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Howdy, This is deeply personal, something that just came to the forefront of my personal issues (along with my other personal issues at the forefront and those patiently waiting in line). This morning I remembered Earth Shoes, and how I actually wore them. A bright green corduroy blazer that I got from the Divine Closet at the Kittredge Building, and how I actually wore it (with a black shirt, no less). How I envied Rawat's shiny Italian suits
and thought gold-plated toilets bowls were cool.
How I stopped creating art for years, and missed most of the 70's music. The tragedy of my artistic regression while under the sway. Pina Bausch was creating masterpieces, and I was wearing fucking earth shoes. Wow, it's hard to laugh about this, even now. Thank God for my wife, who got me to stop wearing shirts with chili pepper button holes, change my bouffant hairdo and generally realize the error of my ways. (of course I would trade the bouffant for my current hair circumstances (or lack thereof)). I grew up under a fashion eight-ball anyway, having no money, living on a farm. And so wearing bad fashion did not seem out of place for me. Philosophically, paying much attention to what I wore just seemed a materialistic urge to be quelled. And it wasn't until I started to realize fashion as 'wearable art / architecture' that my paradigm shifted on this, and I started to relax with the idea of good fashion. But I am pretty pissed that I ever looked at Rawat and those around him as poster-children for anything fashionable or artistic. And that I let the surrounding premie culture leech into so many areas of my life (totally my bad). I remember the matching Hawaiian shirts that Marilynn very kindly gave my son and I (white shirts with palm trees, re-gifted, intended for GMJ and Hans), and how we actually wore them around together, and how proud I was of those tight-fitting holy icons, and how there exist to this day photos of him and me in them! An undeniable, ugly truth as a part of the undeniable ugly fashion I endured as a premie (and another reason my son can remember how my core parenting skill had to do with teaching him how not to be). On the other hand, it was the seventies and maybe I am being a little harsh here when it comes to fashion sense. My feeling about fashion retardation also extends to the other forms of artistic challenges whilst in the cult. Just look at the horror of his poetry and music now, the logical end of (gold) toilet-bowl-level art. Something to recognize fully, no? Now, I'll admit Rawat's costumes were different, much more interesting. And I wish I could get my hands on one of those Krishna crowns for Halloween. I really preferred his look dressed in Indian garb, I'll admit, much cooler and fitting with the super-hero status I had adorned him with. Reminds me of one of my Halloween costume a few years back: dhoti and kurta, sandalwood beads, bare feet, with a basketball that I had cut the end out of to form an enormous bulbous dome head extension, me painted white except for my brilliant yellow & red tilak and pink highlights around my eyes, riding a 4' skateboard with a Krisha photo alter with incense burners and lit incense mounted on the front. Very impressive, putting me at about 7'6" all in, gliding effortlessly, avatar-like above the crowd. We attended an amazing David Byrne concert that night, with him in various costumes (including his illustrated man bodysuit to perform Psycho Killer, wow!). While I was taking a leak between sets, the guy at the urinal next to me looked very nervous, and said very seriously "You know, I go to the Krishna temple sometimes", trying to bridge the gap. I said, "Dude, it's Halloween..." The reality that costumes lend can be very convincing I guess. We saw an exquisite modern dance company from Cuba perform last night, so intelligent, such beautiful physicality, so evocative (art church!). So much great art, so much less time that I might have had to appreciate it. Oh well. (Ladies especially) let's get it out there. Exorcise your premie fashion and artistic choice demons in this thread, now is your chance to do this publicly!! Confess your fashion sins. Realize and weep and forgive and heal. It not your fault!!! M (PS, forgive me if this is a (painful) rehash of previous threads, and tanks for allowing me to vent)
Modified by Roark at Sun, Aug 21, 2016, 14:08:42
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I know many premies would have liked to emulate Rawat with his Armani suits and Rolex watches and all, but they spent their money on getting to see him, so all they could afford was the Marlboro's. And I know some London premies who started imitating mafia characters after learning how much Rawat liked 'The Godfather'. That was an affordable aspiration too.
