Suzanne dishes about Rajneesh and Wild Wild Country
By Suzanne Taylor
When Wild Wild Country came out as a documentary series on Netflix and made a huge splash, I made a little YouTube video about being flown to Rajneeshpuram when they were recruiting me to be a follower:
Hello Hollywood! This got me discovered by Ideapod’s CEO, Justin Brown, who invited me to do the webinar with him that’s below.
(I am a big supporter of Ideapod, a rare site that, like mine, invites participation to come up with what can help this crazed world, and I urge you to become an Ideapod member.)
By now you’ve probably heard of the Wild Wild Country documentary series that premiered on Netflix on March 16th.
It tells the incredible story of the Indian spiritual master, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, aka Osho, who founded a commune, Rajneeshpuram, in rural Oregon in the early 1980s. Remarkably, the commune attracted thousands of people from around the world inspired by the promise of a new kind of society.
The movement also drew controversy and fell apart when significant figures from the commune ending up being charged with terrorism and jailed for immigration fraud and attempted murder.
Pennell and Hasya
The documentary series is entertaining to watch. However, there is very little exploration of Osho’s teaching that caused so many people to come together to create a new way of living. It was a revolutionary project and the residents seemed to sincerely hope their ways of thinking would spread around the world. We therefore decided to talk with two people who knew a lot about that era.The full video is below, along with a transcript (Click here for the transcript that’s in what Ideapod sent…ST.) Our hope is that others will be able to take the discussion further by building upon the ideas discussed here.Wild Wild Country is truly stunning. Yet, while watching the documentary series I couldn’t help but think that it didn’t do justice to the many thousands of people who moved to Oregon to create a new way of living.
I then came across a beautiful short video by Suzanne Taylor from Sue Speaks. She had visited the commune and expressed an opinion about the lack of focus on Osho’s teachings in the documentary series. I reached out to Suzanne to discuss this issue, and she invited Pennell Rock into the discussion. Pennell was a disciple of Osho’s. He visited Oregon often but lived there for only three months. Prior to Osho’s sojourn in the States, Pennell lived intermittently at his Ashram in India and brought his girlfriend there. She became Hasya, who plays a major part in the documentary as she became Osho’s right hand when Sheela, who was running the place, fled from Oregon. Pennell is a scholar in Comparative Religions and Philosophy, so he was the perfect person to join us for this discussion.
Justin Brown interviews Suzanne Taylor and Pennell Rock:
Suzanne, you and Pennell make a dynamic duo that spans the globe and weaves the times. I love that Pennell was a real Osho “insider” and you had that “Sannyasin moment” where Rajneesh looked at you! It’s a fascinating conversation that has relevance today as we seek “spiritual” consciousness amidst an increasingly material world. Though I totally relished the Osho inspired so-called “chaotic meditations” in San Francisco, in the late 70s, I personally found the Osho brand of spiritual awakening somewhat repelling. I am just not a guru-lover, though I did my full prostrations to the Lama at the monastery I lived in outside Katmandu, Nepal. As a guy, however, I absolutely enjoyed how Sannyasin women felt upon being liberated by Osho because they were sexually freed. Kind of strange but true.
As I take spiritual realism and activism to Asia as my mission, I present the traditional spiritual form of patriarchal control as antiquated and hopefully dying. Even in my field of “tarot,” the classic Decks have a harshness, finality, and oldness that just does not work for our 21st century. I place the feminine energy of open, circular creation as the way of the universe rather than the masculine hierarchical, pyramidal organization of power found in many of the “religious” expressions of spirituality.
Conversations, like yours and Pennell’s, have great value by raising awareness of the ever-evolving nature of how we engage the mystery. Thank You.
You being the creator of the Voyager Tarot, that’s been hugely popular for decades now, how interesting to be tuned into what you see. The interpretive realm moving from hierarchical to circular parallels the movement in all of society — please god. And great to hear, given how much time you spend exerting considerable influence in Asia, that you are working with that more evolved perspective there!
I went with my friend to deliver noodles to the Rajneesh Ashram in Pune in hopes of seeing the sexual revolution in action. Never did though. A few times we ate at the communal table–the community was hundreds strong. I don’t remember seeing any Indians other than us and a few service people. The community was obviously flush with cash and therefore welcomed into the neighborhood. Perhaps because of Rajneesh’s anti-socialist politics (publicly declared), or maybe because of the unconventional lifestyle (confined to the compound), they got in trouble with the Indian govt. and moved their base to USA. I lost track until I came to USA in 1983. I remember seeing a picture of Mr. Jain as a young man before he became Rajneesh and thinking how ordinary he looked. I wish he had stayed that way. I would have had more faith in his spirituality.
