Salvation Through Meditation

I'M NOT SURE I can capture in words the mystery and promise of my initiation. First, as a reader, you must try to sense the expectation of it all. The Maharishi's number one American disciple, Jerry Jarvis, has told us in a preparatory lecture that Transcendental Meditation embodies a simple, mechanical technique, that it never fails, and that its fruits are tangible as well as spiritual.

When I arrived at my place of initiation, then, my heart was beating fast and I expected wonderful things to happen to me. I removed my shoes at the entrance of the house, as I was told. When the assistant, with her secret, joyous smile, motioned me upstairs, I followed her wordlessly up and into a small bare room, where I was to wait.

There were two people there who had arrived before me. I supposed they were a boy and girl living together, if not a man and wife. The boy and I sat on two wooden chairs, while the girl hunched on a neatly-made bed--the only other piece of furniture. We sat smiling uncertainly and a little embarrassedly at each other. Then she was called out of the room, and after a long interval, so was he.

A lot of time went by, but I wasn't impatient. Quietly excited, though. Resting in the wicker basket the assistant had given me were my two oranges, clean handkerchief, and six flowers--all necessary for the ceremony. I began to fear that my flowers might wilt, but then the joyous assistant came softly to me, and whispered that I should follow her.

She left me at the entrance of a darkened room, I walked in. Jerry Jarvis was there seated in a chair, and I took the place next to him. As I watched, mute and fascinated, Jerry offered a short ceremony in thanks giving to Guru Dev, Maharishi's teacher. Then abruptly he knelt down, and motioned me to do the same. There was perfect silence. I felt numb and a little scared--what was about to happen? Then, suddenly, Jerry gave me my mantra--the sound on which I was to meditate thereafter--the essence of transcendental meditation. Although mantras are usually chanted aloud in India, meditators here are forbidden to utter theirs. I repeated it after him, until he told me to begin thinking it.

One Crumpled Flower

Thus, in scant outline, my initiation. Dazed, swept through with wonder, I walked down the stairs and outside. In waning February sunlight, with a fierce wind blowing, I shook my head and looked down at my hand. I had been left with a wet handkerchief, one crumpled flower, and a repast--one of my two oranges.

As I remember it, that beginning seemed so very exalting. I remember complimenting myself for having talked the Crimson into paying my $35 donation. When I had first thought of trying meditation, I was very interested, hopeful, and destitute. But the Crimson liked the idea of an article on my experiences and conclusions about the technique. And I was pretty convinced that my story would be favorable, though of course I had some questions and doubts even then.

I have been mediating ever since, 30 minutes each morning, and 30 minutes each night. It's been easy to do--I sit in a darkened room, close my eyes, and let thoughts make their way through my mind. And when it comes, I think my mantra.

SO I HAVE been very faithful to the technique. As weeks went by, and nothing happened, I became a little restless and doubtful. My newspaperman's cynicism began infecting my hopes. But that didn't distract me, because Jerry Jarvis has repeatedly emphasized that no amount of doubt or resistance can thwart meditation--it is a mechanical process, right? But as time wore on, and I met other people who had stopped meditating, or weren't noticing any change, I began learning certain truths about Transcendental Meditation as a practice and as a movement. Now, after three and a half months, I still cannot detect any effects of meditation.

Of course, many people do. One student in Kirkland House, who took a relatively long time, a "good month," until he sensed a difference, says that "My ability to perceive--visually and psychologically -- has increased immensely. So have my powers of concentration. I can grasp and organize concepts much better; in three hours, I can write a paper that used to take twelve."

Reactions and experiences differ among meditators. A Claverly student thinks the process "is a good thing, though I don't get any spectacular results. I don't even meditate every day, but it relaxes me at times. I have small expectations and I'm satisfied."

Back to Pot

It's undoubtedly true that maybe three-fourths of those who pay their $35 and spend an hour a day meditating are content--and often ecstatic--over the happenings. But there remains the growing number who don't find enough in meditation to continue it. One student admits that "For me, the process is tedious, and I got no response. I think meditation is a sporadic thing, anyway. The meditators I know drift in and out, go back to pot, and then try to combine the two."

To officers of the Student's International Meditation Society, which is Maharishi's subsidiary for the spread of his ideas in universities, the "dropouts" officially don't exist. Spokesmen like Jerry Jarvis, head of SIMS's American branch, soothe their eager audiences with repeated assurances that meditation works for everyone, that nothing can go seriously wrong. In fact, every novice must attend lectures given on the three consecutive nights after his initiation, which supposedly are "advance instruction," allowing one to "refine" his technique. In fact, these "lectures" were question-and-answer periods, and gave me my first feelings of uneasiness about the movement.

