********************************************
Flashbacks. Dissociation. Episodes of such. How does one deal with them? How does one know when they are experiencing such?
From my understanding and experience, it is normal to go through some levels of dissociation and that it is only a problem when it causes dysfunction. Prior to educating myself, I never knew there was a name for those times in my life. Sometimes it helps to be able to label a condition. That said, labels can also be restricting and stigmatizing; they need to be utilized properly. At least that is true for me.
Yesterday I experienced a debilitating flashback and/or dissociative state.
"What is it like?" one may ask.
I can only describe what it is like for me.
Scary. Overwhelming. I feel very much like a child. I sometimes tremble and cry uncontrollably. I have a difficult time (understatement) articulating. I want to disappear and erase my life. It is painful. I want to find a strand of something to hold onto for an anchor. I feel I don't know who I am. I don't feel real. Sometimes I tingle.
Where does it come from?
The source? I'm not sure. That may manifest (if necessary and helpful to recovery) as time goes on.
In the immediate episode? There is usually (always?) a trigger that I can identify. That does take some practice, I think. To learn to be aware in order to identify triggers.
Is this overwhelming sensation a result of my involvement with The Way?
Not necessarily. In my opinion, The Way simply reinforced a vulnerability that already existed within me. In The Way I further buried emotional responses. These responses have to come out somewhere. Mine came out biologically and mentally, with illnesses/injuries. This could have happened with any totalistic system, not just The Way.
The overwhelming dissociation episodes happen less now, and aren't near as intense as they once were. Looking back, they manifested in the early 2000's after I had overcome/curbed other overwhelming health difficulties: asthma, herniated discs, allergies, and other immune function problems. It has been a gradual process for me, allowing myself to feel without having the physical symptoms of illness. I think part of that process has allowed these intense dissociative moments to erupt? I can, perhaps, now face deeper levels of the causes of some of the illnesses and injuries I've endured and experienced.
How does one find their way through an intense and overwhelming episode?
The big question. Ha! For me, just holding on knowing it will pass helps. I recognize what is happening and that I am still present and aware. The episode will pass; it always does. Having a safe place to process is huge. Usually, for me, that has been with a medical or mental health professional or with a trusted friend who understands; someone who doesn't condemn me, but rather listens and helps me direct myself into a healthier state, and allows me to be me and to understand that ....
....I am not the problem. The problem is the problem.
A poem I wrote as yesterday's episode began to subside:
Safe Place
********************************************
For information on dissociative states and disorders:
International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation
For some reading and discussion regarding the controversy of the existence of Dissociative Identity Disorder:
Questioning Dissociative Identity Disorder & Multiple Personalities
************************************************
June 30, 2009
June 22, 2009
Million Dollar Pylon
Sometimes when I am with people I want to run, to hide. Not always, but more than I wish. I wish a lot. For a beautiful yard, organized home, thinner body.
Confidence; I wish I knew my opinions on things. I often feel others know more than I.
I cry often. Sometimes it just comes like a wave. Sometimes I know why I cry; other times it just feels like loss.
I am accepting and learning that life is a series of losses.
Today on the boat we glided through the coastal wakes. The ship's announcer told of the homes we were passing. Huge homes: a 10-car garage, the Brachs Candy family home, the indoor pool where "Cocoon" was filmed. One home is currently for sale; 8.5 million dollars is the asking price.
The homes are beautiful. Most all have piers and a boat or two. Many of the boats are lifted up out of the water, suspended by cables and sturdy poles. They must be strong to withstand hurricanes and such.
Imagine the homeowner's insurance cost on those homes.
A golden lab is hanging around the back of one of the homes. He walks up to the large glass doors; I guess they are doors. The dog peers inside.
All the homes have lots of glass to catch the view of the bay area. I'm not sure of the name of the waterway. It is near John's Pass which connects to the Gulf of Mexico.
As we pass a large pier coming out from one of the gorgeous, well-manicured estates, a bird is perched on a pier pylon. It's not an egret or pelican. It is smaller than either of those. It is a drab gray color perched on one leg.
It reminds me of simplicity perched there on that million dollar post. It reminds me of the homeless. It reminds me that it has the freedom to perch on a million dollar pier, without ever having to worry about the million dollars.
I wonder how many millionaires there are?
The announcer says we are approaching John's Pass to dock. To keep our fingers and hands inside as he docks the boat. The boat probably seats 50 to 75 people. It is open on all sides and has a roof to protect passengers from the sun. There is plastic rolled up on the sides, for when it rains I guess.
memoir begins with m e
I've begun writing memoir. No news there.
I find memoir easier to write than a narrative. To me memoir is akin to poetry. What is between the lines is as real as the letters that paint the scene.
I've never read how to write memoir; maybe that's a good thing. Ha!
When I write memoir, I go back in time to a place where I was at that moment. It's almost like I am a fly on a wall. Hmmm...better yet, an actor and the producer and the patron all at the same time in a theatrical play.
Memoir is alive; it's organic. I have always enjoyed people's stories, perhaps that is one reason I enjoy this new found treasure of memoir. I hope our companionship continues to grow. Currently I find it an integral tool in recovery and wellness and self-discovery. I'm trusting myself more; that's a huge step for me.
The few I've written have been revealing for me, seeing myself in that time and place. Knowing what I know now that I didn't know then. Dare I say...it's kind of like being a god. That's a scary thought. I don't think I'll hold onto that one...at least not for now! (Maybe goddess? haha)
June 20, 2009
Guru Thought: Wood & Water
***********************************
"Ordinary." The part of life that is 'fetching wood & carrying water.'
In wood and water lies much that is rich: life, work, nature, origins, sunshine, movement, harmony, wind, rain, snow, ice, warmth, senses, birth, death, individualism, community.
Think of all those 'ordinary' things, the tasks involved in and the reasons for fetching wood and carrying water. Not to mention the compositions and environments of wood and water themselves.
Today allow the richness of the ordinary.
*************************************
Link: What is a 'guru thought'?
*************************************
*************************************
Addendum to "Guru Thought: Wood & Water"
My story isn't spectacular for an ex-cult devotee; it's ordinary.
My evolvement has taken the path of writing and researching the part of my life some people have suggested/advised that I 'move on' from. That is my 28-year involvement with The Way International and even more years as a 'true believer.'
I'm coming to see that I can't 'move on' from that; it is as intricate to my life as breath. Dare I say, as childbirth. The Way and my experiences course through my veins. If I bleed out, I die. If I deny it, I suffocate.
So, I write for myself to embrace that part of life and to honor it.
I also want to be a voice, however small and unheard, for those who continued with The Way for decades or may still be a follower in The Way, yet who feel an alienation from themselves.
****************************************************
"Ordinary." The part of life that is 'fetching wood & carrying water.'
In wood and water lies much that is rich: life, work, nature, origins, sunshine, movement, harmony, wind, rain, snow, ice, warmth, senses, birth, death, individualism, community.
Think of all those 'ordinary' things, the tasks involved in and the reasons for fetching wood and carrying water. Not to mention the compositions and environments of wood and water themselves.
Today allow the richness of the ordinary.
*************************************
Link: What is a 'guru thought'?
*************************************
*************************************
Addendum to "Guru Thought: Wood & Water"
My story isn't spectacular for an ex-cult devotee; it's ordinary.
My evolvement has taken the path of writing and researching the part of my life some people have suggested/advised that I 'move on' from. That is my 28-year involvement with The Way International and even more years as a 'true believer.'
I'm coming to see that I can't 'move on' from that; it is as intricate to my life as breath. Dare I say, as childbirth. The Way and my experiences course through my veins. If I bleed out, I die. If I deny it, I suffocate.
So, I write for myself to embrace that part of life and to honor it.
I also want to be a voice, however small and unheard, for those who continued with The Way for decades or may still be a follower in The Way, yet who feel an alienation from themselves.
****************************************************
June 17, 2009
Stainless Steel
It was July 5th, 1983.
I was working Food Services at the Rome City, Indiana Campus. Rome City is where the Family Way Corps were trained. It had been a Roman Catholic convent, the Catholic Order of the Sisters, before The Way purchased it.
This was the 2nd summer I'd been assigned to Rome City. This second Rome City assignment had been announced in May when I was still at The Way College in Emporia, Kansas. I had a feeling that the assignment was like an omen: Carol it's deja vu; you will fail again...just like the first time. I had immediately pushed that thought aside.
The kitchen at Rome City was different from the kitchen at Emporia; it didn't have that industrial campus feel. The atmosphere was more like a large nuclear family; probably having the kids running around helped with that. Plus we ate family style instead of cafeteria style.
Some of our food was fresh from the large organic garden. In the garden I enjoyed fending off potato bugs with 8-year old Renee. She taught me the children's song, "Walking with my Lord...through the darkest night..." We would sing together in the sun while we smooshed potato bugs between our gloved fingers. Those were magical times for me, serving those two summers in Indiana.
There was no air conditioning in the kitchen area. But the dining room next to it was air conditioned. I didn't mind not having the cool air and oftentimes volunteered to wash pots in the large stainless steel double sink. Over the sink was a big window with a giant fan. I was sweaty anyway and enjoyed getting wet, the fan breeze cooling my clammy skin. Sometimes I'd sing or make funny noises into the fan. It would echo back, a comical whirling noise of my voice humming back at me.
On July 5th I was at one of the long stainless steel counters cutting some vegetables. I wish I could remember my Corps brother's name who was cutting vegetables with me on the other side of the counter. I can see him, but can't recall his name, so I'll just call him Brian for now.
I said, "Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Brian asked
"I don't know; just something isn't right somewhere."
"Have you spoken in tongues about it? Whatever 'it' might be?" he replied.
"Yea. I've been speaking in tongues all day. It just feels like something is really, really wrong somewhere."
"Well, you're doing the right thing. Father knows what's happening, and if you need to know He'll tell you," Brian encouraged.
Speaking in tongues was such a comfort, to know I could pray perfectly in any circumstance reminding myself that God was always there. It was my love language with the Father.
The next day I got summoned for a phone call; it was from my brother. The foreboding feeling grew as I walked toward the phone. What was going on? My brother never called me. I didn't have much contact with my family; something must be up for him to call.
My brother's voice came through on the other end of the receiver. "Hi Carol. Ummmm....Dad was in wreck yesterday. He's at Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem. He can't move; he is paralyzed from the neck down." My brother talked a bit more, about how the accident happened and where. About the C-4 sever and what that meant.
I was stunned and silent.
How is a person supposed to respond after that kind of news?