Pennell would agree. He was enamored when Rajneesh was in India. Now, that ashram is going strong in India and apparently is very beautiful in all ways, including acceptance by the powers that be.
Hey Suzanne. I was there, too, and saw things quite a bit differently. I was walking by the Church in Ocean Park one December and heard some Rajneeshies having fun with music and readings, so I popped in. Then I saw a short video and chatted with several other walk-ins, before I bought one of his books. In that, I found remarkable wisdom and clarity. Not long after, several of my friends became followers, and pushed me hard to join them. When I heard about Oregon, I thought why not? I joined that February, and had a very powerful dream. I’m in a giant room with no walls, but a vast ceiling. Tens of thousands are gathered with me before Rajneesh who looks at me, and calls me up on stage. He stands to meet me, and puts his hands on my shoulders. I do the same, looking into his eyes, feeling deeply grounded. He playfully asks me, “What’s your name, I forget…” “James,” I reply. “Ah yes,” he muses, “the supplanter.” Then he puts all his energy into me. In turn, I put all his energy back, and all of mine. He does the same, and we repeat this filling and emptying several times more until I am wildly awake, and “james” and “rajneesh” are no more. Months go by, and I deepen my study of the natural state through my practice of Dzogchen. Finally, I take a van with a lot of others up to Oregon. I get my orange clothes on, and immediately walk to the gate of his compound to wait for his appearance in the Rolls. Because I was so early, I was first. I greeted the guards (who were not yet armed) and we chatted about their daily life. Most interesting, but all the restrictions and limited movement of people on the ranch made me feel there was something not right. Finally, here he comes. Because of my position, I’m the first he sees. The moment our eyes meet, he stops the car and stares at me. A surprised look comes across his face, a tiny smile of recognition, and slowly he continues by, not daring to look at me, even though we are only two feet apart. Next, I was given my work assignment organizing and warehousing all the written material Rajneeshpuram had in its huge library and was pouring out of its print shop and many Xerox machines. That night was spent in the village of tents, listening to women having orgasms. One was so loud and dramatic, everyone listening applauded. The next morning, before work, I moved into a small canyon close to Bhagwan’s house, where I was blissfully alone. After work, a “neighbor” several hundred yards away saw me setting up, came by and shared a joint of particularly strong sativa, which framed my first time walking to the Great Hall. When I first saw it, I was amazed to see it was exactly as in my dream. I asked a guard there about this building and he replied they had just finished putting the lights and sound systems in. I asked if it was standing in February and he said, “No, man. It wasn’t started until the end of April.” Amazing. Well, you remember the way Bhagwan made his entrance in lightning and thunder, that strong wind. I was impressed. Then came the five days of silent presence. I had an assigned seat in a different position than my dream, and each day he never looked at me. (I later heard from a guard he was on MDMA.) On the last day, at the very last minute, he sat up, turned his head to me, and motioned for me to come up on stage. Several others saw him, so we all went up, with me closest to him. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. But his smile and brightness was undimmed. We looked long at each other and finally he nodded and gestured for me to turn around. Doing so, the thousands were before me. I blessed everyone from my heart and turning back, watched Bhagwan being carried out on his chair. That afternoon, my twin sister called me there, and in tears told me her first-born had a rare form of cystic fibrosis. She pleaded for me to come home. I was deeply saddened and felt how much she needed me. The next morning, a young woman brought me a note from Sheela inviting me to a small circle in the Great Hall that evening. There were maybe 50 of us, and Sheela, who seemed strained and pretending to be happy, insisted everyone rise and do what I called the “la-lu” dance for Baghwan. I could not. Something was up. Baghwan entered the circle, sitting 15 feet away from me. The dancing continued, and he found my eyes. I heard his voice say, “You must go now.” I said, “Yes!,” over the din, and the next morning got my car and drove back to Bhagwan’s gate to say goodbye. When I got there, I saw many armed guards and I knew it was over. I asked one of the guards I’d met the first day about them, and he told me stories he’d heard about Bhagwan believing AIDS would destroy the world and Sheila plotting against Bhagwan’s doctor. Wow, so disappointing. When I got home, a very strange thing waited for me. It was many phone messages from distant and obscure relatives I had not heard from (or knew existed in one case) for many years, all saying that Rajneeshpuram security had called them, wanting to know where I was. Rajneeshpuram had my address and phone number so what was up with this? Many years later, I “accidentally” met one of the guards during a vacation and we compared notes, recalling each moment. What an amazing, lost opportunity.
