, psychics, channelers, shamans, hypnotists, astrologers, palmists, and gurus—all found Fairfield ripe territory for augmenting their coffers. Here lived two thousand impressionable meditators, seeking the next big spiritual thing. Ka-ching! I joined other mavericks indulging in “off the program” New Age classes.

  Rich Bell was quite a character. A six-foot-tall, corpulent, brown-eyed, Black-Irish phenotype with a winning smile, rich melodic voice, deep gut laugh, and captivating aura, he filled any space with electrifying magnetic presence. He exuded a certain unjustifiable self-confidence, considering he was a mighty odd duck.

  An incessant storyteller, always quick to make a joke (usually about the most inappropriate thing), he loved hearing himself talk. Loud and bombastic, missing basic social skills, he could always be counted on to embarrass everyone, especially in restaurants, where he besieged every waitperson with insufferable demands.

  In 1986 my next-door neighbor introduced me to Rich. He was visiting from San Diego. Immediately I regretted meeting him, because he subsequently hounded me relentlessly about teaching a spiritual practice different from TM (horror of horrors). He kept repeating the same annoying mantra: “You should learn this technique I’m teaching. You need it.”

  Need it? Me? Ha. I know all there is to know about meditation.

  I was arrogant as ever about TM’s superiority. I presumed Rich was another shyster fleecing gullible meditators, despite his previously attending MIU. Whatever the hell he was selling, I wasn’t buying. With a flip of my wrist, I flicked him away like a fly.

  Such a haughty attitude was common in Fairfield. The TM creed had been hammered into our brains—TM was the only path to enlightenment. All other practices were useless. We inhabited a rarified, “more evolved” plane, vastly superior to ignorant hoi polloi squatting outside the lofty gates of insulated TM grace.

  “Townies” (local residents) ridiculed “ru’s” (a demeaning epithet for TM meditators) as obnoxious pricks and prickettes from California who invaded Fairfield like stuck-up know-it-alls. Ru’s overpaid for houses, drove up real estate values, and made property ownership for locals impossible. Still, the town’s economy improved, so townies swallowed their pride and stomached our unendurable hauteur.

  Within a decade, four hundred new businesses sprang up. Retail sales rose 227% from 1976 to 1988. Income rose 55% from 1980 to 1984. There were twenty-two millionaires in a population of nine thousand. Wired magazine called Fairfield “Silicorn Valley of America” in 1997.262

  In 1986 New Age classes reached such fever pitch it caused uproar. Announcements in the domes banned all extracurricular activities not officially condoned. The New Age was officially forbidden. Unfazed, I arranged a mini-psychic fair/expo at the local VFW Hall.

  I was horrified to get a call from a TM-Sidhi Administrator, asking about the fair. I denied knowing anything; otherwise I risked everything. Panic-stricken, I phoned vendors, psychics, and potential attendees and canceled the event. It’s hard to convey the magnitude of our collective state of fear. I dreaded the worst possible punishment: My dome entry badge confiscated, and therefore (I believed) all hope of spiritual advancement dashed.

  The following week, a TM Executive Board member phoned. “Susan, The Board wants you to meet us on Wednesday at 3:00. We want to discuss your activities.” I struggled to gasp my next breath. My heart hammered in my chest and adrenaline ripped through my bones.

  The ominous Board of tyrants could expel anyone deemed “off the program.” “Discuss your activities” was a euphemism for “threaten, intimidate, and terrorize.” Would they slap my hands, or chop them off? Which option was anyone’s guess. I envisioned one timid young woman facing six bullies, dragged through a torturous wringer.

  I don’t know what possessed me to phone that peculiar creature Rich Bell. Perhaps I was seized with a terror of drowning so immediate, I grappled for the nearest flotation device.

  Rich seemed to know exactly what to do. He asked me to grab a pen and dictated something called “Self-Authority Affirmation.” He advised me to repeat it audibly for fifteen minutes right before the Board meeting. I’d never used affirmations before, but was willing to try anything.

  “I AM in control. I AM the only authority in my life. I am divinely protected by the light of my being. I close off my aura and body of light to all but my own God Self. Thank you, God, and SO IT IS.”

  I was so frightened, I repeated the affirmation for thirty minutes straight. Amazingly, each repetition filled me with increasing inner strength. By the appointed hour, I was brimming with energy and solid as steel.

  I entered the office, expecting six glowering men to pounce on me. Instead I encountered four puppy dogs with no intention of slapping or chopping any hands. The meeting turned to my advantage when I wouldn’t admit any “wrongdoing.” Oddly polite, they apo
logized for any inconvenience and sent me on my merry way. I floated out of the office, high on my own energy. The entire crisis vanished.

  I was so impressed with the power of Rich Bell’s affirmation that I asked him to teach me his new practice (not so new, but new to me). Rich laughed. “Guess you just needed a little proof. Miracles can start now.”

  “I’m gonna leap before I look,” I replied.

  I underwent a great personal transformation through this method, originated by Dr. Peter and Ann Meyer in San Diego. Their background of intensive spiritual studies included Mind Science, Religious Science (now called Centers for Spiritual Living, and never in any way associated with Scientology), medium Adele Gerard Tinning, and Self-Realization Fellowship, where they discovered Babaji (the “Yogi-Christ” from Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi).

  Picture of Babaji drawn by Paramahansa Yogananda’s brother Sananda Lal Ghosh. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

  Coauthors of Being a Christ, Peter and Ann received revelations and visitations from Babaji, Jesus, and other divine beings, beginning in 1962. Their “Teaching of the Inner Christ” was one of many spiritual teachings inspired by Babaji. Others included Self-Realization Fellowship, Kriya Yoga, Ananda, Rebirthing, and more.

  In India thousands of spiritual masters and millions of dads are called “Babaji,” meaning “respected father.” However, one “Babaji” is the famed ascended master believed to be immortal by spiritual practitioners worldwide. When called upon, Babaji can appear in physical or nonphysical form to boost our spiritual evolution. A beloved light being and teacher of teachers, his personality radiates wisdom, love, joy, and humor.

  When Ann and Peter Meyer separated, Peter founded “Teaching of Intuitional Metaphysics.” Years of meditation and silence prepared me for this teaching, which Peter later renamed Divine Revelation®. It appeared at my time of opening to new discoveries, and helped me hear the Voice of God, which I’d sought since childhood. That’s why meeting Rich Bell, Ann and Peter’s student, changed my life so suddenly and dramatically.