quest for enlightenment... on his *own*.

"He's on a power trip!" I thought. "Maybe he's been planning this all
along. Maybe he actually believes in it. In either case... "

"You need to realize that I am doing this because it is what the
Infinite wants me to do. It certainly wasn't my idea. You see, when
you reach this stage in the enlightenment process, you completely
surrender your will to the Infinite."

"If that's true," I thought, "no problem. But... "

"Please understand that I am not a guru. I am a teacher. How can you
tell if someone is your teacher? By how you feel when you meditate
with them. By their glow. By how they treat the people around them.
By whether they practice what they preach. But you have to be careful
out there. You have to ask yourself, 'Are they phony or are they
genuine? Are they trying to take your money? Are they trying to sell
you spiritual rhetoric laced with subtle, complex half-truths?'"

"I agree," I thought, "we should watch out. But... "

"You have to ask yourself, 'Does the teacher give individual counseling
when necessary? Provide a community of advanced seekers? Transmit
light inwardly? Teach several spiritual philosophies and disciplines?
Point out traps along the Path? Ward off the Negative Forces?'"
Atmananda inundated us with so many details that he appeared to be
conducting a lesson, not a coup.

"Another way to tell if someone is your teacher," Atmananda said,
turning toward me, "is to see if you have studied with them in a
previous life. Several of you have been with me before. Mark, for
instance, has studied with me in Tibet, Japan, and India. He doesn't
remember very well, but he will. You may have noticed how easy it is
to see his aura."

"He's just saying that!" I thought. Yet I had always felt a powerful
affinity toward those countries. Several students cast their gaze at
me. I felt a rush. I felt powerful. It felt good.

Minutes later, Atmananda suddenly grew bitter. "Don't think that I
don't know what some of you are thinking," he accused, as he aimed his
eagle-like glare. "You realize, of course, who I *am*," he added
haughtily.

"Who are you really, Atmananda?" I wondered. I felt frenzied and
dazed, as if a dark and powerful cyclone had swept Atmananda's train
off its tracks--and me with it. I thought about the time Atmananda had
narrated at a Centre meeting the tale of "The Emperor's New Clothes."
He had likened hi