My Father's Guru

by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

  “There will be one, but I will not be here, since I intend to die this year,” she said.

  The war. It was to dominate our lives for years.

  Chapter Eight

  World War III

  The first I remember of talk about an imminent Third World War was in 1956, when I was fifteen. But as early as 1947 my father had written in his diary:

  Palm Springs, February 17th. P.B. spoke about a new World War. He said that in 1942 he was told it would be in 20 years, meaning 1962. The whole world will be in it. No safe place in the world. It would be advisable to live in the country. However destruction might reach a radius of a 1000 miles. The best place to live for a person on the Path is a place like Palm Springs or in a quiet country atmosphere, away from city noise, turmoil, distraction, etc.

  Evidently, P.B. had been predicting such a disaster for some time. In volume nine of his Notebooks, P.B. claimed that “during the First World War a few illumined seers knew how it would begin and end, and had already known that a second war would break out about twenty years later.” These same people knew about the outcome of World War II, or at least they knew it by 1942. How did they know? P.B. said it was not through reasoning or calculation, but by “revelation.”

  Why was there going to be a Third World War? P.B. was a consummate moralist; he believed the world deserved a war. He often said that the First World War had come about because civilization was what he called “sex-ridden,” and that the world had then “plunged more wildly than ever in the quest for sexual joy,” bringing about the Second World War. P.B. believed that semen, the gift of life, was not to be wasted. This is a popular Hindu notion. As he reasoned in the Notebooks, since semen is white blood, “nature has punished man’s careless dissipation of the one with a forced loss of the other.” Because humanity had still not learned its lesson about sexual irresponsibility, we were about to be visited by “the horror of a third world war, compared with which the second will be mere child’s play.” He called it Armageddon. It would devastate five continents.

  There was also a “higher purpose” to the war: to “guard the higher philosophy” of the Quest and “preserve the Quests practices and disciplines.” The Quest had been ignored by too many people. Those who could best serve P.B. were therefore singled out to survive. Their good karma was due precisely to the fact that they had devoted themselves to the Quest. Surviving the Third World War, devastating to everyone and everything else, was to be their reward.

  But while P.B. had been hinting for years that a disaster, a nuclear holocaust, was about to engulf our planet, I think he first began speaking to us in detail about World War III in the late 1950s. The Third World War was due to begin sometime in 1961 or 1962. For many years prior, the lives of his disciples were taken up with planning for this momentous upheaval. P.B. was busy with his own “work,” which included averting this disaster via consultations with the higher powers.

  This involved incredibly complicated visits to many countries. P.B. was always traveling. As I read his letters, the enormous number of countries he visited every year is amazing. He went to Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, France, England, and Switzerland, year after year, on trips paid for by different disciples. How I longed to accompany him! The only one allowed was a secretary, however—his own wife, Evangeline. The rest of us were supposed to be busy not with averting nuclear war but with the more mundane task of finding a safe refuge. This involved a fair amount of “research” about where nuclear fallout was less likely or less dangerous. Linda and I were still in school in Switzerland, and my parents were living partly in Europe and partly in Los Angeles. P.B. stayed with them on and off, but mostly he was busy.

  P.B., too, was involved in research, but of a more exalted kind. He was conferring with four higher beings—the Four Archangels who evidently lived on his home star of Sirius—to see what could be done to save planet Earth. The only hope, he told us, was “the intercessory and contributory meditations of a few knowledgeable sages.” I always presumed that P.B. knew other “Sirians” whose identity he could never reveal. But it turned out that he could not just ask one of the Four Archangels, or any of the superior beings from another planet, where to go to be safe. Evidently they told him that he, too, had to find out the hard way, just like the rest of us, by elaborate research connected with radiation fallout, wind direction, and so on.

