A chapter excerpted from Roshani’s book, Two Souls, Tandem Journeys: Our Adventures with Love, Deafness and Autism. “I can almost hear him thinking, ‘People around here really like me. Wow.'”
Hope is but the dream of those who wake.”
– Matthew Prior
I don’t know when I first conceived of this wild experiment, but the idea is planted in the fall of 1984 when the Ranch invites new residents to a work program called the Rajneesh Humanity Trust (RHT). Each participant is to pay a small amount of room and board each month to live and work on the Ranch. One of Matt’s dorm counselors, Mary, really wants to go. A light bulb comes on in my head. This may be our chance to find a place for Matt in the world. Mary is known in the sannyas world as Tantra. She knows sign language, she knows Matt, she needs the money for room and board, and is willing to be hired as Matt’s companion.
I recap Matt’s first nineteen years in my mind:
Matt is born deaf and afraid of the world and withdrawn into himself. Many labels are stuck on him over the years – mentally and emotionally disturbed, behavioral problems, brain damage, residual schizophrenia, learning disabled, autistic – each one picked up, applied to Matt, found not to fit exactly, and most discarded. Many of these diagnoses in combination probably come closer to constituting the truth.
Matt attends the School for the Deaf from the age of four and progresses slowly in special classes until age eleven when he finally becomes interested enough in the ‘outside’ world to begin to use a bit of sign language. At age seventeen, Matt is admitted to a special twenty-four-hour residential treatment program where he begins to learn some more appropriate behaviors and to become a little more self-confident and independent from me.
While labels and prescriptions are plentiful, people who genuinely like and love and care for Matt are much fewer and farther between. So, it seems, I have become too exclusively a source of affection, communication, and much other need fulfillment.
Matt grows and learns in the residential program and, as he reaches nineteen, I begin to make plans for his transition to a semi-independent adult life. For a while, things look good – a few months of job training through a vocational rehabilitation facility, placement on a waiting list for a sheltered workshop job, and a search underway for a group home. If everything works out, Matt can have guidance, and supervision, be safe, yet live independently from me, and keep on developing self-confidence and even pride in being a person who can contribute to society.
Then I begin to face again what we have faced so many times before. After filling out reams of paper and forms, after endless numbers of phone calls and waits in offices, we discover time after time that for some reason or other Matt falls through the cracks and has no access to services.
“Sorry, Matt’s IQ is too high so we can’t certify him for a group home placement for the mentally retarded.”
“Maybe Matt can find a bed in a home for the emotionally disturbed.” “Sorry, no staff in those homes knows sign language.”
“Sorry, there is no appropriate group home for Matt so we’ll try to get funding for one.”
“Sorry, the group home funds didn’t get into the budget.”
“Sorry, Matt’s job productivity has plateaued. He cannot stay in the training program.”
“Sorry, Matt is 80th on a sheltered workshop job waiting list and no places have come open for six months.”
“Sorry, Matt has benefited all that he can so he will have to leave the residential program.”
“Sorry, Matt cannot stay at the School for the Deaf after next year.”
Everyone is sorry. No one can help. Another of many fights for Matt’s future begins. He can’t come home; the temptation to fall into the old dependencies might reverse the slow progress of the years. He can’t be idle and feel useless after tasting the fun and sense of pride available through work.
Then this miracle called the Rajneesh Humanity Trust program presents itself. Matt is accepted after filling out one form, one meeting, and one phone call. So relatively simple. Then I meet with the principal of OSD and talk him into saving a place for Matt at the school if our experiment doesn’t work. He also agrees that, if OSD gets regular reports from a supervisor, Matt’s work experiences at the Ranch can be counted towards his graduation, well towards his completion certificate, from the school, which is scheduled for June of 1985. It helps that at present OSD’s principal is a guy I knew as an undergraduate. The people I talk to at the Ranch agree to provide the reports. We pack up Matt’s belongings and drive him and Tantra, his former dorm counselor, to Rajneeshpuram. Matt arrives there on October 1, 1984. After a bit of orientation and settling him in his room (with a non-disabled roommate), Matt and I part, amazingly without any tantrum. This is the first good sign.
Of course, we arrange things very carefully. We dress Matt in a distinctive red jacket and a red baseball cap with a large ‘In Silence’ button on his chest so that people will recognize him and not try to interact with him too much. We make sure that Matt and Tantra are housed and work close to each other. We supply sign language books so that other Ranch residents can look up words and phrases. We talk about how to handle any crises with two members of the Peace Force. Both of these women know sign language and have worked with people with autism before.
