Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

Even in Denver they agreed in the end that my predecessor
assumed the role of god in the game of life a bit
too much and the order came that I had to hand over the
management of our junk collecting and second hand shop
and become ‘general secretary’, of Divine Light Mission
Netherlands. In stead of sorting out rags in the morning
and then supplying local residents with old beds, cupboards
and clothes in the Divine Shop at the Van der
Helststraat, I now had to grab a suit out of the racks myself
and take care of houses, money, public gatherings and
personal problems of the ashram members in the national
headquarters at the Achtergracht.
And problems existed. Like the guy who wanted to end
all the questions that despite the meditation stormed his
head by first jumping in the ring canal near Diemen and
then climbing an electricity pole to hang by the wire, soaking
wet. He survived and stared at me in pavilion 3 of
the Wilhelmina Gasthuis, stricken dumb by medication,
asking if now he was a bad follower. Another guy took off
all his clothes and ran through the centre of Amsterdam
in the middle of the winter to announce the Lord of the
Universe had descended and started his crusade for peace.
He kicked a dent in my chest and a hole in the door of
the room were I finally contained him, to wait for the
paramedics.
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