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let me guess. you're wondering what on earth to wear to this year's Halloween - a 7ft skateboarding swami is hard to beat. Dude, you wore a basketball on your head!
I loved my lime green pants suit and yearned after a pair of yellow boots I saw in a window but this all happened before I became a premie. Then it all stopped. goodness, I was delighted to get a mother nature dress to wear to the Copenhagen show and I didn't even think about how shapeless it was.
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Lesley, for the longest time I thought you were a girl. Then for some reason I got the impression that you were a boy. Now, after your comment about the shapeless mother nature dress, I'm back to thinking you are a girl again.
By the way, I am a boy, in contradiction to what my forum name might imply.
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definitely a girl. always was always will be. straight. both in terms of honesty and orientation.
a little while back I realised I had spent my entire adult life married to man who wasn't exactly what you'd call 100% straight at all. This might have been when you got the erroneous impression I was a boy. I got divorced which was horribly brave of me but I am so glad I did it. I now live by the sea.
Yeah, I know you're a boy, Dan. 
Modified by lesley at Sun, Aug 21, 2016, 17:07:57
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Before I became a premie, while still a teenager, I was torn between becoming an artist or a scientist. Once I got involved and almost immediately moved into the ashram, I adopted the whole pressed polyester pants imitation of a western initiator look, as all the boys did. I guess there was an alternative chilly pepper button look as well, but that was mostly with the non-ashram premies where I was in NYC and Chicago.
I'm not quite sure, but I think what finally killed it for me with the cult was exactly the lack of cultural and artistic sensibilities of everyone around me. I just couldn't take it anymore, it embarrassed me and I wanted to get as far away as I could. It was just so utterly uncool.
After I left I quickly made up for lost time and immersed myself in the most extreme forms of post-punk fashion, art and music I could find. I dyed my hair just about every neon color imaginable and had a wardrobe that would have looked appropriate in sector 1 of The Hunger Games or The Fifth Element.
I also got really into dance until I injured my knee. Saw an absolutely amazing performance by the Pina Bausch Dance Company by the way. Then I switched to provocative performance art.
Now I moved on to advertising and the world of commercial art. It might sound like a copout, but I really love it. When you are doing fine art, especially subversive art, you are always singing to the choir. Now I have the chance to communicate with millions and solve real problems that make the world a little bit better. But what drives my passion and gives my life meaning has been and continues to be creative expression. In the years as a premie that was totally suppressed, though fortunately not destroyed.
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your description of your suppression was the part that i i cant wrap my head around - still. I too was extremely gifted in many things - but the only thing that mattered was the worshipping of m.
The ashram could have have been a place to develop skills and creativity - but because it was being led by someone who couldnt address those things and because the ashram was steeped in indian culture of suppression and renouncing - it fu---- me and others up
Some of us are still grappling with the mixed messages of the past - and the poverty and the worshiping - of the past.
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yes I really don't understand it. but there is a marked consistency of reporting by us ex-premies that our creativity was stifled. There was no obvious reason for it and we were clearly a creative bunch and yet boom out the window it goes early on. Not to re-emerge until we exit the cult. it's like a vital chip was removed from the main frame. before the cult I was at art college studying ceramics. after cult all of a sudden I knew what I wanted to do - take my clay seriously and that's what I did. during cult no thought of clay at all, it was just thanks to a neighbour who put it in my hands that I was working with it at all.
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I Googled for images of Earth Shoes and many or even most of the images clicked through to sites like Pinterest, which you have to sign in to get in, and ETSY and other commercial sites. Gone are the days of just snagging a picture somewhere...
I did use Snagit to snag the image and save it to my machine and then attach it to the message.
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I've got barefoot shoes! (without the toes)
God! Maybe I'm still a hippie?
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"But I am pretty pissed that I ever looked at Rawat and those around him as poster-children for anything fashionable or artistic. And that I let the surrounding premie culture leech into so many areas of my life..." That's not venting. To this day I'm still regurgitating bits of that nauseating era that I swallowed whole -- Rawat as my savior, mentor and role model whom I proudly tried to emulate. "Be like the moon that exists only to reflect his light." Hork.
