Monday, March 22, 1999

Sidebar: Ram Dass notes


SIDEBAR: RAM DASS  (draft—need to check facts) 
                 
Spearhead of the psychological growth movement that began in the 1970s, eloquent spiritual leader, counterculture icon, and social activist, Richard Alpert, better known as Ram Dass, began his career as a psychologist to the hip intelligencia. 

In the summer of 1961, drug experimentation led him to the idea of God. Alpert went to Cuerna Vaca with Timothy Leary, where they took magic mushrooms and had an out of body experiences Alpert saw himself as God.  (WHEN???)  He came back to Harvard in the Fall of ’61 to do research on consciousness-expanding drugs. In ’63, both he and Leary were fired from Harvard faculty for experimenting with LSD with undergrads—as LSD was now illegal, criminalized that same year.

Unlike Leary, Richard Alpert, with a Ph.D. in Motivational Psychology (WHEN??), managed to keep his academic standing and taught at Stanford University, where he was also Director of Psychedelic Review.

San Francisco, 1967: an electrifying year of social deconstruction and reconfiguration. In January, there was a Gathering of the Tribes where spiritual generation amassed for a Human Be-In. At the Polo Fields, guest speakers Ram Dass and Leary spoke to some 10,000 very stoned pilgrims who turned on, tuned in, and dropped out en masse. I was there.

Alpert, Timothy Leary and the Diggers hang out with the Hell’s Angels in the Haight. Alpert lectured on LSD in San Francisco and UCLA on “Psychedelics Drugs and the Law” Kesey’s Acid Tests in Santa Cruz).

After the breakup of the Summer of Love, and the Haight, the hippies and anarchist Diggers moved onto the land with a circuit of communes in Northern California, Nevada, and New Mexico. Alpert settled in??? Marin Santa Cruz? XXX 

After experimenting with mind -expanding drugs, Richard Alpert turned to meditation to seek drug-free enlightenment. In mid-1967, Alpert’s friend, Beat poet Allen Ginsberg returned from India and told him about meditation. Alpert went 1st class in a Land Rover to India. In Kathmandu he met 27 year-old Californian from Manhattan Beach? Bagawan Dass, who’d been studying in India for years. High on peach melbas? they connected on several levels of spiritual life, kundalini... 

Bagawan Dass toured with Richard Alpert. They went to the Himalayas where Alpert met his future guru, Neem Karoli Baba, and became a disciple. Alpert experienced shaktipat (spiritual awakening), and spent 3 months doing seva (volunteer work) at an ashram while learning and practicing various lines of yoga. Alpert was given the name, Baba Ram Dass which means “Servant of God.” When Ram Dass returned to the United States (an expired visa), he lived in upstate New York (with LEARY??), where he began lecturing informally about his experiences.... garnering a wide following.

Those recollections evolved in the groundbreaking book, Be Here Now, which became something of a bible in New Age circles. Be Here Now which chronicles group meditation process in the New Mexico desert…xxx

“Richard Alpert used to talk about the orange basketball,” remarked Stewart Brand some years after the Haight scene had collapsed. “Psychologists had raised some ducklings with a basketball and they imprinted on it as if it were their mother. Wherever the basketball rolled, they’d follow it. That’s what the movement was to us. That was our basketball. Wherever it rolls, we’ll follow.”  p281 Rolling Stone editor Charles Perry, “The Haight Ashbury: A History” (84)

Ram Dass’ guru died in 1973; Dass formed the HANUMAN FOUNDATION in 1974 to “further the spiritual awakening in our society.”(Hanuman is the Hindu monkey god of XXX) One aim was to promote development of a broad base for meditation in the West. They began with a list of facilities and helpful quotations which evolved into a best selling, popular book, Journey of Awakening, the proceeds of which helped to support the foundation.

Ram Dass’ continued rise in fame was partly in response to the latent yearnings of the “Me Generation” in pursuit of spiritual connection, of greater consciousness and equanimity, what Tibetan Lama Trungpa Rinpoche dubbed as spiritual materialists.

“In the sixties, when we first encountered Eastern ideas of enlightenment, we expected to be personally enlightened in a matter of a month, a year, or a decade at most. …but now in the mid-eighties we have come to appreciate the fine print in the Eastern texts… We have learned patience and humility and an understanding that we practice dharma without attachment to the goal”  —Grist preface.