I took a stroll in the dark hours speaking in tongues quietly communing with my heart, wondering how I was supposed to respond. I walked the path around the Hill.
Being a retired convent the Hill had stations of the cross strategically placed all around, in the hillside, like small altar shelves. I think the Ministry had agreed to not remove certain of the statues there, though we believed the saints that R.C.s prayed to were devil spirits, or at least devil spirit influenced. Right now that didn't matter. I just liked the peacefulness of nature.
The healing springs were on campus too, though the pools were now dry. Something else left over from the convent days. The water was supposed to have had some sort of healing properties. The campus was over 150 acres, enough room for gardens, buildings, some pasture land and woods. We even made maple syrup from our own tapped maple trees.
I had seen Dad just a couple months ago; he had come to Emporia during Parent's Weekend. He had stayed on campus at Emporia, in Uncle Harry Dorm. It was somewhat odd for him to visit; we weren't close, just cordial. We had danced; the first (and unknown last) time I'd ever danced with my earthly father. During that visit Dad had decided to take The Way's Power For Abundant Living Foundational Class. It was to begin in Hickory, where Dad lived, in July.
That's what was happening! The spiritual battle.
This wreck was a ploy to keep Dad from taking the Class, to keep him from the greatness of the Word. That's what really mattered. The Adversary maybe thought he had won; but he hadn't. An ambulance had been right there after Dad's head-on collision to get Dad immediately to the hospital in a little mountain town. That had to be God.
Should I go see Dad? No, not right away. Jesus waited 3 days before he went to see Lazarus. I should wait, just wait and see what I should do next. When I'd go, I'd walk in ready to minister to Dad. He would walk again. I'd keep that believing image of victory in my mind.
I let leadership know what had happened and was given permission to go see him when I was ready. Dad was prayed for at various mealtimes. The Corps ate most all their meals together. It was a time for announcements, prayers, singing, teaching, fellowship, breaking bread together. I always enjoyed mealtimes, especially at the Indiana Campus.
On July 9th, my family called back; I needed to catch a plane for North Carolina to see Dad. On the flight I worked the Word in my mind. I believed I was God's representative; I would be His healing presence in that hospital, power from on high, warding off any negative believing.
I wasn't mentally prepared for the sight before me.
A 62-year old male body, stretched straight, held motionless, in place with a stainless steel halo around his forehead and some contraption around his lower limbs.
This was a man who loved to play golf and had been a skier.
His eyes open, unable to move his head, he stared at the drab, lifeless hospital ceiling.
I was working Food Services at the Rome City, Indiana Campus. Rome City is where the Family Way Corps were trained. It had been a Roman Catholic convent, the Catholic Order of the Sisters, before The Way purchased it.
This was the 2nd summer I'd been assigned to Rome City. This second Rome City assignment had been announced in May when I was still at The Way College in Emporia, Kansas. I had a feeling that the assignment was like an omen: Carol it's deja vu; you will fail again...just like the first time. I had immediately pushed that thought aside.
The kitchen at Rome City was different from the kitchen at Emporia; it didn't have that industrial campus feel. The atmosphere was more like a large nuclear family; probably having the kids running around helped with that. Plus we ate family style instead of cafeteria style.
Some of our food was fresh from the large organic garden. In the garden I enjoyed fending off potato bugs with 8-year old Renee. She taught me the children's song, "Walking with my Lord...through the darkest night..." We would sing together in the sun while we smooshed potato bugs between our gloved fingers. Those were magical times for me, serving those two summers in Indiana.
There was no air conditioning in the kitchen area. But the dining room next to it was air conditioned. I didn't mind not having the cool air and oftentimes volunteered to wash pots in the large stainless steel double sink. Over the sink was a big window with a giant fan. I was sweaty anyway and enjoyed getting wet, the fan breeze cooling my clammy skin. Sometimes I'd sing or make funny noises into the fan. It would echo back, a comical whirling noise of my voice humming back at me.
On July 5th I was at one of the long stainless steel counters cutting some vegetables. I wish I could remember my Corps brother's name who was cutting vegetables with me on the other side of the counter. I can see him, but can't recall his name, so I'll just call him Brian for now.
I said, "Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Brian asked
"I don't know; just something isn't right somewhere."
"Have you spoken in tongues about it? Whatever 'it' might be?" he replied.
"Yea. I've been speaking in tongues all day. It just feels like something is really, really wrong somewhere."
"Well, you're doing the right thing. Father knows what's happening, and if you need to know He'll tell you," Brian encouraged.
Speaking in tongues was such a comfort, to know I could pray perfectly in any circumstance reminding myself that God was always there. It was my love language with the Father.
The next day I got summoned for a phone call; it was from my brother. The foreboding feeling grew as I walked toward the phone. What was going on? My brother never called me. I didn't have much contact with my family; something must be up for him to call.
My brother's voice came through on the other end of the receiver. "Hi Carol. Ummmm....Dad was in wreck yesterday. He's at Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem. He can't move; he is paralyzed from the neck down." My brother talked a bit more, about how the accident happened and where. About the C-4 sever and what that meant.
I was stunned and silent.
How is a person supposed to respond after that kind of news?
I took a stroll in the dark hours speaking in tongues quietly communing with my heart, wondering how I was supposed to respond. I walked the path around the Hill.
Being a retired convent the Hill had stations of the cross strategically placed all around, in the hillside, like small altar shelves. I think the Ministry had agreed to not remove certain of the statues there, though we believed the saints that R.C.s prayed to were devil spirits, or at least devil spirit influenced. Right now that didn't matter. I just liked the peacefulness of nature.
The healing springs were on campus too, though the pools were now dry. Something else left over from the convent days. The water was supposed to have had some sort of healing properties. The campus was over 150 acres, enough room for gardens, buildings, some pasture land and woods. We even made maple syrup from our own tapped maple trees.
I had seen Dad just a couple months ago; he had come to Emporia during Parent's Weekend. He had stayed on campus at Emporia, in Uncle Harry Dorm. It was somewhat odd for him to visit; we weren't close, just cordial. We had danced; the first (and unknown last) time I'd ever danced with my earthly father. During that visit Dad had decided to take The Way's Power For Abundant Living Foundational Class. It was to begin in Hickory, where Dad lived, in July.
That's what was happening! The spiritual battle.
This wreck was a ploy to keep Dad from taking the Class, to keep him from the greatness of the Word. That's what really mattered. The Adversary maybe thought he had won; but he hadn't. An ambulance had been right there after Dad's head-on collision to get Dad immediately to the hospital in a little mountain town. That had to be God.
Should I go see Dad? No, not right away. Jesus waited 3 days before he went to see Lazarus. I should wait, just wait and see what I should do next. When I'd go, I'd walk in ready to minister to Dad. He would walk again. I'd keep that believing image of victory in my mind.
I let leadership know what had happened and was given permission to go see him when I was ready. Dad was prayed for at various mealtimes. The Corps ate most all their meals together. It was a time for announcements, prayers, singing, teaching, fellowship, breaking bread together. I always enjoyed mealtimes, especially at the Indiana Campus.
On July 9th, my family called back; I needed to catch a plane for North Carolina to see Dad. On the flight I worked the Word in my mind. I believed I was God's representative; I would be His healing presence in that hospital, power from on high, warding off any negative believing.
I wasn't mentally prepared for the sight before me.
A 62-year old male body, stretched straight, held motionless, in place with a stainless steel halo around his forehead and some contraption around his lower limbs.
This was a man who loved to play golf and had been a skier.
His eyes open, unable to move his head, he stared at the drab, lifeless hospital ceiling.
June 15, 2009
Journey through Memoir: Introduction
****
I have an ever-growing list to links of memoir. Some content of the memoirs may change over time as I add more detail; however, that altered content will most likely come out in another memoir on the same subject, approaching it from another angle at another time. Will some of these scribblings ever be in a book? I don't know. At this point a book doesn't mean that much to me.
From my understanding, memoir is not absolute fact. It is a retelling of an event or events according to how an individual remembers them. That said, there are facts in memoir.
It is a fact I was a troubled teen, overdosing on jimson weed at 15 years old. It is a fact I was in The Way for 28 years. It is a fact Dr. Wierwille signed me up to go Word Over the World Ambassador when I was 18 years old. It is a fact I AWOLed on both of my Corps commitments. It is a fact I underwent an abortion on my WOW year. It is a fact I developed asthma at age 22. It is a fact I loved The Way: the people, my in-residence Corps years, and more. It is a fact I birthed two children.
There are many more facts. Few are spectacular in the sense of a seedy cult story. Through memoir, I endeavor to share what it was like for me, my perspective at the time yet reflected from the present.
My perception of these events is mainly subjective; however, many of the effects of those experiences are objective. For example, my physical health is an objective result of emotional suppression; that said, how much so is a subjective approximation.
Both subjective and objective realities are substantial components of what shapes a person's life. Both have value and are 'true' in the sense of how an individual responds. Both leave an imprint, like a deer track through the woods. The heavier the animal, the deeper the print. Tracks get erased, or covered, or even fossilized. Some are unearthed, others never manifest. Some are more easily followed than others. Alas, an analogy can only go so far.
My memoirs are not being written in historic chronological order; yet, I am indexing them in historic chronological order as to when the events occurred. Some names and locations are changed. Some of what is written is from journal records. Some is from memory. Some dates are approximate; some are exact. If/when I discover I have a fact incorrect, I will correct the text(s). All is recreated to the best of my ability to catch the essence of a circumstance or conversation and my mindset at the time of the incident(s).
****
Related entries:
It's Relative
Ink Not Dried: more thoughts on memoir
Do You Type with Eyes Closed?
Memoir, Art, Life ~ Love Affair
Click here for memoir index.
****
I have an ever-growing list to links of memoir. Some content of the memoirs may change over time as I add more detail; however, that altered content will most likely come out in another memoir on the same subject, approaching it from another angle at another time. Will some of these scribblings ever be in a book? I don't know. At this point a book doesn't mean that much to me.
From my understanding, memoir is not absolute fact. It is a retelling of an event or events according to how an individual remembers them. That said, there are facts in memoir.
It is a fact I was a troubled teen, overdosing on jimson weed at 15 years old. It is a fact I was in The Way for 28 years. It is a fact Dr. Wierwille signed me up to go Word Over the World Ambassador when I was 18 years old. It is a fact I AWOLed on both of my Corps commitments. It is a fact I underwent an abortion on my WOW year. It is a fact I developed asthma at age 22. It is a fact I loved The Way: the people, my in-residence Corps years, and more. It is a fact I birthed two children.
