Virgin Atlantic Rant

I recently had the misfortune of flying to the US on Virgin Atlantic. It had been a while since my last trip to the US and I was really surprised by how little leg room I got on a transatlantic flight. There seemed to be more leg room on the domestic connection from Manchester to London. Forget all the information about seat pitch and legroom. If you get allocated a seat like mine you have got a problem. A substantial part of the supposed legroom was taken up by a metal box which was attached to the floor and housed Virgins state of the art entertainment system. It wasn’t just my seat; numerous seats on the flight had these obstructions. If you are tall and get a seat like mine you can forget about a comfortable journey.

Well at least I had the in-flight movies, music and games. Well not on my flight. The state of the art virgin entertainment system was so sophisticated that the crew could not get it to work for the first 6 hours of the flight. The equipment hadn’t been maintained and the some of the buttons had fallen out on the controller on my seat .

Sat cramped and bored I had plenty of time to listen to crew complaining about the passengers. All in all it was a poor flight. What did Virgin have to say when I wrote to them. Nothing, they haven’t replied. Maybe Richard Branson’s staff doesn’t read passenger comments and simply want to cram as many people as possible onto their aircraft. From my search on the internet I am certainly not the only dissatisfied passenger. The Virgin brand used to mean quality, originality and service. Not anymore.

I will be cutting up my Virgin Atlantic frequent flyer card and choosing a different airline next time.

Osho Day 7 Departure Day

Day 7

There was a knock at the door. The door not disturb sign had been ignored. It was 8.20 am. It was Joel.

Joel knew it was departure day. He had woken up and a thought had made its way into his head. Joel had a purpose - To depart

“WHAT” I bellowed at the door.

“What time we are leaving ?”

“Five thirty this afternoon” I replied.

I was counting the hours. I lay in bed working out ways to avoid having to wear my maroon robe. I could stay in my room until departure time but I decide to get up and meet Joel for lunch. I was no longer a disciple. I looked at the robe wearers with sympathy. These people needed help.

We went for lunch.

Joel was at the counter. He had found the Bombay Aloo. Joel careful positioned his bowl picked up the scooper and careful starting the intricate task of transferring potato to bowl. There were rules about how food was put into bowls at Osho. To avoid biological contamination, the bowl had to remain on your tray at all times. A queue had formed behind Joel. Carefully he scooped, transferred and deposited the turmeric covered potato chunks. But that wasn’t the end of the process. Once deposited the potato had be levelled and compacted in the bowl before the processes started again. Joel was oblivious to the impatient people behind him. Joel went through the process with the second scoop until the bowl was filled to just the right level and so he moved around the canteen.

We were ready to leave.

So what did I think of Osho…..

Well, I am still thinking about it. It was a very interesting experience.

The Nadabrahma meditation was a revelation.

The massage was great. The place and people were very nice

But the rest of it seemed a joke. A week long fancy dress party. It was emotional valium for the internationally depressed. An addictive quick fix which brought addicts back to Pune year after year, for months at a time.

For me Osho was at best a pseudo spiritual Chinese takeaway quickly removing the misery in ones life. A temporary departure from problems at home. But like Chinese food, an hour later and you need something else to feed on.

At worst, it was a McDonalds, a sanitised, westernised money making machine feeding the desire of the affluently depressed with total unadulterated crap.

I could not believe what people would allow themselves to do. Get up for 6.00 am and do dynamic mediation. Wear maroon robes. Wear white robes. Walking round with single eye patches. Wear white socks. If it was a rule to walk on one leg whilst wearing underpants on your head at 4.00pm there would be people doing it.

Maybe this was the cosmic joke- That people would pay for this sort of mild humiliation whilst Osho lay in rest, near one of his many Rolls Royces.

Osho Day 6 New Years Day

I was relieved that I was leaving the following day.

No more wearing the purple robe. I was checking my breath. I smelt curry on my breath all the time now or was I just imagining it. I wasnt sure.

Joel had decided he was not staying on after I left. I wanted to do the Samedi mediation but Joel needed to change his plane ticket so I thought it more important to go with him. Thirty one years old, director of a successful London market research company but he would always be my “little” brother.