I am nervous about this whole experiment, but it seems like an opportunity not to be missed. I go back to see how things are going about five days later. Matt is nervous and a bit scared. His body is twitching a little, as it has done over the years when he is anxious, and he sticks pretty close to me. We decide to take things one week at a time. I visit every weekend to see how he is doing and if he wants to leave. The fifth weekly visit reveals such a beautiful change. A new Matt has begun to evolve.
This new Matt walks straighter and taller, seemingly prouder of who he is. The twitching and nervousness are gone. He sits as calmly and absorbed as everyone else during the nearly two-hour evening videos of Bhagwan’s discourses. Even though he cannot hear or understand the words, he seems captivated by the face and hands up on the screen and by the atmosphere of silence and happiness which pervades the meditation hall. So much calmer and more confident is he that when our visit is over, he hugs me, smiles, waves, signs the word for later, and seems to feel entirely secure that he will be well and happy until my return. I become filled with hope that Matt has finally found his place in the world.
Over the next several weeks, I see some other wonderful things happening for Matt. He hugs a few other people now, even men. The distance, even fear, evoked by the presence of men in the past has subsided a bit. He allows some others to touch him without pulling back and even invites one or two to scratch his back, his favorite ‘stroking’, no longer given only by Mom. A deaf sannyasin comes to Matt at lunch to sign some words of greeting, a friendly and natural recognition that is also shared by others, hearing people, who wave or smile or touch. How full my heart grows that Matt is now recognized as being of value by so many others. That is such a new and wonderful experience for both of us.
The only apparent problem is that while at the Ranch, Matt begins to gain weight again. He is free to eat what he wants and it shows. At 5’ 6’ and 200 pounds, he looks enormous. But I feel this is part of his growing up, his learning to care for his own body. He doesn’t do very well with it at first, but the positive tradeoffs seem worth it to me. Matt’s hair has become dark brown, like his dad’s, and it grows quite long but is still above his shoulders. And he begins to grow a beard. It is so amazing how much older that makes him look. I realize that he is an adult now, a young man. We arrange for him to have a debit card. The Ranch was the first place I ever heard of using a debit card. I put money in his account and he goes to the store for pop and treats and books and stickers. He even buys himself a soft Teddy Bear. I guess he is not all that grown up inside yet. He buys a triangle, the pitch of which he can hear if he holds it up to his ear. He plays it at Bhagwan’s drive-by every afternoon and at celebrations. It seems to transport him to hear this sound in his ear. He closes his eyes in sheer enjoyment.
Again, I try to hear Matt’s voice in my imagination: I love this place that Mom and Tantra have brought me to. I am not sure what is going on, but I feel so free. I miss Mom and really enjoy her cards and letters and visits. But here I can ride all the buses as much as I want for free and they take me all over the Ranch and I can’t even get lost! Someone will always get me back to the right bus stop for my room. I love working in the cafeteria. For one thing, there is lots of food. Also, I can make cookies and chop vegetables and make lunches and sweep and work with the big dishwashing machine. It is all so much fun. Lots of people here seem to like me. They want to teach me things. And I can go to the little store and buy whatever I want. All I have to do is give them this little red card to put in the machine, and out the door I go with my treasured purchases.
Yes, there are a few other problems. I heard about one day when Matt went back to his little cabin and his roommate had locked him out. The roommate and his girlfriend wanted a little privacy. But all Matt knew is that the guy was in there and wouldn’t let him in. Matt couldn’t get at his books and toys and bed and sanctuary. He pounded and pounded on the door. Then he ran, yelling and screaming. The chief of the Peace Force found him. She signs. But Matt is too upset to communicate in any other way than to grab her hand and take her to the cabin. She pounded on the door for him but had a voice and words and could talk to the guy inside. He unlocked the door. Matt immediately ran to his things, his security things. He began to pack everything up. What a new show of independence that is! The Peace Force Chief helped him to move to his own little place in the infirmary. He had his own bed, his own locker, and no roommate. Soon Matt has moved once again–to a house with several other people with disabilities. He got his very own room to himself. Someone is there day and night to help him if he has a problem. He and I are so happy. Matt has a little haven again and knows where to find someone if he needs to. And all of his clothes and toys and books have found their places in the little room and he is safe.
