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Author's Note

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I met U.G. in California in 1989. By happenstance, a book by U.G., or rather a book about him, Mind is a Myth , was in the window of a Carmel bookstore, Pilgrim's Way, the very day I went looking for a copy of The Mystique of Enlightenment , an earlier collection of U.G.'s conversations, a book I had come across and been astonished by a few months earlier. I raced into the store, opened Mind is a Myth , and found a card tucked into it, as if a bookmark. It was a note by Dr. Narayana Moorty, a philosophy professor from Monterey Community College. He gave his telephone number in case the reader was interested in knowing more about U.G. I called Dr. Moorty right away, and he invited me over to his house to talk and to borrow some audio tapes. U.G., he said, might appear in Seaside any day and he would let me know when he heard from him. Sure enough, the next day the phone rang and Moorty told me U.G. had called from Mill Valley. He had just arrived in the Bay Area, and he would be
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New York

September 18 The first thing U.G. said when he entered my apartment in New York was that he had come to stay for forty days and forty nights. (It had been raining heavily for several days and the air is still humid and overcast.) ~ ~ U.G. told me that he had been pickpocketed outside his hotel and someone took $95 out of his front pocket. He didn't seem upset, only impressed by the finesse of the thief, he wondered if the thief had x-ray eyes to see where the money was. He said it was the oddest sensation to feel a hand in his pocket, then look down at his own two hands and ask himself whose hand was in his pocket. He said the thief needed the money more than he did and he wished he could have taken him to lunch at a five-star restaurant to express his admiration. He said he likes people to use their talents and that the thief was a master at thieving and deserved what he got. U.G. says, “Steal, but don't get caught!” ~ ~ He went on to say there would be no starvation in the wo
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Mill Valley

November 12 Strange to be back in Mill Valley, exactly seven months from my last arrival here. How things change! I thought I was moving here for a year to be with Andrew, only to meet U.G., leave Andrew and return East. And now I am spending all this time with U.G. Why? Who knows. It can only be fatal attraction. Minutes after getting to the house Terry called asking me if I wanted to have lunch at Marvin Gardens with U.G. and the others. Did I! I was over there in a flash and drove to Larkspur with U.G., Moorty – here from Seaside for the weekend – and Douglas Rosestone. Very good to see U.G. again and I thought he looked well, more rested than in New York. The restaurant, owned by U.G.'s friends Bob and Paul, had a closed sign in the window, and U.G. just walked in and turned the sign around. We had a big lunch with U.G. holding court. I'm reminded anew each time how graceful he is. Yet all the while he was going for people, Terry and Douglas particularly. He chides Terry un
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