  P.B. claimed that one of his disciples worked for the Atomic Energy Commission. While none of us had ever met this man, it is possible that P.B. did know somebody there. In any event, he started amassing mounds of literature and poring over maps of the different parts of the world that he thought would prove safe from the deadly emissions—there was much talk of strontium 90—that would be released during a Third World War. The talk was less of the war itself than of the bombs that would be dropped and the ensuing fallout. Endless letters were written among the disciples about where the safest place on Earth would be. Meanwhile, a few “chosen” disciples were being warned to wind up their business affairs in the United States and flee for safer realms. Much thought and discussion was given to determining where those safer places were, even though P.B. often said that “the Higher Self will tell you where to go.”

  But the Higher Self needed help. P.B. said that he was in touch with a high official of the Kennedy administration who—in great secrecy and with much risk—would furnish him with a clandestine map of the world on which the safest locations would be marked.

  This map had to be obtained directly from Washington. Uncle Bernard was delegated to make a special trip there to obtain it. Bernard flew, dressed so that nobody could recognize him (as if anybody knew him anyway), and was met at the airport by a mysterious-looking stranger who, after much looking about and furtive changing of locations, handed over a small packet and immediately fled. Bernard opened the package to find a map of the world with a small mark next to Uruguay and Ecuador. He was later to complain with some bitterness that the map was one anybody could have purchased in Woolworth’s for a quarter.

  Nevertheless, in accordance with P.B.’s instructions, my father liquidated his assets in this country and determined to move to Montevideo, Uruguay, to avoid the nuclear fallout from the Third World War just in case P.B.’s efforts with his Sirian companions proved no match for the forces of darkness (P.B. seems, for the moment, to have been successful). In a letter to me written in September 1959, P.B. stated, in typically oblique fashion; “My own work in connection with the international situation comes to an end so far as outward activity is concerned, at the end of this month.” This of course led us to expect even greater “inward” activity devoted to procuring peace for our planet.

  P.B. did not decide there was going to be a Third World War on the basis of the world situation or by any reasoned method. His was not an opinion; it was a revelation. P.B. had been told there was going to be a war by the very higher powers that were doing their best, presumably with P.B. as their human instrument, to stop it.

  *

  What, precisely, was involved in any given revelation was never made clear. Nor did anybody feel courageous enough to ask P.B. the obvious questions. Who revealed it to you? When? How, exactly did it happen? Can you talk directly to these forces? Have you any control over the discussions? Are they discussions? Give me an exact description of the unfolding of a revelation, from the time it begins until the time it ends. Any request for concrete information threatened the fantasy world in which P.B. lived and that he demanded that others inhabit as well, at least if those others were to be his disciples.

  Many people at that time believed a war was imminent—some built air raid shelters—but few thought they could prevent it by meditation. What, then, did P.B. do to make himself think he was communing with powers from another planet (or another “plane,” as he often put it) to stop a war? He did not pretend he was involved in any cosmic conference, though it would have been in consonance with his behavior. It is not as if he would walk into a board
room with a name tag saying P.B. , PLANET- EARTH, put down his black nonleather briefcase, and say, “Now, gentlemen, where were we?” He must have truly felt that during meditation he was “in touch” with some higher force and that his contact with that force was beneficial to the world.

  As usual, P.B. insisted on mystery, and secrecy, and hints, and mysterious smiles. And again the question must be put. Was he kidding my uncle Bernard, and my father Jacques, and his other disciples as well as himself, or just them? Did he consciously know that he was engaged in play-acting, or did he convince himself that he was doing what he claimed to be doing? If he really believed he was communing with some higher power, why all the mumbo-jumbo?

  Of course, one had to excuse P.B. not telling the rest of the world. They would simply have ridiculed him. He could hardly take out an ad in the New York Times and expect to be taken seriously. Certainly, he implied, he wished he could warn the whole of humanity of the danger it was facing, but the whole of humanity would only laugh at him. The whole of humanity was intent on destroying itself. He could only work behind the scenes to avert disaster and at the same time fulfill his obligation to his closest disciples by warning them of the danger he foresaw, urging them to liquidate all their business in North America and Europe and make a permanent move to South America.

