ing and enlivening
us; writing and publishing WOOF!, as well as a book called The Bridge
is Flowing But the River Is Not; challenging our intellects with the
known and unknowable; recording and selling tapes on a variety of
spiritual topics; framing and reframing the ways in which we viewed the
world; issuing a recommended book list which included The Way Of Life
According To Lao Tzu, The Bhagavad-Gita, How To Know God, I Ching, The
Gospel Of Sri Ramakrishna, Tales Of Power, Tibetan Book Of The Dead,
and Walden; distributing geometric patterns on which to meditate; and
generating mystical experiences--with Light from the Infinite, of
course!

But then I thought about how, unlike McMurphy, Atmananda increasingly
blamed others for the role he chose to play. "I incarnated into this
world of pain and suffering," Atmananda often claimed, "to help my
students from past lives. Many of you don't seem to realize it, but I
am in a constant state of pain as a result of the bad energy that you
continuously bombard me with. I am also constantly ill as a result of
the massive amounts of bad karma that I absorb from you on a regular
basis."

I began to think not about McMurphy and Atmananda's similarities, but
about their differences. I recalled Atmananda saying, "When you attain
my level of enlightenment, you transcend good and evil. 'Good' and
'evil' become mere words, mere concepts in a universe where only
experience matters. So why be attached to the good side of the force?"

I wanted to believe that Atmananda meant: "Why worry about being good
if you become goodness itself?" But other memories surfaced, and I
became overwhelmed by a nauseating sense that he had something else in
mind. "Do you know who I really am?" he had increasingly croaked in a
low, throaty rasp, his bright eyes mocking me. "The anti-Christ. I
work for the other side. Six-six-six. Think about it."

"He was only joking," I reassured myself. "Or maybe he was testing me.
That's it--he was only testing me." Yet it was difficult to discount
the numerous, bone-chilling times that he had adopted a credible
Lucifer persona.

Vivid memories now rushed forward like water through a newly unblocked
dam. There were memories of Atmananda telling students that he
meditated each day at noon. "Maybe Atmananda's inner being is always
in a state of meditation," I thought, recalling the numerous times that
I had seen him at noon not meditating. "But then aga