Jarvis began the first session, and every one after that, by asking if everyone had meditated that night. Yes, everyone had. "How was it?" he asked one girl in the first row. Well, she had been distracted by other thoughts, and by a record player in the room next to hers. Jarvis nodded knowingly, and said that outside noise, and thoughts, and feelings would not harm meditation. "How about if the speed of the mantra changes?" one fellow asked. Jarvis was pleased. "If the mantra changes speed, that is good," he answered. Another boy stood up and was really worried--he had forgotten his mantra completely during meditation! To everyone's surprise, and possible dismay, Jarvis smiled encouragingly. "Forgetting the mantra shows right meditation."

The lectures became a game at times. Jarvis quite plainly was not going to lose his cool, and the more imaginative questioners rose to the challenge.

Better at Ping-Pong

A few people had fallen asleep. Yep, that was good meditation.

One girl was a waitress, and her tips had increased yesterday. "Sure," said Jarvis, "that's a result of meditation, very definitely. The environment responds to the meditator."

A YOUNG fellow got up and explained that his ping-pong game had improved. Certainly, came the reply. One's coordination frequently got better.

"From time to time," said one anxious fellow, "I have the feeling that my head is about to burst open."

Jarvis didn't even blink. "When that happens, maybe you should ease off the process," he replied. Everyone laughed, politely, but incredulously.

I can think of only one time when Jarvis almost lost a volley. A solemn, bespectacled fellow stood up and asked, "How about the cones and rods that discharge electricity behind one's closed eyelids when there is a light source above one? Will it disappear as meditation goes on? In other words, is there any relation between meditation and the phenomena known as astral projection?"

A long silence. Jarvis stared blankly out over the audience. "Astral projection?" he muttered. Another long stillness. Then a beautiful recovery: "No, no that has no relation, that's too superficial to consider," he said briskly.

Jarvis at times had no idea what he was talking about, but many listeners didn't seem to mind. The net effect of the lectures was to provide a "revival" atmosphere. We had all paid our $35, we all wanted meditation to work in the worst way, we were buoyed up by each other's hopes and desires to believe, and Jarvis patted our heads and said that everything was going just fine. Things looked pretty good.

The trouble was that the situation looked worse the more I meditated. Those half-hours were, and still are, pleasant and restful, but so are naps. I was scrupulous about meditating before, not after dinner, I did not try to force any particular feeling; and I "came out" of meditation slowly--three pointers Jarvis gave us for best results. The first two weeks were really a new experience. When I meditated, the echo of my mantra vibrated through my consciousness; my limbs felt heavy and deliciously drugged, while my mind remained alert. Emerging from meditation was akin to emerging from deep sleep, except that when my body slept my brain frolicked.

Osmosis

Then somehow the effect wore off; I don't pretend to know why. I think I began to take Jarvis at his word--I permitted other thoughts to pass freely through my mind. And since I did give my awareness free play, after a while the other thoughts--books, girls--pushed my monotonous mantra out of mind most of the time. Yet "forcing" the mantra was the practice we were warned against most. In any case, I find it impossible to return to the old technique.

After two months, I was worried. SIMS refuses to admit that meditation won't work for anyone, but they do train meditation "checkers" who can diagnose any minor problems that might be temporarily impeding success. So I made an appointment for a check-up. I went to a Back Bay apartment and was checked by a girl in her bedroom--that is, we meditated together there in the dark.

"Do you like it?" she whispered.

"Oh yes!" I said.

"Are any thoughts wandering through your mind?"

"Yes," I admitted, thinking I knew what she was getting at.

"Good. Now let your mantra begin just as easily as those thoughts."

"Impossible!" I hissed. But nevertheless I did try, and somehow, in that warm, dark room listening to that girl's warm voice, the meditation was reminiscent of my first ones. The next morning, back at Harvard, I couldn't recapture the spell, and since she hadn't even asked about particular conditions of my trouble the check-up didn't help.

In desperation, I had an interview with Charles Geer. Geer is president of the Boston chapter of SIMS, a student at Harvard Business School, and a likeable, earnest person. I asked him if he could explain why I, and others, hadn't been successful at meditation. Jerry Jarvis said the technique was a simple, mechanical matter, and he had assured prospective meditators that anyone would benefit from it.