What an odd involvement you had and thanks for sharing it. Who knows what to make of it? Re MDMA, Bhagwan’s personal drug use is shrouded in mystery but I do know that Rajneeshpuram, where drugs presumably were outlawed, was awash in MDMA.
There was little of what I’d call “wisdom” surrounding Bhagwan or coming from him in those days. It was clear from the beginning (in Oregon), that his fad phase was ending, and ego had set in. My one regret was how isolated from everyone Bhagwan had become, and how isolated in may ways we were from each other. A case in point: I’d been on the job for a few days, when Sheila approached, and told be I could write Bhagwan directly, and would get a personal response from him soon after. I did, telling Bhagwan of my dream of him, and how we’d seen each other that first day… I delivered my letter to his home personally. Two days went by, and I received a reply not from him, but Sheila, who basically said, “Do your job, and you will reap a good reward.” From that moment on, I kept “running into” people who were literally minding me, and pushing me to work longer hours, even to the point where I was no longer able to eat with everyone or even casually socialize.
How murky everything was. And you were in the thick of that. In retrospect, it all adds up to a failing trip that was on such a large scale that it really did bring down the whole era in which seekers had been substantially awakened by following masters. Since then, we’ve been on our own and not doing such a good job of bringing in the next era. But, hopefully, we could say we still are in process on that.
Hi – Well I was on the Ranch from near beginning to after end and was pretty well-connected and don’t recall anything at all about MDMA. Maybe it simply by-passed me but I am sure I would have been offered it if it was there ….
Sw Prem Oscar
Sorry, just saw this — had to fix a glitch. Hansya was brought in by a good friend of mine who had the inside scoop and I got it from him. Pretty sure that was what was going on.
I missed my compliment — some glitch kept your comment from me. Glad to catch up with it now! We’re in the wake the world up business together, Justin, doing our best to serve.
This was a lovely beginning and attempt to reveal what was going on with sannyas and sannyasins other than the political fascism. Unfortunately, like Wild Wild Country, the discussion veered away from that topic and stayed directly with the politics, which in my experience only interested and affected the “big wigs” of sannyas. With 200,000 sannyasins worldwide, there were at least 150,000 of us who didn’t care about the organization or the politics. The story of the invisible thousands is still untold. I took sannyas in 1980, in Santa Barbara via the mail, which seemed preposterous to me. By that time I’d seen Maharishi and taken TM in Italy, visited Krishnamurti in Ojai, traveled to Kabul with a Zen adept, been in a Gurdjieff group in San Francisco, and meditated with the Tibetan Buddhist in the U.S. I was looking for a Zen master.
I was looking for a Zen master in street clothes. But the groups I took with Amitabh, Teertha and others at Geetam in the Southern California desert were profound, mystical and broke through my resistance to yet another Indian guru. The day I got my mala and name (the meaning of which I thought perplexing) in the mail, wondering how to connect with it all, I sat down to meditate. I heard my name spoken, and felt pressure on forehead at my third eye. Hmmm. Only much later did I see pictures of Bhagwan giving sannyas in Poona pressing people’s third eye. The energetic/mystical experiences were the connection to Bhagwan and sannyas for me.
I never got to India…I had small children at home. In Laguna Beach I continued doing workshops and sessions with Amitabh and others, suffering dynamic meditation which was hellish, and other Bhagwan meditations which were wonderful, living with sannyasins (another huge challenge).
The first world celebration with Oregon was, like everything else associated with Bhagwan, filled with bliss and joy that alternated with discomfort (physical and emotional) and affronts to my ego and conditioning. Rajneeshpuram during the times I visited did feel like an experiment to provoke God; a Buddhafield where the energy surrounding you affected you at very deep levels while you were otherwise occupied. I learned to experience myself as a play of energy, rather than a “person”. I learned that orgasms didn’t necessarily rely on sex, and could happen while sitting silently, gazing on a hillside. I learned that silence was an elusive goal, but could descend unannounced so blissfully. And “turning work into worship” was actually possible. The satsang and darshan music was amazing. The rose petals floating down on thousands of us from the belly of an airplane painted with a heart were incredible. The sannyasins from everywhere: Japan, India, Germany, Brazil, Australia: what a fabulous gathering in the Lord of the Full Moon’s garden. And still the slog of Dynamic, or the 12-hour days, the amazing energy of the groups were going on for thousands while the politicos fought their duels, back-stabbed, struggled with Oregon politics. It was arduous for everyone too.
