d me for having picked up significant
quantities of Negative Psychic Energy. "Don't worry," he told me.
"I'll process the bad energy for you--though it will probably make me
ill." Then, adding humiliation to guilt, he dubbed us "assholes of the
mountains."

Both Atmananda and Big Nurse, I also realized, relied heavily on
informants to gather data about the group that they controlled.
Atmananda exposed his Big Nurse nature in other ways. He claimed, for
instance, that he had to "press all the right buttons" to help people
overcome their resistance to the Light and to him. And he said he
never trusted a man unless he had his pecker in his pocket.

As I lay in bed remembering and reflecting, I felt overwhelmed by the
extent to which Atmananda had changed. For a moment, I felt sad. I
still thought of him as a friend. I found myself thinking about the
time he had initiated the former Chinmoy disciples. When it came my
turn, he placed his hand on my forehead and looked into my eyes. Not a
grin or gesture broke his stern countenance. Seconds later he was done
meditating on me, and I returned to the audience. Then he called me
back.

"You are rejecting me inwardly," he accused and tried again. After the
third time, he frowned.

"Next," he said.

Now I struggled with the memory and with the realization that Atmananda
considered me less his friend than a subject. I had believed in him.
I had loved him. I was devastated. But as I concentrated again on his
other side, the sadness disappeared. Atmananda, I realized, had been
using me. I grew angry and scared.

My thoughts drifted, and I found myself thinking about a bicycle trip I
had taken to Palomar Mountain months before. At the top of the
mountain one of my brakes had malfunctioned, so I hitched a ride to a
bike shop in Escondido. A plumber had picked me up. During the ride,
the plumber, who lived with his wife and kids on the mountain, had
pointed out a red-tailed hawk. Now, in my room in Atmananda's Centre,
I pictured the way that the hawk had soared through the clear, blue,
mountain sky on a course of its own...

"What the hell am I doing here?" I suddenly thought, lifting myself
out of bed. I stepped into the hall.

"What if Atmananda sees me?" I thought nervously. But the door to his
room was shut. I stepped into the kitchen. Except for an occasional
squawk from a macaw, the house was dead quiet. I picked up the phone.
I remembered the