mike king >> writings >> Krishna, Whitman, Nietzsche, Sartre

I took up Hatha Yoga at that point with an excellent teacher called Kofi Busia, and had my first mystical experience while practising some postures on the carpet in my mother's living room (she was away at the time). The experience was a sense of mild possession, in that my body wanted to make its own movements, to which I abandoned myself. Looking back on that now, I would call the experience the first inklings of the mystical union, though only very partial. It was sufficient to set me searching for more, and I took the opportunity to go to India to take a yoga intensive course with B.K.S.Iyengar. The course was gruelling, and I found him a man of limited spiritual insight, but chance would have it that in the same town (Poona or Pune) was the ashram of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, where I subsequently stayed for five weeks. The ashram, with its luxurious vegetation, fountains, and well-appointed buildings seemed a little unreal, and struck me at the time as a kind of hot-house.

Rajneesh offered a mixture of meditation and psychotherapy courses which I plunged into, to overwhelming effect (the intensive yoga course and the culture-shock generally contributed to my vulnerability). I fell ill at one point and was confined to bed for nearly a week by the ashram in Koregaon Park, during which time I practised a range of meditations from Rajneesh's The Book of the Secrets [28], a commentary on the 'Vigyana Bhairava Tantra' Shiva's listing of meditation techniques to his consort. At the end of this period, at sunset, I experienced my first satori, or temporary state of union. It was indescribably blissful, a state in which the mind had slowed down to the merest trickle, and from which I returned (in an expensive restaurant later that night) through an anxiety that I had lost my mind. It was probably the first time that I became aware of thoughts as independent entities, and of an identity beyond them and not constructed through them: Ramana's "I". I was aware that this is what Rajneesh had been talking about in lecture and in his books, but oddly, I felt that I owed the state more to the scruffy dog that hung around the halls of residence in Koregaon Park than to Rajneesh. I had been sitting outside still feeling weak from the illness, enjoying the sunset, and observing also the dog rib-thin, but alert and contented on a mound of dirt a little way away. The mind had receded as if a horrible noise that one had grown so accustomed to that one was no longer aware of its presence, had suddenly stopped; though in fact it merely slowed to a rate that made it observable. Perhaps awareness had grown to reach the same point, I do not know. I was naively hoping that I could share this with someone, but something about the preoccupied faces of other seekers returning from the ashram stopped me confiding my state to them. Instead I wandered out in this blissful state, and gradually became frightened that I could not regain my 'normal' state: in looking back on it now, it is clear that I did not have the maturity that Ramana or Douglas had in such a moment to allow it to remain. In the restaurant I was still hoping for an acknowledgement of my condition, but this time from Rajneesh, as he often dined there, but he did not show up however, and gradually the state wore off.

The purpose of recounting this episode is partly to show why I am predisposed to see the accounts of the mystics in a certain way; again this is in fairness to the reader. It should also account for the special place that Rajneesh holds for me, for I do now consider that his teaching and presence had much to do with the experience just described. The depth of feeling I had for him was never clear until I heard the news of his death however in January of 1990. I can honestly say that he is the only person over whose death I have wept, and this went on for several days, quite to my surprise.

As with Rajneesh, a common feature in the lives of many great mystics devoted to teaching is that communities of seekers grow up around them. Andrew Cohen, a relative newcomer to the teaching of enlightenment commented recently that he only met seekers now. He follows a demanding world itinerary, being invited to teach by many organisations including his own: his immediate support group make sure that his modest needs are met, but this allows no time for mingling with the rest of society, as Whitman by contrast was able to all his life. This is a typical example perhaps of how rapidly this overtakes great teachers, and the results are not always for the best. Seekers are by nature often immature, vulnerable or disturbed; they often see in the religious community the lost warmth of a broken home, and in the teacher the lost support of failed parents. The many seekers who are stable and balanced make a leaven in this bread, but the inevitable tendency is for the community to become inward-looking and suspicious of the outside world. This is when the nature of the teacher becomes catalytic, or perhaps, in chaos theory terms, the potential amplifier of instability Rajneesh was certainly that. I mentioned earlier the hot-house nature of the ashram in India: it was an emotional and spiritual hot-house, and, I suspect this analogy holds good for the fate of the plants that grew in Oregon and were suddenly returned to the 'normal' world (one reported that the simple act of opening a bank account terrified him after the years of the sheltered life in the ashram).