Lunch was the special New Years day brunch. There were posters advertising the brunch. On it were pictures of melon, sandwiches, cake. I was hopeful, but no, you’ve guess it - curry.

We ate outside. The courtyard was a nicely landscaped area with parasol covered tables. The sun shone. It was warm but not hot. Really great soothing music played. A dancer walked around belly dancing and throwing rose petals in the air. It was a great really enjoyable relaxed atmosphere. Then the sound system packed in and instantly lunch turned back into the mundane everyday curry munching event it had been all week.

There was a later Samadhi meditation which I had decided to go to. I had checked the rules as there were many rules for mediation. For this meditation which is carried out where Osho’s ashes were spread, you needed maroon robe and white socks. I was expecting to be taken into a garden. Instead I walked into a marble floored foyer. On the right were people taking there shoes off. On the left was a 1980’s gold stretch Rolls Royce limousine. Osho obviously wanted his prize possessions near him. We then passed into another room with a leather dentist’s chair, along a narrow corridor with books from floor to ceiling encased behind plates of glass. I was out the door of the room where the mediation was to take place. It was packed; people were struggling to find space to sit down. I couldn’t hide amongst a huge group like in the main auditorium. I left quickly passing the dentist chair and Rolls Royce on the way.

More Zen rummy and dinner followed. Dinner was quiet that night. People had gone off early to watch the variety show. Here the visitors sang and danced in their various national styles and languages. We took our seats at table near to the bar. Our chairs soon started pointing away from the stage to watch the Buddhist bar service delivering the “waiting for drinks meditation”. People were getting frustrated, buying drinks from the bar involved various rules that needed to be obeyed.

Rule 1

You had to order from a waiter when you were sat at your table. There was a sign on the bar which stated “Table Service”. So when people came to the bar, the three static bar staff would point at the sign. The system was great in theory. The only problem was that the waiter didn’t leave the bar. The bar staff and waiter stood there complaining. “I don’t understand why people don’t read the sign”. People would come to the bar, be sent away and would return 10 minutes to argue that they hadnt been served. As the evening drew on the bar area was surrounded by people complaining that they hadnt been served. “I am sorry we are very busy tonight you have to wait” protested the static waiters.

Rule 2

You bought vouchers that you used to pay for food or anything else you needed on the campus. However, the bar used a different voucher system. So once people had finally ordered their drinks they couldn’t pay and further confrontation would ensue.

This was the closest we got to seeing Buddhists rioting.

Osho Day 5 New Years Eve

I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t face the thought of facing the dining hall or putting on that stupid maroon robe.

I was missing my juicer.

There was fruit at Osho. Despite being organic and locally grown it wasn’t very appetising and surely every other western lentil eating, Soya drinking Buddhist also wanted juice. I was also missing chocolate.

I got up. It was lunch time. I had a really good sleep. The second time that week I had slept 12 hours. I hadn’t slept 12 hours straight in the last 5 years so something good had happened. Maybe it was the massages, mediation or jet lag. Also the cleaners were very considerate. Unlike other Indian hotels I had stayed they didn’t ignore the “Do not disturb sign” and ask if you wanted your room cleaned at 7.00 am.

I got up strolled off and got an Indian croissant. Indian croissants are not like French Croissants. If you were hit in the head by an Indian croissant you had a serious problem.

I was still excited about my experience in Nadabrahma Meditation. So until then I would participate in the listening to my Ipod mediation whilst doing sudoku puzzle meditation.

It was time, off I went. Unusually I hadn't seen Joel all day. He had told me that he was going on the “A day for the heart course”. But as this involved money, a booking, a timetable, a watch and a map I had dismissed this as wishful thinking.

I knocked on his door. No answer. I was surprised.

I went off to the auditorium. The humming started. I got into it. After a while I separated my mind from my body. I desperately wanted to empty my head. In order to do this I had to “effortlessly stop thinking”. I couldn’t do it. Thoughts kept going through my mind. I just couldn’t do it. The session passed quickly but I was really disappointed. I was no longer enlightened. As I walked out the Auditorium I watched a coca cola dispensing machine being wheeled into one of the buildings on the Osho campus.

