I was moved by the truth that I felt in his words and now, as he answered questions in the front of the room, I interrupted conversations with all the speed and savvy I could muster. People did not seem to mind. On the contrary, they seemed to regard me as someone special, as if I were on The Bus—and they were trying to get on.

With each passing week, Atmananda further opened the audience to the possibility that they could evolve countless lifetimes by staring at the underexposed photo of a balding man. After about a month, he announced: "Those who are interested in the advanced side of self-discovery should ask Mark for a map to the Centre."

"The Centre" was Atmananda's term for the San Diego branch of Chinmoy's organization. It was also his term for the house he now shared with me and the three other Chinmoy disciples. Atmananda had not needed a map to the Centre months before, on the day that the five of us moved west. He had seemed to know the way. "There's Mission Bay," he said, pointing to bright green lawns bordering light blue water. When he exited the freeway, which he assured us was free, I noticed ground-cover plants surrounding and dividing the road like armies of fat green spiders. On La Jolla Scenic Road, I saw more exotic flora: tall, cedar-like trees, plants with huge vein-covered leaves, and cacti with yellow flowers and spiny needles. I did not know their names.

"At last," boomed Atmananda, pointing to a large shrub which drooped like a wilted phallus. "We have found the fabled swaaaanso bush!"

I laughed nervously at his fabrication and glanced at Dana, who sat beside me. Only minutes ago, she and I had sat outside the San Diego airport terminal, caressed by a balmy breeze, waiting for Atmananda and Rachel to rent a car. It was the first time we had been alone. My heart pounded, and I unsuccessfully tried not to watch the way in which her breasts pressed against her blouse.

She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled at me.

I wanted so much to kiss her, to tell her that she was beautiful, to love her. Had I followed my gut feelings, Atmananda might have sent me back to New York on the next available flight. But Chinmoy and Atmananda had explained that sex saps psychic growth. And I was concerned that Atmananda and Dana might be in some sort of relationship already. Besides, I never had had a girlfriend and was at a loss as to what to say. I paused, and Atmananda and Rachel appeared with the rental car.

Atmananda often displayed an extraordinary sensitivity toward what people around him were thinking and now, as we approached the Centre for the first time, I wondered if he had timed his arrival back at the airport based on my wayward desire. I also wondered how to diffuse my crush on Dana.

"Don't worry," I told myself. "Guru will help me work it out."

Now Atmananda told his passengers that the new Centre was only a few blocks away. He had chosen a house on Cliffridge Avenue where, in the name of the Guru, we would fight evil forces and make millions happy. Before turning left on Cliffridge, we drove past Nottingham and Robin Hood.