Fw: Rajneeshpuram, Part II

[Guest guest]

Beloved readers from our little, lovely (Osho)-World!

 

In our group n0by we have an enthusiastic, young man, Sw.

Ramarshi ( www.ramarshi.de ), who furiously defends Ma Anand Sheela and the

events in Rajneeshpuram. Sw. Ramarshi, born the year 1963, was not eye-witness

of these times. So I dig deep in my memory, to bring these sweet times of

Rajneeshpuram back into my story.

 

This story may be hard to read - like the discussions in our group are sometimes

real difficult to digest. But for younger (Osho-Bhagwan)-Guru lovers it maybe

worth, to read from an old guy his experiences?

 

I can not recommend my story for very sensitive soft seakers.

 

yours n0by

 

with love

 

 

n0by/

 

http://n0by.de

 

 

 

 

 

Beloved patient readers,

 

what can top the hell top nearly seven years of marriage? Like Peter Ustinov

said: " What's hell in life? When your wife gives you hell. " What can top hell in

life, when a body has hardly survived seven days in coma? When nightmares have

been hunting you from your very early childhood? Now, do you think, these

pesting priests with their closed church mediocre mind will top hell? These Sw.

Sarlos, Ramarteerthas, Judy Rhodes, Gangajiis, Ramarshis, Sheelas? These guys

are fun, but one after one.

 

All these Buddha Brainwashed sick seakers come with the same stories. All have

already startet 2.500 years ago as disciples of Buddha. Kabir (my Munich friend)

and me sure had, but Ramarshi in his long lifes before was just a cook like his

father! I remember exactly his restaurant with big advertise: Buddha's pilger

get food free.

 

Once I sit there in front of my begging bowl, looking sad on the grey-brown

soup. I just got for free from Ramarshi's restaurant. Kabir came by my side with

great hunger. ''What, you don't want? Pass it over to me.'' I gave him my bowl

with a smile. He started to swallow spoon for spoon from the soup. Finally he

came to the ground: he very ugly wrotten body of a dead rat was on the ground of

the bowl. Kabir vomited all the soup back in the bowl. I smiled and said to him:

''Exactly this far I have been already before!''

 

That was the love in the Buddha-Field 2.500 years before with Buddha original.

The Bhagwan-Field was worse - but for me it was fun, compared to my wife with

all sort of lovers, my job, the drugs, the rat race for competion. And money. My

wife for example I asked to get some money too for the Rajneeshpuram pilgrimage.

So she went like many female devotees to a peep show. Two days she worked like

that, than they throw her out. But in these two days she was really lovely, two

days!

 

Or when we came home from the pilgrimage, I showed her the bank-receipts.

''What'', she shouted at me, ''you miserly son of a bitch, what? 7.000 are

written here and you always had your hand on the money, shame on you!'' I asked

her to look again. She shouted more and more. Finally I showed her, that there

was a MINUS sign in front of this 7.000. ''Puhh,'' she said, does not matter,

''work harder!''

 

My heart felt great freedom, when I finally had sold everything, car,

music-equipment, electronic piano, camera, everything. Free like a bird and

alone I started the next journey to the Holy Land Of Rajneeshpuram.

 

I bought a syntheziser, to play piano, a litte sony recorder, and with nothing

left I travelled in freedom without wife and child back to Rajneeshpuram, 200

miles away from Portland, Oregon, U.S.A.

 

The income ceremony like usual: pay your Dollars, get a plastic ribbon around

your arm like patients in hospital, get a flat somewhere, 40 Dollars a day. All

meals included. The fun starts.

 

Everyone was working like crazy. That was expected from a devotee: pay 40

Dollars a day and work from dust to down. That was Bhagwan's device in despair

to keep us idiots occupied in His madhouse. Surely the priests pressure people

with all kind of lies, just read Ramarshi's entertainment. Now the neo-nazzasins

are in a split: they can't buy his shit, they can't buy mine. What to do? Most

go in silence. Even BlaBla-Field dead! Only Ramarshi holds up the flag with

thousands of letters. That's the way, preachermen pest and pressure. It's fun,

isn't it?

