Posted by Zeling March 2007
Mr Chris Butler
Over time you became ambitious and simple living and teaching the Gita was not enough. You always had a lone hunger and needed an adversary to battle. Political thinking and self-righteousness was in your upbringing. A sense of grandeur was emerging. The pleasure of becoming a puppet master was being tasted. You began to live vicariously through your political mannequins.
Change came. Everyone but a few farmers were moved out of the peaceful countryside to warehouses and rented spaces in the city. Simple living and high thinking was exchanged for dumpster diving and back stabbing. Talk of the battlefield of Kurukshetra changed to organized crime and politics. Putting on feasts changed into political campaigns or selling cookies for a phony rehab clinic. Meditation on japa beads carved from holy tulasi wood changed to chanting on ‘clickers’, those hard, cold contraptions used to count crowds. Transcendental sound vibration became door-to-door campaigning for political candidates or talk of multiple business enterprises.
Daily congregational kirtans became rare events led by the exhausted or the haughty who enjoyed the sound of their own voices. Bead bags changed into gun holsters for your body guards. Your simple sadhu huts with no electricity turned into mansions lined with tin foil and elaborate air filtration systems. You became ill, or it has been suggested, feigned illness to procure more services and money.
I left you stealthily and slowly. I had more to fear from your followers than from you if I pointed out that the ‘emperor had no clothes’. There were too many things that you should have known about, but did not. I tested you on many occasions. You failed. You should have realized how much people loved you and yearned for real spiritual advancement. You should have been concerned about how people were treating their godbrothers, spouses and children. You should have cared when people were poor, sick and in pain, or lonely. You should have cared that young men and women were sleeping alone in cars, on cardboard boxes in warehouses, or in crawl spaces between floors, just to serve you. But it was never enough, never right, never appreciated, rarely pleasing. You were more upset about the expiration date on a container of milk or the setting of a thermostat than about the death of a young woman follower. Do you even remember her name? You didn’t care that Katyayani’s babies were neglected and crying when she was out campaigning. You didn’t care when your cook was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from exhaustion. You didn’t care when a little boy was run over by a car. You didn’t care about the child with autism who was molested because his mother and husband were too busy serving you. “All nothing” you say, compared to how your food is cooked and your shirts are laundered.
Maybe you knew all along. The word misanthrope comes to mind.
I find out years later that those you once said were pure devotees are now considered envious and have left your service. If you were really God’s best friend and they were also God’s best friends, why doesn’t everyone agree? How is this possible? Pure devotees are not supposed to fall down or change their minds. The curtain has fallen away and the ‘great wizard’ is just an ordinary man after all.
Some of your followers were crooks and thieves. They stole from me, they stole from you. Your pal God should have clued you in on these guys. If we complained, you would say, “No one is perfect. You are all in the same hospital. Don’t be surprised if the guy next to you has a broken leg.” until you got ripped off! If something happened to us, it was our karma. If something happened to you, it was an offence. There is no way you could be responsible. Blame the disciple game. Blame them for your colds and viruses. Blame them for your wife’s head injury. From thousands of miles away disciples were all viewed as trying to murder you if the thermostat was a few degrees off. The word paranoia comes to mind.
There was a turning point when you could have done something of real significance and benevolence for your followers, along with the people of Hawaii. You were in a position of leadership and authority. You could have helped people who were suffering simply with a kind word, encouragement, advice, but you only laughed and scoffed at their problems as meaningless compared to your own. You had great ideas for Hawaii. Simple Living and High Thinking. Small is Beautiful. Eco-spiritualism. But your penchant for negativity and putting everyone down crippled any chances of you becoming a man of substance. Your movement was no longer pleasurable, no longer inspiring.
Mr Chris Butler
Over time you became ambitious and simple living and teaching the Gita was not enough. You always had a lone hunger and needed an adversary to battle. Political thinking and self-righteousness was in your upbringing. A sense of grandeur was emerging. The pleasure of becoming a puppet master was being tasted. You began to live vicariously through your political mannequins.
Change came. Everyone but a few farmers were moved out of the peaceful countryside to warehouses and rented spaces in the city. Simple living and high thinking was exchanged for dumpster diving and back stabbing. Talk of the battlefield of Kurukshetra changed to organized crime and politics. Putting on feasts changed into political campaigns or selling cookies for a phony rehab clinic. Meditation on japa beads carved from holy tulasi wood changed to chanting on ‘clickers’, those hard, cold contraptions used to count crowds. Transcendental sound vibration became door-to-door campaigning for political candidates or talk of multiple business enterprises.
Daily congregational kirtans became rare events led by the exhausted or the haughty who enjoyed the sound of their own voices. Bead bags changed into gun holsters for your body guards. Your simple sadhu huts with no electricity turned into mansions lined with tin foil and elaborate air filtration systems. You became ill, or it has been suggested, feigned illness to procure more services and money.
I left you stealthily and slowly. I had more to fear from your followers than from you if I pointed out that the ‘emperor had no clothes’. There were too many things that you should have known about, but did not. I tested you on many occasions. You failed. You should have realized how much people loved you and yearned for real spiritual advancement. You should have been concerned about how people were treating their godbrothers, spouses and children. You should have cared when people were poor, sick and in pain, or lonely. You should have cared that young men and women were sleeping alone in cars, on cardboard boxes in warehouses, or in crawl spaces between floors, just to serve you. But it was never enough, never right, never appreciated, rarely pleasing. You were more upset about the expiration date on a container of milk or the setting of a thermostat than about the death of a young woman follower. Do you even remember her name? You didn’t care that Katyayani’s babies were neglected and crying when she was out campaigning. You didn’t care when your cook was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from exhaustion. You didn’t care when a little boy was run over by a car. You didn’t care about the child with autism who was molested because his mother and husband were too busy serving you. “All nothing” you say, compared to how your food is cooked and your shirts are laundered.
Maybe you knew all along. The word misanthrope comes to mind.
I find out years later that those you once said were pure devotees are now considered envious and have left your service. If you were really God’s best friend and they were also God’s best friends, why doesn’t everyone agree? How is this possible? Pure devotees are not supposed to fall down or change their minds. The curtain has fallen away and the ‘great wizard’ is just an ordinary man after all.
Some of your followers were crooks and thieves. They stole from me, they stole from you. Your pal God should have clued you in on these guys. If we complained, you would say, “No one is perfect. You are all in the same hospital. Don’t be surprised if the guy next to you has a broken leg.” until you got ripped off! If something happened to us, it was our karma. If something happened to you, it was an offence. There is no way you could be responsible. Blame the disciple game. Blame them for your colds and viruses. Blame them for your wife’s head injury. From thousands of miles away disciples were all viewed as trying to murder you if the thermostat was a few degrees off. The word paranoia comes to mind.
There was a turning point when you could have done something of real significance and benevolence for your followers, along with the people of Hawaii. You were in a position of leadership and authority. You could have helped people who were suffering simply with a kind word, encouragement, advice, but you only laughed and scoffed at their problems as meaningless compared to your own. You had great ideas for Hawaii. Simple Living and High Thinking. Small is Beautiful. Eco-spiritualism. But your penchant for negativity and putting everyone down crippled any chances of you becoming a man of substance. Your movement was no longer pleasurable, no longer inspiring.