Modified by lakeshore at Sun, Aug 21, 2016, 21:44:55
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I found myself acquiring rather straight laced attire, sort of corporate 'fashion' if that even exists, because i wanted to be a honcho or one of those people that swan around near the front row and have that sort of pained smile permanently pressed on their faces, you know hollowed out and tired looking after jet lag and trying to meditate for hours and then the whole hoorah thing, we're here, this is the pinnacle of my existence. Oh how sad. I used to wonder if this is meant to be the best thing to be happening to me well, then what?I love art in all forms, and left to my own devises without the premie thing interfering with my wants and desires I have impeccable taste, even if I do say so myself Then one day i bought a poster of his painting of a frangipani flower, i didnt know where to put it, I remember staring at it and realising it was a pretty pathetic attempt at art and that it was just sort of immature. Of course i forgave him that and yet always at the back of my mind I knew that it was an odd thing to have printed up as a poster for the masses because frankly it just wasn't very good
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Modified by Steve at Mon, Aug 22, 2016, 09:36:47
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$525! I don't remember it being that expensive. They must have had cheaper models.
http://prem-rawat-talk.org/cgi-bin/anyboard.cgi/forum?cmd=iYz&aK=53245&iZz=53245&gV=0&kQz=&aO=1&iWz=0
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Remember when security and ushers at Amaroo wore khaki pants and white shirts? all of a sudden they had a uniform. then a whole bunch of premies who aren't anything to do with security turn up wearing the same thing. It was a weird little cult fashion thing- keeping it faux
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Wow! So much to comment on... corporate "fashion," honcho wannabe, pained smiles, one of his not very good posters, impeccable taste. That's how I know the real you between those lines could never thrive in that phony, contrived, artistically starved, feeling-less environment, no matter how hard you tried for so many years. It's heartwarming to see you being your genuine, creative and unfettered self again. There's so much to say about how I abandoned everything I held dear in favor of adopting a sickeningly phony "painful smile" -- and painfully "conscious" -- persona. I bought a Silent Dream print and had it mounted and framed for a whopping $400. Hung it in a prominent place in our tiny condo. Hid it when we had company. When I left the cult, I put it in a storage locker in our building's garage where it got moldy over the years. Tossed it in a dumpster when we moved along with a moldy framed photo of Rawat in his fedora. Rawat's moldy art and fashion statement dumpsterized in two heaves. Speaking of his music, anyone remember the only time he came down from his stage at a Miami Beach Convention Center event to play electric piano and sing... "Swing me. Swing me. Swing me... in your beautiful swing." -- about ten very slow tempo times -- followed by a loud harsh curdling scream that sounded like a cross between a hindu chant and a native American war cry? I sat there believing I was witnessing the creator who'd manifested to sing and Lord over his creation, albeit with an abrasive lack of talent. And what bands play at Amaroo events these days? Or has it been reduced further into cult sanctioned quasi-commercial/devotional syrup with CD's available near the exit? I didn't realize what a relevant topic the artistically/creatively/fashion challenged nature of the cult is/was. There's another great Geico commercial in there somewhere... "If you're in a cult, it's what happens to you." Thanks Suzy!
Modified by lakeshore at Mon, Aug 22, 2016, 18:19:46
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Maybe we can at least be grateful for our role model not wearing seersucker sits with an ascot and topsiders?? (I know I am reaching here) But it is interesting that meditation practice (which in me inspires tons of creative energy) was occurring in such a retarded artistic environment. The whole 'mind' as the barrier to realization paradigm that had us all tied up in knots. Good thing we are still young!