Please take another shot at telling what was really going on with the 150,000 anonymous nobodies
Lynn, aka Ma Sangati
I resonate with everything you’re saying. Most of my highly intelligent friends were sannyasins, and they found their participation to be revelatory. It was a time when we were shifting from a simplistic and superficial Ozzie and Harriet world to embracing the inner life in a more evolved perception and Rajneesh was a leading figure in educating people to that. I passed the baton to Pennell instead of giving the two cents of mine that had been invited because he could speak much more intelligently, from his deep involvement, than I could about the value people got. (I, too, sat at masters’ feet during that period, with the main one I followed being a really oddball guy named Barry Tellman – he swears it is his birth name but he was a trickster and I doubt it. My house was his headquarters in L.A. and you can find exposes about him on the internet!) Wild Wild Country had no intention of doing justice to the value people got and I hoped that what we delivered filled in that vital and elemental aspect of the situation. Didn’t that come across?
Thank you, Pennell, for your incredible words and insight. For many years I have been ambivalent about my time at the ranch, for years until the wild, wild west documentary came out I didn’t discuss my time as a sannyasin with anyone. I wasn’t sure how to process my wonderful experience there in contrast to how it so dramatically ended. I have wondered how much Osho knew, how much he let happen or encouraged and allowed to occur for each disciple’s growth? I think every person at the ranch had a very different experience depending on what they needed. It was such a huge, beautiful mess, which is clearly a metaphor for life. I went to the ranch at the tender age of 18 to learn to meditate and go inward. I was searching for answers, to fill the huge void I felt inside. The demise of the ranch added stress and confusion and left more questions than answers, and now that I am in my 50s I find great humor in this. Osho is the giant zen stick to the head and that puts a great smile on my face.
This is a fascinating video. Thankyou. All speakers were vibrant and funny and affectionate and sincere. All speakers are beautiful people. I celebrate your perceptive, inquiring, articulate, insightful minds. I have nothing more to add at this point. Though I do want to share just one fleeting observation prompted by a toss of random words someone said…
The pursuit of falsehood produces much pleasure because it seizes upon the prize of rightness. Before I venture further I want to say that the word “attack” signifies rolling up the sleeves to tackle a chore. Many now attack falsehood. I type these words “attack” and “falsehood” side by side. I listen to what is said about an apparent falsehood but after a while I begin to notice more and more the undercurrent quality of “attack”. In order to attack something there seems to be an initial thought, it is a thought that supplies “certainty” of a “reality” being found out, or revealled, or exposed. Attacks require “certainty” as a rocket fuel. Certainty combined with “attack energy” feels like a passionate buzz. Both certainty and attack propel the quest to uncover falsehood and locate “the truth”. But often it is not so much the truth that is sought but the delicious feeling of rightness. Rightness feels consoling. It is like knowing you are good, or are better than, perhaps because you feel less than if you just don’t have the foggiest idea. Feeling right heals all the times of feeling wrong or inept or excluded or clueless. Rightness becomes an essential healing food to the bored, who often are very clever. Clever people get bored quicker. But in order to feel right someone else has to made to seem wrong or warped or corrupt. So to eat the food of rightness involves someone being made to seem wrong. Attacking falsehoods requires the initial push of certainty. Discovering the falsehood had a bearing in fact merely confirms the initial conceptual certainty. The certainty that went hunting for a eureka moment of affirmation or concensus backup. We can feel certain a person is a rogue, or fascist, or maverick, or dope but unless there are flagrant signs of deliberately despotic plans these seem like “certainty” judgements that may not be based on whatever is going on in the actual heart of an innovator. It can be exciting to tear strips off the pioneer who only got us so far along a path but wasn’t perfect enough to take us all the way. We never thank the flawed, mortal, exhausted human they were for not being a whole lot worse. More and more I am coming to see that the peak of wisdom resides in “not knowing” who another human really is. If I do not know them then I cannot define me. Humans who are very certain are often in the flush of consolodating their “me”. There is no harm in this. It is normal to crave self love. But sometimes it nudges towards dismissal of others and their “me”, as if that “me” is fully known also, but is an imposter. How can we know other people’s “me”? We do not live inside their body. All humans experience the compulsion towards certainty, it is intrinsic to the hunter gatherer need for security. But to me the loveliest bit of this documentary was when the woman simply looked bewildered and said “I don’t know”.
