Ed. Note: Those who know but do not bear witness must hear their names spoken. For the race is run by one and one and never by two and two.
By Diana Silva
I read your article where people wondered about Karen Krieger, Gretchen’s sister. I knew them.
Kristen, Gretchen, and Karen were all with Swami Chetanananda. It’s unclear who he slept with first. Karen or her mother, Kristin. But Karen is gone. Left a long time ago. There is no contact between the sisters Karen and Gretchen. I never put it together until I read your story.
Karen Kreiger – the first of the sisters to accept the advantages of the BDSM’ng Swami.
Swami Chetanananda slept with both sisters and their mother. First there was Karen, Then she left. No one knew why. Then he started with Gretchen. She lived with him in Portland when I was there. She still lives with the Swami at Gold Beach.
Gretchen Krieger
Swami and Gretchen Krieger
Kristin, the mother, runs the meditation group in Santa Monica from her house. It is a small group, about 15 at most. I went there once with the smaller group to medidate. They seemed like professionals, intelligent people. Not a bunch of hippie-dippie, woo-woo people, but educated, good jobs, intelligent, funny, articulate. Swami Chetanananda is their guru.
Kristin Kreiger, mother of Gretchen and Karen Kreiger – accepted invitations to private sessions with the Casanova Swami.
They plan every few months for Swami to come for group meditations. A large group comes then to Santa Monica. I came to a few of those. There would be an open invitation to an open-eye meditation and a meal afterward. A lot of people would come, lots of faces, as well as the regulars.
It was celebratory. It was very deferential. Lots of flowers. Bowing, deferring to him. Flowers, altars. It’s beautiful, it’s attractive. People would sit with him in the open eyes meditation.
Swami Chetanananda practices a diversity in his training.
There’s a sense of anticipation, of “Oh, I hope he looks at me.” Because, you know, you sit there for an hour, gazing at him.
And he’s looking around the room, looking at different people. When he turns to you, you’re like, “Oh, he notices me.”
My priest and my guide.
When he’s done, he just gets up. Then, he goes upstairs to Kristin and Buzz – her husband’s bedroom – to rest for a while.
Generous Allan “Buzz” Kreiger, Professor of Ophthalmology. Took fishing trips with Swami, as Swami took his wife. Or rather borrowed for high and low teachings.
There was recorded Buddhist chanting. Everybody talked. They had food.
And Swami came back down, sat down. Afterward, he’d walk around, and everybody would want to talk to him. Many outsiders would come.
We had open eyes meditation at Portland. On Saturday night, when he looked at me, I would focus on staying focused. Holding the gaze and having an open mind. And in my mind was love. Not just love for him, but love in the room. And opening my heart.
The Swami doesn’t change his expression. There’s no smiling, no blinking, no movement of the eye. He breathes in a heavy way.
At the Movement Center in Portland, the people were nice. Teresa was my favorite. She was his personal secretary. Sharon is formidable. Super smart. But easy enough to talk to. She’s the woman you’d expect to take a bunch of dogs out and save somebody’s life. She could get out there and get that done. A no-bullshit kind of lady. Fiercely intelligent.
Swami Chetanananda with Sharon Ward
Howard is lovely and approachable. Howard seemed like my idea of a Swami. You could approach Howard to ask him questions about the practice. He was always willing to explain. Swami Chetanananda was more off-limits as a teacher.
With Howard, Swami Prakashananda and Vivina Boster.
At Portland they had a fantastic yoga class. And they had a printing press where they made all their books. They had many employees.
The doors were locked. There’s no one around to answer the door at all times. The place isn’t a hotel, where someone is there to welcome you. People are in their apartments. It’s quiet. It was beautiful. But quiet. People are in their apartments. It’s soundproof.
The outside, the rest of the property was gated off.
The Movement Center
So that was my experience. I knew the Swami was polyamorous. People knew. But I thought it was all consensual. With adult intelligent women whom he had close relationships with. I didn’t pry. I was there for the experience. To learn and grow.
I had no idea about the hard core sado-masochism, the drugs, the strangling until I read your stories.
When I first read them, I said, “No fucking way.” Like no way. No way are the people I met at the ashram, these sweet, intelligent, gentlewomen, and Michael is – like, no way, no way.
Then I started reading more, and I read the letters from people who left the group, and how we had discounted those things because of what Michael said. I still had my doubts about the authenticity of those letters. But I read more of your articles. And I was still like, “No, this can’t, no.”
Then I reached out to a friend. She saw her name in your articles. She was the one who sent me your story without comment. She had left the group. I knew her. She’s intelligent. She’s the real deal. She never said anything bad about the place. So I asked her. Is this true?
And she’s just said, “Yes, it’s all true.”
I wanted confirmation. In my heart, I was sick, I wanted to reject it. But I felt a need to find out.
I knew of another friend. I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time, who also had left the group. I reached out to her, and she wrote right back.
She said, “Yes, sadly, it’s true.” She’d also seen your reports.
I realize Swami Chetanananda abused both of them. His BDSM is more than harmless kink.
My second friend – the one I had not spoken to in years – she told me about it. I cannot share all this, for it is confidential. Maybe she’ll agree to tell you. She told me that what she shared was the most she’d ever talked about it. She hasn’t shared what he did with hardly anybody in her life.
By the way, it is not Natasha. I do not know Natasha. But I’m dying to know about her. I haven’t asked my two friends who left the group.
But one of my friends said, “Be careful. The Swami is retaliatory. So, you know, if you stand up to him, it’s gonna be brutal.”
Natacha after she jumped off a bridge.
I also recall something. It was long ago. But there was talk. This goes back before I was there. But I heard talk. One of the buildings burned when the Swami was, I think, in Indiana. Maybe Boston. I can’t recall. One of the first ashrams, it burnt, and they collected insurance money. The cause of the fire was unknown. That was the first significant influx of cash. That’s where the first big bump came to buy, the next, the next big property.
In Portland, I remember he never ate with us. He always ate in his apartment. Not with the rest of us who lived there. Typically, there are a handful of people, not even a handful, maybe four, who join him for dinner. We had simple meals. Simple, good, vegetarian food. Good but simple food.
I had left – on good terms. And I remember I came back to visit him, after a lapse of a few years. The last time I saw him, I thought, “Oh, shit, he looks rough.” He looked much different. He looked like a bad alcoholic.
I looked at his face. That doesn’t look like a man who does yoga and eats vegan all the time. Lots of 70-year-old guys with a clean lifestyle don’t look like that. His face looks rough.
Back then, the women used to tell me he had some health issues that kept him inside his apartment and away from everyone for a few days at a time.
Those health issues may not have been health issues. I now learned that when Swami’s missing, it’s because he is on a bender.
I am sorry I can’t tell you too much. He never abused me. I wanted to let you know about Karen.
I have been thinking about Karen a lot since I read your stories. She was so young. Looking back, I guess he preyed on all of the family.
Someone asked in your story if she was alive or dead. She’s not dead. Last I heard she is in Carmel. At one time, I heard she was in New York. I don’t know how old Karen was at the time. I can’t say whether Karen was underage. But then I remember Laiko. Poor Laiko. She got out.
Now I realize you were referring to her in your story.
Thanks to your stories, my friend told me what happened to her. Poor dear child, and he was with her married mother. Thank God she got out.
For the sin that ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one!
Contact Frank Parlato
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email frankparlato@gmail.com