This is not the place for a detailed analysis of the events at Rajneeshpuram in Oregon; Kirk Braun [29], Juliet Forman [30], Hugh Milne, [31] George Meredith [32] and others give various and somewhat contradictory accounts of the period. What is reasonably clear is that the commune turned a large area of heavily depleted and almost useless farmland into a thriving agricultural success, using methods reminiscent of the Israeli kibbutzim. Once the ranch was established, Rajneesh entered a three-year period of silence in which all authority was handed over to his manager, a lady called Sheela. She and her immediate colleagues gradually entered on what amounted to warfare with the indigenous community, resulting in poisonings and attempted murder (for which she served a prison sentence). To what extent Rajneesh had direct knowledge or assent to any of this is difficult to tell, but in his attitude and teachings there were certainly the seeds for the massive disrespect for the law that brought the community to its untimely end.

Rajneesh's life and teaching methods were based on confrontation: he confronted his possible death at the age of fourteen, he confronted the physical dangers of his environment, he confronted what he regarded as the corrupt bureaucracy of official India, he confronted what he regarded as the corrupt spiritual pretensions of India. He engineered situations in which his pupils had to confront themselves; for example in the early days before Aids he made and broke sexual relationships between them; he also insisted on demanding work-loads in the ashram. In this he resembled Gurdjieff, who he admired, and there are many other similarities in their characters.

It may be possible to understand the train of events in Oregon as simply the creation of confrontational situations on a vast scale; however this is probably only a small part of the truth. In fact Rajneesh created a whirlpool that did release him initially, but in the end was the cause of his death the official line from the commune is that he died from thallium poisoning administered to him while in jail in the US awaiting trial. (He was charged only with conspiracy to arrange false marriages, but, as an indication of the authorities' over-reaction typical of the reactions he provoked in all spheres of life he was held in handcuffs and leg-chains.)

Commentators are quick to say that one should judge the mystic by their fruit, and say that the collapse at Oregon makes Rajneesh a fraud. However, his hundreds of books are a consistent and high-quality exposition of Pure Consciousness Mysticism, and a treasury of insight. Also, because of the profound influence of Rajneesh on my own thinking, this book must be regarded also to some extent as part of his legacy; if it has any value it derives considerably from his teachings.

The physical daring and courage of Rajneesh, coupled with his lack of respect for conventional authority, gave him what could only be called an arrogance. His arrogance is a little reminiscent of Nietzsche's Zarathustra, but Rajneesh backed this up with the inward authority of his enlightenment and a vigorous personality closer to that of Gurdjieff or Vivekananda, making him potentially more dangerous than the scholarly and poorly Nietzsche. It may not come as a surprise however to find that Rajneesh gave a discourse series on Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Although he made it quite clear that Nietzsche was no mystic, he found passages that illustrated his own ideas, and Rajneesh was always searching for suitably aphoristic material. I suspect that there are few mystics with the poetry and inventiveness of a Rumi (Rajneesh had used up most of the world's supply by then), that Nietzsche's overflowing artistry attracted Rajneesh, despite its flaws. There is also something in Zarathustra's style that relates to Rajneesh's: an iconoclasm and irreligiosity; Rajneesh says this of his commentary:

It is a very complicated affair. I was not speaking directly on Zarathustra, I was speaking on the Zarathustra who is an invention of Friedrich Nietzsche. All the great insights are given by Nietzsche to Zarathustra. Zarathustra many times his original books have been brought to me, and they are so ordinary that I have never spoken on them. Nietzsche has used Zarathustra only as a symbolic figure, just as Khalil Gibran was using Almustafa who was completely fictitious. Nietzsche had used a historical name but in a very fictitious way.

So, first, it is Nietzsche's Zarathustra, you should remember; it has nothing much to do with the original Zarathustra.

And secondly, when I am speaking on it, I don't care what Nietzsche means and I don't even have any way to know what he means. The way he used Zarathustra, I am using him! So it is a very complicated story. It is my Nietzsche, and Nietzsche is my Zarathustra. So what heights you are flying in has nothing to do with Zarathustra. [33]

Rajneesh generally took as his theme the writings of other mystics, and generally those that spoke in an aphoristic way, as in the Bible, or Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, or Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Thus his own works tend to be the opposite of aphoristic, rather they were expansive and also somewhat hypnotic in their delivery. He said many times that what he was saying was in itself of no importance, but that it was the presence of the master and the silence between the words that were effective. I include one extract from the Zarathustra series to give an impression both of his style, and also the way in which he found Nietzsche's imagery a suitable vehicle for his own thoughts (italic text are quotes from Zarathustra, the rest are Rajneesh's).