There are many more facts. Few are spectacular in the sense of a seedy cult story. Through memoir, I endeavor to share what it was like for me, my perspective at the time yet reflected from the present.
My perception of these events is mainly subjective; however, many of the effects of those experiences are objective. For example, my physical health is an objective result of emotional suppression; that said, how much so is a subjective approximation.
Both subjective and objective realities are substantial components of what shapes a person's life. Both have value and are 'true' in the sense of how an individual responds. Both leave an imprint, like a deer track through the woods. The heavier the animal, the deeper the print. Tracks get erased, or covered, or even fossilized. Some are unearthed, others never manifest. Some are more easily followed than others. Alas, an analogy can only go so far.
My memoirs are not being written in historic chronological order; yet, I am indexing them in historic chronological order as to when the events occurred. Some names and locations are changed. Some of what is written is from journal records. Some is from memory. Some dates are approximate; some are exact. If/when I discover I have a fact incorrect, I will correct the text(s). All is recreated to the best of my ability to catch the essence of a circumstance or conversation and my mindset at the time of the incident(s).
****
Related entries:
It's Relative
Ink Not Dried: more thoughts on memoir
Do You Type with Eyes Closed?
Memoir, Art, Life ~ Love Affair
Click here for memoir index.
****
Musings, Blogging, Memoir (chronology)
****
Below is a partial list of links to memoir snippets. The list is partial because, as my manner is, I'm random. Sometimes list-updates happen, and sometimes not. I also link to pieces that I consider more as narratives rather than memoir.
The index is quite a hodge-podge.
Some pieces are written while participating in Authentic Writing Workshops.
Click here to read an introduction to memoir.
****
LIFE STORY: Memoir
Private Eyes: Childhood. FL. NC.
Parakeets, Moonwalks, and Reindeer: Childhood. NC.
Uncle Fred Took Pictures: Childhood. FL.
The Same Argument: Childhood, NC.
Bury the Weakness: Childhood. NC.
First Kiss: Childhood. NC.
Lock-in: Teen years. NC.
Don't Touch: Teen years. NC.
Recurring Story: Teen years. NC.
Barrel Toking: Teen. 1974. NC.
The Space Between: Teen years. NC.
A Green Hornet and Blackbirds: 1974. 15 years old. NC.
Witch Doctors and Roller Coasters: 1974. 15 years old. NC.
Echoes: 1975. 16 years old. SC.
Alone in a House of Mirrors ~ I: 1975. 16 years old. NC.
Alone in a House of Mirrors ~ II: 1975. 16 years old. NC.
Initiated: 1975-1977. 16/17 years old. NC.
Panel Wagons and Speaking in Tongues: 1976. 1977.
God Seekers: 1977. 17/18 years old. NC.
Shame and Anger: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The Bumper Sticker: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The House Beside the Railroad Tracks: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The Rest of My Life 1977. 18 years old. NC.
Up The Way Tree: 1978. 18/19 years old.
Extirpation: 1978. 19 years old.
Doorbell in Full Dress: 1981. NC.
Mandatory: 1982. 23 years old; KS.
A Different Kind of Baptism: 1982. 23 years old. IN, OH.
Stainless Steel: 1983. 24 years old. IN
How Did You Get in the Word?: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Lost History I: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Lost History II: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Love Heals: 1984.....
Pap Smear: 1987, 1988. NC.
Caretaker, with ten minutes to go: 1988. 29 years old. NC.
Re-membering: 1991. NC.
Trees Peek In: 1992. 32 years old. NC.
Mental Illness - Counselor #1: 1994. NC.
surrender: 1994. 35 years old. NC.
On the Sofa Beside Me: 1995. 35 years old. NC.
Critters in School: 1995. 36 years old. NC.
Some Light Reading...:1995. NC/TN.
Foundations: Mid-1990s. NC.
War Maims: 1996. 36 years old. VA.
Heart Failure: 1996. 36 years old. VA and NC.
Ashes (original II): 1996. 36 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces I
Phone with Cords I: 2001. 41 years old. NC.
Phone with Cords II: 2001. 41 years old. NC.
Slide Show: 2001. 42 years old. TX.
Missing Pieces II: 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces III (part 1): 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces III (part 2): 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Views of Rooftops: 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Guilt Trip: 2003. 43 years old. NC.
Dialects: 2003. 43 years old. NC.
Resignation: 2003. 44 years old. NC.
Out There: Early 2000s. NC.
Hush Little Children: 2004. 45 years old. NC.
Chapter 22: More Journal Entries: 2004. 45 years old. NC.
Brian at Borders: 2005. 45 years old. NC.
Books, Brian, Borders: 2005. 45 years old. NC.
Aquilla & Priscilla: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
To Hear with Different Ears: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
I like the deep tone of buffalo drums...2005. 46 years old. NC.
"Where is the love?": 2005. MO. NC.
Moths, Dams, Anchors: August, 2005. NC.
Embracing Change: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
For the Love of God: August, 2005
Behind Closed Eyes: 2006. 46 years old. NC
The Sword of the Lord and Bagpipes: 2006. 47 years old. NC.
Twenty-seven years and seven hours: July, 2006. 47 years old. NC.
Convoluted: 2006, 2010.
Missing Pieces I: 2006. 47 years old. OH.
Another Awakening: 2006. 47 years old. NC
Twisted: 2006-2009. NC
"No Other Explanation" ~greasespotcafe:2006, 2007
A Different Version: 2007. 48 years old. NC.
Protecting the Guilty~Part 1: 2006-2007. NC.
Protecting the Guilty~Part 2: 2006-2007. NC.
Cleaver Radio, Marta Szabo, and Serendipity: 2009
Marking Time: 2009. 49 years old. NC.
Million Dollar Pylon: 2009. 50 years old. FL.
Prissy Prudes and Gremlins: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
GreaseSpot Cafe: In the Kitchen: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Kinship: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
New York Log I: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
New York Log II: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
New York Log III: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
Each Voice Matters: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
Behind Closed Eyes: 2009. 50 years old. NC
A Flash: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Flash Recovery: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Rituals 1: porch & papers: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Rituals 2: ashes & webs: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Riutals 3: black holes & badgers: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Seven-week Witness: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Love Heals: 2009. 50 years old. VA.
Getting Things Right: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
What is Your Agenda?: November, 2009. NC.
MRSA is not Flat: 2010. 50 years old. NC.
Borders: March, 2010. 50 years old. NC.
A Mom Who Blogs: January, 2010. NC.
The Team: Winter, 2010.NC.
Guidelines and Procedures: Winter/Spring, 2010. NC.
Will Gnats Evolve?: May, 2010. NC.
Connected in Places: May, 2010. NC.
It Will Become a Memory: June/July, 2010. NC.
Anti-Cult Leaks July 30, 2010. NC.
Little Me: August, 2010. NC.
Primal Beings : August, 2010. NC.
Multiplication Factors: August, 2010. NC.
Confidential Wedges: August/September, 2010. NC.
Soul Groups: September, 2010. NC.
Walls are Real : October 2, 2010. NC.
Lion, Scarecrow, Tinman: November, 2010. NC.
An Encounter: November 3, 2010. NC.
Final Non-pronouncements: January 12, 2011. NC.
Still Life on an End Table: January 24, 2011. NC.
Belief Percentages: January, 2011. NC.
It Will Become a Memory: February 2, 2011. NC.
Rereading Me: February 14, 2011. NC.
cre-ate to art-cee: February 19, 2011. NC.
Cultic Abuse Flipside: March 5, 2011. NC.
A short trip to an island....: March 16, 2011. GA.
~random thoughts in march~: 2011.
Pass the Beans: May 4, 2011. NC.
Ordinary: May 6, 2011. NC.
Blackbirds, Ravens, Scapegoats: May 27, 2011. NC.
In Cog Nito: June 1, 2011. NC.
Post Hurricane Crystals: September 11, 2011. NC.
Stage Names and Imposters: March 13, 2012. NC.
Voices: March 27, 2012. NC.
Ponies and Fly: April, 2012. 52 years old. VA.
____
Below are pieces that cover a broad time range.
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part 1]: Childhood through High School
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part II]: College (1978) through 1984
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part III]1984 through 2008
Mary Jane and Ruffled Feathers: 1970s. 2000s.
The First Time: 1960s. 1990s.
Stillness: 1980s. 1990s.
Peaks and Peak Skills - I: 1970s. 1980s. 2009.
Peaks and Peek Skills - II: 1970s. 1980s. 2009.
More than Skin-deep: 1960s. 1970s. 2009.
Daughtering ~ Grief ~ Substance: 1970s. 1990s. 2009.
The Cult that Snapped ~ Chapter 13: 1978-2010
Hanging There ~ Zoloft, Clotheslines, Mr. Rogers, Limbs, and MIAs: 1990s-2010
Taboo: 1980. 1998.
Physician Carousel: 1981-2010
Quadriplegia: 1984 thru 1996.
Views of Rooftops: 2001-2009
____
Below are pieces that, to me, are more like journal entries than memoir.
Guru Thought: Strength April, 2009
Guru Thought: Ability: April, 2009
entry ~ more of a jounal entry: May, 2009
Crusades, Fence Sitters, and Yarn: May, 2009
Weighing and Waying Experiences: May, 2009
Significant Insignificance: May, 2009
Not Someone Elses: June, 2009
Tweet Tweet: June, 2009
Guru Thought: Wood & Water: June, 2009
memoir begins with m e: June, 2009
Below is a partial list of links to memoir snippets. The list is partial because, as my manner is, I'm random. Sometimes list-updates happen, and sometimes not. I also link to pieces that I consider more as narratives rather than memoir.
The index is quite a hodge-podge.
Some pieces are written while participating in Authentic Writing Workshops.
Click here to read an introduction to memoir.
****
LIFE STORY: Memoir
Private Eyes: Childhood. FL. NC.
Parakeets, Moonwalks, and Reindeer: Childhood. NC.
Uncle Fred Took Pictures: Childhood. FL.
The Same Argument: Childhood, NC.
Bury the Weakness: Childhood. NC.
First Kiss: Childhood. NC.
Lock-in: Teen years. NC.
Don't Touch: Teen years. NC.
Recurring Story: Teen years. NC.
Barrel Toking: Teen. 1974. NC.
The Space Between: Teen years. NC.
A Green Hornet and Blackbirds: 1974. 15 years old. NC.
Witch Doctors and Roller Coasters: 1974. 15 years old. NC.
Echoes: 1975. 16 years old. SC.
Alone in a House of Mirrors ~ I: 1975. 16 years old. NC.
