Purusha (Paul) Obluda lived near the Panhandle in San Fransisco with his wife Dorothy before moving to The Land.
He led the War Resister's League there.

Purusha means cosmic soul and sometimes archatypal male. I think it was Swami Satchidnanda gave him his name.
Court

"Purusha and I went together to be with Swami Satchidananda and immerse ourselves in 3 days of silence, practice and introspection. I was pulled deeper into the yogic path that has been forever part of my life. My dear friend, how I wish you were still here to share my feelings with. You introduced me to so many things. I still remember you and I consulting the I Ching, your stories of Alan Watts, your time in Iran and living in the Haight when it was all going on. You were about my fathers’ age but the stellar opposite. Your life had been so full and I feel immense gratitude that I was able to spend time with you. I pray that you are at peace in God’s house. I hope you have a nice tipi in heaven"
Kevin Roach

"i remember playing 'why must i be a vegatarian in love'
to purusha.....and he got a kick out of it"
Billy Bonzini

i never told purusha that we split up because of age. selfishly, i moved from my
good friend - into my own world.
lonely and tired, today - how i miss him.
Juanita

Swami Satchitanada told Paul he was Purusha but to me he was always Paul. Paul struck me as wise. Out at his teepee, once, I mentioned that I might someday become a journalist. He scoffed. "All newspapers do is tell the monkeys that the leopards are eating them on the other side of the island!"
Rik

Picture taken by Ann Mason of Carl (Daniel), Purusha, and Mark playing cards in the Front House on The Land.
Cards.jpg

Purusha died from heart complications at Struggle Mt. on August 2 2000. He was 73. Here's his obituary:
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Purusha.jpg


PURUSHA, DEC '71
71DECperusha.jpg
photo by Neil

An entry from Rik's journal
July 10, 1971 Wolf Creek Morning
I got up early Friday morning and washed all the dishes that had piled up from the night before. Then I cleaned the counters and washed the stove. Rene got up and washed in the kitchen sink while I cooked Malt-O-Meal.

Joan came down from the barn and oiled her transmission parts so that they wouldn't rust while she was gone. Arturo was writing and relaxing on the big black inner-tube. I took out my guitar and practiced for a while on the front porch.

David and Paul drove up in Terry's truck full of junk. I warmed up my engine, said goodbye to Joan, then Paul and I split to Highway 5 north to Mountain Grove above Glendale.

Not far from the highway is a wooden sunburst with the words "Mountain Grove." A bumpy drive led us past a gigantic garden with about ten people working it. Past the garden and a long, low living structure, we parked behind an ancient but servicable tractor. We asked a friendly freak where we could find David, the initiator and director of Mountain Grove. He led us alongside the garden and the previous structure, alive with children and a few adolescents, to a small makeshift cabin with a blue door.

We knocked and a voice hinting slightly of a British accent said, "Come in."

The single room was crowded with a small bed, two desks with typewriters and an adding machine and a file cabinet. A sofa gave us a seat. A woman was talking with him, trying to learn more about the community. She left after a few minutes and David, a man of about 60 with a short white beard encircling his face and seeming quite healthy, began talking with Paul, filling him in on what had been going on since November when Paul had last been there. Paul handed him a Yoga Institute newsletter with a full-page photo of his guru on the front. David said that he had met him in Ojai (!) a year or so ago.

He had a color poster of Meher Baba on his wall. Paul offered to lead a chanting session whenever it would be convenient. David gladly accepted the offer and later on Paul chose Monday as the day, after dinner. Paul said that chanting opens centers in the brain with its different notes and rythems.

Finally (I had felt uncomfortable having nothing to add) we took a walk around the land - 400+ acres. Paul estimated $500 an acre. It is very beautiful land with three gigantic meadows. They don't have nearly enough people to work the land - only thirty now in the summertime. We found a huge A-frame being used as a living quarters next to a beautifully constructed house. Paul said he had helped build it a few days last year. We found some other very old structures built before the turn of the century that had collapsed. We walked about 3/4-mile back.

On returning to Wolf Creek, Paul made some fried rice and cheese. David and Terry told us that the truck had broken down in Glendale at Sam's Drive-In. We piled into the old Rambler along with Albert's amp, Terry's slide Gibson and Gibson guitar. Also the casette stereo he bought with the money Paul paid him for his truck ($110). Seems insane to me.

After disconnecting the fuel line, we discovered that the truck was out of gas. David and I took the truck to the dump. At the dump was the "MASHER." It crushed all the car bodies there to about 18-inches thick. David and I watched it mash five or six cars.

"We could watch this all day," he said.