, and bliss could, if the
disciple were receptive, inwardly flow. Yet I was not sold on the
theory of reincarnation. Nor was I convinced that Atmananda was fully
accurate when he claimed that Chinmoy was the Cosmic Boatman, an avatar
[incarnation of a Hindu deity], and the most advanced soul ever to have
incarnated anywhere in the entire universe.

"Why would the messiah live in Jamaica, Queens?" I wondered. But then
I felt bad. After all, the Buddha and Christ probably didn't live in
such fancy neighborhoods either. I also realized that my doubts were
based on the premise of rationality, the very nature of which Atmananda
had taught me was limited, flawed, and often destructive. "I suppose
Chinmoy *could* be the Cosmic Boatman," I told myself as part of a
compromise.

Days later, after one of Atmananda's public lectures, I grew curious
about my earlier vision of the snow. I asked Atmananda to explain.

"Your third eye chakra is opening up a bit," he explained
matter-of-factly. "You are seeing into another world. It is not
unusual to have this type of experience if you have meditated in past
lives."

"Thanks, Atmananda!" I said.

"Sure, kid," he said, suggesting that I sit back and enjoy the process.

Except for occasional doubts, I had been enjoying the process. I
enjoyed hanging out with the Stony Brook disciples. They were not only
fellow seekers, but they seemed to have a good time. Atmananda, in
particular, was fun to be around. He sometimes made me feel important
and powerful. I enjoyed his lectures, during which he quoted The
Bhagavad-Gita, The Bible, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Star Wars,
Shakespeare, T.S. Eliot, Thoreau, Roethke, and Carlos Castaneda. One
time he even recited my favorite passage from the Castaneda books, the
one about traveling on paths that have heart.

Now convinced that I had found a home in Atmananda's world, I decided
to seek initiation from Chinmoy.

My mother knew that my involvement with the group was intensifying.
She had been trying to get me to talk to the rabbi.

"Why should I talk to the rabbi?" I responded.

"Will you at least listen to what he has to say?"

But I had been listening to the rabbi since my bar mitzvah four years
ago and, frankly, I was not impressed. A kind and sometimes humorous
man with a keen intellect, the rabbi represented a religion which
seemed less mystical than social. He struck me as being extremely
reasonable, if not a li