Where is the lightening to lick you with its tongue? Where is the madness, with which you should be cleansed?

One needs almost to be so extreme, if he is to transcend this ugly humanity, that people will call him mad. They have called Gautam Buddha mad, they have called Jesus mad, they have called Socrates mad. Anybody who is not part of the crowd insanity, who goes beyond it, is condemned by the crowd as mad. But such madness is the only way to be cleansed.

Behold, I teach you the Superman: he is this lightening, he is this madness!...

Man is a rope fastened between the animal and the Superman a rope over an abyss. Man is not a being, but a process not a being but a becoming. A dog is born a dog, and dies a dog. It is not absolutely so with man.

Gautam Buddha is born as a man and dies as a god. But to attain to this state, one has to be the lightening that burns all that is rotten in you, and one has to be mad enough to go beyond all the hypocrisies, all the mannerisms, all the facades that man has created to remain where he is without growing.

Man is a rope fastened between animal and superman a rope over an abyss.

A dangerous going-across, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous shuddering and staying-still.

What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal; what can be loved in man is that he is a going-across and a down-going.

Man is not static: he is change, and that is what is beautiful in him. Man is not dead but alive that is what is loveable in him. He has to go across from animal to superman. He has also to gather courage to go down from his high peaks of being a superman, to give the message and the joy and the dance to all those who are left behind, who have become static and who are not moving, and who are not changing.

I love those who do not know how to live, except their lives be a down-going, for they are those who are going across.

One of Zarathustra's great contributions is this: that once you have reached to the point of enlightenment, to the point of awakening, you should come back. Because millions of people are there; perhaps their thirst is asleep, perhaps they are not aware of their hunger. You have to provoke them and challenge them, and you have to guide them and you have to show them the path: how they can also go across, how they can also change from the animal to the superman.

I love the great despisers, for they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other bank. These words should be written in gold: I love the great despisers, for they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other bank. A man who has no longing to go beyond, no longing to climb the Everest of consciousness is not worthy to be called a man.

I love those who do not first seek beyond the stars for reasons to go down and to be sacrifices: but who sacrifice themselves to the earth, that the earth may one day belong to the Superman. You have been told by all the religions that to sacrifice yourself to attain the kingdom of God. Zarathustra says "Sacrifice yourself to the earth that the earth may one day belong to the superman." Become the herald of the coming morning. Make the way for the superman to happen.

I love him, who lives for knowledge and who wants knowledge that one day the Superman may live. And thus he wills his own downfall. A man who wants the superman is certainly wanting that the man should disappear: the man should disappear into the superman.

I love him who loves his virtue: for virtue is will to downfall and an arrow of longing.... I love him who does not want too many virtues. One virtue is more virtue than two, because it is more of a knot for fate to cling to.

One should be one-pointed, a single arrow with your whole energy. Only then you can pass the dangerous abyss between animal and superman. Many virtues are not needed.

Zarathustra says, I conceive only one virtue: the longing for transcendence, the longing for the beyond. The longing not to remain man, but to go beyond man, to become God.

I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in his favour and who then asks: Am I then a cheat? for he wants to perish. It is not a great virtue to be successful, successful as a man, because success needs all kinds of meanness, all kinds of fallacies, all kinds of false promises. Success needs violence. The successful man is not a man of love, is not a man of compassion.

The truly compassionate man, the truly loving man is ready to dissolve himself, so that something great may arise. He wants to become the manure for the roses to grow.

I love him who throws golden words in advance of his deeds and always performs more than be promised: for he wills his own downfall.

I love him who justifies the men of the future and redeems the men of the past: for he wants to perish by the men of the present.

I love him who chastises his God because he loves his God: for he must perish by the anger of his God.

I love him whose soul is deep even in its ability to be wounded, and whom even a little thing can destroy: thus he is glad to go over the bridge.

He is not afraid of death, because he knows, unless the seed dies the plant will not grow. Unless the seed dies there will not be any flowers. He is ready to die. In this courage he is capable to go gladly over the bridge, which is dangerous.

The journey of transcendence is dangerous. You will be disappearing and something new will come into existence. You will be sacrificing yourself for the new to arrive, but this sacrifice is a great bliss, because you are a creator you have become a womb for the new, and for the great.

I love all those who are like heavy drops falling singly from the dark cloud that hangs over mankind: they prophesy the coming of the lightning and as prophets they perish.

