ing some good, because we had plenty of time to pursue other
interests (in January, 1979, I began studying English literature at
Stony Brook), and because as hard as we worked, we played.

* * *

"The Muppet Movie?" I asked after another full day of postering.
"Starring Kermit-the-Frog?"

"Trust me," Atmananda replied.

Trust was the bridge to Atmananda's world, a peculiar, improbable place
where it snowed inside buildings in Manhattan in the spring, where
invisible beings threatened a guru's mission by blowing up stoves, and
where people were hunters or hunted or both. It felt natural to trust
a man who treated me with kindness, who exuded an aura of competency
and of vulnerability, and who seemed wholeheartedly dedicated to the
cause of self-improvement.

We met at a theatre where we ate popcorn and candy in the fourth row.
I told Atmananda that the postering had gone well. The lights faded
and the movie began.

A Hollywood agent on a fishing trip strikes up a conversation with
Kermit-the-Frog. The agent is impressed with him and suggests that he
move west, to Hollywood.

Though seemingly content in his East Coast swamp, Kermit is taken by
the agent's prediction that, as a movie star, he could make millions of
people happy. "Make millions of people happy," echoes the starry-eyed
muppet.

The scene reminded me of my former plan to hitchhike west on a mystical
quest. The plan seemed less glamorous now because I had already found
a teacher and because of Atmananda's prediction. He often told me that
had he not rescued me from that path I would have been shot by bandits
and tossed in a ditch. Perhaps, though, the former plan would have
regained some momentum had I known about, and had I analyzed, the
problems currently fouling the air between Chinmoy and Atmananda.

One problem was sex. Chinmoy, who taught that higher consciousness lay
above the sweaty world of physical pleasure, often instructed us to
avoid members of the opposite sex whenever possible.

In contrast, Atmananda told me, "I once had several girlfriends at the
same time--each named Susan."

There was the problem of ego. Chinmoy emphasized over and over the
importance of humility.

Atmananda often pointed out, to his inner circle of friends, that in a
past life he was Sir Thomas More.

There was the problem of cinema. Guru prohibited the viewing of
sexually explicit or violent movies.

Atmananda had his own view, which was to see