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The Maharishi's Children:
Childhood in the Movement
When you think of "Heaven on Earth" what images pop into your mind? If you
were told that by following a few simple techniques your life would become
this "Heaven" would you follow them? Many of the followers of the TM
movement were given this promise.
I was a movement child. I was born into this "Heaven" in the year 1972.
My mother started meditating when she was 17. I was born when she was 22.
She married my adoptive father who she met on a Teacher Training Course in
La Antillia, Spain. At this course there was no hot water where we were
staying. My mother said it was very cold. Parents were washing their
children's diapers in cold water. There was a nursery where kids went
sometimes. Other times children were left in rooms in playpens for hours,
which I have found was a common occurrence on the early days of the
courses. Sometimes babies screamed all night while their parents attended
round-the-clock sessions.
Today many people come up to me with stories of what a "blissful"
baby I was. "I remember the time you gave Maharishi a flower. You were so
radiant." Yeah, right. That's the "bliss ninny" version. According to
others, I spent a great deal of time screaming uncontrollably -- like so
many of the other babies.
While at the course I suffered a severe burn to my left arm. My mother says
I rolled up against a space heater while I was sleeping. I was not sleeping
in the same room as her I guess. I've asked how she couldn't notice. I must
have screamed -- I have a scar from my wrist to my elbow.
In 1973 we moved to Colorado to start our new life. We lived in Denver,
Greeley and Fort Collins. My parents always lived around their movement
friends. During program time I would be expected to entertain myself an
hour-and-a-half or two hours at a time.
My mom told me of a time where I was screaming, locked in the room next to
theirs. Although I was screaming for over an hour, they didn't come and get
me.
I was a very angry little girl. My anger was the topic of conversation
within my parents' group of friends. I was only two at this time.
Shortly after we got back from the course my mother went on another course,
leaving me with my father and one of their friends. This woman has now been
clinically diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder. My father and she had an
affair. I was ignored.
Later my father went and joined my mother on the course. I was now cared
for by a woman and her boyfriend -- I think the woman was from the Center
or something. The woman was very nice, but her boyfriend thought it was
funny to tell me my mother would never be coming home. I would get very
angry and tell him she was coming home. Every night I would lie in
bed, repeating to myself, "She will come back, she will come back." I
remember sitting on a rock and wishing I could kill myself. I was two years
old.
My mother got pregnant with my brother at this time. We spent a lot of
time at the center. I was allowed to play downstairs while my parents
taught TM or did program for hours.
In the basement of the center one particular man would play with me,
tickling, touching, fondling. I liked to play games, and I was proud of how
well I could keep a secret.
Life was pretty much the same for the next couple of years. My brother was
born. My parents continued their involvement with the movement. They were
not happy together, they fought a lot about money and how they should spend
it.
There was always enough money for the TM courses and the Sidhis.
When my mother would go to courses, sometimes for months, I became my
father's surrogate wife. I mean, I was not like his daughter, I was like
his mistress. He would dress me up and have me model clothes for him. I
slept in his bed with him. He had other affairs while she was away, too.
My mother called him from a course and told him they were going to have a
celibate marriage. "Maybe you are, but I'm not," he said.
My parents were meditating at the center on St. Paul street in Denver. My
3-year-old brother and I (7 years old) were left in a park alone. I was
afraid because I had heard people at the center discussing how unsafe this
neighborhood was. It was a run down, black neighborhood. My parents assured
me they would be back before it got dark and we would be safe.
It started to get dark. I started to get nervous and look for my parents,
but they were no where to be found. I didn't know my way back to the center
and I knew it was dangerous to cross busy streets, especially with my
brother. I kept thinking,"They will come back, they will come back," and
tried not to let my brother see my fear.
A group of teens were gathering in the park as the sun descended. I
was afraid of the teenage boys there. They kept looking at my brother and
I, making remarks about "us little white kids." I decided it would be safe
enough to cross one street to a store that was open. At this time it was
almost dark, all of the street lights were on. I took my brothers hand and
we crossed the street.