 

My hands are not designed for hard work. The are hardly designed for soft work.

Best my fingers enjoy, to play on keyboard. As far, as my understanding from

Bhagwan's lecture has been: meditiation is good exercise for a sannyasins. So I

went from one meditation to another all day long. Started at 6.00 with

Nadabrahma, Dynamic, Kundalini ... my God, ask Ramarshi, he knows better the 108

entertaining exercises, to keep seaking searchers satisfied.

 

Sometimes I had more fun, to walk in the sun, in the mountains, or behind

Bhagwan's house on a very small path to the river. It was a long silent march,

where nobody else wanted to walk. One Brasilian friend sometime went with me.

(On my last pilgrimage to Poona he came out with his truth: he went with me,

because he was gay.)

 

From my monthes in the mountains as shephard 1972 and 1976 I was used to climb

the mountains without shoes. Just barefoot.

 

 

 

1976 - after my first Indian pilgrimage - three monthes rest in the Alpes as

Shephard. Already divorced from my first wife. With her I enjoyed there the

summer 1972.

 

All people in Rajneeshpuram under Ma Anand Sheela's pressure worked more and

more like berserk. Just like neo-nazassins love it today in Sodexho ruled

Cashram or in Closed Gulags under Stalin or in superconscious sermons of

Ramarshi. Only the hours during the drive-by, people had some rest. Then Bhagwan

came with one of his 88 RollceRoyce (exact number ask Ramarshi or Anupamo). And

all these exhausted workers stood in line, to get a smile from the Master.

 

One time, I remember exactly, I went up high in the mountain. Only this

Brasilian Swami by my side. When we arrived at the top came a helicopter. That

was the Rajneesh peace force. Out came Sw. Amrito. A real, little bit trembling

priest, not yet such a power pressure with cunning calculating smile in his fat

body like Ramarshi.

 

Amrito examined our plastic ribbon around the arm. Everything was ok. So he only

adviced us, to climb back in the valley to the driveby-devotees. OK, there was

no need to argue. You just did, what to do, and you did it with a cunning smile.

I was already quite good trained in this sort of smile from my insurance selling

training.

 

Each day I wrote letters to my wife and the child in Cologne Ashram. These

letters never showed up. The Ranch criminals have destroyed all my letters

already in their U.S. post office. I had from the festivals a fat young Indian

mother as girlfriend, best at her age of 19 years. An Indian Professors daughter

from German town Marburg. Later, when I meet her again, she worked as prostitute

under the guidance of a strong guy. I only laughed at his offer to have his

possession for one night FREE of charge. And thanked gracefully.

 

But she was longing for me, and phoned me up in Rajneeshpuram to come. I heard

in the line, the Ranch operator listening to our call. These fascists games

didn't disturbed me much. Only these workoholics for enlightenment I found real

boring. They gathered in the UpTown restaurant.

 

Ma Anand Sheela had some political idea, to get voters for some political game

those times. So bus- loads of homeless came on the ranch. They did not need to

pay 40 Dollars a Day. They only had to vote for Sheela's shit vision. These guys

was funny! Most black ones. We had food together in the downtown restaurant.

Early in Summer I had a very rich Greek Ma as friend. She admired my body,

because I was always swimming. It was my holiday not working time. After dinner

I went to swim. So my body was useful for her pleasure. And she had an expensive

room in the Rajneesh hotel. She was one of these IQ 260 with million dollars and

would have loved to take me home for her pleasure to Athens. I just fucked her

several times. But was not willing again to go under pressure of any female! Not

for all money in the world! So she left alone.

 

My fun in Rajneeshpuram continued. Always these guards have been watching each

single step. Because we danced all night with the black people, mostly alone.

The Ma Goodbodies BigBoobs needed to sleep exhausted from heavy work. We did not

need them for enjoy our time in dance under the starlight. Sheela was utterly

pissed.