Ram Dass attempts to share with us “the unspeakable” to “know what is not knowable. … For ultimately we will transcend knowing.” from Grist, a pioneer who forged new psychological territory in the West by bringing from the East,  translations of teachings of eastern mysticism of the westerner.

Ram Dass drifted into the Death and Dying Project late ’70s and co-wrote a book with Stephen Levine, “Grist for the Mill” documenting one-on-one work with death & dying and the spiritual path. The project created innovative hotlines for the terminally ill, as well as centers, the 1st in Santa Cruz? Groundbreaking videos of the project were filmed in Berkeley.

In the early ’80s, Ram Dass traveled extensively, visiting monks and religious centers around the world. “The eighties are the sixties twenty years later.” Wavy Gravy once quipped to Ram Dass. During the ’80s & ’90s, Dass lent his name and energies to a series of charities and volunteer projects, and was also the most sought after speaker for new age conferences, workshops, the lecture circuit and events where he was “known for ability to convey mystical ideas with lucidity, humor and grace.”  (Don Lattin, 5/26/97, SF Chronicle).

After his stroke in February of ’97, those closest to him said the loss of language was the most frustrating aspect. If you listen with patience, the old message still gets through; he communicates with what he calls the “eloquence with silence.”

AGING AND THE HUMAN SPIRIT” WITH RAM DASS: SERVANT OF GOD

at the First Church of Religious Science, Oakland Hills, Spring Equinox, 1999

A Tibetan bowl rings in the silence of the day: pulsation of sound resonates midpoint between the ears, that primal space we call the mind/brain-ego, where Ram Dass’ blood betrayed him with the genetics of age. A “stroke of genius” in February, ‘97, left him paralyzed, without language, just as he was rewriting a book: “Conscious Aging.” Roses and fire lilies burn on the proscenium, the altar.

They wheel him in up the ramp. What was I expecting? A shell of a man? Non-presence? A Stephen Hawkins style imprisonment? Stroke or no, this man, spiritual teacher of a generation, is fully present, shedding light. A pink camellia, heart-open, on his denim jacket. His right hand strapped down to the arm of the wheelchair.

This is the second lecture of the day for the former Harvard professor and psychologist. The emcee said that the first gathering was also standing room only. Ram Dass, a.k.a. Richard Alpert, can still pack them in. Ram Dass burst onto the national psyche in 1963 when he and Timothy Leary were fired from Harvard for taking LSD; he met up with Allan Ginsberg, and traveled extensively to India and beyond in search of a drug-free enlightenment, where he became a disciple of Indian guru, Neem Karoli Baba. In 1971, he penned his experiences and insight on meditation and East-West mysticism in the landmark book, “Be Here Now.”



(Last time I saw the 68-year-old self-styled counter-culture guru, Baba Ram Dass, was presiding at a sold-out Timothy Leary benefit at College of Marin in the early ’70s; we were literally sprawled at his feet on the gym floor and there he swayed creaked above us, like a young redwood sapling in the storm. At times like this, I wonder why do I merely recall the mundane proximity of his new lily-white sneakers? And not what he said.

Memory dusts off and replays a tape unused for a quarter of a century: Alan Ginsburg chants, his lover, Peter Orlofsky sings a dirty ditty; Alan’s sitar whining about altered states. I begin to remember more.

A mantra gathered us in, like the hearth. Whether he was there, or in prison, or on the lam from a LSD-fueled event, former Harvard co-professor Timothy Leary was present. We chanted: “God Bless Timothy Leary.” At the end of the talk, Ram Dass singles us out and hugs us: an impromptu Be Here Now-in with Ken Kesey’s busload of Merry Pranksters illegally parked in the loaded zone, collecting cosmic fares in the galleries of the soul… But then, in the late ’60s and early ’70s, Marin was that kind of place: dharma bums and  Diggers.)
You can read or download “Be Here Now” here. Free! Nope. HarperCollins had it removed. Sorry. There’s always the library. And I bet it’s on audiobook, too.
This time we’re far better dressed (and well-heeled, from the look of it), prettily sitting in church pews. Aging Baby Boomers, we spontaneously rise: a standing wave of welcome surges through the church as they wheel him in. Richard Alpert is still ineffably Ram Dass, as I remembered him. 