I like this: “Women are the finest at not being certain.” I’d never thought of that distinction, but it’s an element in understanding how it is we wouldn’t make war. I find this little lesson I did a video about is helpful to take me off the certainty where my hostility otherwise would live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxfCz4n3lto&t=1s.
Thankyou Suzanne, I very much like what you express in your video. Kindness can be these two things, the feeling of reaching out in a giving way, like catching someone before they fall, or making self all tidied away in order to allow the other to enjoy or focus on their moment. But kindness can also be leaving the broken broken, so that they can naturally heal and comfort themselves without intrusion. And kindness can be kindness to the self, by sharing how messed up and fragile we are. You are wise. There is much potent medicine in kindness. Only the very egotistical snub kindness, as they think it is passe or ineffectual. A root finding its way through concrete pushes each grain out of the way with ponderous slowness and utmost gentleness.
Suzanne, you and Pennell make a dynamic duo that spans the globe and weaves the times. I love that Pennell was a real Osho “insider” and you had that “Sannyasin moment” where Rajneesh looked at you! It’s a fascinating conversation that has relevance today as we seek “spiritual” consciousness amidst an increasingly material world. Though I totally relished the Osho inspired so-called “chaotic meditations” in San Francisco, in the late 70s, I personally found the Osho brand of spiritual awakening somewhat repelling. I am just not a guru-lover, though I did my full prostrations to the Lama at the monastery I lived in outside Katmandu, Nepal. As a guy, however, I absolutely enjoyed how Sannyasin women felt upon being liberated by Osho because they were sexually freed. Kind of strange but true.
As I take spiritual realism and activism to Asia as my mission, I present the traditional spiritual form of patriarchal control as antiquated and hopefully dying. Even in my field of “tarot,” the classic Decks have a harshness, finality, and oldness that just does not work for our 21st century. I place the feminine energy of open, circular creation as the way of the universe rather than the masculine hierarchical, pyramidal organization of power found in many of the “religious” expressions of spirituality.
Conversations, like yours and Pennell’s, have great value by raising awareness of the ever-evolving nature of how we engage the mystery. Thank You.
You being the creator of the Voyager Tarot, that’s been hugely popular for decades now, how interesting to be tuned into what you see. The interpretive realm moving from hierarchical to circular parallels the movement in all of society — please god. And great to hear, given how much time you spend exerting considerable influence in Asia, that you are working with that more evolved perspective there!
I went with my friend to deliver noodles to the Rajneesh Ashram in Pune in hopes of seeing the sexual revolution in action. Never did though. A few times we ate at the communal table–the community was hundreds strong. I don’t remember seeing any Indians other than us and a few service people. The community was obviously flush with cash and therefore welcomed into the neighborhood. Perhaps because of Rajneesh’s anti-socialist politics (publicly declared), or maybe because of the unconventional lifestyle (confined to the compound), they got in trouble with the Indian govt. and moved their base to USA. I lost track until I came to USA in 1983. I remember seeing a picture of Mr. Jain as a young man before he became Rajneesh and thinking how ordinary he looked. I wish he had stayed that way. I would have had more faith in his spirituality.
Pennell would agree. He was enamored when Rajneesh was in India. Now, that ashram is going strong in India and apparently is very beautiful in all ways, including acceptance by the powers that be.
I have to ask my friend in Pune if she ever went back there after they got a new noodle vendor.