At 6.00pm there was a knock the door. It was Joel. He had organised his course and he had found it very interesting. He had had a great psychic connection with a 65 old Indian woman. How his parents would be krelling when they heard this news about there 30 year old single son.

Two rounds of zen rummy and then “Are you going to the evening meeting” said Joel. He was obviously taking the piss. “Yer right”. We then had to end the next round prematurely as he really was going to the evening meeting. I was worried.

Dinner time.

I was suffering curry cramp. Oshos equivalent of Club Med buffet fatigue where you pig out on the first night but as the week goes on you make fewer and fewer trips to the buffet counter and by the end of the trip I would be on bread and cheese. Unfortunately there was no cheese at Osho.

The food at Osho was excellent. Right up my street. Organic Vegetarian Indian cuisine I couldn’t think of anything better. The whole of Osho seemed immaculately clean and smelt odourless. They had very strict hygiene rules and I hadnt heard of anyone suffering stomach problems so I had eaten the food with confidence but now after 5 days of it, the thought of curry was rather off putting.

After dinner people would come up and hug Joel. Perhaps they had realised he was the Guru. There was an Austrian Freelance photographer and her boyfriend, a little Indian man and a small Italian woman. These were people from his class. Hugging was big at Osho.

The New Years Eve celebration took the form of a "rave". In the centre of the campus was a marble platform the size of a football pitch. There was high energy music, lasers, people twirling burning batons, Male Punjabi dancers.

Cigarettes and alcohol were always on display at Osho. Cocktails and champagne were available from the bar.

We joined in with the dancing. I did my best impression of someone that knew how to dance. Whilst trying to avoid eye contact with a group ropey looking Austrian girls, who by coincidence also pretended to know how to dance while trying to avoid eye contact with me.

Midnight came and went.

Osho Day 4

I struggled to get out of bed. Joel knocked on the door and hurried to get me downstairs. Breakfast finished in 5 minutes and Joel had woken with a mission-Porridge.

I didn’t share his enthusiasm I went for a cup of tea and a croissant and then went off for my aveydic massage.

My shoulders retracted. Instead of the computer induced slouch I was normally accustomed to; my shoulder blades were closer together and seemed to point in a completely different direction from before. The massage was very very good.

Joel knocked on my door to go for lunch. Joel maintained a strictly “clear head policy”. Although Joel carried with him at all times a formidable intellect and a veritable library of information, his mental desktop was always clear. The impact of this for Joel was an uncluttered mind. However on a day to day basis this policy did have its drawback. Joel would think food, off we would go but our trip would be aborted as didn’t have his vouchers which he needed to pay for food. The same thing happened on the trip the shop. He was totally prepared for inaction and he didn’t notice details.

As we walked through the canteen for lunch that day, there were people everywhere wearing purple eye patches covering their right eyes. The people on the next table were all wearing maroon eye patches. “I wonder why they are wearing eye patches Joel”, I commented. “What eye patches?” was the reply.

I now had a theory as to why I had experienced some level of enlightenment and Guru Joel had not. Joel was always in a natural meditative state whereas I was in a naturally neurotic state. For Joel to meditate at Osho was not relaxing as he first had to get to the correct place at the correct time. In order to do this, conscious thought, a timetable and watch were involved. This meant Joel had to return to consciousness. For Joel this was like getting on the M25 to get to where he had already set off from. But that was Joel. He needed something more hardcore where the need for ANY mundane thought was removed.

I then had my nlp training with Premandana. Premandana was an English guy who lived in Hamburg.

“What do you know about NLP ?” he asked.

“Well all I know is what I have seen Paul McKenna do on TV” I replied.

“Ah Paul” said Premadana. They obviously knew each other well. Perhaps they were rivals. Cynical thoughts were entering my mind. Paul Mckenna must be gutted driving around in his Ferrari when he could be working in an ashram in Pune

“Why did you choose NLP” he asked. I had to answer truthfully as Paul Mckenna’s friend would know if I was lying.