Behold, I am the prophet of the lightning and a heavy drop from the cloud: but this lightning is called Superman.

Zarathustra is saying that the prophet proclaims about the future, stakes everything for the future, dies for the future, so that this planet can become a paradise; so this humanity need not be mean, need not be anymore full of things which have to be condemned; so that this humanity becomes pure and innocent.

Just as at the beginning of the rain and the lightning the clouds come they herald only the beginning of the rain and the lightning.

Zarathustra says, "I am the prophet of the lighting. I want you to be aware that soon the superman will be appearing. Be ready to receive him. The only way to receive him is to be ready to sacrifice yourself."

This lightning is called superman, because this lightning is the beginning of a new season, of a new climate.

The earth will become green, and the dead trees will become alive, and the naked branches will be with foliage, and there will be flowers all around.

I have told you that my word for the superman is the new man, because the word superman carries in it the idea of superiority. In existence nothing is superior and nothing is inferior things are only unique, and different.

The new man will be different and unique. The new man will not be serious, the new man will have a sense of humour, the new man will not be tense and anxious, and full of anguish; instead he will be full of joy. The new man will be able to dance and sing and play and able to be a small child.

The new man is the hope for the whole of humanity.[34]

We note that Rajneesh has given a meaning to Nietzsche's down-going that is not obviously there in the original: that it should imply the return of the enlightened one to the market-place, to the ordinary life. We have seen that Nietzsche did not intend this, as he did not even know what the height was that his Superman would descend from, and was not in the least comfortable with the many-too-many. However, this was a constant theme with Rajneesh, that he wanted enlightenment to be ordinary, part of the every-day world, but his paradox was that everywhere he went he created an artificial atmosphere (this probably is the inevitable result of creating a commune). The ordinariness he aspired to and never achieved Walt Whitman effortlessly took part in; and the most obvious reason for Rajneesh's failure in this respect is that he was a product of Indian thought, despite his endless reaction to it. India is so steeped in the idea of enlightenment as an achievement that Rajneesh, despite every attempt to convey an ordinariness about it, and to be part of the market-place, could not avoid an elitism. His struggle to proclaim a new man that was not a superman, but was merely different and unique, eventually led to a commune that so elevated its difference and uniqueness that it held the wider community in contempt.

Rajneesh is usefully considered in the context of what is sometimes known as 'crazy wisdom', that is as part of a group of enlightened teachers who set out to shock. Georg Feuerstein's Holy Madness [35] gives a good account of this phenomenon, including in his book the many Tibetan Buddhist teachers, especially Drukpa Kunley, whose unconventional lives seem to break all religious and social conventions. Gurdjieff also features, and a good account of Rajneesh is given, though with greater weight to Milne's account than is probably fair, as there have been detailed refutations of the accuracy of his reporting. Feuerstein quotes Milne as saying that Krishnamurti viewed Rajneesh as a 'criminal'; however, Rajneesh always spoke of Krishnamurti as enlightened (even though he was baffled by Krishnamurti's habit of reading second-rate detective novels). What is clear is that Krishnamurti represents the sober end of the mystic spectrum, while Rajneesh its drunken end.

3.6 The Problems of the Guru

Nietzsche took an ancient teacher, Zarathustra, probably more inaccessible than others of approximately that era (Krishna, Buddha, Mahavira, Socrates, Lao Tzu), and reinvented him. Nietzsche had no personal experience of such a teacher, though biographers consider that the writings of Schopenhauer and the person of Wagner had the kind of formative influences on him that occur between guru and disciple (note that I am refusing to accept the widespread assumption that the word guru has a more negative connotation than teacher, sage, master or avatar - the words are interchangeable and only in a more specific context than this are any distinctions meaningful). This is a useful point however to look at common misconceptions about the guru, some of which are apparent in Nietzsche's invention, and some of which he avoided.