Hey Suzanne. I was there, too, and saw things quite a bit differently. I was walking by the Church in Ocean Park one December and heard some Rajneeshies having fun with music and readings, so I popped in. Then I saw a short video and chatted with several other walk-ins, before I bought one of his books. In that, I found remarkable wisdom and clarity. Not long after, several of my friends became followers, and pushed me hard to join them. When I heard about Oregon, I thought why not? I joined that February, and had a very powerful dream. I’m in a giant room with no walls, but a vast ceiling. Tens of thousands are gathered with me before Rajneesh who looks at me, and calls me up on stage. He stands to meet me, and puts his hands on my shoulders. I do the same, looking into his eyes, feeling deeply grounded. He playfully asks me, “What’s your name, I forget…” “James,” I reply. “Ah yes,” he muses, “the supplanter.” Then he puts all his energy into me. In turn, I put all his energy back, and all of mine. He does the same, and we repeat this filling and emptying several times more until I am wildly awake, and “james” and “rajneesh” are no more. Months go by, and I deepen my study of the natural state through my practice of Dzogchen. Finally, I take a van with a lot of others up to Oregon. I get my orange clothes on, and immediately walk to the gate of his compound to wait for his appearance in the Rolls. Because I was so early, I was first. I greeted the guards (who were not yet armed) and we chatted about their daily life. Most interesting, but all the restrictions and limited movement of people on the ranch made me feel there was something not right. Finally, here he comes. Because of my position, I’m the first he sees. The moment our eyes meet, he stops the car and stares at me. A surprised look comes across his face, a tiny smile of recognition, and slowly he continues by, not daring to look at me, even though we are only two feet apart. Next, I was given my work assignment organizing and warehousing all the written material Rajneeshpuram had in its huge library and was pouring out of its print shop and many Xerox machines. That night was spent in the village of tents, listening to women having orgasms. One was so loud and dramatic, everyone listening applauded. The next morning, before work, I moved into a small canyon close to Bhagwan’s house, where I was blissfully alone. After work, a “neighbor” several hundred yards away saw me setting up, came by and shared a joint of particularly strong sativa, which framed my first time walking to the Great Hall. When I first saw it, I was amazed to see it was exactly as in my dream. I asked a guard there about this building and he replied they had just finished putting the lights and sound systems in. I asked if it was standing in February and he said, “No, man. It wasn’t started until the end of April.” Amazing. Well, you remember the way Bhagwan made his entrance in lightning and thunder, that strong wind. I was impressed. Then came the five days of silent presence. I had an assigned seat in a different position than my dream, and each day he never looked at me. (I later heard from a guard he was on MDMA.) On the last day, at the very last minute, he sat up, turned his head to me, and motioned for me to come up on stage. Several others saw him, so we all went up, with me closest to him. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. But his smile and brightness was undimmed. We looked long at each other and finally he nodded and gestured for me to turn around. Doing so, the thousands were before me. I blessed everyone from my heart and turning back, watched Bhagwan being carried out on his chair. That afternoon, my twin sister called me there, and in tears told me her first-born had a rare form of cystic fibrosis. She pleaded for me to come home. I was deeply saddened and felt how much she needed me. The next morning, a young woman brought me a note from Sheela inviting me to a small circle in the Great Hall that evening. There were maybe 50 of us, and Sheela, who seemed strained and pretending to be happy, insisted everyone rise and do what I called the “la-lu” dance for Baghwan. I could not. Something was up. Baghwan entered the circle, sitting 15 feet away from me. The dancing continued, and he found my eyes. I heard his voice say, “You must go now.” I said, “Yes!,” over the din, and the next morning got my car and drove back to Bhagwan’s gate to say goodbye. When I got there, I saw many armed guards and I knew it was over. I asked one of the guards I’d met the first day about them, and he told me stories he’d heard about Bhagwan believing AIDS would destroy the world and Sheila plotting against Bhagwan’s doctor. Wow, so disappointing. When I got home, a very strange thing waited for me. It was many phone messages from distant and obscure relatives I had not heard from (or knew existed in one case) for many years, all saying that Rajneeshpuram security had called them, wanting to know where I was. Rajneeshpuram had my address and phone number so what was up with this? Many years later, I “accidentally” met one of the guards during a vacation and we compared notes, recalling each moment. What an amazing, lost opportunity.
What an odd involvement you had and thanks for sharing it. Who knows what to make of it? Re MDMA, Bhagwan’s personal drug use is shrouded in mystery but I do know that Rajneeshpuram, where drugs presumably were outlawed, was awash in MDMA.
There was little of what I’d call “wisdom” surrounding Bhagwan or coming from him in those days. It was clear from the beginning (in Oregon), that his fad phase was ending, and ego had set in. My one regret was how isolated from everyone Bhagwan had become, and how isolated in may ways we were from each other. A case in point: I’d been on the job for a few days, when Sheila approached, and told be I could write Bhagwan directly, and would get a personal response from him soon after. I did, telling Bhagwan of my dream of him, and how we’d seen each other that first day… I delivered my letter to his home personally. Two days went by, and I received a reply not from him, but Sheila, who basically said, “Do your job, and you will reap a good reward.” From that moment on, I kept “running into” people who were literally minding me, and pushing me to work longer hours, even to the point where I was no longer able to eat with everyone or even casually socialize.
