Elegy

[TurquoiseB]

Posted here because I have hung out on the streetcorner in
this 'hood in the past, and I thought some might be interested.
For those who are not, my apologies.

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[ Written for the Internet, and as such, at your mercy. If you
feel the need to quote from this, please do so within context. ]

Rama was as enigmatic as the desert.

He was as closed to scrutiny as a falcon. He was as open and
as vulnerable as a baby chick. His life was veiled in mystery,
but only if you allowed yourself to be wrapped by the flash,
and failed to look beneath the surface. He died this week.

Rama -- Dr. Frederick Lenz -- was to some a spiritual teacher,
a Prisoner Of Light who told tales of power *with* power.
To others, he was a cult leader who took advantage of his
students financially, sexually, and psychically. Me, I dunno.
I was his student for fourteen-odd ( *very* odd ) years, and
I still dunno. But even though I have not been his student
for several years now, I cannot sit silent in the face of the pre-
dominantly negative media coverage and Usenet gossip. I
beg your pardon for interrupting your ongoing conversations,
but I think there are lessons to be learned from the life -- and
certainly from the death -- of this extraordinary man, not only
for those who studied with him, but for *anyone* on a
spiritual path.

I can't blame the media. The sensational nature of his death
*and* life fairly scream for Geraldo. I mean, the guy dresses
up in his best suit and tie, in his million-dollar house by the
ocean, and hosts a pill-popping party with the few individuals
he feels close to -- some Scotties and a young woman whose
physical beauty is rivaled only by the obvious purity of her
heart. Around his neck, under his shirt and tie, he wears the
collar of his closest friend in this incarnation, a beloved Scottie
named Vayu. Details are unclear, but it seems that he intended
to take one last walk down to the ocean and fell in, floating away
on his back into the Bardo. Like I said, I can't blame the media.
It's a story *made* for them, a veritable Movie of the Week.

But I think that's only part of the story, and since I know they
aren't going to tell the other part, I will attempt to do so, in as
few words as I can.

Rama was outrageous; that's a given. He lived to fuck with
people's preconceptions about enlightenment, the spiritual path,
and spiritual teachers. He was a mass of contradictions, driving
a Porsche Turbo yet spending hundreds of thousands of dollars
on tapes and publications and music to be given away free. He
was an absolutely shameless marketer, putting a "resume" of
his past incarnations on a poster advertising his talks.

And the man had an ego on him. Big-time. At his talks, the
first ones to flee were the folks who believe that enlightenment
means egolessness. Me, I'm not so sure any more. One of the
benefits of having a veritable Zaphod Beebelbrox as your spirit-
ual teacher is that it makes you *think* about enlightenment,
what it is, and what it is not.

Think about it. If you flashed out today, would you be so dras-
tically different tomorrow? Would you suddenly transmute from
who you know yourself to be into a perfectly good, perfectly
compassionate, perfectly *holy* holy man or woman? I think not.

I think each of us, when it happens to us, will be pretty much who
we are and have been since Day One, but with Light added to
the mix. We will still get up each morning, meditate, and then go
out into the world to make decisions. And even though the Light
is there, the decisions are still there as well, and all of our samskaras
are still there, and *we* are still there, and the decisions must of
necessity reflect and unify all of these disparate parts.

Was Rama enlightened? Beats the shit outa me.

I know a lot of people who believe he is, based on the flashy
stuff he could do. Siddhis and the like. Was it real? I think so.
I have seen the man step up off the desert sand and into midair,
then hang ten and surf the sucker. I have sat two feet in front
of him and seen him go invisible, to the point of seeing stars
through his barely-present body. I have seen him fill rooms with
golden light and the sky with lightshows that make my days at
the Avalon seem tame by comparison. Some folks see this as
a "signpost" of enlightenment.

My reaction to such phenomena? Since the first day I met him,
I think you would have to characterize it as, "Big whoop! Show
me the mindset!"

But, since the first day I met him, he did. I was never there for
the flash. I was there for the consciousness. Meditating with
Rama was simply the Best. Whatever else you can say about
him -- and there is a lot to be said -- the man could *crank* in
meditation! Sit with him, close your eyes, and fwham! -- you
found your Self sitting in absolute Silence.

The sex thing?

The man liked women; that's a given. Can't blame him, myself.
In my opinion, they are the single greatest piece of evidence
for the existence of God.

The money thing?

A matter of perspective. I sunk a great deal of money into my
study with Rama. Many folks, hearing the amounts, would
believe me crazy and him a charlatan. Both may be the case.

But, sitting here in my house in the desert on a fine, sunny
Saturday afternoon, I can't feel sorry about a penny of it. If
he had not pushed me to achieve some semblance of my poten-
tial, I would not be where I am today, living in one of the Best
Places On Earth, working only a week or two a month to
support my lifestyle. No regrets here, Chucko.

Especially when I review some of the moments I *got* for my
money. Sitting on the sand in Carrizo Gorge, lost in eternity
and worlds of Light. Teaching meditation for free in the red-
light district of Amsterdam. Standing with him at the summit
of Haleakala, watching the sun set into infinity. Having dinner
with him and a small group of fellow students in Nirvana. No,
not the mindstate, the restaurant overlooking Central Park.
( Then again, maybe there's not that much difference between
the two. ) Sitting on a high mesa in the desert, lightning and
rain all around us, but the group of us dry and rolling on the
sand as Rama told jokes so bad that no one with an ounce of
ego would ever, in a million lifetimes, admit to even knowing
them.

No, I have no regrets. Up until the day I walked, I always
felt that I was getting more than my money's worth. And in
the time since, I have uncovered enough wisdom in what he
showed me and enabled me to experience that I would gladly
pay double the price. As the lead character says in a fine, fine
film currently in the theaters, in answer to the question, "Was
it worth it?," it would have been worth it for one such moment.
One.

And now, if you'll forgive me, I must go out and watch the
sunset. Sunsets are an artform here, as is living, and some of
them are actually signed in the lower right corner by God. I
sense one of those brewing, so I am going to put on my hiking
boots, put Zazen's "Mystery School" into the Walkperson,
and take a walk in the desert. Fortunately, where I live, it's
just outside my door. Fortunately, wherever you live, it's just
outside your door as well. It's a lovely evening. Why not go
for a walk?

Barry Wright
Santa Fe