Above: Underground Mouse, watercolor, by Roberta Hoffman

Crazy Subud Stories

Collected by Jim O’ Halloran

The following stories were hilariously and movingly submitted by some of our favorite contributors:

Crazy Subud Story by Hanafi Libman

I think it must have been around 1968. Bapak was coming to Los Angeles, and I’m thinking I was on the Subud Committee, along with Sampson Rheems, and Rusdi Lane. We went to the airport for Bapak’s arrival, and ended up with Mas Usman in our car, as there wasn’t room for him in the vehicle taking Bapak and party to the Miramar Hotel, in Santa Monica, where they’d be staying. Usman was Bapak’s translator at the time, and he usually travelled with his wife, Aminah, on Bapak’s world tours.

We set out, following the car Bapak, his wife Ibu Sumari, and others were in, on the way to the Miramar. It was midday, and there was a lot of traffic making it difficult to keep up with Bapak’s car. Sampson Rheems was driving, and it was frustrating for him, so he spoke up and said:

“I know a shortcut. We can get there ahead of Bapak!” To which Usman immediately responded:

“There are no shortcuts. Follow Bapak.”

Crazy Subud Stories From Fayra Teeters

I met my husband Don Teeters at a callback audition for The Merry Wives of Windsor at Western Stage in Salinas, California. He’d already been cast as the Welsh priest, Sir Hugh, and had simply shown up at the director’s office because they were friends. My callback was crucial to me, because it would determine whether I was cast as Mistress Page, a role that had been on my desired list for a long time. The busy director had failed to arrange to have another female read opposite me – very crucial, since the entire play was about the TWO wives. So, he simply asked Don if he would read the other female lines. My confidence went down the drain because I had never experienced a male actor reading a female role without camping it up, therefore killing any chances of my doing well in the reading. But lo and behold, Don read with all due respect to my plight, allowing me to shine and I was awarded the role on the spot! Afterwards out in the hall as I thanked him profusely, Don invited me out to tea – what was I going to do, say “no”?

That was the beginning of our whirlwind courtship and eventual marriage that same year in October. After becoming engaged, I asked that Don be opened in Subud, so that he would at least know what I was experiencing whenever I spoke of the Latihan and my receivings. Turned out that Don was a recent graduate in philosophy, with an emphasis in religious studies. He had read about Subud and was attracted to it, so when I let him know how deeply I was involved with Subud, I’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

From Don Teeters, opened in 1976

Fayra and I traveled to Santa Monica to attend one of Bapak’s world-tour visits to the States. During a Latihan “check-up”, as I stood in place, riveted on the spot. Bapak approached me and asked, “Why aren’t you moving?” to which I replied, “Well, I’m waiting for God to move me.”
He laughed and said, “You’ve got to give Him a little help!”

At one point Michael Cooke shared that Rusty Lane had chided him, exclaiming:
“It’s pronounced Bismillah for Chrissake!”

Another story from Alexandra Boyer:

This is a story about guidance when we are not hearing voices, seeing angels or even spiritually aware of the Gift being given to us.

I was in my early 30s and I had been practicing the latihan for about 12-13 years. I was driving up the twisting canyons of Bel Air to visit my parents on a hot, smoggy day in Los Angeles. The two-lane road was narrow with many blind corners. My four little kids were in the car. I was in not thinking about anything in particular. For no reason, and without really being much aware of it, I pulled over to a widened spot on the shoulder and stopped. A couple of beats later two cars shot by, side-by-side, one passing the other. After they passed, I pulled back out into the road and continued driving up the canyon.

It was another minute or so before it dawned on me that I had just averted what would have been a fatal head-on collision. Thanks be to God!

Last but not least, several stories from Lucas Hess:

When Bapak visited Vancouver, Canada in 1968, my wife and I decided to go see him, having been opened the prior year in Salt Lake City. We arrived in Seattle late afternoon after a few days of traveling, and found our way into town with no idea of where we were, but we had an address for the Subud group and a phone number. Looking for a phone booth, we finally found one outside a convenience store. A man answered and I explained we’d just arrived and would like to attend the Latihan that evening, if possible. He asked where we were and I gave him the names of the cross streets. After a brief silence I heard him say, “Have you looked across the street?” Catty corner from the phone booth, I saw people going into a building with the Subud symbol on it!

We left the following morning for Vancouver, found the space where the events would be taking place, and met a lot of people who helped us. At the start of my first Latihan there, I was sitting quietly waiting for some signal to rise; none came. Then I heard a rustling and when I opened my eyes, Bapak was bent over, looking directly at me. I was embarrassed at being the only person who hadn’t stood up when Bapak came into the room. Once my embarrassment had passed, my Latihan was very strong.

I had recently injured my back doing strenuous dock-work and hoped for an audience with Bapak to guide me into another career, but that private meeting was not in the cards. However, I attended every talk. At the first talk, the interpreter asked three successive times, “This talk is only for those who have been opened; would all others please leave?” Each time an additional group of men and women got up and left. Finally, the third call flushed out a man sitting behind me who loudly “harrumphed!” and stormed out, obviously upset.

When Bapak was talking, a golden light descended upon him and then went straight up through the ceiling. Whenever he stopped talking, the light disappeared; and whenever he continued speaking, the light appeared yet again. Although many people in the audience were sleeping, none of them snored nor made any noise. I was told later that they needed to sleep so their jiwa’s could really hear and take in what Bapak was saying.

Upon returning to Utah with no job, Lincoln Long, a Subud member who was living with us at that time, told me he’d heard an ad for a radio school and encouraged me to attend, since I had a good voice for radio. I ended up spending the next twelve years working for various radio stations in Salt Lake City. One lunch break as I was walking to get a hamburger, I suddenly found Bapak walking beside me, real and substantial.
“I see you found something to do,” he said.
“Yes, I did,” I replied.

Bapak simply smiled, nodded, and said, “Ya, ya!” And then was gone. It all seemed very natural and normal. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t needed a private audience with Bapak in order to get on with my life. I could hear his voice inside my head saying, “Do what’s in front of you.” Bapak had paid me a visit to show me that he understood my need from the very first time that he’d seen me, and that he cared and was aware of my quest.

This was one of the most astonishing aspects of my life in Subud.