Alone in a House of Mirrors ~ II: 1975. 16 years old. NC.
Initiated: 1975-1977. 16/17 years old. NC.
Panel Wagons and Speaking in Tongues: 1976. 1977.
God Seekers: 1977. 17/18 years old. NC.
Shame and Anger: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The Bumper Sticker: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The House Beside the Railroad Tracks: 1977. 18 years old. NC.
The Rest of My Life 1977. 18 years old. NC.
Up The Way Tree: 1978. 18/19 years old.
Extirpation: 1978. 19 years old.
Doorbell in Full Dress: 1981. NC.
Mandatory: 1982. 23 years old; KS.
A Different Kind of Baptism: 1982. 23 years old. IN, OH.
Stainless Steel: 1983. 24 years old. IN
How Did You Get in the Word?: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Lost History I: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Lost History II: 1983. 24 years old. OH.
Love Heals: 1984.....
Pap Smear: 1987, 1988. NC.
Caretaker, with ten minutes to go: 1988. 29 years old. NC.
Re-membering: 1991. NC.
Trees Peek In: 1992. 32 years old. NC.
Mental Illness - Counselor #1: 1994. NC.
surrender: 1994. 35 years old. NC.
On the Sofa Beside Me: 1995. 35 years old. NC.
Critters in School: 1995. 36 years old. NC.
Some Light Reading...:1995. NC/TN.
Foundations: Mid-1990s. NC.
War Maims: 1996. 36 years old. VA.
Heart Failure: 1996. 36 years old. VA and NC.
Ashes (original II): 1996. 36 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces I
Phone with Cords I: 2001. 41 years old. NC.
Phone with Cords II: 2001. 41 years old. NC.
Slide Show: 2001. 42 years old. TX.
Missing Pieces II: 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces III (part 1): 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Missing Pieces III (part 2): 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Views of Rooftops: 2002. 42 years old. NC.
Guilt Trip: 2003. 43 years old. NC.
Dialects: 2003. 43 years old. NC.
Resignation: 2003. 44 years old. NC.
Out There: Early 2000s. NC.
Hush Little Children: 2004. 45 years old. NC.
Chapter 22: More Journal Entries: 2004. 45 years old. NC.
Brian at Borders: 2005. 45 years old. NC.
Books, Brian, Borders: 2005. 45 years old. NC.
Aquilla & Priscilla: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
To Hear with Different Ears: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
I like the deep tone of buffalo drums...2005. 46 years old. NC.
"Where is the love?": 2005. MO. NC.
Moths, Dams, Anchors: August, 2005. NC.
Embracing Change: 2005. 46 years old. NC.
For the Love of God: August, 2005
Behind Closed Eyes: 2006. 46 years old. NC
The Sword of the Lord and Bagpipes: 2006. 47 years old. NC.
Twenty-seven years and seven hours: July, 2006. 47 years old. NC.
Convoluted: 2006, 2010.
Missing Pieces I: 2006. 47 years old. OH.
Another Awakening: 2006. 47 years old. NC
Twisted: 2006-2009. NC
"No Other Explanation" ~greasespotcafe:2006, 2007
A Different Version: 2007. 48 years old. NC.
Protecting the Guilty~Part 1: 2006-2007. NC.
Protecting the Guilty~Part 2: 2006-2007. NC.
Cleaver Radio, Marta Szabo, and Serendipity: 2009
Marking Time: 2009. 49 years old. NC.
Million Dollar Pylon: 2009. 50 years old. FL.
Prissy Prudes and Gremlins: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
GreaseSpot Cafe: In the Kitchen: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Kinship: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
New York Log I: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
New York Log II: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
New York Log III: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
Each Voice Matters: 2009. 50 years old. NY.
Behind Closed Eyes: 2009. 50 years old. NC
A Flash: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Flash Recovery: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Rituals 1: porch & papers: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Rituals 2: ashes & webs: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Riutals 3: black holes & badgers: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Seven-week Witness: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
Love Heals: 2009. 50 years old. VA.
Getting Things Right: 2009. 50 years old. NC.
What is Your Agenda?: November, 2009. NC.
MRSA is not Flat: 2010. 50 years old. NC.
Borders: March, 2010. 50 years old. NC.
A Mom Who Blogs: January, 2010. NC.
The Team: Winter, 2010.NC.
Guidelines and Procedures: Winter/Spring, 2010. NC.
Will Gnats Evolve?: May, 2010. NC.
Connected in Places: May, 2010. NC.
It Will Become a Memory: June/July, 2010. NC.
Anti-Cult Leaks July 30, 2010. NC.
Little Me: August, 2010. NC.
Primal Beings : August, 2010. NC.
Multiplication Factors: August, 2010. NC.
Confidential Wedges: August/September, 2010. NC.
Soul Groups: September, 2010. NC.
Walls are Real : October 2, 2010. NC.
Lion, Scarecrow, Tinman: November, 2010. NC.
An Encounter: November 3, 2010. NC.
Final Non-pronouncements: January 12, 2011. NC.
Still Life on an End Table: January 24, 2011. NC.
Belief Percentages: January, 2011. NC.
It Will Become a Memory: February 2, 2011. NC.
Rereading Me: February 14, 2011. NC.
cre-ate to art-cee: February 19, 2011. NC.
Cultic Abuse Flipside: March 5, 2011. NC.
A short trip to an island....: March 16, 2011. GA.
~random thoughts in march~: 2011.
Pass the Beans: May 4, 2011. NC.
Ordinary: May 6, 2011. NC.
Blackbirds, Ravens, Scapegoats: May 27, 2011. NC.
In Cog Nito: June 1, 2011. NC.
Post Hurricane Crystals: September 11, 2011. NC.
Stage Names and Imposters: March 13, 2012. NC.
Voices: March 27, 2012. NC.
Ponies and Fly: April, 2012. 52 years old. VA.
____
Below are pieces that cover a broad time range.
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part 1]: Childhood through High School
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part II]: College (1978) through 1984
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part III]1984 through 2008
Mary Jane and Ruffled Feathers: 1970s. 2000s.
The First Time: 1960s. 1990s.
Stillness: 1980s. 1990s.
Peaks and Peak Skills - I: 1970s. 1980s. 2009.
Peaks and Peek Skills - II: 1970s. 1980s. 2009.
More than Skin-deep: 1960s. 1970s. 2009.
Daughtering ~ Grief ~ Substance: 1970s. 1990s. 2009.
The Cult that Snapped ~ Chapter 13: 1978-2010
Hanging There ~ Zoloft, Clotheslines, Mr. Rogers, Limbs, and MIAs: 1990s-2010
Taboo: 1980. 1998.
Physician Carousel: 1981-2010
Quadriplegia: 1984 thru 1996.
Views of Rooftops: 2001-2009
____
Below are pieces that, to me, are more like journal entries than memoir.
Guru Thought: Strength April, 2009
Guru Thought: Ability: April, 2009
entry ~ more of a jounal entry: May, 2009
Crusades, Fence Sitters, and Yarn: May, 2009
Weighing and Waying Experiences: May, 2009
Significant Insignificance: May, 2009
Not Someone Elses: June, 2009
Tweet Tweet: June, 2009
Guru Thought: Wood & Water: June, 2009
memoir begins with m e: June, 2009
entry ~ each voice matters: August, 2009
entry ~ behind closed eyes: September, 2009
Ripening: September, 2009entry ~ stream of consciousness...fragments: October, 2009
entry ~ chin up: November, 2009
entry ~ dirty fingers: November, 2009
entry ~ as the forum turns - greasespot cafe: November, 2009
entry ~ communion: December, 2009
~ regardless of the season ~: December, 2009
~the past, the present, and Monday nights~: December, 2009
entry ~ remember to remember ~: December, 2009
entry ~ heritage: December, 2009
entry - house dreams: January, 2010
entry ~ shifts & shatters: February, 2010
entry ~ grief: February, 2010
Next Entry: February, 2010
Hear my muse...: February, 2010
Spongy: March, 2010.
entry ~ room to room: March, 2010.
journal entry: april, 2010..."rows of weapons"
Blipped Rant: May, 2010
Heading on a Trek: May, 2010
Time Balms: July, 2010
August 3, 10, 11, 12, 2010: Cult-Recovery Abuse
August 12, 2010: 2:45 AM Rant
August 30 & September 1, 2010: Horns & Psychopaths
September 3 & 8, 2010: 'Que Sera' & 'Slice & Hatchet'
September 10 & 13, 2010: Embalm & Die Happy
September 15 & 16, 2010: Bloody Hollows
September 19 & 20, 2010: to burn the lips & cause to utter
September 20, 2010: Decision to File ~ Overview
September 23 & 26, 2010: Damaged Goods
September 24, 2010: "What you think of me is none of my business"
September 27, 2010: The Greater Common Factor
October 1, 2010: Instincts
October 9, 2010: Hope
October 19 & 23, 2010: 'Healer Abuse' & 'Request'
October 24, 2010: Giving Voice
October 24 & 29, 2010: 'another day' & 'renewal'
November 04, 2010: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
November 14, 2010: entry ~ loving me
November 15, 2010: Entry, 11/15/2010: Processing thru the Knapp scenario
November 17, 2010: journal entry - thought record: Knapp's FB page
November 21, 2010: entry ~ overcome evil with good
November 26, 2010: Knapp's New Playground
December 6, 2010: No More Secrets
December 8, 2010: Dis-ease
December 8, 2010: No More Secrets II
December 12, 2010: Storms
December 18, 2010: Cut & Block
January 9, 2011: journal entry ~ january 9, 2011, 1:30 am
January 17, 2011: denial
January 19, 2010: Soap Dispensers
February 2, 2011: It Will Become a Memory
February 12, 2011: journal entry ~ february 12, 2011
February 14, 2011: Rereading Me
February 16, 2011: journal entry ~ february 16, 2011
February 17, 2011: journal entry ~ february 17, 2011
February 18, 2011: journal entry ~ february 18, 2011
February 27, 2011: journal entry ~ february 27, 2011
March 2, 2011: ~ when things began to get good ~
March 6, 2011: journal entry ~ march 6, 2011
March 10, 2011: journal entry ~ march 10, 2011
March 26, 2011: ~random thoughts in march~
April 1, 2011: ~ant farms & consciousness~
April 3, 2011: Little Fish Choices
April 6: journal entry ~ april 6, 2011
April 6, 2011: Blessed Anger
April 12, 2011: journal entry ~ april 12, 2011
May 01, 2011: A thought away...