How murky everything was. And you were in the thick of that. In retrospect, it all adds up to a failing trip that was on such a large scale that it really did bring down the whole era in which seekers had been substantially awakened by following masters. Since then, we’ve been on our own and not doing such a good job of bringing in the next era. But, hopefully, we could say we still are in process on that.
This was a very insightful interview. I loved Pennell’s ego-less perspective!
Hi – Well I was on the Ranch from near beginning to after end and was pretty well-connected and don’t recall anything at all about MDMA. Maybe it simply by-passed me but I am sure I would have been offered it if it was there ….
Sw Prem Oscar
Sorry, just saw this — had to fix a glitch. Hansya was brought in by a good friend of mine who had the inside scoop and I got it from him. Pretty sure that was what was going on.
Thanks for writing this Suzanne! I had a lot of fun having this conversation with you and Pennell. Thanks also for all of your support for Ideapod.
I love your site by the way, the design is very warm and inspiring!
I missed my compliment — some glitch kept your comment from me. Glad to catch up with it now! We’re in the wake the world up business together, Justin, doing our best to serve.
Yes for sure!
This was a lovely beginning and attempt to reveal what was going on with sannyas and sannyasins other than the political fascism. Unfortunately, like Wild Wild Country, the discussion veered away from that topic and stayed directly with the politics, which in my experience only interested and affected the “big wigs” of sannyas. With 200,000 sannyasins worldwide, there were at least 150,000 of us who didn’t care about the organization or the politics. The story of the invisible thousands is still untold. I took sannyas in 1980, in Santa Barbara via the mail, which seemed preposterous to me. By that time I’d seen Maharishi and taken TM in Italy, visited Krishnamurti in Ojai, traveled to Kabul with a Zen adept, been in a Gurdjieff group in San Francisco, and meditated with the Tibetan Buddhist in the U.S. I was looking for a Zen master.
I was looking for a Zen master in street clothes. But the groups I took with Amitabh, Teertha and others at Geetam in the Southern California desert were profound, mystical and broke through my resistance to yet another Indian guru. The day I got my mala and name (the meaning of which I thought perplexing) in the mail, wondering how to connect with it all, I sat down to meditate. I heard my name spoken, and felt pressure on forehead at my third eye. Hmmm. Only much later did I see pictures of Bhagwan giving sannyas in Poona pressing people’s third eye. The energetic/mystical experiences were the connection to Bhagwan and sannyas for me.
I never got to India…I had small children at home. In Laguna Beach I continued doing workshops and sessions with Amitabh and others, suffering dynamic meditation which was hellish, and other Bhagwan meditations which were wonderful, living with sannyasins (another huge challenge).
The first world celebration with Oregon was, like everything else associated with Bhagwan, filled with bliss and joy that alternated with discomfort (physical and emotional) and affronts to my ego and conditioning. Rajneeshpuram during the times I visited did feel like an experiment to provoke God; a Buddhafield where the energy surrounding you affected you at very deep levels while you were otherwise occupied. I learned to experience myself as a play of energy, rather than a “person”. I learned that orgasms didn’t necessarily rely on sex, and could happen while sitting silently, gazing on a hillside. I learned that silence was an elusive goal, but could descend unannounced so blissfully. And “turning work into worship” was actually possible. The satsang and darshan music was amazing. The rose petals floating down on thousands of us from the belly of an airplane painted with a heart were incredible. The sannyasins from everywhere: Japan, India, Germany, Brazil, Australia: what a fabulous gathering in the Lord of the Full Moon’s garden. And still the slog of Dynamic, or the 12-hour days, the amazing energy of the groups were going on for thousands while the politicos fought their duels, back-stabbed, struggled with Oregon politics. It was arduous for everyone too.
Please take another shot at telling what was really going on with the 150,000 anonymous nobodies
Lynn, aka Ma Sangati
I resonate with everything you’re saying. Most of my highly intelligent friends were sannyasins, and they found their participation to be revelatory. It was a time when we were shifting from a simplistic and superficial Ozzie and Harriet world to embracing the inner life in a more evolved perception and Rajneesh was a leading figure in educating people to that. I passed the baton to Pennell instead of giving the two cents of mine that had been invited because he could speak much more intelligently, from his deep involvement, than I could about the value people got. (I, too, sat at masters’ feet during that period, with the main one I followed being a really oddball guy named Barry Tellman – he swears it is his birth name but he was a trickster and I doubt it. My house was his headquarters in L.A. and you can find exposes about him on the internet!) Wild Wild Country had no intention of doing justice to the value people got and I hoped that what we delivered filled in that vital and elemental aspect of the situation. Didn’t that come across?
