The Joy of Uber Driving by Yamini Redewill

Author:Yamini Redewill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2019-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

I FEEL THE EARTH MOVE

It’s a Seismic Awakening!

About ten thousand sannyasins from around the world descended upon the ranch at the First Annual World Festival in 1982. My group boarded a ranch school bus that came to pick us up at the airport in Redmond, Oregon. We had a bumpy ride on the narrow road to the ranch, which took thirty minutes from the main road. The whole property consisted of sixty-four thousand acres of desert in Central Oregon. The first thing we had to do when we entered the “city” was pass a lice and crab examination before being admitted to our housing, which consisted of randomly assigned tents for four on wooden platforms.

In the eight months prior to our arrival, a lot of work had been accomplished, with clean water and electricity, three thousand tents on platforms, many group bathroom and shower buildings strategically placed, new dirt roads, a huge structure for Buddha Hall and several manufactured buildings for offices, a large cafeteria, bookstore, dairy and chicken farm, and a hydroponic garden.

At the actual festivities in Buddha Hall, we finally saw our beloved Bhagwan as he drove slowly on the road lined with cheering sannyasins around the gigantic structure in his white Rolls-Royce limousine. All ten thousand of us scampered back into the great hall and took part in the ecstatic experience of meditating and then dancing together to the music and waves of energy conducted by Bhagwan’s graceful hands. I was in a trance from the sheer ecstasy of all the love generated by him and ten thousand sannyasins.

Immediately afterward, while leaving Buddha Hall, I was accosted by a TV camera while a microphone was shoved into my face by a Ken-doll anomaly called a news anchorman, who asked how I felt and why. All I could say was “Love is everything.” Later, I chastised myself for such a stupid remark and for missing such a great opportunity to be articulate for my master. I just now randomly opened Bhagwan’s book Ancient Music in the Pines to page 143. He sometimes sends me messages this way.

“Then by and by, if you relax, and if you are not too much worried about your image in the eyes of others, your own authentic face, your original face, comes into being—the face that you had before you were born, and the face that you will again have when you are dead, the original face, not the cultivated mask. With that original face you will see God everywhere, because with the original face you can meet with the original, with the reality.”

Back in California, we returned to our ordinary lives. Some were making plans to return by the next year to live and work at the ranch, while others, my husband included, would have none of it as long as Sheela was in charge.

Members of the ranch’s inner circle, Hasya (who later replaced Sheela as Bhagwan’s secretary) and her close friend Kaveesha, along with two other millionaire sannyasins, David and Dyan John, moved into a huge mansion close by our house in Hollywood.

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