June 6, 2011: journal entry ~ june 6, 2011
August 29, 2011: Thoughts on a Monday Evening in August
September, 2, 2011: journal entry ~ Twist and Shout
September 5, 2011: Next Water Source
September 5, 2011: Absurdity
September 13, 2011: Projections, threads, sundials
April 7, 2012: Imposters in Masks
April 22, 2012: Psyche Betrayed
****
GENERAL NARRATIVES & MUSINGS...along the blogging way
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part 1]: Childhood through High School
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part II]: College (1978) through 1984
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part III]1984 through 2008
November, 1979: "Way College Compared with Dangerous Cults"
John Welch: March, 2006, letter to Rosalie Rivenbark
Leaving Belief Structures and Systems: March, 2009
Dancing Between the Questions: March, 2009
"Who Would You Be Without Your Story?": April, 2009
Colorblind: April, 2009
No Road to Nowhere: June, 2009
Flashbacks, Dissociation, and Back Again: June, 2009
Way Corps Journal Entries: Preface: July, 2009
"Star Mangled Banner?" ~Jimi Hendrix: July, 2009
Silence: There's More than Meets the Ear: July, 2009
Conversing with Gremlins: July, 2009
Trust and the "Assertive Bill of Rights": July, 2009
Cult-Recovery 101 and Beyond: August, 2009
Over Ninety-nine Percent Identical: August, 2009
It Hurts: August, 2009
Subtlety: A Current Perspective on The Way International: September, 2009
Celebrating Landscapes: September, 2009
Cosmic Relief: September, 2009
Slates and Walls: October, 2009
Ink Not Dried - more thoughts on memoir: October, 2009
inhale...energize....integrate...:October, 2009
Do You Type with Eyes Closed?: October, 2009
Memoir, Art, Life ~ Love Affair: October, 2009
Pseduos ~ Secrets ~ Yets: December, 2009
It's Relative: December, 2009
"Free Gullibility Test":December, 2009
"I meant to do my work today....": December, 2009
Benefit of the Doubt: January, 2010
Believing Equals Receiving: Myth?: January, 2010
Picture Revelations ~ Number Nine: January, 2010
Another blog?: January, 2010
One blog here. Two blogs there. Blogger blogger everywhere...: January, 2010
"Of All Men Most Miserable": February, 2010
More Valentine Whistles ~ "What happened to Deerfield": February, 2010
Tears Still Roll: March, 2010
Leaving and Returning: March, 2010
Dimensions of Bliss: April, 2010
Peeking Between the Cover: April, 2010
Is: April, 2010
Giant and Dwarf: May, 2010
Scientific Studies: TMO's sacred doctrine over person?: May, 2010
Giants and the Roan: August, 2010
jury dismissed: September 1, 2010
Unplugging from Facebook: September 3, 2010
Shadow Colors: September 7, 2010
Abe: September 10, 2010
Authentic Writing: September 16, 2010
98.7: September 23, 2010
Victor Paul Wierwille: "The Lockbox" (mp3 recording): October 21, 2010
~rhythm and flow~: October 31, 2010
Forests (thoughts on blogging): November, 07, 2010
Cults and Such: November 20, 2010
Purple & Green: December 01, 2010
The Obvious ~ a quote: December 04, 2010
Sunlife and Orbs: December 06, 2010
Hubber on HubPages: December 27, 2010
Rejecting Genocide: December 31, 2010
Homestretch: January 05, 2011
Group Speak ~ "The Way International: The Straight Truth": January 11, 2011
Belief Percentages: January 26, 2011
cre-ate to art-cee: February 19, 2011
More: February 20, 2011
~ant farms & consciousness~: April 1, 2011
Puppets and the Canadian Bear: April 19, 2011
A thought away...: May 01, 2011
Ordinary: May 6, 2011
Wolves & Cement: May 11, 2011
Miles: May 21, 2011
****
JUNE 26, 2011:
Below are some of the blog entries relaying what happened (in part) with John M. Knapp, LMSW, my previous cult-recovery counselor.
Our relationship ended in an abrupt and harmful manner on August 2, 2010.
At the end of September, 2010, I filed a formal complaint with the state of New York where Knapp was licensed.
New York state opened an investigation in December, 2010.
entry ~ as the forum turns - greasespot cafe: November, 2009
entry ~ communion: December, 2009
~ regardless of the season ~: December, 2009
~the past, the present, and Monday nights~: December, 2009
entry ~ remember to remember ~: December, 2009
entry ~ heritage: December, 2009
entry - house dreams: January, 2010
entry ~ shifts & shatters: February, 2010
entry ~ grief: February, 2010
Next Entry: February, 2010
Hear my muse...: February, 2010
Spongy: March, 2010.
entry ~ room to room: March, 2010.
journal entry: april, 2010..."rows of weapons"
Blipped Rant: May, 2010
Heading on a Trek: May, 2010
Time Balms: July, 2010
August 3, 10, 11, 12, 2010: Cult-Recovery Abuse
August 12, 2010: 2:45 AM Rant
August 30 & September 1, 2010: Horns & Psychopaths
September 3 & 8, 2010: 'Que Sera' & 'Slice & Hatchet'
September 10 & 13, 2010: Embalm & Die Happy
September 15 & 16, 2010: Bloody Hollows
September 19 & 20, 2010: to burn the lips & cause to utter
September 20, 2010: Decision to File ~ Overview
September 23 & 26, 2010: Damaged Goods
September 24, 2010: "What you think of me is none of my business"
September 27, 2010: The Greater Common Factor
October 1, 2010: Instincts
October 9, 2010: Hope
October 19 & 23, 2010: 'Healer Abuse' & 'Request'
October 24, 2010: Giving Voice
October 24 & 29, 2010: 'another day' & 'renewal'
November 04, 2010: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
November 14, 2010: entry ~ loving me
November 15, 2010: Entry, 11/15/2010: Processing thru the Knapp scenario
November 17, 2010: journal entry - thought record: Knapp's FB page
November 21, 2010: entry ~ overcome evil with good
November 26, 2010: Knapp's New Playground
December 6, 2010: No More Secrets
December 8, 2010: Dis-ease
December 8, 2010: No More Secrets II
December 12, 2010: Storms
December 18, 2010: Cut & Block
January 9, 2011: journal entry ~ january 9, 2011, 1:30 am
January 17, 2011: denial
January 19, 2010: Soap Dispensers
February 2, 2011: It Will Become a Memory
February 12, 2011: journal entry ~ february 12, 2011
February 14, 2011: Rereading Me
February 16, 2011: journal entry ~ february 16, 2011
February 17, 2011: journal entry ~ february 17, 2011
February 18, 2011: journal entry ~ february 18, 2011
February 27, 2011: journal entry ~ february 27, 2011
March 2, 2011: ~ when things began to get good ~
March 6, 2011: journal entry ~ march 6, 2011
March 10, 2011: journal entry ~ march 10, 2011
March 26, 2011: ~random thoughts in march~
April 1, 2011: ~ant farms & consciousness~
April 3, 2011: Little Fish Choices
April 6: journal entry ~ april 6, 2011
April 6, 2011: Blessed Anger
April 12, 2011: journal entry ~ april 12, 2011
May 01, 2011: A thought away...
June 6, 2011: journal entry ~ june 6, 2011
August 29, 2011: Thoughts on a Monday Evening in August
September, 2, 2011: journal entry ~ Twist and Shout
September 5, 2011: Next Water Source
September 5, 2011: Absurdity
September 13, 2011: Projections, threads, sundials
April 7, 2012: Imposters in Masks
April 22, 2012: Psyche Betrayed
****
GENERAL NARRATIVES & MUSINGS...along the blogging way
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part 1]: Childhood through High School
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part II]: College (1978) through 1984
Seeking: Life Along The Way [Part III]1984 through 2008
November, 1979: "Way College Compared with Dangerous Cults"
John Welch: March, 2006, letter to Rosalie Rivenbark
Leaving Belief Structures and Systems: March, 2009
Dancing Between the Questions: March, 2009
"Who Would You Be Without Your Story?": April, 2009
Colorblind: April, 2009
No Road to Nowhere: June, 2009
Flashbacks, Dissociation, and Back Again: June, 2009
Way Corps Journal Entries: Preface: July, 2009
"Star Mangled Banner?" ~Jimi Hendrix: July, 2009
Silence: There's More than Meets the Ear: July, 2009
Conversing with Gremlins: July, 2009
Trust and the "Assertive Bill of Rights": July, 2009
Cult-Recovery 101 and Beyond: August, 2009
Over Ninety-nine Percent Identical: August, 2009
It Hurts: August, 2009
Subtlety: A Current Perspective on The Way International: September, 2009
Celebrating Landscapes: September, 2009
Cosmic Relief: September, 2009
Slates and Walls: October, 2009
Ink Not Dried - more thoughts on memoir: October, 2009
inhale...energize....integrate...:October, 2009
Do You Type with Eyes Closed?: October, 2009
Memoir, Art, Life ~ Love Affair: October, 2009
Pseduos ~ Secrets ~ Yets: December, 2009
It's Relative: December, 2009
"Free Gullibility Test":December, 2009
"I meant to do my work today....": December, 2009
Benefit of the Doubt: January, 2010
Believing Equals Receiving: Myth?: January, 2010
Picture Revelations ~ Number Nine: January, 2010
Another blog?: January, 2010
One blog here. Two blogs there. Blogger blogger everywhere...: January, 2010
"Of All Men Most Miserable": February, 2010
More Valentine Whistles ~ "What happened to Deerfield": February, 2010
Tears Still Roll: March, 2010
Leaving and Returning: March, 2010
Dimensions of Bliss: April, 2010
Peeking Between the Cover: April, 2010
Is: April, 2010
Giant and Dwarf: May, 2010
Scientific Studies: TMO's sacred doctrine over person?: May, 2010
Giants and the Roan: August, 2010
jury dismissed: September 1, 2010
Unplugging from Facebook: September 3, 2010
Shadow Colors: September 7, 2010
Abe: September 10, 2010
Authentic Writing: September 16, 2010
98.7: September 23, 2010
Victor Paul Wierwille: "The Lockbox" (mp3 recording): October 21, 2010
~rhythm and flow~: October 31, 2010
Forests (thoughts on blogging): November, 07, 2010
Cults and Such: November 20, 2010
Purple & Green: December 01, 2010
The Obvious ~ a quote: December 04, 2010
Sunlife and Orbs: December 06, 2010
Hubber on HubPages: December 27, 2010
Rejecting Genocide: December 31, 2010
Homestretch: January 05, 2011
Group Speak ~ "The Way International: The Straight Truth": January 11, 2011
Belief Percentages: January 26, 2011
cre-ate to art-cee: February 19, 2011
More: February 20, 2011
~ant farms & consciousness~: April 1, 2011
Puppets and the Canadian Bear: April 19, 2011
A thought away...: May 01, 2011
Ordinary: May 6, 2011
Wolves & Cement: May 11, 2011
Miles: May 21, 2011
****
JUNE 26, 2011:
Below are some of the blog entries relaying what happened (in part) with John M. Knapp, LMSW, my previous cult-recovery counselor.
