Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

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its purest form. Always. Everywhere. The beginning of a new world. He was going to devote his life to this guru. I gave him his pot, his clean sheets, his antibiotics and a whole lot of attention. After a few days, I visited the Amsterdam ashram of his guru and just knew. The serenity in the house, the wise smile on the faces, the smell of incense, the songs at a whispering guitar: it all came together. I wanted to be part of this. The next day I quit my job and my room and brought everything I owned to the Salvation Army. I then reported at the ashram of the Divine Light Mission of guru Maharaj ji with my sleeping bag and some clothes (always longed for just one bag - in this case my Carl Denig rucksack, bought with my first hospital salary - as maximum baggage in life). There they told me that I had to wait. Until I was ready for a life of meditation, dedication and devotion. I bowed deeply to the picture of the fourteen year old guru that sat in the reception room of the ashram in a gold colored frame on a chair with a shiny cloth over it. As far as I was concerned, I was totally ready for it. Fortunately in the meantime I was able to use my grandmother’s apartment, as she was permanently staying with one of her children. There, on the floor between her old heavy furniture and her television in a wooden cabinet, I spread out my sleeping bag. On the shiny polished coffee table I put a small version of the picture that stood on the chair in the ashram. I was waiting for one of the trave- 22
ling Indian mahatmas of Maharaj ji to initiate me in the meditation techniques. When one would arrive, nobody knew. Or if he would even initiate me. It all depended whether I was ready. So I went to the ashram every day. Help vacuum (‘cleanliness is next to godliness, brother’), peel potatoes, wash dishes and stick up posters of the guru in town (‘The lord of the universe has come’). 23
Page 1 and 2: Mescaline, Maharaj ji and Mojave De
Page 3 and 4: Colophon © Text and publication: J
Page 5 and 6: Colored and distorted This story ab
Page 7 and 8: One My memories of the United State
Page 9 and 10: Two New York. I had forgotten how b
Page 11 and 12: But a good follower kept far from m
Page 13 and 14: his organization. But then again, t
Page 15 and 16: of sand on a coffin. But I bravely
Page 17 and 18: Pity. I think, when I sit here over
Page 19: good friend, said he would stay wit
Page 23 and 24: without the protection of car steel
Page 25 and 26: only meant for those who understood
Page 27: After that he taught to listen to t
Page 30 and 31: y now, almost familiar Chinese woma
Page 32 and 33: and devotion. Or hand it over, as e
Page 34 and 35: Seven From New York’s LaGuardia J
Page 36 and 37: circles, just like the songs. The m
Page 38 and 39: early in the morning at the end of
Page 40 and 41: the double row and remove me from t
Page 42 and 43: When I looked through the rear wind
Page 44 and 45: quarters (a door, a window frame, n
Page 46 and 47: listened to their endlessly repeate
Page 48 and 49: Ten Right. Denver it is. For me sti
Page 50 and 51: pillows on the porch. And the paint
Page 52 and 53: which I used to look out on the pav
Page 54 and 55: huge dusty parking lots alongside.
Page 56 and 57: that stuffed a large plastic crate
Page 58 and 59: Twelve It was about the greatest ho
Page 60 and 61: Even in Denver they agreed in the e
Page 62: efore we could open our Divine Shop
Page 65 and 66: meeting about international program
Page 67 and 68: When I was in Denver for about a ye
Page 69 and 70: the Rutgers foundation for the pill
Page 71 and 72:
Everything looks dusty, hot and sle
Page 73 and 74:
temple to praise the beauty of natu
Page 75 and 76:
Fifteen At about four in the aftern
Page 77 and 78:
The man behind the counter there, a
Page 79 and 80:
Sixteen So there I was. In a city w
Page 81 and 82:
vice principal. And won. We all got
Page 83 and 84:
Seventeen Ludlow apparently knows i
Page 85 and 86:
The more the road descends, from ab
Page 87 and 88:
there. I walk over to the suitcase
Page 89 and 90:
The man follows the bird with his c
Page 91 and 92:
Afterward At this moment, over thir
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Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

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