In December, Matt amazes me by signing, ‘I want my mala’. He makes up a sign for mala, but it is clear what he means. I have no idea what the significance of this desire is to Matt, but he states it over and over. Perhaps he just wants to be like all of his newfound friends; perhaps he wants to be accepted truly as one of the community; perhaps he just thinks everyone in Rajneeshpuram should be wearing a mala, including him. We go to the Multiversity to talk to a counselor. She asks if Matt has been doing the meditations. I really don’t know. So, we agree that the first step is to ask him to do Dynamic meditation each morning and Kundalini meditation each afternoon. We create a little card for him so that he can have the leader at the front of the hall verify that he has been there and completed the meditation.
Another surprise! Matt attends both meditations every single day that week. When I come for my visit, he shows me the card. I have never known him to want something so badly, to be so self-motivated, so disciplined. So, I fill out an application for him to take sannyas (be formally recognized as a follower of Bhagwan).
On a Saturday evening, we go to a video of Bhagwan, who has come out of silence and begun to speak to a small group in his house. It is a very long video of one of these talks that precedes the sannyas ceremony. Matt becomes a bit impatient for his mala but maintains a remarkable degree of control. The hall is packed with at least a thousand people. Finally, the ceremony begins and Matt’s name is called. He marches up to the sannyasin handing out malas and sheets of paper with new names. I go with him. He takes off his baseball cap, kneels down, and unexpectedly shoves his head into the man’s seated lap, as though to say, “Put that mala on my neck already!” The mala on, I reach for the paper and fingerspell his new name, Swami Prem Tarun, which means Fresh Love. Oh, how appropriate. This whole Ranch situation has truly been a fresh experience of love for Matt. So much caring from people other than Mom comes his way each day.
As soon as this is done, Matt stands up, faces the audience, and begins to clap towards each part of the hall, something no one else has ever done. Soon the entire hall is filled with clapping. It is such a joyous thing for me to see so many people celebrating with and for my dear son. Of course, tears are streaming down my face. We go back to our places and what does Matt sign to me but, “Now I want pizza!” I can hardly keep from bursting out laughing during the next person’s ceremony. We quietly slip out of the hall and, indeed, go eat pizza in celebration.
Another of the most wonderful experiences of our lives together happens one day as we are walking the streets of Rajneeshpuram. A woman riding by on a bike suddenly comes to a screeching halt. She comes up to us and asks if I am Matt’s biological mom. She says, “I just have to tell you what a wonderful role model Matt is.” Matt, a role model? Unbelievable. I ask what she means. She says, “When he is happy, he laughs from his belly, loud and long. When he is sad, he cries. When he is angry, he yells. He is so free and clear with his emotional expression that it is a great example for me, a person who has repressed her feelings all of her life.” I honestly never thought of Matt as a role model for anyone. What a gift that woman gives me.
And there is more. Matt rides the buses confidently and alone and to destinations around the Ranch of his own choosing. This may not sound remarkable at all but he is a young man who has had the courage to ride buses alone for less than a year and then only to work and back and nowhere else. And I finally can breathe easy that he can ride and ride and not be taken advantage of, lost, or hurt. He is so safe at the Ranch.
As for work, after wrapping travel lunches and making cookies for a while, Matt is moved to the dishwashing area of the cafeteria. This is a good move as far as diet is concerned. Matt has always been a hard worker, but now I notice that he is more careful and alert. And he smiles a lot. It is easy to understand why he is so happy in this place. The people are very interested and caring. Several ask about how to better communicate with Matt and are glad to know more about writing him simple notes. The sign language books that I had brought for those who wanted to talk a bit with their hands are actually being used. Sannyasins also ask me questions, in an attempt to better understand Matt’s emotions and behavior.
Matt’s crew boss is a perfect lesson for him – a very tall man of a size that is potentially scary, but rather is the gentlest person. He comes over to us as I am helping Matt scrub away at utensils: “Would you sign to him; I don’t know how to tell him, but I feel so blessed that he is here.”
“I’ll just tell him that you like him and are happy to have him here; he will understand that.” Matt just beams. I can almost hear him thinking, People around here really like me. Wow.
There are many other beautiful situations over the fifteen months of Matt’s stay in this new utopia. But the most touching are remarks about how wonderfully innocent and hard-working Matt is, implying that others could learn from his example. Bhagwan talks about making a 180-degree turn in one’s life. Well, for Matt to be thought of as a role model, now that’s a 180-degree change! And a wonderful one.