The root misconception lies in a misplaced perfection. The acolyte has a natural tendency to assume that the person of the master is in some ways perfect, or is at least perfect in contrast to the person of the seeker this shows itself in various ways, starting with the health of the master. The very reason that a seeker is a seeker lies in their false identification with their own body, so they tend to translate the teachings about the pristine nature of the eternal and infinite into the bodily: hence the master cannot be ill, and in extreme cases (like Sri Aurobindo) cannot die. Illness in the acolyte is often seen as a form of impurity or 'resistance' to the teachings of the master, and may result in all kinds of cruelty being perpetrated, not, in most cases by the teacher, but by followers who have been given, or assume, responsibility within the organisation that forms around the teacher. Radha Rajagopal Sloss, daughter of Krishnamurti's close friend Raja, made this comment:

It would have been difficult for many people to accept that anyone living so close to Krishna[murti] could have problems at all. Many years ago Raja had flinched when a devotee had given him a vigorous handshake. 'I have arthritis,' he explained. 'You have arthritis when you live so close to Him?!' was the incredulous response. [36]

It seems that this particular devotee had not listened to a single word that Krishnamurti had ever said! But, sadly, this attitude is widespread. Rajneesh asked that his followers did not refer to him as dead once he had gone, but merely 'no longer in the body' - almost immediately a mythology sprang up that, while resisted by many, was fuelled by the inevitable tendency to elevate his person. Rajneesh, like Krishnamurti, tried to make it clear that as a person he was subject to the same laws of nature that anyone is (Krishna's forces of nature acting on other forces), but is clearly more open to misunderstandings because of his encouragement of the devotional. Andrew Cohen, the young teacher of enlightenment mentioned previously and whose temperament is closer to Krishnamurti than Rajneesh, was run over by a cab in New York and injured, suffering a deep gash in his calf and bruising. He says this about the reaction from his followers:

As I lay there, I began to wonder what kind of conclusions others would draw about the meaning and significance of what had happened the night before. Then I smiled to myself, thinking about the likelihood that the conclusions my friends and supporters would draw would differ greatly from those of my detractors.

Within twenty-four hours, I was informed that my students in America and Europe had been deeply affected by the accident. The results were twofold: first their superstitious ideas were shaken to the core, as many admitted that they never thought that something like this could happen to me. But even more importantly, they discovered a renewed sense of urgency in their own relationship to becoming free in this birth. They knew in a way that never had before that they could take nothing for granted. The preciousness of life, the immediacy of death and the unbearably delicate possibility of enlightenment were revealed in a way that was ruthless, overwhelming and profound. [37]

As mentioned before, Cohen believes that the purity of nirvana (or the unmanifest, or nothingness) must be visible in the person of those oriented towards it (I am rephrasing his words a little), and criticises Rajneesh for example because of the events in Oregon. There may well be a moral elevation (to use Bucke's terminology) in the enlightened ones, but by stressing it in his teachings Cohen gives rise to exactly the kind of 'superstitious ideas' that he criticises his students for. The instinct for purity in Cohen's temperament is part of his appeal, but what happens to his teachings if he succumbs to the many temptations he is now exposed to? Even if he does not, and all credit to him if he does not, stories are easily fabricated and believed: his teachings in turn will be diminished. The crazy wisdom teachers including Gurdjieff, and to some extent Rajneesh, make efforts to appear morally degenerate to avoid this trap, though whether they succeed or not is debatable.

We see that even when we leave out the occult and paranormal, acolytes wish to believe in the special nature of their guru: some, some for example have never accepted Ramakrishna or Ramana Maharshi as great teachers simply because they died of cancer. The real problem of the elevation of the guru lies in the postponement of seeing one's own nature, or, in the terminology of Pure Consciousness Mysticism, the postponement of an orientation towards the infinite and eternal. The guru is finite and temporal, and above all human. I have witnessed Rajneesh, Krishnamurti, and Douglas Harding all losing their tempers: so what? The Buddha is reputed never to have lost his, for example upon being spat upon he thanked the furious spitter, but this merely shows something about his temperament, and something about the sheer variety amongst the great teachers, a variety that is part of the manifest world where purity is relative: has to be relative. However, to point all this out may be as futile as trying to prevent someone who is falling in love from seeing all kinds of imaginary perfections in the object of their affections, and for that matter seeing imaginary defects when they fall out of love.

Nietzsche's Zarathustra is endearingly full of human frailties, and in the end we see him as a fictional teacher with no teachings to teach, but Nietzsche's concept of a Superman is based on just the misguided quest for perfection in the manifest realm that we have just discussed. The Superman, or ubermensch (overman) in the original German, combines the problems of misplaced perfection with a more insidious one: that of a superiority which justifies the contempt for the ordinary person. Luckily in English the word Superman is more likely to be associated with a comic-book hero.