 

 

 

 

After driveby she came with a big blue Mercedes 350 Diesel driving the other

direction. As new fascist pressure she had closed disco night. There was a song

''free is the dance'' and other esoteric slime, all the spirit scene sucks in

since decades with trance eyes... same stuff like Ramarshi reproduces endlessly

with words you can order as music. Spiritual correct shit slime.

 

But one of the homeless had a big Ghetto-Blaster, portable GangstaRap machin.

And in the shopping and working mall has been electricity out on the wall under

the roof. So they plugged in this blaster. And we started to dance on the

street. All Ma Goodbodies BigBoobs changed to the other side of the road. And

with eyes in tears for shelter they looked devotional like dog-puppies to Ma

Quarreling Queen Anand Sheela, driving by in her big blue Mercedes Benz.

 

The Niggaz made obszene gestures in her direction. And I had so much fun, can

you imagine how much fun I had? Totally in tune with Bhagwan! The enlightenment

entertainers of the therapy biz looked in disgust. Just read Ramarshi rantings,

to know how these money minded pressure priest people function. They all had

some kind of splendid biz, later connected with Black Magic, blablabla.

 

Black people kept the magic going in this taste of fascim - without me! We

danced, had fun, and I remember, while dancing, once one said to another looking

at me: ''He's black!'' Yes, that was my way to enjoy my days in Rajneeshpuram.

 

After I had one of these controlled, illegal controlled phone calls to my wife

in Cologne, which day I planned to come back, the Gang ordered me in the big

workoholic office above the mall. There three Ma GoodBodies and four Sw.

StrongArms stood around me.

 

With these cunning voices from smiling charm school, Ramarshi is perfect to

please his stuff and customers, one Ma GoodBody asked: ''We want your mala

back.''

 

''Oh, sorry,'' I answered smiling, ''that I can not do. I have got it from my

Master, I only can give it back to my Master.''

 

Her face fall down and she threatened me - nothing compared to my wife, hihihi:

 

''So, we''ll take yur mala by violence!''

 

So my fingers are not good for working, neither my fist are good for fighting. I

simply bowed my head down and said very sad: ''So, I bow down to violence.''

 

From behind one of these Ma GoodBodies took away my mala, they pushed me in a

taxi: ''Oh, please stay friendly'' I asked them polite... and two of these

GoodBodies stood by my side, when I had to pack my luggage.

 

On Krishnamurti Lake was already a Busload of homeless people, who shared my

destiny. But before the devotees throw us all out, they searched our naked body

in cabins, if we had anything stolen or drugs or just for their joy to humilate

us. The dirty dozend! hihihi

 

That was not so funny anymore. But as devoted disciples I had already learned to

''celebrate anythin'' and in ''deep, deep love we go'' and what other church

slime we was trained to sing. Hallelujah.

 

So ended those funny days in Rajneeshpuram, and my funny days in Portland

started. Not more allowed with these Red Rajneesh devotees. They looked at me

like I had pestilence, and the normal people looked too at me, like I had

pestilence, because I had nothing but red clothes.

 

But as these brainwashed devotees all in the cyber net know me by now: I came

back and back and back again. And the friends I met, that was the real friends.

Like Kabir from Buddha times. And the other friends, like Ma GoodBody Sheela

went into jail. And her gay husband Sw. Dipoh died from A.I.D.S.. Yes, it's a

sad, sad world - and sometimes it's hard to get by with a smile.

 

Who cares, as long you stay alive? Enjoy these idiots - one after an other going

down the drain. O.K., Ramarshi is young, born 1963, like my scientific

Philosopher love Ute - but what? He will come to his senses. It's only a

question of loving time. And he got the virus already.

 

Like all of you, who made it through these lines

 

from

 

your

 

n0by

 

with love

 

 

 

 

 

 

1972 as Shephard in the Alpes (first wife was with me these times)

 

 

 

http://n0by.de