Thank you, Pennell, for your incredible words and insight. For many years I have been ambivalent about my time at the ranch, for years until the wild, wild west documentary came out I didn’t discuss my time as a sannyasin with anyone. I wasn’t sure how to process my wonderful experience there in contrast to how it so dramatically ended. I have wondered how much Osho knew, how much he let happen or encouraged and allowed to occur for each disciple’s growth? I think every person at the ranch had a very different experience depending on what they needed. It was such a huge, beautiful mess, which is clearly a metaphor for life. I went to the ranch at the tender age of 18 to learn to meditate and go inward. I was searching for answers, to fill the huge void I felt inside. The demise of the ranch added stress and confusion and left more questions than answers, and now that I am in my 50s I find great humor in this. Osho is the giant zen stick to the head and that puts a great smile on my face.
This is a fascinating video. Thankyou. All speakers were vibrant and funny and affectionate and sincere. All speakers are beautiful people. I celebrate your perceptive, inquiring, articulate, insightful minds. I have nothing more to add at this point. Though I do want to share just one fleeting observation prompted by a toss of random words someone said…
The pursuit of falsehood produces much pleasure because it seizes upon the prize of rightness. Before I venture further I want to say that the word “attack” signifies rolling up the sleeves to tackle a chore. Many now attack falsehood. I type these words “attack” and “falsehood” side by side. I listen to what is said about an apparent falsehood but after a while I begin to notice more and more the undercurrent quality of “attack”. In order to attack something there seems to be an initial thought, it is a thought that supplies “certainty” of a “reality” being found out, or revealled, or exposed. Attacks require “certainty” as a rocket fuel. Certainty combined with “attack energy” feels like a passionate buzz. Both certainty and attack propel the quest to uncover falsehood and locate “the truth”. But often it is not so much the truth that is sought but the delicious feeling of rightness. Rightness feels consoling. It is like knowing you are good, or are better than, perhaps because you feel less than if you just don’t have the foggiest idea. Feeling right heals all the times of feeling wrong or inept or excluded or clueless. Rightness becomes an essential healing food to the bored, who often are very clever. Clever people get bored quicker. But in order to feel right someone else has to made to seem wrong or warped or corrupt. So to eat the food of rightness involves someone being made to seem wrong. Attacking falsehoods requires the initial push of certainty. Discovering the falsehood had a bearing in fact merely confirms the initial conceptual certainty. The certainty that went hunting for a eureka moment of affirmation or concensus backup. We can feel certain a person is a rogue, or fascist, or maverick, or dope but unless there are flagrant signs of deliberately despotic plans these seem like “certainty” judgements that may not be based on whatever is going on in the actual heart of an innovator. It can be exciting to tear strips off the pioneer who only got us so far along a path but wasn’t perfect enough to take us all the way. We never thank the flawed, mortal, exhausted human they were for not being a whole lot worse. More and more I am coming to see that the peak of wisdom resides in “not knowing” who another human really is. If I do not know them then I cannot define me. Humans who are very certain are often in the flush of consolodating their “me”. There is no harm in this. It is normal to crave self love. But sometimes it nudges towards dismissal of others and their “me”, as if that “me” is fully known also, but is an imposter. How can we know other people’s “me”? We do not live inside their body. All humans experience the compulsion towards certainty, it is intrinsic to the hunter gatherer need for security. But to me the loveliest bit of this documentary was when the woman simply looked bewildered and said “I don’t know”.
Women are the finest at not being certain.
I like this: “Women are the finest at not being certain.” I’d never thought of that distinction, but it’s an element in understanding how it is we wouldn’t make war. I find this little lesson I did a video about is helpful to take me off the certainty where my hostility otherwise would live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxfCz4n3lto&t=1s.
Thankyou Suzanne, I very much like what you express in your video. Kindness can be these two things, the feeling of reaching out in a giving way, like catching someone before they fall, or making self all tidied away in order to allow the other to enjoy or focus on their moment. But kindness can also be leaving the broken broken, so that they can naturally heal and comfort themselves without intrusion. And kindness can be kindness to the self, by sharing how messed up and fragile we are. You are wise. There is much potent medicine in kindness. Only the very egotistical snub kindness, as they think it is passe or ineffectual. A root finding its way through concrete pushes each grain out of the way with ponderous slowness and utmost gentleness.