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It was way back whenever if you know what I mean.
I ransacked my family's home of anything and everything and put it all in the two car garage for Divine Sales to pick up and take to their South Side store that was under the train line on 47th. It was a little scary in that neighborhood.
In fact, about the only time I ever was at that store was February '74. I didn't have a job and I was being dispatched by the ashram honchos along with the other lowly ashram folks and the ashram wannabes. So, there I was at the Divine Sales store under the train line on a nice sunny day in February, which was an exception for the norm in those parts.
Out of nowhere, this ashram premie tells me to build a stage for Maharaji. Maharaji was coming to town and needed a stage. Sure, like I knew everything there was to know about stages. I mean like what size and all those simple questions. And does it need an emergency exit?
So, I was off to build a stage. The ashram people had actually left me with some materials. Basically I had a 4 by 8 foot sheet of about 1/2 inch thick plywood and some two-by-fours, some nuts and bolts and some tools I scrounged up from the store. So, I set off and cut and put the two-by-fours onto the plywood. I put an extra set of two-by-four legs in the middle of the set-up to make it stronger and not flex as much. I mean, I really was not a carpenter or anything, but knew just a little. But I also knew I preferred nuts and bolts over nails for sturdiness because you could tighten them a whole lot.
It turned out that the stage, as small as it was, was the darshan stage that us premies scampered across and got holy breath and a foot kiss. I was pleased that I had the guru guided inner sense to put in the extra support even though I had no clue as to what and how this little stage would be used.
Meanwhile, back at my family home in the suburbs I was not there when Divine Sales came by to get all my stuff. I had already surrendered myself and was sneaking around the city at night wheat-pasting Maharaji's posters on to highway bridges, beautiful and newly painted steel lamp posts on one of the city's most important financial district's street. And my father actually worked on that street.
But, damn! In that garage full of stuff was my vinyl record collection going back to '64.
I loved music more than anything. In fact, when I first heard there was a 'music technique' I imagined it to involve something like a stereo with a record player. I knew that technique was gonna be sweet. And it was. It was like a ringing in my head. Where did I get those ideas? And where was I going to get some new Maharaji flavored ideas that would help fill out my life and get me going on the right track? Yeah, those ideas.
But, damn! I gave up my Paul Revere and the Raiders albums. Those cannot be replaced, my friend. No. Gone. Gone forever.
Wait a second!
Screw that.
I've got Spotify.
But, I'm not going to listen to Paul Revere and the Raiders. No.
Modified by eDrek at Sat, Feb 10, 2018, 21:04:01
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Oh my...we will need an entire forum to document all the cool things we gave away, gave up, at the lotus feet.
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You can get a Paul Revere and the Raiders Greatest Hits CD on amazon for just $4.99. I heard from a Scientologist that music is so powerful that you can recover your pre-cult self by listening to the music you liked before you joined.
Modified by Steve at Wed, Feb 14, 2018, 08:02:05
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First Darshan line in 1975 Kissimmee. I was 13 and I definitely thought GMJ knew who I was, loved and cared about me. After all, everyone, including him, said it was true. So I give him something I find precious, a little sterling silver charm bracelet that I loved, a gift from my godmother, she bought on a trip to Mexico. My mother was furious when she found out.
Of course we know such things were all junk to gold toilet man.
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I did security at the penthouse residence during the first large Atlantic City festival ( 76 or 77). I was posted outside the door to prevent anyone from entering the large suite. After Rawat and entourage left at the festival completion, a lot of gifts were left behind that he (or others) simply didn’t want. I distinctly remember one small pillow that was amazingly embroidered with incredible detail from a “devotee “ with loving words to Rawat. It was left behind unwanted like trash.
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So, back in the early Sixties, the kid gets the dreamboat from his unexpectedly demised dad. And this was no 'poisoned chalice'. Rawat Minimus (ie the most junior of the clan) might not have realised it at the time, yet his unexpected inheritance would eventually give him as much - in fact more - recognition/respect/reverence/rupees than his father ever had. The pampered lifestyle he was to become used to would soon be his norm. But how was he to repay such generosity from the followers? (assuming his conscience could entertain such a concept). Simply by leaving the "dross" of those donations which had little or no monetary value - or for which he had no use - behind, unclaimed. And in doing so, managing to kid himself how 'generous' he was being in the process. But, in the long run, the kidders only end up kidding themselves. And whether they get the chance to grow up or not - well, that might be dependent on ... the people who they kidded in the first place? I do sometime wonder how much of a 'favour' Rawat's followers are actually doing him.
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I believe Rawat even said that he was actually the one giving the gift to us; of allowing us to give him our trinkets. That merely having the opportunity to give him something that meant everything to us and nothing to him was his grace and mercy to us. Yeah, um, I guess I remember the spiel quite well.
Unless your gift was tacky, ostentatious, or sellable so he could get some other tacky ass thing he wanted. Then Maybe you had some value, under you ran out of whatever resource he found you useful for. Then the premie too was discarded like the trinkets; no guilt from Jabba because he was the one giving you the gift of giving to him. Reptilian man.
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I'm listening to Paul Revere and the Raiders on Spotify.
The song I'm listening to is 'Kicks'. I think it's about drugs or something like that - probably marijuana like reefer madness.
Ouch, but I'm going to skip over 'Indian Reservation'. Sheesh!
Modified by eDrek at Thu, Feb 15, 2018, 15:52:13
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Could I interest you into listening to a little CCR?
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I missed out on most of pop music's joys whence sequestered away in our strange little club, but at least that period of time coincided with the heart of the disco era. And if there was ever a genre of music I feel was expendable, disco is probably it for me. On the other hand, my dancing would likely be much better had that not been the case.
Suzy Bai was tough to dance to.
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ha ha, yes, I feel the same about the music and dancing. Tho I was half delighted/half upset to discover Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, too late, he was already dead but yay, I did enjoy it when I found it.
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yes, if we had to miss some music at least it was disco. Ha ha ha slow clap!
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