The story of how I met Gangaji, became all spiritual, and happened upon the secret of eternal happiness

In 1993, I was in a federal prison in Englewood, Colorado in the fifteenth year of my imprisonment for a number of politically motivated bank robberies and acts of sabotage I had done in the '70s. At that time, I was absolutely, utterly uninterested in anything spiritual. I had long since persuaded myself that all things spiritual were just stories we told ourselves to get us through the days without dying from despair at the obvious uselessness and hopelessness of our lives — lives that were in the end just dead meat walking and talking until it fell down dead again. I really didn't have any interest in anything spiritual. But in September of 1993, a friend of mine invited me to a meeting with a spiritual teacher who was coming to the prison — according to him, a gorgeous, blond, southern American woman — bringing some exotic, Indian spiritual teaching. He asked me if I would like to come to the chapel and spend a couple of hours with her. Well, of course I would. Her purpose was beside the point. I'm offered the chance to spend a couple of hours in a small group with a gorgeous, blond Southern woman with some exotic teaching to offer. What could possibly be the down side to that?