said. But after various food groups were one by one
reintroduced into my diet, the cause of the hives remained hidden.

I asked Atmananda what he thought had nearly killed me. "It is no
coincidence," he said mysteriously. "Whenever you make genuine
spiritual progress, the Negative Forces in the universe try and hold
you back. But don't worry. When you are attacked by the Forces, just
think of Guru."

I did think of Guru. I often doubted, though, that nefarious,
non-physical Entities from beyond the world of reason were getting
underneath my skin. I recalled that Don Juan tricked Castaneda into
pursuing the path to knowledge, and wondered if Atmananda's explanation
was a ploy to maneuver me closer to Guru. But because I sought
adventure, challenge, and entrance into the metaphysical worlds of Don
Juan, Obi-Wan-Kanobi, Chinmoy and Atmananda, I willfully suspended my
disbelief. I also suspended my plans to hitchhike west. After reading
a speech at my high school graduation, I said good-bye to friends and
family, and bought a one-way ticket east to Stony Brook.

4. The Community

"Hello... Atmananda?" said my brother into the phone. Then he winced
and hung up.

"Well?" I asked.

"I have to call him back," he replied sheepishly.

"How come?"

"He said I didn't have the right spirit."

He dialed again. "Halllooooooo, Atmanaaaaaaanda!" he bellowed. This
time, Atmananda gave him directions to the party.

Weeks before, Atmananda gave me permission to attend his
parties--provided that I did not "vibe" the women.

"Don't look at them as women," my brother had suggested, quoting
Chinmoy and Atmananda. "Look at them as seekers. When you look at
them as women, it hurts their evolution."

I assured him I would try.

After I moved to Stony Brook, I started going to Atmananda's parties
regularly. At one party my brother and I arrived at Tom's house, left
our sneakers by the door, and went inside. Atmananda, Sal, Anne, Tom,
and a few other disciples stood in the kitchen. They looked
bewildered. The air smelled charred. Black, gooey gobs darkened the
floor. Atmananda was not talking. Something was wrong.

When Anne had lit the stove moments before, an explosion singed her
hair and propelled chocolate and marshmallow covered graham crackers
across the room. Now, as we cleaned the mess, Atmananda began to speak.

"Guru protected us from the Negative Forces," he said in a rich,
lulling vo