Our relationship ended in an abrupt and harmful manner on August 2, 2010.
At the end of September, 2010, I filed a formal complaint with the state of New York where Knapp was licensed.
New York state opened an investigation in December, 2010.
Update: Knapp's licensed was revoked in January, 2014.
Section I: Stuff (pertinent information & my ponderings as to my reasoning-through process of going public)
March 23, 2011: John M. Knapp, LMSW: Endorsements Retraction
March 30, 2011: The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse - One year in the making?
April 17, 2011: The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse (theCHSCA.org)
April 25, 2011: Inventories & Reflections
May 25, 2011: Repercussions
June 14, 2011: Whys, Whats, Reasons
June 29, 2011: To Write Outloud
July 19, 2011: Private Damns
July 22, 2011: "More" Matters ~ Therapist-Client Perimeters
August 21, 2011: Out of Hiding: 'Why shouldn't I hire John M. Knapp, LMSW?'
August 21, 2011: Complaint Overview
August 23, 2011: One effect of dual relationships in a therapeutic relationship
August 26, 2011: My statements addressing John M. Knapp's allegations & accusations
September 4, 2011: Of Scandals & Scapegoats
Section II: Journal Entries
As of April 28, 2012, this index has been incorporated into the body of the index above under the section subtitled "...more like journal entries than memoir."
The journal entries regarding my working through what happened with John M. Knapp begin at "August 3, 10, 11, 12, 2010."
Section III: Memoir Snippets
As of April 28, 2012, this index has been incorporated into the body of the main index above entitled "LIFE STORY: Memoir." Memoir pieces regarding my experiences with John M. Knapp are listed beginning January, 2010.
****
****
MUSIC
Les Miserables: "Do You Hear The People Sing": June, 2009
No Road to Nowhere: June, 2009
"Star Mangled Banner?" ~Jimi Hendrix: July, 2009
Conversing with Gremlins ("Bare Necessities" ~Mowgli & Baloo): July, 2009
entry ~ chin up: November, 2009
Slates and Walls ("Another Brick in the Wall" ~Pink Floyd): October, 2009
"I meant to do my work today...." (Elton John): December, 2009
"Say what you need to say" ~john mayer: June, 2010
~How deep can you feel?~ Norm Strauss: July, 2010
Charlotte & Wilbur's "Ordinary Miracle" ~ Sarah McLachlan: November 11, 2010
****
****
Section I: Stuff (pertinent information & my ponderings as to my reasoning-through process of going public)
March 23, 2011: John M. Knapp, LMSW: Endorsements Retraction
March 30, 2011: The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse - One year in the making?
April 17, 2011: The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse (theCHSCA.org)
April 25, 2011: Inventories & Reflections
May 25, 2011: Repercussions
June 14, 2011: Whys, Whats, Reasons
June 29, 2011: To Write Outloud
July 19, 2011: Private Damns
July 22, 2011: "More" Matters ~ Therapist-Client Perimeters
August 21, 2011: Out of Hiding: 'Why shouldn't I hire John M. Knapp, LMSW?'
August 21, 2011: Complaint Overview
August 23, 2011: One effect of dual relationships in a therapeutic relationship
August 26, 2011: My statements addressing John M. Knapp's allegations & accusations
September 4, 2011: Of Scandals & Scapegoats
Section II: Journal Entries
As of April 28, 2012, this index has been incorporated into the body of the index above under the section subtitled "...more like journal entries than memoir."
The journal entries regarding my working through what happened with John M. Knapp begin at "August 3, 10, 11, 12, 2010."
Section III: Memoir Snippets
As of April 28, 2012, this index has been incorporated into the body of the main index above entitled "LIFE STORY: Memoir." Memoir pieces regarding my experiences with John M. Knapp are listed beginning January, 2010.
****
****
MUSIC
Les Miserables: "Do You Hear The People Sing": June, 2009
No Road to Nowhere: June, 2009
"Star Mangled Banner?" ~Jimi Hendrix: July, 2009
Conversing with Gremlins ("Bare Necessities" ~Mowgli & Baloo): July, 2009
entry ~ chin up: November, 2009
Slates and Walls ("Another Brick in the Wall" ~Pink Floyd): October, 2009
"I meant to do my work today...." (Elton John): December, 2009
"Say what you need to say" ~john mayer: June, 2010
~How deep can you feel?~ Norm Strauss: July, 2010
Charlotte & Wilbur's "Ordinary Miracle" ~ Sarah McLachlan: November 11, 2010
****
****
June 13, 2009
Lost History II
*********************************************************************************
Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
Lost History II, written a couple days after the workshop session, is a continuation of Lost History I.
*********************************************************************************
Within a couple days I received a card. It was from Craig, a response to my letter.
On the outside of a craft-brown sealed envelope was handwritten in Craig's cursive, J. Carol Hamby EOB - Room 9.
I opened the envelope. I pulled out a card. On it was a pen and ink print of The Way Corp Chalet embossed on a rustic-brown card.
The Chalet was a crafted log home built by Way Builders in the Way Woods. Dr. Wierwille was proud of the chalet and had talked about it's fine craftsmanship and materials. Only the best for The Ministry. As believers our temptation was no longer between good and evil, but rather between good and best.
Craig and his family lived in the Chalet; it was the president's home. I recall a gorgeous log or wooden staircase inside, seems it was spiral or deck. On the lower level in the back were a few small furnished guest apartments that were not accessible from inside the structure; they had their own separate entrances from the outside. Those rooms housed certain Corps leadership when they were visiting Headquarters. A rustic deck arrayed the outside of the Chalet's upper level.
I loved The Way Woods. When Dr. wasn't on the road, his motor coach was parked in the woods. The House of His Healing Presence, The Campfire Area, and Uncle Harry's Cabin were in the woods. There were a few small one or two room buildings where some Corps folks lived. One or two other homes graced the woods, where some leadership staff families lived. There were a few spaces where RV's could hook up for a stay.
Most of the Corps and staff lived on the grounds on the other side of Wierwille Road, across from The Way Woods. We were housed in the Executive Office Building or in trailers. Doctor's family lived in the old Wierwille home place. It had been remodeled sometime in the early 70's I think. Some other homes were around the Wierwille home. Leadership lived in those homes too. A few of the staff lived off grounds.
The woods were blessed with lots of trees and at least one open meadow area. One or two bridges arched a grassed gully. The meadow was beautiful in the warm months, a soft field for repose and rest. Trails ambled through the Way Woods too. I preferred jogging on trails as opposed to pavement any day. Jogging was part of the Corps program. I had enjoyed it until I had started suffering with asthma a couple years ago.
I opened the card. Inside was a calligraphy print from Dr. Wierwille's quotes:
Dr. Victor Paul Wierwille
I could hear Doctor's voice when I read it. The serious resonance yet with a fatherly touch of authority. I was Corps, committed to "It is Written."
Handwritten in cursive below Doctor's quote was Craig's response.
J. Carol - love you sweetheart & thanks for writing; I certainly did notice when you didn't stand but it was up to you, your problem. Glad you handled it. Love you. We'll see about a trip sometime. ~Craig
P.S. Thanks for the poems.
My heart was thrilled! God did work in Craig to not holler at me. God knew I was sick and that I was doing my best to be His best. Craig did notice. He was walking with the Father. How cool is that!? God's mercy too. Thank you Father. And a trip! Oh boy. I had written in my apology that I liked to drive and would love to go on a road trip with Craig sometime. Yes!
He liked my poems too. I wonder if he'll read one at mealtime?
But, he was probably just being nice. We were all taught the importance of correspondence and that people were to be loved, never used. Things were used. I remember Dr. talking about penmanship too, that if you loved people you'd take time to write so it was legible.
Maybe I was doing o.k. as Corps. A road trip with the man of God, little ole me. Woopee! Wow.
But, who was I to ever get to go on a road trip with the president of The Way?
Within a few weeks I was walking down Wierwille Road. Craig drove up in his station wagon, one of The Ministry fleet cars. He asked if I wanted a ride. Sure! As we rode along a 1/2 mile or so he chuckled and teased, "Well you said you wanted a road trip." We laughed.
Over 25 years later, I still have that card in that envelope.
I never did take the dream road trip.
(End memoir snippet.)
****************************************************************
Nor did I ever finish my Corps commitment, proof to my young mind that I wasn't good enough leaving me with an unrelenting shame for over 25 years. That will take a lot more memoirs! Ha!
Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
****************************************************************
Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
Lost History II, written a couple days after the workshop session, is a continuation of Lost History I.
*********************************************************************************
Within a couple days I received a card. It was from Craig, a response to my letter.
On the outside of a craft-brown sealed envelope was handwritten in Craig's cursive, J. Carol Hamby EOB - Room 9.
I opened the envelope. I pulled out a card. On it was a pen and ink print of The Way Corp Chalet embossed on a rustic-brown card.
The Chalet was a crafted log home built by Way Builders in the Way Woods. Dr. Wierwille was proud of the chalet and had talked about it's fine craftsmanship and materials. Only the best for The Ministry. As believers our temptation was no longer between good and evil, but rather between good and best.
Craig and his family lived in the Chalet; it was the president's home. I recall a gorgeous log or wooden staircase inside, seems it was spiral or deck. On the lower level in the back were a few small furnished guest apartments that were not accessible from inside the structure; they had their own separate entrances from the outside. Those rooms housed certain Corps leadership when they were visiting Headquarters. A rustic deck arrayed the outside of the Chalet's upper level.
I loved The Way Woods. When Dr. wasn't on the road, his motor coach was parked in the woods. The House of His Healing Presence, The Campfire Area, and Uncle Harry's Cabin were in the woods. There were a few small one or two room buildings where some Corps folks lived. One or two other homes graced the woods, where some leadership staff families lived. There were a few spaces where RV's could hook up for a stay.