  We were all forbidden to discuss the situation with “ordinary” people. In effect, my parents were asked to believe that a catastrophic war was imminent and at the same time that they must not, under any circumstances, alert their own families to the impending disaster This was a lot to ask, and I think it led to permanent bitter feelings. I knew that P.B. and his disciples believed that the world as we knew it was about to end. I never thought this through, however.

  I can remember at various times wanting to “save” friends, wanting to talk to some of them about “the war.” But I thought they would never believe me. This was undoubtedly true. Still, I remember feeling both horrified and sad that the war would engulf everybody but those of us who were preparing for it.

  *

  P.B., meanwhile, was proving more and more elusive. He was not eager to correspond with his disciples. In fact, he wrote to his son on January 26, 1960, to say that he was no longer able to get involved in questers’ and readers’ personal lives, affairs, or spiritual problems. He was not to be diverted from time-and-energy-requiring aims that would affect the fate of millions of others. He told his son to hold out no hope that he would write to anyone or even that he could get in touch with him soon. This was an emergency.

  For many of P.B.’s disciples, the move to South America presented a formidable task. Many were poor. Typical were the Ted and Sara Barner family and their children, Robert and Edward. They were organic farmers, dedicated to P.B., and loyal to him. They barely eked out a living on their small farm in Fallbrook, California, where they grew a variety of organic vegetables. They were poor and unsophisticated. Ted had a lip cancer that was getting worse every year, which he refused to treat by medical means. He attempted every possible quack cure, especially fasting. For them to move to South America, leaving the rest of their nonspiritual family behind, was a major and potentially devastating prospect, but they felt they had no choice. They believed in P.B. absolutely, without reservation. Had not P.B. looked at Sara with such intensity that she knew he could read her thoughts? They left before my parents did. They decided to move to a small valley outside of Quito, Ecuador, where they had heard there was an ideal climate and fine farming. Even though they were eventually disappointed in P.B. and went through difficult times, they never lost their devotion to him.

  It is much to my uncle Bernard’s credit that, unlike any other disciple, he was not afraid to criticize P.B. He did so often. By 1956, these criticisms were beginning to take a more angry tone. On August 11, 1956, he wrote to P.B.:

  My esteem for you has sunk to its very lowest point. It is plain that you are an Egoist of the first water. It is also quite catching! When I brought my brother Jack to you ten years ago, he had a profound desire to be of some use to humanity. Look at him now, he writes me letters only of his deals in business, of his and his family’s doings. His philanthropic ideas are buried under ten years of your teachings. He intends to enjoy himself to the very last and then when you divulge the location which will be safe for survival, he will emigrate there in style and build a fine house and invite you as his guest, where you will stay permanently, slowly Diana will compel you to comply with her household routine and you will have heartburn and liver attacks from eating her psychically-charged indigestible food, while you tell them amusing stories at dinner time. I should call that a fit epitome to your life and teachings.

  Bernard was right. My parents did in fact intend to build a home in Uruguay and invite P.B. to live with us. They offered this to him in a letter dated August 23, 1958:

  Naturally P.B. we sincerely hope that you will be able to live with us, and if it is preferable for you, we could have a separate house on the same estate for yourself. Diana and I have talked this over and if that is not satisfactory, then we would like as a second choice to buy a place for you. Please do not worry about the financial part of it, as we will take care of that.

