Every stone --- emotional, spiritual, physical and mental --- is turned in CHILDREN OF A HARSH BLISS, a meditative memoir of a true child of the ’60s.

Hitching across the US in his late teens, impelled by etheric insights, Rishi Waterman was immersed in two entirely different realms of adventure --- the emergent psychedelic drug scene and the Eastern religious pathways typified by the burgeoning Hare Krishna movement. Eastern inspiration won out, assuring him that genuine spirituality cannot be found in a pill, so Waterman set his sights on India. But he did not have to go so far. After a chance meeting with noted swami Srila Prabhupada, he was inwardly drawn to a gradually developing Hare Krishna community in northern West Virginia --- New Vrindaban, dubbed by locals as “the hippie farm.” He would reside there for nearly 30 years.

"[Waterman's] ability to recall his unusual life events and bring them to readers' attention with honesty and homely humor suggests that any future works will be warmly welcomed by his audience."

Welcomed by its energetic residents, an early surprise was the communal “toilet” --- a strange contraption of vertical and horizontal poles, with water or leaves of grass for the “paper.” Like nearly everything Waterman observed in the coming weeks, this arrangement seemed practical and earthy, while the ceremonies of the Krishna devotees --- stirring music, dance and prayers that took place in the temple --- offered enchantment and a sense of karmic purpose. He soon learned how to milk cows, wash dishes without soap, plow and disk with horses, and --- when a vengeful farmer assaulted the templars after incorrectly assuming that the hippies had abducted his daughter --- carry a gun and act as a watchman.

Through it all, Waterman remained convinced that his residence at New Vrindaban was overseen by a high power, as he willingly and happily joined in religious rituals --- chanting, praying, constructing a gleaming house of worship, and accepting spiritual guidance from the leader, Kirtanananda. The young man and his companions even had the opportunity to offer yoga classes at the penitentiary in Moundsville, WV, conducting a sacred “fire ceremony” within its shadowy walls for a prisoner attracted to the Krishna philosophy.

But one day, at the age of 48, Waterman left the community. Though the outside world would prove challenging, he felt sure that “a new chapter of my movie, my karmic script, was unfolding.” He survived at first by delivering newspapers, exploring new possibilities while sincerely missing the years of communal comfort and support.

Waterman tells his story with verve and fascinating detail. Now married and residing in the North Carolina mountains, he has undertaken the presumably new challenge of conveying vivid recollections through earthy, enjoyable yarn-spinning, clearly revealing and employing skills of well-honed wordsmithing. His ability to recall his unusual life events and bring them to readers' attention with honesty and homely humor suggests that any future works will be warmly welcomed by his audience.

Despite many impositions from outside detractors, New Vrindaban still exists, offering its rituals and generous spirit to the many devotees and curiosity seekers who visit there. Waterman’s personal view and connection to it will appeal to readers across a wide spectrum, especially to those of his generation who may have had encounters with both the attractions of mind-altering drugs and the calm satisfaction of searching for and arriving at an enduring spiritual understanding.