Most of the Corps and staff lived on the grounds on the other side of Wierwille Road, across from The Way Woods. We were housed in the Executive Office Building or in trailers. Doctor's family lived in the old Wierwille home place. It had been remodeled sometime in the early 70's I think. Some other homes were around the Wierwille home. Leadership lived in those homes too. A few of the staff lived off grounds.
The woods were blessed with lots of trees and at least one open meadow area. One or two bridges arched a grassed gully. The meadow was beautiful in the warm months, a soft field for repose and rest. Trails ambled through the Way Woods too. I preferred jogging on trails as opposed to pavement any day. Jogging was part of the Corps program. I had enjoyed it until I had started suffering with asthma a couple years ago.
I opened the card. Inside was a calligraphy print from Dr. Wierwille's quotes:
"It Is Written"
"You are the salt of the earth. You're the light of the world. You're Corps.... Wherever you go you're Corps. When you eat, sleep, drink, speak, walk, talk .... you're Corps. And let them see Corps. Let them see the greatness of the Word of God in you....because it's the Word of God that changed your life."
"You are the salt of the earth. You're the light of the world. You're Corps.... Wherever you go you're Corps. When you eat, sleep, drink, speak, walk, talk .... you're Corps. And let them see Corps. Let them see the greatness of the Word of God in you....because it's the Word of God that changed your life."
Dr. Victor Paul Wierwille
I could hear Doctor's voice when I read it. The serious resonance yet with a fatherly touch of authority. I was Corps, committed to "It is Written."
Handwritten in cursive below Doctor's quote was Craig's response.
J. Carol - love you sweetheart & thanks for writing; I certainly did notice when you didn't stand but it was up to you, your problem. Glad you handled it. Love you. We'll see about a trip sometime. ~Craig
P.S. Thanks for the poems.
My heart was thrilled! God did work in Craig to not holler at me. God knew I was sick and that I was doing my best to be His best. Craig did notice. He was walking with the Father. How cool is that!? God's mercy too. Thank you Father. And a trip! Oh boy. I had written in my apology that I liked to drive and would love to go on a road trip with Craig sometime. Yes!
He liked my poems too. I wonder if he'll read one at mealtime?
But, he was probably just being nice. We were all taught the importance of correspondence and that people were to be loved, never used. Things were used. I remember Dr. talking about penmanship too, that if you loved people you'd take time to write so it was legible.
Maybe I was doing o.k. as Corps. A road trip with the man of God, little ole me. Woopee! Wow.
But, who was I to ever get to go on a road trip with the president of The Way?
Within a few weeks I was walking down Wierwille Road. Craig drove up in his station wagon, one of The Ministry fleet cars. He asked if I wanted a ride. Sure! As we rode along a 1/2 mile or so he chuckled and teased, "Well you said you wanted a road trip." We laughed.
Over 25 years later, I still have that card in that envelope.
I never did take the dream road trip.
(End memoir snippet.)
****************************************************************
Nor did I ever finish my Corps commitment, proof to my young mind that I wasn't good enough leaving me with an unrelenting shame for over 25 years. That will take a lot more memoirs! Ha!
Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
****************************************************************
June 10, 2009
Lost History I
The writing workshop tonight was again rich, more divine than Aunt Dot's 7-layer chocolate cake. Yummmm.......
In the workshop, Fred usually tosses out a subject line or theme. He always qualifies it with something like, "If something else comes through the pen, toss my subject line suggestion."
The subject line tonight was "Lost History." I really don't know what the following has to do with 'lost history,' but I feel certain there is a tie-in somewhere.
Following is what I wrote tonight. I composed and posted it on my memoir blog which is not linked for any public search engines.
*****************************************
Non-subject: "lost history"
Click here to read an introduction for memoir.
*****************************************
My hand came down empty. Yet in that emptiness there hides something tangible.
I sat in the kitchen at Headquarters. It was an industrial kitchen with big double sink areas and long stainless steel counters, large ovens, walk-in refrigerators and freezers. A typical sterile, industrial kitchen look. There was a huge rectangular vat where Stan taught me how to make rue. Stan; he was a good guy, Stan was. The previous year, Stan and I had been assigned to hitchhike together from Emporia, KS, to Tinnie, NM, and back. We had been 4 minutes late of the designated arrival time at Tinnie and were told, "You're late. Go back." That is a story for another time.
My regular job assignment for the year was food services at HQ. In addition to my regular job I worked my volunteer Household Service responsibilities. One was to oversee display setups in the west lobby; I think that's what it was called. The other was to help oversee setup at the Cultural Center in New Bremen for the High Country Caravan production recordings. I only felt capable for food services, where I didn't have to brush so closely with top leadership. Yet I enjoyed the other volunteer services. Especially the Cultural Center, to watch Doctor work with the performers. "Smile!" he would encourage with such enthusiasm. "Move those hips! Be alive! Give to that audience!" His passion was contagious.
Yet I was always, always nervous serving in those responsibilities. Who was I to oversee set-up for such important matters at the most spiritually significant place on earth?
But today, I was just me....the little gal in food services who helped wash pots and pans and slave over the food. It was fun though, especially when Gilbert was there. We always laughed while we made the giant salads. Gilbert was a tall, thin black man who had been around The Ministry since the early days. He had married (or would soon marry) Mary Kathy. Mary Kathy and I had served together as WOW Ambassadors a few years ago.
I sat there alone on a tall stool that sat beside the entrance to the multi-purpose room, I think that is what it was called. It was a large room that served as the HQ dining room which we transformed into a meeting room for various large meetings. We were the best work force on earth. When we set up a room, it was done with perfection. "All things decent and in order." That helped keep the adversary out and helped people to be better able to receive the Word.
I was so fatigued; I was physically ill and had been so for a couple years. I had been traveling to Dayton to an allergist and a pulmonary specialist. It didn't seem to be helping. I kept pushing to get up every morning, to fulfill my duties. That day the fatigue and mental fog were heavy.
Rev. Martindale entered the kitchen, as he was known to do. He walked through and stopped momentarily to say hi to me, his tall physique and build and demeanor were confident, yet tender. Kind of exemplary of a man of steel and velvet. It felt good to be acknowledged by Craig. I had a deep spiritual love and respect for him. I'd felt like a disciple of Jesus at times, or Gamaliel, as I have dug the scriptures while Craig taught. When he taught, it was always so rich and real, like a chewy caramel center of God's heart.
I don't remember our exact exchange while I sat and he stood other than it was cordial, just like talking to anyone. He continued into the dining room area.
The day moved along. It was some hours later the thought hit me, "Carol! You didn't stand when Craig came through the kitchen."
Oh my god. We were always supposed to stand when the man of God entered our work areas or presence, especially in a public setting. Why did he not holler at me? Why wasn't I reamed out? That's not like Craig, to not reprove someone for an error such as that. Maybe God knows I can't handle the reamings. I don't know why Craig didn't holler at me.
"Dear God, I am so sorry. It must have been the mental fog and fatigue. Maybe Craig didn't even notice."
I had to write Craig an apology letter, if for nothing else to clear my conscience. I wrote him as soon as I had the time and pen and paper; I recall it was sometime before the next day.
All mail went through the internal distribution system. I think I recall correctly that correspondence was put into large manila-type envelopes with a string and loop. Lines were on the outside of the envelope to indicate where the envelope was supposed to be delivered. Once its contents were received the envelope was used again, the previous destination was marked through and a new destination was written on the next line. It was an efficient system. Everything at HQ was efficient; "redeeming the time" was a motto.
***************************************************************
Continued in Lost History II
***********************************************************
In the workshop, Fred usually tosses out a subject line or theme. He always qualifies it with something like, "If something else comes through the pen, toss my subject line suggestion."
The subject line tonight was "Lost History." I really don't know what the following has to do with 'lost history,' but I feel certain there is a tie-in somewhere.
Following is what I wrote tonight. I composed and posted it on my memoir blog which is not linked for any public search engines.
*****************************************
Non-subject: "lost history"
Click here to read an introduction for memoir.
*****************************************
My hand came down empty. Yet in that emptiness there hides something tangible.
I sat in the kitchen at Headquarters. It was an industrial kitchen with big double sink areas and long stainless steel counters, large ovens, walk-in refrigerators and freezers. A typical sterile, industrial kitchen look. There was a huge rectangular vat where Stan taught me how to make rue. Stan; he was a good guy, Stan was. The previous year, Stan and I had been assigned to hitchhike together from Emporia, KS, to Tinnie, NM, and back. We had been 4 minutes late of the designated arrival time at Tinnie and were told, "You're late. Go back." That is a story for another time.
My regular job assignment for the year was food services at HQ. In addition to my regular job I worked my volunteer Household Service responsibilities. One was to oversee display setups in the west lobby; I think that's what it was called. The other was to help oversee setup at the Cultural Center in New Bremen for the High Country Caravan production recordings. I only felt capable for food services, where I didn't have to brush so closely with top leadership. Yet I enjoyed the other volunteer services. Especially the Cultural Center, to watch Doctor work with the performers. "Smile!" he would encourage with such enthusiasm. "Move those hips! Be alive! Give to that audience!" His passion was contagious.
Yet I was always, always nervous serving in those responsibilities. Who was I to oversee set-up for such important matters at the most spiritually significant place on earth?
But today, I was just me....the little gal in food services who helped wash pots and pans and slave over the food. It was fun though, especially when Gilbert was there. We always laughed while we made the giant salads. Gilbert was a tall, thin black man who had been around The Ministry since the early days. He had married (or would soon marry) Mary Kathy. Mary Kathy and I had served together as WOW Ambassadors a few years ago.
I sat there alone on a tall stool that sat beside the entrance to the multi-purpose room, I think that is what it was called. It was a large room that served as the HQ dining room which we transformed into a meeting room for various large meetings. We were the best work force on earth. When we set up a room, it was done with perfection. "All things decent and in order." That helped keep the adversary out and helped people to be better able to receive the Word.
I was so fatigued; I was physically ill and had been so for a couple years. I had been traveling to Dayton to an allergist and a pulmonary specialist. It didn't seem to be helping. I kept pushing to get up every morning, to fulfill my duties. That day the fatigue and mental fog were heavy.
Rev. Martindale entered the kitchen, as he was known to do. He walked through and stopped momentarily to say hi to me, his tall physique and build and demeanor were confident, yet tender. Kind of exemplary of a man of steel and velvet. It felt good to be acknowledged by Craig. I had a deep spiritual love and respect for him. I'd felt like a disciple of Jesus at times, or Gamaliel, as I have dug the scriptures while Craig taught. When he taught, it was always so rich and real, like a chewy caramel center of God's heart.
