"Did your ashrams have chairs?"

Rawat demanded that ashrams be prepared for him to drop in at any time.  He hinted for years that he was going to do a tour to visit ashrams.  First it would be in his motorhome.  Then it would be by his helicopter from a major airport hub to smaller cities within range.

Yes, ashrams had chairs for him... and foot pillows, PA systems, flowers and ever freshened glasses of water, just waiting for him to drop in.

In one ashram, premies stripped the largest bedroom and attached bathroom down to nothing and rebuilt them with loving hands with the best materials we could afford -- while we were quadrupled-up in smaller rooms.

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As for premie retirement communities, my bet would be a jetsetter's resort/paradise designed by the Daya, Premlatta, Charananand, Pascotto and other inner circle elites for the major donor crowd to enjoy... that average premies could never afford.  Country club golf course atmosphere, golf cart getabouts, bars, beaches, pools, umbrella drinks -- generally posh with an Amaroo-like amphitheater and a private, highly secured residence (with a heliport) for Rawat that he would use a few days a year.  (Elite premies, you see, are nauseated by the atmosphere of premie congregations, so they'll do just about anything to avoid them and remain isolated.)

And when average premies who still do their quaint passé old school one hour a day feel slighted by the show of privilege and exclusivity, they'll be told to grow up, stop having concepts and get in sync... perhaps invited to rent a tent in a distant field for $2,000 a week for a Dec 10 70th or some such excuse to bilk them... or get on a wait list to do divine selfless service as groundskeepers, pool cleaners, waiters, trash picker uppers or bartenders, etc.

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Best stages?

Rome "flying saucer" circa 1976.

"Sails" in Kansas City circa 1977. 

The grander the stage, the more validated I felt.

I'm always curious about how long term active cult members view things these days, what with their wholly made up "Rawat as an ambassador" and "delegates at a peace conference" angles and all just because they're embarrassed by the truth about their involvement.

What I think I was trying to get at occurred to me after I posted:  Rawat was big on telling us to "be like a lotus... in it but not of it... derive our sustenance from the muck without touching it."

Silly me.  I thought he was using the muck as a metaphor for the "world."  I never got it until now that the muck to Rawat and his inner circle of elite sycophants was the throngs of average premies.  Thus the stage and chairs set high above, the rings of tight security, the barriers, the fortress of a residence, the back stage areas, the outdoor carpeted area under a tent next to the premie picnic tent and on and on -- never in or part of "it."  In hindsight, the inner circle elites never were, either -- always privileged or exempt from the rules Rawat placed on us. 

You see?  Somehow they got the message while I was too dumb and naïve to figure it out.  Rawat never distanced himself from "the world" -- he dove in deep with a gluttonous materialistic passion for it.  It was premies whom he sought to avoid and rise above, inner circle types in tow, even as he sadistically deprived premies of... everything... as he blinkered them into believing that all they needed was him.

(Oh, the laughing that must have been taking place behind premies' backs!)

My point is that the premie elite retirement community will likely be named Lotus Lakes or Elevated Flowers Village or something like that -- or a floating retirement community on Serenity II.

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Where are all the Divine retirement villages?

Same place as the ashram tour, propagation that was taking off, his grace, the stadium full of aspirants in Cuba, every false "statistic" that made him look good and all his other made up bullshit that he spewed for no reason other than to elevate himself and string premies along for more donations.

To hell with the fancy picture of the Divine sycophant city I painted (although I was serious about their plans for Serenity II).  TED's place is where it's at!  Yeah, putting you up with Joan was a bit harsh, but who can argue with the sheer bliss of beating the crap out of those rusty oil barrels out there behind the shed for Arti under a full moonshine, especially with the sweet smell of deep fried possum livers and assorted slow simmering BBQued critters waiting for everyone afterwards.  TED can get a little out there at times, but he's not the bongo or munmut I've heard whispered about him behind his back.  His heart's in the right place.

I've never been in the TRAC Center, but I hear the tailgate parties are the best!