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Thanks for reminding me we are still young..... yes my creativity was stifled by the 'mind' barrier, it really was!. Now I am burning up with so many creative ideas, just as i used to be before I was hobbled. It drives my kids crazy but for me it just drives
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You succinctly captured the dilemma: Tons of creative energy that could only be expressed in an extremely restricted artistic environment -- perhaps best characterized as "mirroring the master" -- whereby any deviation of expression brought on the ridicule and scourge of the (in your) "mind barrier" premie goon squad (of which I was a card carrying member in good standing). This is no exaggeration. For eight years, I lived in Maharaji's shelter in which popular music, radio, television, books, magazines, newspapers, movies, schooling, careers, family, non-cult friends, intimate relationships, children and so much more were forbidden -- all without a car, money or possessions of my own. Well, not exactly. We were allowed "And It Is Divine," "Divine Times," "One Foundation" music tapes and a few others, and all the Rawat VHS tapes and audio cassettes we wanted -- so we weren't entirely media deprived. Even after the ashrams closed, we weren't truly released. Instead, we were supposed to make all that "portable" so Rawat didn't have to be burdened with any liability for our well being or lack thereof. (The sadness of owning a beautiful guitar and only wanting to play "Leaving Your Lotus Feet" and other cult sanction songs on it.) How in hell is anyone supposed to find a creative outlet? (sentence deliberately truncated) Cheers to the still young part! 
Modified by lakeshore at Tue, Aug 23, 2016, 00:55:27
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This is no exaggeration. For eight years, I lived in Maharaji's shelter in which popular music, radio, television, books, magazines, newspapers, movies, schooling, careers, family, non-cult friends, intimate relationships, children and so much more were forbidden -- all without a car, money or possessions of my own.
As a run of the mill premie i did service at ashrams. I washed vases, weeded the garden (and got stung by bees), I cooked figs into a jam for instructor Julie's breakfast, she was too bust meditating I think. There were a bunch of things that were quite normal things to do, cleaning things that were already clean mostly and yet because it was service it was meant to be done in a non normal way, a special way, I felt like I was walking on eggshells, at my house there were 6 flatmates, it was casual and comfortable. There would be plenty of cleaning and perfecting to do when i got home. In my eyes the ashram premies were achieving a level of devotion I could never reach, I tried to peer into them and figure out how they could glide around without making any perceptible mess. Maybe because there weren't that many possessions. Anyway with the same waling on eggshells trepidation I admired the ashram premies and then one day they just weren't there anymore. He closed the ashrams and I never heard where any one went or what really happened at the time. No one mentioned it. It was all about what the lord had ordained and I didn't really even think too hard about it. Or anything much....Now I'm sorry you had to go through all that Lakeshore and especially the part where he left you all in the lurch.
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"...cleaning things that were already clean mostly and yet because it was service it was meant to be done in a non normal way, a special way, I felt like I was walking on eggshells, at my house there were 6 flatmates, it was casual and comfortable." And I was the one who when asked about what service needed to be done, pointed sincere premies like you towards things to clean that didn't need to be cleaned. So the only appropriate thing to say is: "I am so sorry!" Many of my posts before you arrived were about the trauma of ashrams, an "experiment that failed" according to Rawat, which was the closest he ever came to apologizing. I've said so much about it, but the bottom line is that it left a festering pit in my stomach that prevented me from telling anyone about Rawat because I couldn't in good conscience put anyone on a path towards such a wholly life altering commitment. Having said that, I spent years as a service-a-holic in the background supporting "propagation." Posting here is somehow like paying a debt to the beautiful part of humanity that I abandoned and judged so harshly when I moved into Rawat's socially isolated developmentally stunting sadistic FUN house. I have to stop now or it will all come pouring out again -- all the squandered human potential and tragedies I witnessed. You touched my heart with that one. Casual and comfortable are the last words I would use to describe the ashrams I lived in.
Modified by lakeshore at Thu, Aug 25, 2016, 17:32:46
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thanks for the apology, however, not needed.I had never really understood until just now what that uncomfortable thing was about some of the ashram premies, you have explained it so well, but the bottom line is that it left a festering pit in my stomach that prevented me from telling anyone about Rawat because I couldn't in good conscience put anyone on a path towards such a wholly life altering commitment
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Surely the 'tash clinches it?
Is that a Rawat?
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Modified by Jethro at Tue, Aug 23, 2016, 04:16:19
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Modified by swimming free at Thu, Aug 25, 2016, 22:39:16
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