  Uncle Bernard made a similar offer, though at a slightly less exalted level, commensurate with his finances. He was critical of P.B. because he suspected P.B. would eventually divulge to my parents, but not to him, the place for survival. But Bernard still clearly believed that P.B. actually did know where that place was, and that it would be needed. He was absolutely convinced that P.B. was powerful, even if he misused his power. For Bernard, it was not that P.B. merited these powers—he simply, somehow, had them. Even at his most angry, Bernard still believed that P.B. was in contact with higher powers. Why did he find this belief impossible to shake? Would it have made his life pointless and absurd? In the same letter he recognizes how ridiculous P.B.’s little obsessions were; “tying pieces of string together for two hours, so as to yield four feet of string wherewith to tie a bundle—or sending your secretary to exchange a 10 cent article in downtown NY, which cost him $1.20 in carfare—or saving bits of paper, untyped pieces of envelopes, etc., on which to write your ideas, etc., etc., etc.”

  P.B. responded to the accusation about the string with good humor, telling Bernard that he must admit that in comparison with the terrible blows on the head that the medieval Tibetan guru Milarespa had received and that knocked him unconscious, his suffering while seated comfortably in a revolving chair for two hours tying the string was a much lighter test. However, the tone of tongue-in-cheek was not entirely genuine. P.B. did talk of tests that were constantly being set for his disciples and constantly being flunked. He admitted that he often set tests for his disciples, asking them for something “apparently” unnecessary. Then when they refused, he would give them to understand that the request was a test and they had flunked.

  Bernard wrote again to say that “throughout the years I have pointed out to you time and again the various predictions you have made which have not materialized. I have a list of about twenty such predictions.” Even when Bernard was giving P.B. factual information, he could not prevent himself from complaining, as if he were trying to settle scores with a negligent or cruel or nonomnipotent and therefore disappointing father.

  But in this case, Bernard felt that P.B. had information he wanted to keep secret. This enraged Bernard, both because he felt important facts were being kept back from him and because he felt it was a sadistic game. He decided to play it as well. “Now I come to what can be called the ‘esoteric’ side of my information. Let me whisper it to you in your ear, for it is ‘hush-hush’ stuff! There is a region in South America, with its topographical character of such a curious and unique nature as to make this spot virtually immune (but completely so!) from every combination of nuclear hazards, whether it be fallout radiation, or anything else. The only spot on earth to which it can be compared is Lhasa, Tibet, but without the latter’s manifold disadva
ntages. But listen—this is going to be good! Imagine my intense surprise when studying this region in my thoughts, to find that there is a rumor that in this very area, (Refuge XL) a group of oriental or asiatic mystics (could it be Tibetans?) have already established themselves secretly. I can say no more.” Later in the letter he tells P.B., “I must withhold all information on this subject until I see you personally and get your promise of silence.”

  It was too tantalizing for P.B. to withstand (all that talk of Tibetan masters), and he took the bait. He began immediately to besiege Bernard with requests for more information. He simply must disclose the name of the place. He could be trusted to keep a secret, and so on. On October 24, 1956, P.B. wrote to ask: “Is Refuge XL Lake Titicaca where Peru and Bolivia meet and where every occult leader in Europe tells me that Tibetan adepts had built their lamasery. If this is true, then please say so definitely.” Because P.B. was half convinced that Bernard had gotten hold of esoteric information, he wanted to be part of it. He told Bernard that it should be kept secret from the public and from other questers but not from him.

  Bernard had told P.B. that he had devised a very elaborate plan of survival for the “ordinary” questers (presumably everybody except Bernard, Ida, and P.B.), but refused to hand over the plan to P.B. unless P.B. would come to him personally to obtain it. He tantalized P.B. with excerpts from it. I doubt it was even written down. I think it was a means of teasing P.B.

  Teasing had always played an important role in our family. My father’s father was a terrible tease, and so was my father. Evidently it was popular in Bukhara. A tease was most successful when the person was actually frightened. Teasing often had sadistic and sexual undertones. Bernard clearly had in mind several thousand questers, all seeking refuge somewhere in the world. In fact, less than a dozen people were involved. Bernard saw himself as a “group director” who, so he told P.B. on November 6, 1956, “will be responsible for finding the suitable location for future life of the group, with the help of the higher powers.”