way is it to Utica?"

11. Displaced

"Aren't enlightened souls supposed to be more quiet?" I thought,
recalling Atmananda's newfound access to a world without words. It was
an hour or so after the coup. His voice crept through my bedroom door,
interrupting my thoughts. I had been deliberating on whether I would
attend the follow-up meeting, which was scheduled to begin within
minutes. "Well," I thought, trying to ignore the relentless monologue,
"he did claim only *partial* enlightenment."

I read from the Castaneda poster on the wall of my room a quote about
following a path with heart. "Does Atmananda's path have heart?" I
wondered. "Is it even a path? What the hell is going on?"

I turned toward the underexposed photo of Chinmoy still on my shrine.
"What if Guru has not fallen?" I wondered, not wanting to be left
bobbing in the stormy sea of ignorance.

"But then again," I thought, reminded of Atmananda's uncanny ability to
see, "what if he has?" I felt overwhelmed. I realized I needed time
to think. I realized I needed guidance.

I wanted to ask former Chinmoy disciples for advice, but did not want
to subject them to spiritual doubts about Guru or Atmananda. I wanted
to ask friends and teachers outside the group, but did not want to rely
on people whom I supposed could not see. I even thought of asking my
parents, but did not want to rely on two lobsters sporting bow ties.
So I tried to assess the situation on my own.

I recalled some of the good times I had had with Atmananda. I also
recalled Atmananda admitting to me, months before, that he wanted some
day to be a guru.

I saw him as a genuine seeker on the path to Truth. I also saw him as
a man whose ambitions I could not fathom.

"I need to get away," I told myself. "I need to get a perspective.
It's not that I don't trust Atmananda. It's just that... "

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

I jumped up.

Atmananda smiled as he opened my door. "Hi, kid. The meeting will
start in a few minutes. Do you want to greet people--or should I find
someone else?"

Simultaneously soothed and disoriented by his voice and face, I felt
reluctant to give up a position of authority. "I'll greet them," I
said.

Some of the fifty or so former Chinmoy disciples that I greeted seemed
excited, but most, like me, seemed anxious and confused. Twenty
minutes after the meeting was scheduled to begin, I closed the door and
sat with the group before a barre