My hopes and dreams for Matt are that he can extend his stay in the Humanity Trust program and be surrounded by the loving people at the Ranch for as long as possible. For the first time in his life, he is beginning to know that there are many beings in the world other than me who can love him and care about him and not reject or ridicule him. He is getting a sort of respect that he has rarely experienced before and that is giving him such a sense of dignity. I can see it in his behavior and feel it in his demeanor.
As much as I can, I thank all of those who have created such a beautiful place and for sharing it with Matt and so many others whose lives are being transformed. As I do, tears of joy and gratitude well up, while Matt, I can see, is full of smiles, inside and out.
But, and there seems always to be a ‘but’, as is so often true of utopias, this lovely place comes to an end long before we wanted it to. I have been envisioning Matt living most of his adult life in this wonderful place. I know we have found him the perfect spot, where he is safe, but encouraged to grow in so many ways.
However, by late November 1985, Bhagwan has gone, deported amidst scandals wrought by his secretary Sheela and her accomplices. The details are best left for another time, another book. Suffice it to say that there is great turmoil in Rajneeshpuram during the time that Bhagwan is briefly jailed and after he leaves the country. Matt has a couple of running and screaming meltdowns, which I go to the Ranch to handle. He is so sensitive to the energy and moods of others and sannyasins are beginning to freak out. In spite of the episodes, I get permission for Matt to stay. We even talk about him and me becoming full-fledged members of the commune. I don’t foresee what comes next. I guess I am blinded by wishful thinking. I really believe that the community will go on, even without the Master there. But I am wrong. Sannyasins can see no reason to stay with Bhagwan gone. And it becomes clear that Rajneeshpuram cannot sustain itself financially without the summer festivals that bring 10,000 or more to stay for a time, pay for food, housing, sundries and sit with the Master.
The Ranch begins to close down, and people have no desire to be where Bhagwan is not. Our friends, Susan and Sam, come to live in our spare bedroom in Salem to figure out what the next step in their lives will be. As soon as Thanksgiving arrives, Tom and I set out for the Ranch to collect Matt and his things, as well as household items from our summer stay trailer. We are a day late in picking Matt up due to a snowstorm. He expected us yesterday.
We arrive at the Ranch and no Matt. We search for him everywhere. He is not in his room. We pack up his things and put them in the car. He is not at work in the cafeteria. He is not in the meditation hall. He is not anywhere. I am getting really, really scared for him because it is cold and snowing heavily by now. We make phone calls around the Ranch. No one has seen Matt since breakfast. They all agree to keep a lookout for him. We get the Ranch’s Peace Force Officers to start a search. I just don’t know how Matt will cope if he is lost and cold in the snow. I don’t think I have ever been so afraid for him.
After what seems like endless hours of searching, we get a call from the Hotel Rajneesh in Portland. Matt is there and they want to know what to do. Omigosh, what a huge relief! And then I begin to realize what an illustration this is of how far Matt has come in terms of taking care of himself and engaging in effective behavior. It seems that after breakfast, Matt took just his backpack and went down to the building where people were busing out to rebuild their lives in the world. He simply got on a bus to Portland and when he arrived at the Hotel, he sat down to look at his books. He was obviously ready to leave and if we weren’t there to pick him up, he would just darn well see himself off.
Susan and Sam, who are at our house in Salem and nearer than Tom and me by four hours’ driving time, go to pick Matt up at the Hotel, bring him home, and feed him dinner, while we make our way back. I am so happy to see him when I arrive! Big hugs ensue (well, on my part anyway). Later, when I go to tuck Matt in for the night, I see that he has hung his mala on a nail on the wall of his bedroom. After that, he only wears it when we go to sannyasin gatherings. He has become so wise, my dear little (well, big now) Buddha.
Two Souls, Tandem Journeys
Our Adventures with Love, Deafness and Autism
Roshani Shay Curtis, Ph.D.
Austin-Macauley Publishers, New Yoek, 10 November 2023
174 pages
Paperback, hardback, ebook
austinmacauley.com – barnesandnoble.com – mightyape.co.nz
amazon.com* – amazon.co.uk* – amazon.de* – amazon.in or in your country
Related article
- Two Souls, Tandem Journeys – an introduction to the book by the author, Roshani Shay Curtis, Ph.D.
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