Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

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Twelve It was about the greatest honor that could be conferred upon me as a follower of Maharaj ji, this late night phone call from Bob Denton, international president of the Divine Light Mission. Telling me to pack some clothes and get to Denver to maintain contacts between the IHQ and the national branches in Europe and Australia. With my ‘own’ Divine Light Mission in the Netherlands I was doing very nicely at that time. Definitely after the fickle strictness of my predecessor. He was convinced that the life of a follower was a permanent test of his devotion. A test that he preferably conducted himself. Like until the last day before departure keeping it a secret for me whether I was allowed to join the trip to India. “Meditate, brother, just meditate. It is all in his hands.” Or that morning I was just getting on my bike headed for my tem- 60
porary job as street sweeper, ordering me to start a junk collecting service. It worked in England and we had to have one too. Now. “Maharaj ji will guide you, brother.” Or that evening the housemother asked me to clear out the washing machine in the attic and I couldn’t resist checking out my Carl Denig rucksack. I still knew exactly were I had put it, behind a couple of boxes, right down in the corner. The boxes were still there. The rucksack wasn’t. I pushed a stack of books aside that somebody must have put there when they joined the ashram. Nothing. Maybe somebody had put it somewhere else. I shouldn’t start worrying about this, but there was no way back. On all fours I crawled over the dusty wooden planks and moved aside boxes, garbage bags and old suitcases, though I knew better. Canvas colored, aluminium frame, ultra light, incontestable, lasts a lifetime, the guy selling it at Carl Denig had said. It was gone. I returned to the kitchen without the laundry and asked the housemother if she knew anything about it. My rucksack. She looked at me feeling sorry. “Don’t be attached”, was the only thing she was going to say. “He gave it away”, she then added in a whisper. “A girl traveling through, you know how he is”, she said meaningfully turning her eyes up. Sticky, yes I knew. Sucking up to the ‘sisters’. With my rucksack that is. I could already see the mocking smile in his eyes when I would dare to ask about it. 61
Page 1 and 2:
Mescaline, Maharaj ji and Mojave De
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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 and 20: good friend, said he would stay wit
Page 21 and 22: ling Indian mahatmas of Maharaj ji
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 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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