This is the first time I realized that my parents' beliefs did not fit in
with the rest of societies. They believed "Nature was supporting" -- that
nothing bad could happen to us because we were meditators.
I asked the store clerk if we could wait there for our parents.
He looked at my with a funny face and said, "Where are your parents?"
"They're flying," I replied.
"FLYING," the man asked.
"Yes, flying," I said.
"FLYING WHERE... IN AN AIRPLANE?" the man asked, his voice getting louder.
"No, they are flying at the center... you know, flying," I said.
The man just looked at me calmly at first and then said, with a look of
anger in his eyes, "Don't you know what can happen to kids like you after
dark...?"
I was very scared, because for me after dark meant getting raped. I thought
this man meant he was going to rape me. I took my brother and left...
crying, back to the park to wait for my parents in the darkness.
They came about a half hour later -- in the dark. I didn't even know my way
back to the center. They had been gone two, two-and-a-half hours. All they
said was, "Well, everything's fine. Nothing happened." And we were off home.
My parents divorced in 1980. My father moved in with a fellow governor. We
spent weekends with him and his roommate, "Steve."
Their house had two bedrooms and an office. I was happy because "Steve"
really liked me. I knew him from the center. We played games together,
sometimes these games would make me feel funny, but they didn't hurt me.
I knew he was my special friend and looked forward to spending time with
him on the weekends. He would ask my father if I could sleep in his bed
with him at night. My father always said yes. Sleeping naked was the thing
to do, and being tickled naked was fun, being on top of this man with his
hard penis rubbing up and down my body was fun too.
This game lasted for a while, although it was getting boring for "Steve."
Sometimes "Steve" would go out at night. I still slept in his room. My bed
was at the foot of his bed. I awoke one night to the sounds of heavy
breathing. I looked and there was "Steve" on the bed with a grown woman,
who I learned later was a prostitute.
"Steve" asked me to come to bed. I went, but in the middle of it I got sick
to my stomach. I ran out of the room to the bathroom, puking.... I wasn't
used to the taste of a vagina.
My father was very angry, I guess he didn't want anyone else touching me,
although I was still allowed to sleep with "Steve."
I found out we were moving to Fairfield that summer... the summer of 1980.
I did not want to move.
Before I go on, there are a couple points I want to make clear. The movement set up an environment in which abuse could and did thrive. Sexual, physical, but even more damaging
and manipulative . . . emotional abuse.
A lot of people may be wondering why I never told my
mother, a teacher or someone else who could help me. First, I was not
aware that what was happening was not normal. From such an early age men
molested me. I did not know there was something wrong with it. I knew it
felt funny, but growing up I was always told that meditation was
protection, that nothing bad could happen to you if you meditated. We were
the "chosen ones" we were lucky to have this protection. And most of all,
we were better then everyone else.
Second, within the movement and my family there was a rule that no one
is to focus on "negativity." "What you put your attention on grows." "We
only speak the sweet truth here (at MIU school )." There was no room for
any sort of anger, sadness, or even questions. Thinking of anything
negative or asking questions that were of negative nature was cause for
judgment, ridicule, and most important, shame.
To be thought of as "bad." to have your state of consciousness judged daily
does not set up any sort of environment for growth, only denial. To this
day if you speak of negativity to many movement people you will get the
same responses.
Imagine being a child in this environment. If you are told you were
special, that you had the power to CHANGE THE WORLD through your behavior
and meditation, that your level of consciousness was superior to the rest
of the world, how is it that a child is to grow into a healthy adult with
this sort of pressure put on him/her?
There was a man at the TM center in Denver who must have seen that I
was in need of attention and love. This man took me to movies, played with
me like I was a child, and was very nice to me. Every time that we would
go somewhere or were alone together I was waiting for him to become sexual
with me. He never did.
Instead of being relieved, I felt like he didn't like me. As I said
before, sexual abuse was so common I thought it was normal.
I would like to thank you, Brian, for never touching me.
Part 2, Generation Next in Heaven on Earth
Annie Replies to her critics

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