“It sounded interesting and given the choice the choice of colour therapy, family constellation training, reiki and NLP; I thought NLP would have the most benefit.”

He took me through some mental exercises. Like Joel, I was also advised to go on the practioners course. However, I wasn’t a potential guru like Joel.

He took me through some mental exercises and then tried hypnosis on me. This lead to a rarther embarrassing conversation between my subconscious and Premanda. My subconscious was meant to respond to questions by the use of movements. Moving my toe signified yes touching my face signified no. I got a cramp in my ankle and an itch on my face. Premanda really wasn’t sure what my subconscious was telling him but anyway I was a new changed person, well for 45 seconds anyway.

Tonight was the night. I was going to the "evening meeting".

The “evening meeting” was the most important part of the day “an opportunity to experience alertness with no effort – the essence of the meditative experience.”

There are very strict rules for attending the evening meeting. Only white robes are permitted so I had to buy a new robe from the Osho shop. The mediation would take two hours so I also bought the meditation chair. I was ready for action.

Joel also got fully kitted up.

We were sat on the green marble floor of the auditorium. The pyramid roof was above us with circles of various colours being projected onto the triangles that formed the pyramid.

Around us were hundreds of people all dressed in white robes.

At the front of the auditorium at the left hand side was a band. Keyboards, drum kit, electric guitar…..

Then a voice appeared from the front of the stage telling us that in order not to break concentration coughing and sneezing weren’t allowed. As far as I could remember these were involuntary bodily functions so I didn’t understand how they could be banned from the auditorium, but this was definitely the case I assure you. If we couldn’t last to the end of the meeting we were also required to leave.

There was silence.

The band starting playing. The music was high energy dance music. The type of music I expected to be played at a gay night club. Everyone danced with there eyes closed. Well almost everyone. The dancing must have lasted 20 minutes. During the dancing there were 3 simultaneous shouts of “Osho”. We stopped.

We sat silently. Then it was time for “gibberish”. At this point everyone in the room had to speak in a language they did not understand. Literally just to sit and talk rubbish. The purpose of this I understood was also to empty the mind of junk. The gibberish part was over.

The large movie screen at the front of the auditorium came to life. In front us was the bagwan – Osho himself. Although he was dead I would hear the wise man himself speak. But I had a problem. The guy didn’t look like someone I was going to take advice from.

He looked like a cross between Benny from crossroads and Sue Ellen in Dallas. Let me explain. He was dressed in a woolly beanie hat. He wore a long silver grey beard. His eyes were obscured by huge purple tinted sunglasses. The sunglasses were wide at the side like those Karl Lagerfeld used to wear with gold trimings. He wore a – I don’t know how to describes it- but it had huge shoulder pads and was in shades of dark brown and caramel. On his wrist he wore a diamond bracelet. He could have a baddie in 1970’s episode of Doctor Who. He looked too ridiculous to be a serious baddie like in a James Bond film.

He walked onto the screen with cheesy music, that combined with the way the film had been shot made it look like a 1980’s Ronco infomercial. He moved slowly and sat down on a white leather throne and spoke.

The sermon had been recordered when Ronald Reagan was US president. Generally it was pretty basic stuff about if man didn’t change the world would end. I agreed with the sentiments of his words which tied in with my own beliefs. There was one profound comment that a religion based on hate would be more powerful than any nuclear weapon, considering this film was made 20 years ago I was impressed with the insight.

The movie finished and we all sat and listened to Osho. Then there was some more standing and sitting and then the bagwan told a joke. I am not sure if he recordered 365 jokes, but I am sure the same one isn’t played everyday. The joke relied on the punch line from a 1980’s commercial for coca cola. “Everything tastes better with coke”. That was it for me. This really was McDonalds. This was a total joke and the fact that I had suspended my disbelief, gone and bought another set of bloody robes and sat there not coughing or sneezing for 2 hours made me feel pissed off and slightly ridiculous”.

At last, dinner.

“Fancy a curry, Joel” the joke was wearing thin but it still amused me.

