A
Personal Experience
of Transcendental
Meditation and the
TM Movement
ICSA TODAY 16
y first exposure to Transcendental Meditation (TM) was
when Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was on the Merv Griffin
Show in the 1970s. I was a young teen back then and
found this giggling Yogi fascinating. His image stuck in my mind for
years to come. Years after seeing him on TV, I found his book at a
yard sale and read it. I decided Maharishi’s cure for everything that
ails this planet was something I had to have.
I relentlessly searched, and after several months I found a TM
teacher who lived about an hour’s drive from my home. I was now
23 years old. We made an appointment, and soon I was “initiated”
and taught the technique.
I was thrilled with TM it was a godsend. It gave me
the peace I was looking for. It gave me the badly
needed relaxation I was craving. I became angry at
my church and commented that one week of TM
did me more good than reading the Bible a
hundred times. Hopefully, I didn’t offend any
Christians, but this was the truth. I thought so
highly of TM that I got some of my friends into it.
Several years later, I was intrigued with the
beautifully done pamphlets and fliers I was
receiving from Maharishi International University
(MIU).1 They claimed it was one of the best
universities around.
During this time, I gradually began noticing that I
was having difficulty finishing my thoughts and was getting spacy. I
checked with my TM teacher, and she said that was part of the
normal process of “enlightenment” and not to pay attention to it.
“Just watch the thoughts as if you are in a train and watching the
scenery go by.” I didn’t realize it then, but I was being trained to
dissociate from my emotions and thoughts.
I applied and was accepted into MIU, and very happy to be in such
an enlightened school. The classes started, and the first of the core
courses was quantum physics. This was the classic “trying to get a
drink out of a fire hose” type of course—too much new
information all at once. I was surprised to be one of the few who
got an A+ from that course. Never has so much been said about
things so small.
Honestly, I didn’t “get” quantum physics, but they told me I had the
best paper they had ever seen. I told them that I took random
statements by Maharishi from those handwritten on sheets of
paper they had stuck on the classroom walls. These statements
were so general in nature that they could be applied to
understanding quantum physics, changing your tire, or catching
chickens.
The following courses were the dullest, most miserable, and most
useless courses I had ever experienced. The Science of Creative
Intelligence (SCI) had nothing to do with creativity or intelligence. I
told the Vedic psychology instructor that his course cured my
insomnia and told the business teacher that I
learned how not to teach business.
Meanwhile, I was getting more spacy and having to
force myself to be able to finish a thought. Anxiety
was creeping into my meditations and starting to
spill over into daily life it eventually developed into a
full-blown mental disorder. At that time, I chose to
quit TM, and my thoughts for a while seemed to get
crystal clear.
The classes continued to worsen by the day. I thought
they couldn’t get any worse, but they did. I began
talking to other students about the poor-quality
classes, and some agreed with me. Several told me
just not to question the school—“just get your degree and get out.” I
was there to learn a degree was secondary to me, I told them.
Sorry to say, a year’s worth of classes, and I didn’t learn anything
worth remembering. Others disagreed and said I was
“unstressing.”They said MIU was perfect and I was the problem.
This view left me confused, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
My impression was that, by Christmas break, more than one half of
the freshman class had dropped out.
Every morning, world news would be announced in class. Then we
were told how our collective consciousness in the practice of TM
and the siddhis was changing the world for the better. I don’t recall
anybody really believing this, but most of us learned to keep our
opinions to ourselves.
Victims can
no longer
trust their
own inner
instincts and
thoughts.
M
By Stephen Coleman
Personal Experience
of Transcendental
Meditation and the
TM Movement
ICSA TODAY 16
y first exposure to Transcendental Meditation (TM) was
when Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was on the Merv Griffin
Show in the 1970s. I was a young teen back then and
found this giggling Yogi fascinating. His image stuck in my mind for
years to come. Years after seeing him on TV, I found his book at a
yard sale and read it. I decided Maharishi’s cure for everything that
ails this planet was something I had to have.
I relentlessly searched, and after several months I found a TM
teacher who lived about an hour’s drive from my home. I was now
23 years old. We made an appointment, and soon I was “initiated”
and taught the technique.
I was thrilled with TM it was a godsend. It gave me
the peace I was looking for. It gave me the badly
needed relaxation I was craving. I became angry at
my church and commented that one week of TM
did me more good than reading the Bible a
hundred times. Hopefully, I didn’t offend any
Christians, but this was the truth. I thought so
highly of TM that I got some of my friends into it.
Several years later, I was intrigued with the
beautifully done pamphlets and fliers I was
receiving from Maharishi International University
(MIU).1 They claimed it was one of the best
universities around.
During this time, I gradually began noticing that I
was having difficulty finishing my thoughts and was getting spacy. I
checked with my TM teacher, and she said that was part of the
normal process of “enlightenment” and not to pay attention to it.
“Just watch the thoughts as if you are in a train and watching the
scenery go by.” I didn’t realize it then, but I was being trained to
dissociate from my emotions and thoughts.
I applied and was accepted into MIU, and very happy to be in such
an enlightened school. The classes started, and the first of the core
courses was quantum physics. This was the classic “trying to get a
drink out of a fire hose” type of course—too much new
information all at once. I was surprised to be one of the few who
got an A+ from that course. Never has so much been said about
things so small.
Honestly, I didn’t “get” quantum physics, but they told me I had the
best paper they had ever seen. I told them that I took random
statements by Maharishi from those handwritten on sheets of
paper they had stuck on the classroom walls. These statements
were so general in nature that they could be applied to
understanding quantum physics, changing your tire, or catching
chickens.
The following courses were the dullest, most miserable, and most
useless courses I had ever experienced. The Science of Creative
Intelligence (SCI) had nothing to do with creativity or intelligence. I
told the Vedic psychology instructor that his course cured my
insomnia and told the business teacher that I
learned how not to teach business.
Meanwhile, I was getting more spacy and having to
force myself to be able to finish a thought. Anxiety
was creeping into my meditations and starting to
spill over into daily life it eventually developed into a
full-blown mental disorder. At that time, I chose to
quit TM, and my thoughts for a while seemed to get
crystal clear.
The classes continued to worsen by the day. I thought
they couldn’t get any worse, but they did. I began
talking to other students about the poor-quality
classes, and some agreed with me. Several told me
just not to question the school—“just get your degree and get out.” I
was there to learn a degree was secondary to me, I told them.
Sorry to say, a year’s worth of classes, and I didn’t learn anything
worth remembering. Others disagreed and said I was
“unstressing.”They said MIU was perfect and I was the problem.
This view left me confused, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
My impression was that, by Christmas break, more than one half of
the freshman class had dropped out.
Every morning, world news would be announced in class. Then we
were told how our collective consciousness in the practice of TM
and the siddhis was changing the world for the better. I don’t recall
anybody really believing this, but most of us learned to keep our
opinions to ourselves.
Victims can
no longer
trust their
own inner
instincts and
thoughts.
M
By Stephen Coleman
