An Authentic Life 1.1 for pdf - Universalist Radha-Krishnaism

Here was this group of hippies sitting on the
floor chanting like a bunch of lunatics, being stared at
by a crowd of straights, and I didn't care one bit. I was
usually self-conscious, but now I felt above the mundane
reality of my situation--untouchable. Everything
felt right.
When Swami's plane arrived, people lined up
at the gate to greet him. I imagined my guru would
have long matted hair and beard, wearing simple
rags, straight out of a jungle cave like the picture of a
guru that appeared earlier on the cover of "The Oracle."
Swami Bhaktivedanta emerged with shaved
head and bright pinkish saffron robes, a big smile,
and a glowing effulgence around him. I said to Carolyn,
"He's real! He's real! He's my spiritual master."
Allen Ginsberg stepped forward with a large
bouquet of flowers, and Bhaktivedanta graciously accepted
it. Other people gave him flowers and fruit
that he accepted smiling graciously. I was too blown
away to give him my flowers. We followed Swami
down the airport corridors chanting “Hare Krishna.”
A black 1949 Cadillac Fleetwood waited for him in
front of the terminal.
When Swami got outside, he stopped and
handed the flowers he was given to the people. He
put his arms up and started dancing. Everyone
started chanting and dancing intensely. Swami
brought it to a climax, muttered a benediction, got
into the back seat with Mukunda and Allen Ginsberg.
Hari Das drove off wearing a chauffeurs cap. We went
to the temple to hear what Swami had to say.
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