ntre. He occasionally warned
me, for instance, that Anne was in a low state of consciousness and
that I should avoid her whenever possible; he would then tell her the
same about me, and so on. Furthermore, Atmananda had worked to make
communication among disciples intimidating and taboo.

"If any of you break the Seven Seals of Silence," he had repeatedly
warned inner circle devotees, without explaining what the Seals were,
"I would not want to be in your shoes. You have to understand that
there would be absolutely nothing I could do to help you. It would be
awful--I don't even want to think about it."

Other surfacing memories of Atmananda revolted me. I recalled his
often-stated maxim that only through revenge could one of life's
greatest joys be attained. In WOOF! (Issue #3; January, 1981), he
wrote: "Thousands died today in Pompeii when Mount Vesuvius erupted
without warning... It was seen that the people of Pompeii had all been
enemies of the Gwid in a recent incarnation and that the
explosion... was the Gwid's special way of showing the populace that he
is not a person to be trifled with... "

I recalled with disgust Atmananda's claim that he used to toss his dog
fifteen to twenty feet into the air.

I recalled with disgust his treatment of me during one of his public
lectures. "Can anyone see what is wrong with Mark?" he had asked the
audience, after calling me to the front of the room.

No response.

"Look at him now."

Silence.

"The energy around his head," he told them matter-of-factly, "is not
balanced. But don't worry. We are working on him."

As I grappled with the memory, I grew angry. Atmananda, I realized,
probably saw me as one of his pets. Suddenly it struck me that while
Atmananda might be like McMurphy, he might also be like the novel's
mean-spirited antagonist, Nurse Ratched, also known as Big Nurse.

Both Atmananda and Big Nurse, I realized, discouraged their wards from
exploring the outdoors. I remembered Atmananda warning me, before I
went backpacking in Yosemite, that he was picking up bad vibes from the
trip. Despite his grim prophecy, the trip had been a success. I had
gone with three friends from the Centre, each of whom loved the woods
as much as I did. We woke to the sounds of a brown bear eating our
food. We played hacky-sack on top of Half Dome. We got muddy and
jumped in a river and yelled and laughed from the cold. Yet when we
returned, Atmananda scolde