Hi Gregg.
Excellent post!
Overdosed on the medicine, to build upon 13's post, I've often referred to those ashrams as hell holes:
All those still developing young adults in their late teens and twenties, some in their thirties and few older, packed 15 - 30 under one roof for up to an entire decade under Prem Rawat's direction that called for strict lifetime vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to him. An hour of meditation and Arti morning AND night plus two hours of community-attended satsang e v e r y s i n g l e n i g h t. Sleep deprived from a relentless 24/7 grueling schedule. Four or more per bedroom with nothing more than a mattress, often on the floor, and a Mission issued dresser, typically with altars to Prem Rawat on top. No stereo systems or radios (music), television, books, newspapers, magazines or any other media. 24/7 satsang, service and meditation and NO CHITCHAT. Hobbies, interests, talents, special skills, etc., all deemed a wasteful misappropriation of time and energy unless in service to Prem Rawat.
The late David Smith crusades during which each premie's little space was searched for contraband. No education - college/university - permitted. Prioritizing careers or at least decent jobs forbidden... when Prem Rawat calls, come running, jobs be damned. No health or dental insurance and no routine eye exams. Tape for broken glasses. One car for a dozen or so people. 10% of every meager paycheck sent to the Mission plus an additional 5% to Prem personally... with long distance travel to festivals to pay for every few months. No visitation with families allowed, even on holidays... even though potential inheritances from them were catalogued. Weekends spent fundraising or in all-day satsang and meditation marathons. Easter and Mother's set aside for flower sales. Hour after hour staring at close-ups of Prem Rawat's face, complexion and all, via films, videos and slide shows set to cult-sanctioned/produced devotional songs or syrupy love-themed pop songs... "Everything I Own" by Bread, that sort of thing. No exercise or recreational activities whatsoever. The rare ice cream spaceout deemed an acceptable transgression only because Prem Rawat ate ice cream.
Had to ask the house father or treasurer for bus money or money to buy fresh underwear. The off-putting smell of stale air in small bedrooms in the morning after four guys, and I suppose the same for girls, slept in them all night. Sorry... it had to be said. The only thing thicker in the air was the silent judgement of the pious and the no chitchat enforcers who shushed you with their index finger. Community premies calling day and night for telephone satsang, always when you just sat down to eat.
The mentally unstable pushed over the edge by those conditions. Traumatic incidents (suicidal premies) made worse by crazed zealot instructors who thought more satsang was the cure. And when the whole thing that made Prem Rawat rich in the first place looked like it could become a huge financial liability for him, he boarded them up without warning or transition assistance and the deep debts incurred were divvied-up equally among us. All we were told was that he was making the ashrams portable.
And to think Prem Rawat said that living in the ashram was the best way to realize Knowledge, going so far as to command that anyone in a position to do so should move into the ashram! And he was NEVER held accountable. Instead, when fingers started pointing, he, the biggest finger of them all, blamed it all on US and our concepts... Indian culture... on anything and everything other than his own greedy, selfish and ignorant guidance.
And then... well, I'll leave his name out this time... the poster representative of Prem Rawat apologists comes along and says "The ashrams were no more onerous than little league or summer camp... some people chose celibacy as part of their path towards enlightenment." As if disobeying the Lord's guidance and commands was an option. "Guru Maharaji. The Lord. All powerful." The "And when you sing Arti, mean it!" one who "This time has come with more power than ever before." That one.
Hell holes.
(And I didn't bother to go into the nightmare that was DECA and all the abrupt transfers of ashram premies from city to city as if they were property of the Divine Light Mission... which they were.)
__________________________
I'm glad you were able to hold on to your piano skills and the music you love. I was a budding guitarist when it fell away from me in the ashram. Suddenly, my guitar playing was limited to playing Arti softly at 5:30 a.m. to wake everyone up and an occasional song during nightly satsang.
Consequently, I was envious of Fuzzbee and his cerebral Stratocaster skills. I heard that as an ashram premie, he was allowed to practice because it was his service. I'm pretty sure that as an accomplished guitarist and musician, he'd find it sad in retrospect that the musical talents of others were sorely disrupted by the ashram.
Bob