What in the name of god were we thinking?

What did we imagine we were doing? 

A woman friend from Claudio Naranjo’s early Berkeley SAT groups called and asked if I would be interested in joining her for some kind of spiritual event. I can’t remember if there was any real information about the evening other than it was being organized by a friend of a friend, a Chinese-American woman whom my friend had met in Scientology. She lived in the predominantly Asian suburb of El Cerrito.

It was just before dusk when we began looking for street parking between the driveways of the ordinary middle class, very non-descript track homes. Most of the neighbors were already home from work so it took some time. We eventually found our way into a large two car garage, complete with neatly arranged storage boxes. My memory tells me that there were more than 50 people sitting on the folding chairs, but my rational mind won’t admit more than 35 into the space. There was as I recall a slightly raised platform where the speaker sat. He was introduced by our hostess. 

After he told us who he was, and I think some history of his spiritual lineage, he said that he was going into a semi-trance and the spirit of Rasputin would be speaking through him. Though he, or Rasputin, would not invite questions, he said that if we paid attention, and held a question in our hearts, we would find an answer.

‘

Actually our medium had been a used car salesman as I recall who found his way to Dianetics. Apparently a bit of clearing opened the way for a Russian mystic gone rogue who could now proffer valuable advice so that we need not repeat his tragic mistakes. I found no answers but maybe I didn’t have any good questions except where did our semi trance medium pick up the Russian accent. It was pretty hilarious. Yes, he did more than a full hour sounding like a drunk Boris Yeltsin. 

I held my tongue, paid the requested donation of 5 bucks, it might have been as high as 10, and left rather unenlightened other than knowing that finding parking in El Cerrito hills after 6 PM was not a piece of cake. I think it turned to my friend and said, well that was something. I don’t know what the financial arrangement was between the host and the medium, but the take could have been anywhere for 350 to 500 dollars, or more--in 1990 dollars. Not bad, better than hanging out trying to sell beat up Toyotas or Volgas.