The Reverend Joan Steadman reads off Alpert’s curriculum vita: Impatient, we watch her mouth slow words down like “psychologist” and “sociologist.” She adds to the list: a Ph.D. in human motivation and development, from Weslyan; teacher at Harvard, Stanford, and UC Berkeley; he expanded consciousness and LSD. 

The packed audience perks up. Ram Dass smiles, nods at us knowingly. (We’ve all been there.) The audience laughs knowingly. Speaking of Be Here Now; how many of us found this event via the grapevine? Many of us raise our hands. Some of us at the very last minute. We overhear some blue-haired church patrons ask: “Who is this Ram Dass anyway?” We giggle. Odd bedfellows, we. It’s going to be a wild sleigh ride.

The Reverend continues, “He was dismissed from Harvard—which was a blessing.” Utterly delighted (for there’s no other way to describe the radiance emanating from his face), Ram Dass slaps his good left hand to his knee; we crack up. 

She lists more stats: He went to India…she mentions various gurus. Baba Ram Dass means “Servant of God… Mentions his lifelong seva, the Hanuman Foundation: the Dying Project, the Prison Ashram Project, the SEVA Foundation. She gets down to the wire: “in February of ’97 he was ‘stroked. Coining Ram Dass’ own etymology, she explains to us how speech aphasia works, and introduces the remains of the day (for we’ve crashed the gates of this church en masse): spiritual dimensions of suffering and aging. Service as a spiritual path.

From his chrome-wheeled chariot-throne, he surveys us: his loyal subjects. Sets the tone with a moment of silence: we lean toward him, not knowing what to expect. The roots of cognizance? or Babel-speak… 

Eloquent Ram Dass, once one of the most sought after speakers on the New Age circuit, observes us to see if we’re up to snuff. The internet becomes the day’s topical metaphor by which to surf this event that ranges from the physics of the stroke and doctor-gods, and being caught between incarnations, to the metaphysics of the sanctum of the inner journey…

“The ground rules of speech…” He haltingly searches for a bridge in the neuron pathways so that his words may migrate to our nascent ears. “Because of the aphasia (a silence follows)… That’s it! The sickness… Every time I search for the word… because it’s… The damage is close to the dressing room for me. I dress them in words. Inside (he points to his head),… Inside I know what to say, but… 

(A series of false starts; we begin our job as active listeners by filling in the connective tissue of language. He is patiently waiting for us, his errant spiritual children to get it! I make good use of parentheses and ellipses because translation of synapses into synopses is less interesting than the unexpurgated poetics of aphasia, and I resist the temptation to polish or fix his speech; this writing inadvertantly documents how he must struggle to convey an idea with a minimum of words.)

“Now that… those silences… I make use of them… The first part of the silence, say… five minutes or so (he exaggerates and shrugs as if apologetically, then instructs us on how to listen, really listen), I look for the word… And you can look for the word too! (We giggle.) I’m looking for an interaction. People. Their word is as good as mine…I start to surf the silences on the outside, it gets me high because I’m surfing the silence. It surfs in and in and in. I get to the crux of me, and I get to the silent self. (He is extraordinarily present, razor-honed. I can hear the structure and craft the paragraph and punctuation in his slow speech; I’m able to enscribe what he says, almost verbatim.)

“We are each so many selves. In ‘I,’ what does ‘I’ mean? I-ego? I-soul? I-God? So, when you look at somebody… I can look at all of you… it’s a redundancy as far as God: god god god god (he repeats, pointing to each of us: mirror-images). It’s interesting looking out at another person. You look at me, I’m in a wheelchair, I’m a wheelchair-er! (We giggle at the verbing.) looki g at you. And you have reactions to that. That’s my role. 

Then, there is Ram Dass. Yech! Ooooh! (we snortle with laughter) Ahhhhh,” he says, looking up at us beseechingly. His good left hand is laden with puns, it dances and orchestrates a subtext of linguistic imagery from God-like inspiration to stick shifts. In the ensuing silence that follows, I surf the idea of dexter-sinister: how the church fathers delegated the left hand to be the Devil’s own domain. It seems God too, is a Merry Prankster.