For me there was an impact of Joel’s natural meditative state. We would enter the canteen at the same time. I would have paid, found seats and would be waiting while Joel would still be contemplating which curry to have and in which amount to get and which plate to put it on. Decisions, decisions, decisions !. “How fucking long could he take ?”.What was he thinking ?

“Should I have curry,?
“No wait, I know, I will have curry instead“

There were only 6 choices but it still took him 45 minutes. I had now started to participate in the waiting for Joel while he got his fucking dinner meditation.

Osho had a great merchandising operation, books in every language, CD’s, robes, massage chairs. You could get even get a daily message sent by sms to your mobile phone. This was a truly 21st century religion. You could visualise the future direction of Osho. Osho retreats in every country, Osho theme parks and Osho cruises and Osho cola.

The guru Joel was going on about objective reality. As I was enlightened from my meditation I challenged his assumptions. I didn’t agree with him. How could there be a universal reality as people perceived things in different ways. To Joel this displayed my total ignorance. The conversation ended when he used the word “fuckwit” to convince me of the validity of his superior view.

Osho Day 3

Today I would go to some of the meditation sessions.

I had my herbal tea and croissant and watched.... The symbols of westerner life that Osho was supposed to relieve you of, seem to be appearing more frequently. Mobile phones and mp3 players were starting to appear. I had seen my first lap top.

My cynicism was growing by the minute. Was I really going to sit in a room chanting with disaffected lentil eaters? I was struggling to gain enough enthusiasm to get out of the chair.

No I would go and try it. You can’t knock it until you’ve tried it so I woke up Joel and off we went.

We entered the auditorium which was a large marbled floored room with frosted windows on both sides. Above was a huge pyramid shaped roof which was supported by 4 wide circle columns.

Nadabrahma Meditation consisted of:

30 minutes of humming.
15 minutes of moving your hands around.
15 minutes of sitting still.

I went through the motions thinking that I was going to be bored shitless for the next 60 minutes but I was wrong. For me the session probably only lasted 45 minutes because I was asleep for 15 minutes, but the rest of the session went pretty quickly.

In between sleeping humming and making my hand actions I did experience something. For the first time I could remember my mind was momentarily empty. That moment might have only lasted for a matter of seconds but those seconds were great. It was like hitting the delete button on a computer and tonnes of junk had been removed from head.

We walked out the auditorium.

“Well?” said Joel.
“I felt something!” Joel turned to look at me waiting for the one liner.
“I did honestly”. Joel’s brow was furrowed and his head had tilted to one side. He was withholding further comment in case I was taking the piss.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.

I was now into meditation. I now understood what people were talking about. I was addicted. I was enlightened and Guru Joel, had he been sitting down, would have fallen off his chair.

Half an hour later we were in the Kundalini Meditation Session.

This consisted of

15 minutes of shaking.
15 minutes of dancing
15 minutes of sitting still
15 minutes of lying down.

The Kundalini Meditation didn’t work for me. The shaking and dancing with my eyes closed made me feel like I was the only person at a rave. But, I was still ready for another try.

My simplistic views were shifting. Meditation was now good, perhaps Osho wasn’t all bad?.

If Osho was bad, why were there so many intelligent, affluent, middle class people here? Maybe I had it wrong. This was the most cosmopolitan place I had ever been. There were Russians, Romanian, Scandinavians, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesians, Americans, Brazilians, Israelis (lots and lots of Israelis), Italians, Dutch, Spaniards, French, Germans, Mexicans, Indians, New Zealanders, Australians and Turks. But none of these people were poor. The Indians were Armani Exchange wearing mobile phone carrying cappuccino drinkers.

More things were occurring to me. The people in general were very subdued. There were groups of Latin blooded people, but there was no noise, no shouting, no laughing. Why wasn’t this like club med. Then it came to me. These were seriously depressed people. I was at a Club Depressed.

We went to the outdoor cinema which was showing the “Fantastic Four”. The alternative was the outside “sitting in the dark mediation”. If the film didn’t work, we would also be doing the outdoor “sitting in the dark mediation”.