Well, said Geer, of course one's state of mind is important. You've got to have the right psychological outlook. In Geer's opinion I wanted meditation to fail: I was trying to write a critical newspaper article, after all.

Any Attitude

Not necessarily a critical one, I answered. And I had been optimistic in the beginning, and besides, Jarvis had stressed that a person's attitude toward meditation was completely irrelevant. Was Geer willing to admit that, contrary to Jarvis, some people couldn't be reached by meditation?

He quickly amended his statement. "Anybody willing to go to a checker will find meditation successful," he said, "regardless of his attitude."

I had been checked, I reminded him.

He amended his statement again. "Anybody willing to go for regular checkups will find the technique fruitful," he promised.

Geer, who in his own experience, and those of his friends, has seen the great results meditation can have, was simply trying to defend a process that he regards as valuable. But he has the great flaw of all those connected with Maharishi's techings. He refuses to admit that any aspect of the movement, or any decision of the people in it, can be improved.

RATHER than admit that Jarvis misrepresents the case for meditation, he never warns people that "psychological attitudes" are important and can prevent success, or even that anyone prevent success, or even that anyone might be initiated and then stop meditating. Geer tried to explain my objections as "misinterpretations" of Jarvis' words.

At one point he said impatiently, "Of course there's a fall-out rate in meditation! And I think there are millions of people in this world we cannot reach."

Then, sensing his blunder, he asked if he could "take that back." Instead, he said that "It's not as if the technique doesn't work, it's just that in a few circumstances it is misused. Some people stop meditating, but it is usually found that those few who may temporarily stop will come back. Anybody who is willing to come to checks will find very positive results."

I asked Geer another question that bothered me, about the political stands of the movement. Yes, said Geer, officially SIMS supported America's actions in Vietnam, although, of course, meditation would eventually eliminate war altogether.

"Bliss Consciousness"

SIMS's attitudes on politics are disturbing not because they are forced upon meditators--they are not--but because all those who have been in the movement for a long time, who have reached "bliss consciousness," think alike. Further, as Jerry Jarvis intimated in an interview last November, any meditator who reaches this ultimate end of meditation will develop a particular attitude toward world events.

Jerry Jarvis is a quiet, serene man. He heads a growing organization of over 5000 meditators. He laughs often, and usually when nothing is funny; in this respect, he is as engaging and curious as his master. I asked him how meditation would end war, as Maharishi promises. War is an effect, not a cause, of suffering, Jarvis told me. In order to assure peace, the level of personal tension in the world must be lowered. "Maharishi can remove the tension," said Jarvis. "He says if 10 per cent of the world meditates, the world will enter a golden age." What if none of the 10 per cent is Chinese? "That wouldn't matter. The influence will be automatic--if all the meditators were in the United States, the influence would still be felt in Russia and China."

"Meanwhile, what would students do about Vietnam?"

"One's rulers are always wiser and know more than the followers. Maharishi believes one must always be obedient to authority."

"Even in a dictatorship?"

"The leaders of a country are not to be blamed for conditions in his country, or for decisions that affect other countries," Jarvis patiently explained. "The people determine the atmosphere of their nation, while the leaders are mere slaves."

"But if a meditator thinks a war is wrong, and non-meditators order him to fight, should be refuse?"

"Maharishi says we shouldn't violate any laws. We are not in a position to make an accurate evaluation of whether a law is just, if we meditate or not."

"How about the hippies, then?" I asked. "They are your largest group of supporters and they break all sorts of laws, written and unwritten."

Think Power

"A creative person contributes to his society. It's legitimate for a weak person to drop out--it's all he can do. But meditation will give him more strength to achieve goals through legitimate means."

Toward the end of the interview, I posed my loaded question. "How can meditation help the poor? For example, aren't there some external causes keeping the black men down?"

Jarvis rather wearily said that "Each man is responsible for his own life. Nobody can keep an intelligent man down--even a Negro; a man is poor only because he lacks creative intelligence."

AS I PREPARED to leave, Jarvis said, "You know, someone said recently that Maharishi is giving Goldwater's campaign speeches!" We had a good laugh over that.

Maharishi directs his efforts toward self-enrichment and personal peace. He wants to help humanity as so many individuals, not en masse; although he claims that his is a "jetage philosophy," his ideas obviously remain oriented much more toward the East than the West.

As I have said, SIMS doesn't much push its opinions on anyone. Still the much emulated Maharishi has chosen at times to make his political views public, and his influence here can only be baneful, as far as I'm con-