me what had happened after I left them in Boulder.
The twenty-eight had continued their journey east to Lincoln, Nebraska,
where Rama declared that they should move to whichever cities they as
individuals *saw*. But when it looked like the group was going to
splinter, Rama changed his mind and instructed them all to move to
Laguna Beach, California.

The next week I drove to the Beverly Wilshire in Beverly Hills. I
asked Al, who was now in charge of security, to ask Rama if I could
rejoin the Centre.

I shuffled about nervously. "It may not be perfect," I told myself.
"But at least it's where I belong."

Al returned after a few minutes. "Rama said 'okay.'"

"Did he say anything else?" I asked, greatly relieved.

"Yes," Al replied. "Rama said that it's a tough world out there."

19. I'm Okay

When I rejoined the Centre, I was determined to be a good disciple. I
got a programming job in Newport Beach. I studied advanced topics in
computer science at UC Irvine. I rented a condo for
seven-hundred-twenty-five dollars per month, based on Rama's suggestion
in Boulder. I worked hard, meditated deeply, and stole three eggs from
a supermarket after Rama hiked the tuition again.

Rama treated me with kindness. Perhaps he believed that this time I
was really with him. He invited me to his house. He invited me to the
desert. He invited me to partake in his chemical experiments.

Roughly one hundred fifty miles southeast of the beaches of Orange
County, in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park, was a peak called Split
Mountain. More than thirty miles away, by the edge of the park, was
Casa Del Zorro, a cottage-renting resort catering to the upper middle
class. Here, Rama divined, was a good place to drop acid in a group.

During the drive to Casa Del Zorro, a fast-food restaurant triggered a
flashback of Rama giving Sal and me LSD and taking us to MacDonald's.
"Whatever you do," Rama had said, "don't order a strawberry shake!"
Rama and Sal proceeded to repeat the warning as if it were a mantra.
Perhaps the drug magnified my sensitivity to the way Sal parroted Rama.
Perhaps it magnified my sense of independence. Perhaps I was not in
the mood for chocolate or vanilla. I stumbled to the counter and
ordered a strawberry shake. It was delicious. Rama and Sal looked at
me disapprovingly. I couldn't have cared less.

The memory of the MacDonald's trip made me smile. Later, as I
approached Casa Del Zor