Living Love was painted on the side of the bus, along with a yin-yang, an OM sign, and other spiritual symbols, all on the backdrop of a tastefully multicolored sunrise. It was parked across the street from Alexis’ garage apartment. Returning from her Santa Cruz adventure, she eyed it casually as she opened the door to go inside. After a leisurely shower, she thought about Bonny Doon again, and wondered for the hundredth time what Max might be doing.
Two hours later, the bus was still there. At last Alexis’ curiosity got the best of her and she knocked on the door. A young long-hair in a tie-dyed T-shirt answered.
"Come in, come in," said a disembodied voice, not from the young man, but from the back of the bus. "Welcome to my home." The old bearded gentleman came rolling forward in a powered wheelchair and smiled at her.
"Hi,” she introduced herself. “My name's Alexis DuBois. I live across the street in that little garage.” She gestured. “I couldn't help noticing your vehicle."
"Hello, Alexis. I’m Ken Keyes, and this is the Living Love bus, my traveling ashram,” he welcomed her graciously. “My followers and I are looking to find a home here in Berkeley, to establish a permanent base."
"Your…followers?" She noticed that there were three others in the bus with Ken besides the young man who let her in. "Are you a guru?"
"Perhaps in India,” he laughed kindly, “but here in America, I simply call myself a spiritual teacher. We follow the positive precepts of many great religions of the world: Hinduism, Christianity, and Buddhism – and, although we have no direct affiliation with any of them, Living Love is officially a church and is registered as such."
"Where do you come from?"
"Originally, from Miami. Come in, sit down or let me give you a tour. Would you like some fresh juice or some herb tea? I was the owner and founder of Keyes Real Estate, a large company in southeastern Florida.” Alexis studied the man; she’d heard of Keyes Real Estate. He was perhaps sixty years old with thin mousy-brown hair and wire-rim glasses. Ken was a quadriplegic, his body atrophied from decades of physical inactivity. He had only enough muscular control to hold up his head unaided and use one of his claw-like hands to move the simple toggle switch on the electric wheelchair.
The inside of the converted Greyhound combined spiritual inspiration with high-tech efficiency, allowing Ken maximum freedom and mobility. Besides the front room, there was a small but complete kitchen, extensive shelving for the stereo, amplifier, speakers, reference materials, tapes, and a substantial library of books. Toward the back was a complete bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a small sit-down shower. The well-rounded rear of the bus was Ken's bedroom which he referred to as the "OM Dome." Ornate with Indian prints and a heated waterbed, it afforded his gaunt body as much comfort as possible.
Alexis stayed for several hours. Ken was a fascinating man with an agile mind. Stricken with polio at age twenty-seven, the disease had changed his physical life forever. Yet, mentally, he refused to be victimized. Not only had he survived the debilitating psychological effects of the disease, but had become a highly successful businessman in spite of them. Eventually, Ken had escaped corporate life and had chosen to pursue spiritual enlightenment. His family thought he was losing his mind when he announced the purchase of an old bus and travel plans to set up his own religious order in California. Intelligent and forthright, unlike many of the other spiritual leaders of the day, he was not an extremist. His message was simple: live to the fullest, live in the here-and-now moment, and love others unconditionally.
Three days later, Max phoned Alexis. She had just come back from having coffee with Mark at the Café Mediterraneum in Berkeley, where she’d told him about Max. She’d been giving the whole situation some serious thought; three days had felt like three months.
"Max! What a wonderful surprise. I’m so happy to hear from you."
"I've been missing you so much.” Eighty miles away, Max stood in the kitchen of the Bonny Boon farmhouse. “I can't stop thinking about you."
"Me too,” she admitted, heaving a sigh and sitting down quickly. “Do you still want to be with me?"
"Yes, with all my heart," he said, softly.
"Then come to Berkeley. Come as soon as possible."
"I'll pack my stuff and be there tomorrow. What about a place to stay?"
