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Mt. Washington, Ca

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Punk Yogi Unregistered User (9/7/01 6:12 pm) Reply	Black List: Get me on it Does anybody know how I can get on the reputed black list of Mother Center? I want to be an anti-hero. I want to be SRF's first punk yogi. All my clean, goody-boy days are over and I'm spiking my hair and putting my chains on. Soon I will buy a Harely Davidson with the money I saved not giving donations. I'll rev up the engines, ride full throttle up all those flights of stairs until I crash through the doors of Master's bedroom. Once in his room, I handcuff myself to the bed and meditate on my back chanting...."None can atone me, say who would injure me....The world turns aside to make room for me...." Daya Mata enters the room surrounded by all her body guards and carrying a big black ledger. She opens it up to page 72,000 and finds my name scrawled somewhere in the margins. She says, "You have been a baaad devotee. You will never set foot in my castle again. How dare you defile Master's pure vibrations with your worthless point-of-view. Don't you know that any time I could open up my spiritual eye and contact a lawyer to sick on you. " Deaf to her tantrums I say, "Hey Die-ah, move it down to the kitchen -- like you did when you were in your harmless twenties -- and bring me up a soda with some ice in it. I thirst." She knits her eyebrows. It's beginning to feel like a Marilyn Manson concert. She pulls out a solid gold pen that she bought with her allowance and starts writing my name down on a fresh page of her ledger, but then she realizes its all filled up. "Uma, come here my pretty.... here are the keys to my Cadillac. Make sure there's gas in it when you come back and don't scratch it. Run to Office Depot and buy the biggest black book you can find." Uma replies: "But Ma, your black books are special order only. We'll need to contact either the KGB or the CIA to see if they've got any in stock." "KGB...CIA! phsaw!" replies Ma. "Loser organizations. And you, my pretty, are a servile loser kiss ass. I never did like you anyhow. What do you do around here anyway? " Uma pauses in confusion. Daya Mata turns to a clean cut monk wearing a corn colored yellow shirt and brown polyester pants. "Come here you geek.." The monk wrings his hands. "Yeah you. Go to my room and get my spiritual diary. Paint it black and then write Uma's name in it." Scratching the back of his neck in utter nervousness, the monk replies, "Beloved Ma, your room...it's in Sierra Madre. H-how am I supposed to get there?" "Pipsqueek! Am I the Mother of Compassion or not? When you're told to do something, you do it. Or else I will show no pity for your insubordination and have your sent to our new mediation center in Tierra Del Fuego. Now go!" "But Ma, you know the rules." cries the monk. "I'll need to fill out the proper form and wait 10 years for the approval to go through." "What a stupid system. Whose idea was it anyhow to allow all these useless memos? I never saw Master write one." On those words all the remaining monastics glare at Ma. "If I were educated in psychology -- which I'm not -- I'd say you're all being passive-aggressive." Ma turns to look at me. I'm snoring away in Master's bed. It's as if a shaft of light is hitting just that one spot. I'm floating in a caress of bliss. "This guy is harmless. This is how I want all of you to be: asleep. The rest of you are going in the black book. Get lost. All of you." With those words Ma's body guards disperse. She's alone with me. She reaches for Master's cane and pokes me in the chest. I wake up. She grabs a chair and sits on it, leans towards me so all I can see is her face and that scary hairdo she sports. "How many years have you served?" she inquires. "Thirty. I helped begin the youth program how-to-live schools. Taught Sunday School for 15 years. Ushered at the Convocation whenever I could get enough vacation time to get off work. Started a meditation center at the White House." "Really" Ma looks interested. "I admire Bush. Admire what the man does. In my next life I'd like to be the President. The problem with being Sangha Mata is I got to keep up this spiritual front. If I could be the President, I could do exactly what I'm doing now and everyone would consider it par for the course." I reply, "Ma, If God is just, He'll make you the leader of a band of pygmies." Ma contorts her face just to hold in her rage. "You've crossed a line. Prepare to die." All of a sudden, a weird nausea wells up in the pit of my stomach. I feel as if I'm gonna throw up. The pain is unbearable. "I have contacted the astral entity responsible for cancer. You will rot away before my very eyes. There will be a small funeral paid for by the state. Not a dime of Master's precious money will be spent even to buy you flowers. The gossip will begin to flow first from the nun's offices and then down through the lay-disciples that, upon entering these pristine grounds, your negative thoughts destroyed you." "But that's a lie and you know it." I scream. "You are breaking God's laws.....aaahheheee%$^#$%!!!!!!" Ma stands up looking down past her nose like a regal Queen Victoria: "I am above the law. Good day Mr.....Eh, what's your name anyhow?" In that instant all pain dissapears and I feel as if my whole being is transmuting itself into joy. The tone of my voice changes. I feel as if I've become someone else.... Ma stands back in terror. "I am Yogananda!!" The room shakes and soon all of Los Angeles follows. Even Brother Bhaktananda is terrifed. "....For inasmuch as you've done it to the least of my brethren, you have done it unto me...!!!" Ma falls to my feet begging for forgiveness. "No, Master, no. Please forgive me. I am nothing. I have failed to destroy Ananda and all your enemies. Please send me away in disgrace." I can hear Master's thoughts through my brain: "Boy is she clueless," it whispers. Being that I am one with Guruji in this moment (It's an outrageous feeling!) I can't help mysef....I run out of the room and down into the main reception area. "The mantle has fallen on me. I am your new president. " Just then a Chinese decorative vase flies past me and, almost hitting my head, smashes into the curio next to the elevator. It is Mrinalini Mata. With one glance from my eyes, a hot ray of light shoots out and she turns into a poodle who runs away with her pet dog. Last I heard she was digging for scraps behind the Holy Family Church in Eagle Rock. Daya Mata is another story. After her humilation, she found a one room apartment in Echo Park and started managing a Fosters Freeze. Rumor has it she's bullying the employees if they don't call her the Good Humor Lady. And it has been known that, when they fail to dip the cones correctly into the chocolate, she gets out a pocket sized appointment calendar and writes down a name....
