I read from the Castaneda poster on the wall of my room a quote about following a path with heart. "Does Atmananda's path have heart?" I wondered. "Is it even a path? What the hell is going on?"
I turned toward the underexposed photo of Chinmoy still on my shrine. "What if Guru has not fallen?" I wondered, not wanting to be left bobbing in the stormy sea of ignorance.
"But then again," I thought, reminded of Atmananda's uncanny ability to see, "what if he has?" I felt overwhelmed. I realized I needed time to think. I realized I needed guidance.
I wanted to ask former Chinmoy disciples for advice, but did not want to subject them to spiritual doubts about Guru or Atmananda. I wanted to ask friends and teachers outside the group, but did not want to rely on people whom I supposed could not see. I even thought of asking my parents, but did not want to rely on two lobsters sporting bow ties. So I tried to assess the situation on my own.
I recalled some of the good times I had had with Atmananda. I also recalled Atmananda admitting to me, months before, that he wanted some day to be a guru.
I saw him as a genuine seeker on the path to Truth. I also saw him as a man whose ambitions I could not fathom.
"I need to get away," I told myself. "I need to get a perspective. It's not that I don't trust Atmananda. It's just that... "
KNOCK!! KNOCK!!
I jumped up.
Atmananda smiled as he opened my door. "Hi, kid. The meeting will start in a few minutes. Do you want to greet people—or should I find someone else?"