Bob Kennedy
Born and raised in Chicago, second oldest of eight children, Robert was an embarrassingly clumsy honors student, who grew to love Emerson and Thoreau.
At age sixteen, he bicycled with a younger brother to Nebraska and back, 1,200 miles in twelve days, crossing Iowa twice. Funding all his activities by delivering newspapers, at age 17 he bicycled alone — from Anchorage, Alaska, to Key West, Florida — to raise cancer funds. At 18, he spent almost six months walking alone to Fairbanks, Alaska (for charity), learned Transcendental Meditation, and became convinced TM could benefit everyone immensely.
A TM teacher by age twenty, he taught TM in Chicago and Rhode Island. Learning the TM-Sidhi program, he attended World Peace projects in Nicaragua and India. In 1979 he moved to Fairfield, helped build the Golden Dome (which he has spent more time in than anyone), and joined its Creating Coherence program.
In 1999, to raise funds for world-peace groups, he bicycled to Wales, Alaska, where he really saw Russia across the Bering Strait. In Wales he organized the world’s westernmost Yogic Flying group.
Mostly he has enjoyed blissful meditations and Yogic Flying in Fairfield’s Golden Dome. He says he’s infinitely thankful to have found Maharishi’s knowledge and aims to do all he can to bring peace, prosperity, bliss, and enlightenment to everyone, through Maharishi’s beautiful technologies.
BOB KENNEDY
He’s moved to these fields of corn
And he rises up early each morn
And he’s out like a shot
And off on his trot
To achieve that for which he was born
Bob doesn’t walk — he will run there
There’s always so much to be done there
Backpack on back,
Passing men by the pack —
His experiences? All Number One there
Bob is our Don of the Dome
It’s his haven, his heart, and his home
It’s hard for him walking —
His steps are quite balking —
When he’s not walking on foam
The Don of the Dome? Or the Dean of the Dome?
Whatever — he always is seen at the Dome
A great gear in the group —
Our phenomenal troop —
The coherence-creating machine at the Dome
Each day he asks hands to be raised . . .
The number is quickly appraised
To determine how common
The experience of Brahman
As our path to enlightenment is blazed
His voice? It’s rich and melodious
His container of knowledge? Commodious
In this life it’s his gift
To help to uplift
This world from lowliest to holiest
No space in this Dome is unknown to him
But something much deeper’s been shown to him
Refulgent, resplendent,
Triumphant, transcendent —
Now everything looks like his own to him
Years ago, in his Chicago abode
He woke up and gazed at the road
He said, “I would like
To go on a hike” —
So off to Alaska he strode
He conquered Alaska, all right —
But not without terrible fright:
He managed, while there,
To get clawed by a bear —
The future? Not looking so bright
He escaped — then helped write a book about it
His tale has a harrowing look about it
But see him today
So far from that fray —
He doesn’t exactly seem shook about it
His attendance? No question on this:
Bob has gone years with no miss
He goes by the clock
He’s as solid as rock —
Bob is the Baron of Bliss
With Bob Kennedy, one thing is clear
If it’s program time, this man is here
The fact’s undeniable:
Bob is reliable —
He’s a number one certified seer
Bob offers every amenity
On the ground of his silence, serenity
Standing so tall,
Thinking big, never small —
Colossal kudos to the kingly Bob Kennedy
Rock steady — nothing’s abrupt to him —
Everyone literally looks up to him
We wish him good cheer
And a Number One year —
The Patanjali men lift a cup to him
He’s our Golden Dome man on the job
Overseeing our Golden Dome mob
Our Dome institution
Our community solution —
Thank God for that Kennedy, Bob
He’s spent such measureless spells here
It’s clear that he practically dwells here
On this special day
We collectively say:
Happy birthday! And let’s hear some bells here!
The Don of the Dome — or the Dean —
Or the Denizen — or something between
Whatever the case,
He’s the prince of this place
As is easily, effortlessly seen
He has glories to sing by the gob
And his hand is now turning the knob
To a future that’s bright,
Brilliant with light —
He’s the Don of the Dome — our great . . . Bob
November 4, 2013[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]