XYZ Unregistered User (9/8/01 11:08 am) Reply	RE: Black List: GMOI Outrageous story. Please write more.
DEEP Unregistered User (9/8/01 12:05 pm) Reply	That story I think the story might cause others to not take this board, and the information posted here, seriously. If you need to get some things off your chest, and have been hurt by the "bad ladies", I certainly understand the need to vent. But remember that this information is also for people trying to make up their minds. If they see silly attacks like this it might turn them off. If you have been hurt, you might share some of those stories as a way of helping others to avoid those situations.
Punk Yogi Unregistered User (9/8/01 7:45 pm) Reply	In reply to DEEP's message Thank you for taking the time to read the story and comment on it. We who have shared the SRF experience are a wide and varied group widely ranging in temperament and tolerance. I hope this story reaches those who can benefit from its satirical angle. For those who were offended, my apologies. Perhaps, my motives require an explanation. The following is my rationale.... 1) This section is for messages related to the topic of fear. I've been heart-sickened to learn their are so many individuals living in fear of our guru's work. We live in a chaotic and threatening world where true shelter is hard to find. The fact that we cannot find it in the organization shaped by of guru's hands is tragic. In my opinion, so many devotees in SRF have become timid and psychologically shrunken; thus the intention of my story is to deflate their professed monsters to caricatures who no longer have the power to hurt them. 2) While I gleefully lampoon the "bad ladies", I never stray from relevant issues: the blacklistings, the absurd authoritative chain of command, their narrow sense of respectablility, the spiritual materialism (so un-yogi like), the wastefully ineffective adminstrative practices, the paradox of renunciants living a life of luxury and regal power, and the systematic emasculation of the male monastics....etc, etc 3) I hate to say it, but SRF, that is the organization, not our guru's message, in its present state might as well be renamed "Self-Retardation Fellowship." My very design in introducing a punk ethos into SRF is to divert us away from our blind emotional dependencies. Intelligent use of irreverance is part of the tantric tradition of loosening up ego boundaries. As an SRF-er you would have little exposure to this because the organization actually perpetuates rigid thinking among its members. 4) For example, Ramakrishna had to smash the idol of Kali in order to transcend it. Because reverence in SRF is valued at slavish levels, it becomes mandatory, a supremely necessary counterbalance, that we smash our belief systems so that we can approach God without limiting preconceptions. 5) Daya Mata and her minions have presented themselves as deities. There are many Bhaktis in SRF who require figures of worship to complete their sadhana. Well, isn't our guru's image enough? I suppose there are some kindergarten devotees who only feel certain their love is being received by God when it is directed to a living idol. But for most bhaktis this is counterproductive. All novice bhaktis can learn from adept bhaktis how to take the image of their guru and keep it before the spiritual eye and in the heart until one has an revelation of the inner form of the guru. I find the ladies at Mt. Washington to be offensive. Why? Even when they are not drawing attention to themselves, they are instrumental in creating or, at least, not preventing unnecessary crazy-making, paranoia and confusion within a spiritual environment, which can only be a distraction in the search of truth. Self-Realization is a wall-less temple of consciosness. But SRF is looking more like a cult of personality worship. Have you noticed we have been programmed through very conscious designs to live out our sadhanas as sniveling, sheep-like bhaktis. I once told a fellow SRF-er that we've been used for service but not valued as individuals. My friend jokingly replied: " Actually, we've only been placed on standby in case they need us to replace broken parts." Yet our guru endlessly tells us how special we are in the eyes of God. 6) Ever read our guru's "The Bad Man Who Was Preferred by God"? Guruji humorously tells the tale of Narada's search for devotees worthy of God's darshan. In the end it was a toss between an old anchorite and a very drunk young man. You know the story. Here's how the young drunk man talked to God: "You unfeeling, lazy God, what a fine friend you are! Come here now and help me to fix my pole in this hole, or I'll thrust the bamboo right through Your hard heart." Surely, our guru might have presented a racier picture of such a gentleman if he could have, but what would the prim and proper SRF membership think...you know, the sanitized Wonder Bread congregation? Back to the story: Narada replies, "You drunken fool, aren't you afraid to curse the omnipresent Lord?" And the drunken man replies, "Oh no, He understands me better than you do." We learn at the end of the story that the drunken foul-mouthed man is the one who captures God's heart and wins His darshan. 7) I'm sorry if I've come across more like Lenny Bruce than Mr. Rodgers. All I can say is those who are thin-skinned better learn to deal with it because there are more of us coming out of the closet every day. Expand.
Insight Unregistered User (9/8/01 9:39 pm) Reply	Speaking up "'tis his honesty that brought upon him the character of a heretic." - -- Benjamin Franklin (letter to Benjamin Vaughan mentioning Dr. Priestley)
rayuna Registered User (11/24/01 10:23 am) Reply	What a scream Dig your ethos man! You backed it up w/ real thinking, so the satire is well-placed.
AumBoy Registered User (1/11/02 10:14 am) Reply	Re: blacklist LOL, xxxxxxxxxxx! *Quote:* Call Mother Center often, speak to different counselers, speak to even the same ones, identify who you are, and then question them about everything. Do this very often. This is funny! I did this when I was on the inside so I got on the blacklist before I left! Edited by: srfwalrus at: 4/16/02 8:29:23 pm
Pig Ma Registered User (1/13/02 10:01 pm) Reply	Punk Yogi- that was funny! I just read your post, and it was very funny! I enjoy your humor.

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