3.7 Nietzsche and Pure Consciousness Mysticism

To conclude: Nietzsche's best legacy is as destroyer of the false and hypocritical of his age, and previous ages. Here he has perhaps served us in a way that Whitman had no need of in the America of his day where the European life-killing ghosts had little substance, and could be laughed at in the bigness and brashness of the open prairies and new cities. Nietzsche could not laugh at them, but in taking them so seriously he had to create a fictional world that does not stand up to scrutiny. He rages against a decadence so profoundly that in the end he tears himself apart. He says:

O my brothers, am I then cruel? But I say: That which is falling should also be pushed!

Everything of today it is falling, it is decaying: who would support it? But I want to push it too!

(Of Old and New Law-Tables)

Nietzsche is hurling all the decadence of his age of a cliff, and himself with it. His exposure of decadence is to do with honesty:

There have always been many sickly people among those who invent fables and long for God: they have a raging hate for the enlightened man and for that youngest of virtues which is called honesty.

(Of the Afterworldsmen)

Why is honesty the youngest of virtues for Nietzsche? My guess is that it is a certain type of honesty that he is talking about, not the traditional distaste for lying and the honouring of promises, but an honesty to oneself - the type of honesty that separates 20th century thought from the previous eras (we shall examine this further with Sartre). This youngest of virtues became needed when man became false, and Nietzsche is one of the first prophets of this honesty, and partly for this reason is seen as the precursor of the existentialists. Perhaps Nietzsche sees it as the youngest of virtues because he cannot grasp it fully, existentially, in his own life; if he had, his writings would have amplified themselves in their meaning, and reduced in froth. Nietzsche has no strong roots in existence, he says: "Only as an aesthetic phenomenon is the world and the existence of man eternally justified".

Both from Zarathustra, and from comments like these, we can view Nietzsche as aesthetically intoxicated. From the perspective of Pure Consciousness Mysticism we have to ask is this kind of intoxication, on the surface of it similar to the ecstatic verse of Rumi or the divine-drunk behaviour of 'crazy-wisdom', a door to the infinite? It is clearly an expansive phenomenon, and one at the heart of any culture; its artistic impulse, whether expressed through art, dance, literature, poetry or countless creative acts lifts the spirit. In less secular societies than in the West all the arts have a religious ground, so we can see that in its origins the aesthetic and sublime serve an expansive role that is related to the mystical expansion. Secular art, although expansive, has a function linked to the elevated status of the individual that has replaced the religious function. After the collapse of the feudal hierarchy of God, king, aristocracy and peasants, it is the artistic genius who is often the target of the adoration previously reserved for the aristocrat of divine endorsement. This has resulted in art as a means of strengthening the identity of the artist, and providing society with individuals elevated through the sanction of their perceived genius. However the expansion of the artist through the overflowing of their talents, as with Nietzsche, has no necessary link with the expansion of the mystic to become the universe. It led to the opposite result in his case, as we have seen: a shrinking, and the same shrinking can be seen in those who seek expansion through material gain, or through a false spirituality. The impulse to be larger than one appears to be is universal and leads to all human endeavour including the sublime achievements of art, but they are bound by the same laws of expansion and contraction that the Sufis comment on so well. In Pure Consciousness Mysticism we see that to genuinely expand one has to come to zero at the same time. In the next chapter we will explore more deeply the experience of nothingness that provides the basis of a true and permanent expansion.

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References for Nietzsche, part Four

[28] Rajneesh, B.S., The Book of the Secrets-2, New York, Hagerstown, San Francisco, London: Harper Colophon, 1979
[29] Braun, Kirk, Rajneeshpuram, the Unwelcome Society - Cultures Collide in the Quest for Utopia, Scout Creek Press, 1984
[30] Forman, Juliet, Bhagwan, Twelve Days That Shook the World, Cologne: Rebel Publishing House, 1989
[31] Milne, Hugh, Bhagwan, The God That Failed, London: Sphere Books, 1986
[32] Meredith, George, Bhagwan, the Most Godless, Yet the Most Godly Man, Poona: The Rebel Publishing House, 1987
[33] Rajneesh, B.S. Zarathustra - a God that Can Dance, Cologne, Stuttgart, Hanover: Rebel Publishing House GmbH, 1987, introduction.
[34] ibid, pp. 95 - 100
[35] Feuerstein, Georg. Holy Madness, London: Arkana, 1990
[36] Sloss, Radha Rajagopal, Lives in the Shadow with J.Krishnmurti, London: Bloomsbury, 1991 p. 235
[37] Cohen, Andrew, An Unconditional Relationship to Life, Larkspur: Moksha Press, 1995 p. 156

mike king >> writings >> Krishna, Whitman, Nietzsche, Sartre