We were rebel types, but not because we were rebelling. Just because we weren't the "appear and act all spiritual" types. We both wore all black (I still do), slept through morning chant, watched TV and movies in our rooms, and performed walking, eyes open meditation throughout the day, as well as our sit in the dark meditation "cave" (which I LOVED).
We went everywhere together, and spread a sort of subversive, playful sadhana that no doubt helped some yogis and yoginis out with their purification (burning).
I was not worried. Though I had no physical relationship with my guru, except for the exquisite opportunity to live in the ashram made from her guru's shakti, she visited me from time to time to check on me and teach me. A tap on the shoulder at the right moment, the touch on my forehead in meditation, a blast of bliss after walking past her in front of Anugraha were a few examples that come to mind.
I never felt the need to become vegetarian, and did not experience this to be a detriment to my sadhana.
Recently, I asked my guru for something that would involve (now I see) purification of my body. I wasn't thinking of vegetarianism at all.
Soon after, I took a bite of one of my favorite foods which included meat. The taste sent a wave of repulsion through my entire body, a feeling of disgust that I experienced as eating something foul. Later, when I still felt the same way, I described it as a reaction to something decayed, decaying, basically dead. I was sure I did not want to eat cooked flesh. No.
This was not an intellectual experience at all.
I have the added benefit of doing my small part to help the millions of animals that live miserable lives in the US because of factory farming. When I was a truck driver, I experienced first hand the appalling dark and sickly feeling that hangs on these places like a thick shroud of horror, far worse than any scary movie I've ever seen. This is the energy of mechanized death.