Interview with Tom Stimmel ~ 01

event type	interview
date & time	14 Nov 1982, 20:30
location	Lao Tzu Grove (Osho's house), Rajneeshpuram
language	English
audio	Not available
online audio
video	Not available
online video
see also	timeline : Osho Timeline 1982
online text	PDF.

notes

A meeting and interview with Tom Stimmel, journalist of The Oregonian as reported by himself in the 1982-11-15 edition: download PDF.

It is also mentioned in Chronology of Events Relating to Rajneeshpuram, Oregon (source document).

synopsis

Text of The Oregonian's report:

Bhagwan speaks: Faith key to experiences

By TOM STIMMEL

RAJNEESHPURAM - Would I be interested in an audience with Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the Indian religious mystic who has become an object of fascinating curiosity since he moved to Oregon a year and a half ago?

I would be honored, I said.

"B'gwan," as he is known to his disciples on their Central Oregon ranch, "the guru," as he is known by outsiders, has lived in silent seclusion since moving here.

His only public appearances have been for a few silent hours during his disciples' World Festival last July, his daily drives in one of his Rolls-Royce automobiles to Madras and return, and a trip to Portland for an immigration hearing.

"This would be an appearance only," emphasized Ma Prem Isabel, press representative for the Rajneesh commune. "B'gwan does not give interviews." Nor does be sit for newspaper photographers. Two photos of the Bhagwan were furnished.

An audience time of 8:30 p.m. was stipulated.

Certain preparations were required. After a day of visiting the ra.,ch and dining in the home of Ma Anand Sheela, the ranch manager, I was told to take a shower. "B'gwan is very sensitive to odors." I was given unscented soap and a choice of Rajneesh Brand unscented shampoos.

I also was provided with proper clothing - a pair of slacks and a shirt of orange-brown color such as disciples wear.

"Ah, that's more like it," said some disciples at the house when I reappeared.

Isabel drove me to the Bhagwan's secluded estate, a complex of mobile home units. Indirect lighting caught discreetly placed shrubbery and a lawn manicured to putting-green perfection. We entered through a side door, past a wire cage of peacocks.

Inside, we were met in an anteroom by Sheela and her husband, Swami Prem Jayananda (formerly John Shelfer), and a young woman, Ma Prem Chetna, who was sitting on the floor, knitting.

We sat on the floor, too, while Sheela disappeared. Half an hour later she came for me. We walked through several corridors; then she opened a door and instructed me to go ahead.

The Bhagwan sat in a wing-backed chair, alone in the room. At his side was a low table, heaped with books. I could see nothing else in the room, which looked like a recreation room in any suburban basement - linoieum floor and pecan wall paneling - empty but for a chair, a table and a man.

I said I appreciated the opportunity to be there, and we sat on the floor, Sheela at one side of the Bhagwan and me on the other.

Nothing more was said, so I decided that, non-interview or not, I would ask a question. I said I knew that Bhagwan had entered his silent stage but would it not be useful for relations between his commune and the rest of Oregon if he were to appear publicly and speak occasionally.

His answer consumed 40 minutes. I paraphrase his answers, and I do not assume to have understood all he said, or even to have heard it all, bis voice was so low.

He spoke of religiousness, not religion. The Bible or the Koran, it doesn't matter; Jesus or Mohammed, it doesn't matter. Faith does not matter; what matters is how faith affects one's experience.

Numbers stand out: He had read 150,000 books, there were 18 years of Jesus' life about which we know nothing, from age 12 to 30.

But his answer to my question was, "I have said everything."

He wore the stocking cap and the gray robe seen at his appearances at the festival. He looked only at me all that time, his eyes penetrating, his fingers at times pressed against each other. He was speaking, but he was remarkably quiet.

After 40 minutes, and one question, I returned to the others. In a while we left, passed the peacock cage and found our way through darkness by the feel of the gravel driveway underfoot.

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