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The primary focus of the bike trip meditations, though, had been on my years with Rama. I had meditated, for instance, on the LSD trips. During the intense rush of the drug, my acquired knowledge of myself and of the world around me peeled away like layers of an onion. It was as if I saw the world through the eyes of a child.
I recalled reading about Rama's treatment of Lisa. He had allegedly given her LSD. Then, as he had done to the three women in Seattle, he screamed at her for hours, repeating that she was evil and that she had been trying to hurt him. Rama writes: Lisa told me she was afraid of her parents. She was convinced that they were trying to psychologically control her.
Then Rama, perhaps nervous about what I had observed in 1984 and 1985, told the disciples: "Mark was always a little young, a little naive, a little stupid... he thought that I actually *had* given him LSD... we all used to indulge him... we all knew that it was just that goofy Mark again... " Rama went on to say that one day they might have to explain "all this" to a judge and jury.
They are so critically needed that I have doubled my request under this act to $100 million in fiscal 1969. And I urge the Congress to stop the trade in mail-order murder, to stop it this year by adopting a proper gun control law. This year, I will propose a Drug Control Act to provide stricter penalties for those who traffic in LSD and other dangerous drugs with our people.
Hours later, he called us to the living room and began to talk. And talk. And talk. I tried to understand how his words were affecting us. I thought in terms of computers. I decided that he had rebooted us with LSD and now, as we were coming down, he was downloading his wordy operating system to our unformatted, receptive minds. "He's formatting us like floppy disks!" I thought.
Another entry for June reads, "What really pisses me off is that Rama changes everything he says, contradicts himself, turns a situation around completely so you never have a handle on him." The following week, Rama invited me to a group LSD trip at his house. The next day Rama distributed drug-soaked stamps to ten or so followers in his living room. He let us wander around the house.
Guided by an impulse he did not completely understand, and half against his better judgment, he put the first in his mouth, and chewed it. Then slaked his throat with water. Again. And a short time later, again. There are no words to describe LSD. For the person who has taken it before it is still like landing from another planet: nothing is familiar, and nothing can be taken for granted.
It seemed more likely that, unable to tell the difference between helping and controlling people, he gave me the drug to strengthen his grip on my mind. But I suspected another motive. I knew that Atmananda had often used me as a sounding board for new ideas and, later, for LSD. He may have wanted to observe my reaction to the Stelazine before using it on others or on himself.
During one such episode described by Anne as "nightmare weekend," Rama fed them acid five or so hits each and showed them his new puppy. "This dog is possessed," he claimed, citing its frequent need to urinate, and its habit of whining when confined alone in the basement. Rama then fed the dog seven hits of LSD. "Look it's still standing!" he said in an effort to substantiate his claim.
Later that night, Rama asked five or six people to walk back to the cars and wait in the parking lot. Anne and Rachel remained. Rama faced the remaining disciples, roughly half of whom had participated in one of his group LSD trips. "If anyone asks you about LSD," he said somberly, "you all *know* that I gave you a placebo."
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