"For now, there's my little garage apartment. But I met a spiritual teacher who just arrived in California. They have plenty of space in their big converted Greyhound, and he and his followers sure could use some help finding a location for his new ashram. How about you meet me at Sather Gate in front of the University at noon?"
Two hours later, the bus was still there. At last Alexis’ curiosity got the best of her and she knocked on the door. A young long-hair in a tie-dyed T-shirt answered.
"Come in, come in," said a disembodied voice, not from the young man, but from the back of the bus. "Welcome to my home." The old bearded gentleman came rolling forward in a powered wheelchair and smiled at her.
"Hi,” she introduced herself. “My name's Alexis DuBois. I live across the street in that little garage.” She gestured. “I couldn't help noticing your vehicle."
"Hello, Alexis. I’m Ken Keyes, and this is the Living Love bus, my traveling ashram,” he welcomed her graciously. “My followers and I are looking to find a home here in Berkeley, to establish a permanent base."
"Your…followers?" She noticed that there were three others in the bus with Ken besides the young man who let her in. "Are you a guru?"
"Perhaps in India,” he laughed kindly, “but here in America, I simply call myself a spiritual teacher. We follow the positive precepts of many great religions of the world: Hinduism, Christianity, and Buddhism – and, although we have no direct affiliation with any of them, Living Love is officially a church and is registered as such."
"Where do you come from?"
"Originally, from Miami. Come in, sit down or let me give you a tour. Would you like some fresh juice or some herb tea? I was the owner and founder of Keyes Real Estate, a large company in southeastern Florida.” Alexis studied the man; she’d heard of Keyes Real Estate. He was perhaps sixty years old with thin mousy-brown hair and wire-rim glasses. Ken was a quadriplegic, his body atrophied from decades of physical inactivity. He had only enough muscular control to hold up his head unaided and use one of his claw-like hands to move the simple toggle switch on the electric wheelchair.
The inside of the converted Greyhound combined spiritual inspiration with high-tech efficiency, allowing Ken maximum freedom and mobility. Besides the front room, there was a small but complete kitchen, extensive shelving for the stereo, amplifier, speakers, reference materials, tapes, and a substantial library of books. Toward the back was a complete bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a small sit-down shower. The well-rounded rear of the bus was Ken's bedroom which he referred to as the "OM Dome." Ornate with Indian prints and a heated waterbed, it afforded his gaunt body as much comfort as possible.Alexis stayed for several hours. Ken was a fascinating man with an agile mind. Stricken with polio at age twenty-seven, the disease had changed his physical life forever. Yet, mentally, he refused to be victimized. Not only had he survived the debilitating psychological effects of the disease, but had become a highly successful businessman in spite of them. Eventually, Ken had escaped corporate life and had chosen to pursue spiritual enlightenment. His family thought he was losing his mind when he announced the purchase of an old bus and travel plans to set up his own religious order in California. Intelligent and forthright, unlike many of the other spiritual leaders of the day, he was not an extremist. His message was simple: live to the fullest, live in the here-and-now moment, and love others unconditionally.
Three days later, Max phoned Alexis. She had just come back from having coffee with Mark at the Café Mediterraneum in Berkeley, where she’d told him about Max. She’d been giving the whole situation some serious thought; three days had felt like three months.
"Max! What a wonderful surprise. I’m so happy to hear from you."
"I've been missing you so much.” Eighty miles away, Max stood in the kitchen of the Bonny Boon farmhouse. “I can't stop thinking about you."
"Me too,” she admitted, heaving a sigh and sitting down quickly. “Do you still want to be with me?"
"Yes, with all my heart," he said, softly.
"Then come to Berkeley. Come as soon as possible."
"I'll pack my stuff and be there tomorrow. What about a place to stay?"
"For now, there's my little garage apartment. But I met a spiritual teacher who just arrived in California. They have plenty of space in their big converted Greyhound, and he and his followers sure could use some help finding a location for his new ashram. How about you meet me at Sather Gate in front of the University at noon?"
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