I don't remember our exact exchange while I sat and he stood other than it was cordial, just like talking to anyone. He continued into the dining room area.
The day moved along. It was some hours later the thought hit me, "Carol! You didn't stand when Craig came through the kitchen."
Oh my god. We were always supposed to stand when the man of God entered our work areas or presence, especially in a public setting. Why did he not holler at me? Why wasn't I reamed out? That's not like Craig, to not reprove someone for an error such as that. Maybe God knows I can't handle the reamings. I don't know why Craig didn't holler at me.
"Dear God, I am so sorry. It must have been the mental fog and fatigue. Maybe Craig didn't even notice."
I had to write Craig an apology letter, if for nothing else to clear my conscience. I wrote him as soon as I had the time and pen and paper; I recall it was sometime before the next day.
All mail went through the internal distribution system. I think I recall correctly that correspondence was put into large manila-type envelopes with a string and loop. Lines were on the outside of the envelope to indicate where the envelope was supposed to be delivered. Once its contents were received the envelope was used again, the previous destination was marked through and a new destination was written on the next line. It was an efficient system. Everything at HQ was efficient; "redeeming the time" was a motto.
***************************************************************
Continued in Lost History II
***********************************************************
June 7, 2009
Tweet Tweet
*************
I have caught the Twitter bug. I'll see how long it lasts. Ha!
I have two Twitter accounts, one personal that links this blog and one for work that links my poetry blog. My personal Twitter account is mainly focused on cultic/spiritual abuse. My work account is mainly focused on art.
I've read various articles regarding the "right way" to use Twitter. My favorite one so far is by Will Wheaton. In his blog he quotes a fellow Tweeter: "As @Pogue said in his NYT column about Twitter, The Web is full of “rules” about the proper way to Twitter, and a lot of them are just knowier-than-thou garbage. I couldn't agree more, and encourage you to ignore them all, choosing instead to use Twitter however it amuses you. "
I totally agree! I agree with most (if not all) of Will's blog on the subject.
What do I like about Twitter? I can search subjects I'm interested in and find others with the same interests. From there I can follow their info, links, messages to learn more on that particular subject. If I find that most of their tweets end up not my cup of tea, I simply "unfollow."
Most folks I find with a similar interest have an open account; ie: anyone can follow them. There is an option for protected or open accounts.
I like the Retweet function to pass along info that I want to share, etc. Plus it gives credit to the initial authenticator (for lack of a better term at the moment). RT is probably not technically a function, but one gets the idea. :-)
I can also post a Tweet when I write a new blog. :-)
I don't view Twitter really as a place to 'make' friends, more like acquaintances with similar interests. Of course some Tweeters I knew before joining Twitter; that's why I initially joined. Duh... ;-) Some of the acquaintances may turn into 'friendships,' but that isn't my purpose in Twittering.
My purpose is information exchange of and leads for similar interests without lots of verbiage. :-) If the exchanges resonate deeply enough the parties can then correspond more.
Each of us is only one person with limited time and energy and resources.
Tweet. Tweet.
***********************
I have caught the Twitter bug. I'll see how long it lasts. Ha!
I have two Twitter accounts, one personal that links this blog and one for work that links my poetry blog. My personal Twitter account is mainly focused on cultic/spiritual abuse. My work account is mainly focused on art.
I've read various articles regarding the "right way" to use Twitter. My favorite one so far is by Will Wheaton. In his blog he quotes a fellow Tweeter: "As @Pogue said in his NYT column about Twitter, The Web is full of “rules” about the proper way to Twitter, and a lot of them are just knowier-than-thou garbage. I couldn't agree more, and encourage you to ignore them all, choosing instead to use Twitter however it amuses you. "
I totally agree! I agree with most (if not all) of Will's blog on the subject.
What do I like about Twitter? I can search subjects I'm interested in and find others with the same interests. From there I can follow their info, links, messages to learn more on that particular subject. If I find that most of their tweets end up not my cup of tea, I simply "unfollow."
Most folks I find with a similar interest have an open account; ie: anyone can follow them. There is an option for protected or open accounts.
I like the Retweet function to pass along info that I want to share, etc. Plus it gives credit to the initial authenticator (for lack of a better term at the moment). RT is probably not technically a function, but one gets the idea. :-)
I can also post a Tweet when I write a new blog. :-)
I don't view Twitter really as a place to 'make' friends, more like acquaintances with similar interests. Of course some Tweeters I knew before joining Twitter; that's why I initially joined. Duh... ;-) Some of the acquaintances may turn into 'friendships,' but that isn't my purpose in Twittering.
My purpose is information exchange of and leads for similar interests without lots of verbiage. :-) If the exchanges resonate deeply enough the parties can then correspond more.
Each of us is only one person with limited time and energy and resources.
Tweet. Tweet.
***********************
June 6, 2009
Not Someone Elses
*******************
One of the challenges I've faced since exiting The Way and sorting through the repercussions (to put it lightly), has been living. Sometimes I feel all I do is watch life happen. I feel my life and surroundings aren't real. I wonder if I make things up.
I have flashbacks from time to time. I don't experience hallucinations in the sense of seeing things; I have emotional flashbacks. I shut down, recoil, withdraw. I may feel very much like a child. I feel I can't trust my mind. I feel I'm wrong and all others are right. I get a type of paralysis or going in circles. I sometimes tremble and talk myself through my next step.
These have eased in the last months, but they still happen. Probably a type of dissociation.
I read a lot and write and avoid commitments. At least I get bills paid on time and I am able to keep up at my part-time job which often serves as therapy for me, reminding me my life is more than this underlying sense of loss and shatteredness.
Lately I've thought much about living again.
Recently I went on vacation to Madeira Beach, Florida, just north of St. Pete. God, it was wonderful...true re-creation, restful, enjoyment.
What can I do to bring that into my life on a regular basis?
I can take pleasure in life. Not everything has to have some sort of profit....I don't mean money, but rather some 'grand' purpose.
My home for instance. For decades wherever I lived, my home was used for fellowships and classes. In fact, when house hunting for places to live, that was always one of the first considerations: "Where can we have Twig/Fellowship? This room will be great to run a class in." Everything in the home was to enhance and support "moving the Word."
I'm just now becoming comfortable with the idea that I can make my home a place for me. That that is o.k. I don't need any other reason. I can arrange and decorate simply because I like it that way. It doesn't have to be done the "right way."
I hope now that I follow through: simplifying, arranging, decorating, living.... just because.
***********************
Radical Acceptance Statements I've thought about this past week when I start to compare myself (note, these are not stated with a mindset of arrogance; ie: I realize my actions/life/etc. affect others) :
My past is my past, not someone else's.
My life is my life, not someone else's.
My experiences are my experiences, not someone else's.
Validity and authority: My life is mine.
******************************
I do have worthwhile experiences, knowledge, words to share. But they may not be popular.
**************************
One of the challenges I've faced since exiting The Way and sorting through the repercussions (to put it lightly), has been living. Sometimes I feel all I do is watch life happen. I feel my life and surroundings aren't real. I wonder if I make things up.
I have flashbacks from time to time. I don't experience hallucinations in the sense of seeing things; I have emotional flashbacks. I shut down, recoil, withdraw. I may feel very much like a child. I feel I can't trust my mind. I feel I'm wrong and all others are right. I get a type of paralysis or going in circles. I sometimes tremble and talk myself through my next step.
These have eased in the last months, but they still happen. Probably a type of dissociation.
I read a lot and write and avoid commitments. At least I get bills paid on time and I am able to keep up at my part-time job which often serves as therapy for me, reminding me my life is more than this underlying sense of loss and shatteredness.
Lately I've thought much about living again.
Recently I went on vacation to Madeira Beach, Florida, just north of St. Pete. God, it was wonderful...true re-creation, restful, enjoyment.
What can I do to bring that into my life on a regular basis?
I can take pleasure in life. Not everything has to have some sort of profit....I don't mean money, but rather some 'grand' purpose.
My home for instance. For decades wherever I lived, my home was used for fellowships and classes. In fact, when house hunting for places to live, that was always one of the first considerations: "Where can we have Twig/Fellowship? This room will be great to run a class in." Everything in the home was to enhance and support "moving the Word."
I'm just now becoming comfortable with the idea that I can make my home a place for me. That that is o.k. I don't need any other reason. I can arrange and decorate simply because I like it that way. It doesn't have to be done the "right way."
I hope now that I follow through: simplifying, arranging, decorating, living.... just because.
***********************
Radical Acceptance Statements I've thought about this past week when I start to compare myself (note, these are not stated with a mindset of arrogance; ie: I realize my actions/life/etc. affect others) :
My past is my past, not someone else's.
My life is my life, not someone else's.
My experiences are my experiences, not someone else's.
Validity and authority: My life is mine.
******************************
I do have worthwhile experiences, knowledge, words to share. But they may not be popular.
**************************
June 5, 2009
"Way College Compared with Dangerous Cults"
***************************************
In November, 2008, I was perusing some of my files, the kind of files one keeps in metal file drawers....the tangible on paper stuff. :-)
I came across a few various newspaper articles. I was unable to find them in the newspaper archives on the web. So....I'm thinking of transcribing and blogging them.
Following is one of the articles. I've endeavored not to make typos. My apologies if I have.
After a google search I discovered that the author, Douglas McGaw, was apparently a professor of sociology/anthropology at Emporia State in Kansas.
I would like to hear McGaw's opinions now, though he may be deceased. With further investigations and studies into cultic manipulation, some of his observations/ideas might have changed. I would think his final four paragraphs would remain the same.
Note: The article below, written in 1979, corresponds with Kristen Skedgell's first manipulative sexual encounters from VPW....not to mention others' encounters prior, during that time, and afterwards via TWI leadership. Point being, activities behind the scenes at that time were very much behind the scene and part of the "internal workings." It is the hidden (and even open) internal workings that help produce manipulation and toxic transcendent belief systems.
*********************************
The Gazette, Emporia, Kansas
Tuesday, November 27, 1979
by Douglas McGaw
Way College Compared with Dangerous Cults
Recently I attended a national convention on society and religion. Participants included sociologists, psychologists, religious researchers and leaders, and other interested people. Among the topics was some discussion on the lessons of Jonestown and its relevance to other modern religious groups.
The keynote speech by James Richardson bears paraphrasing in light of a number of comments I have heard in recent months here in Emporia in regard to comparisons between Jonestown and the Way College. Mr. Richardson, a sociology professor at the University of Nevada in Reno, and one of the foremost experts nationally on new religious movements, cautions against making such blithe comparisons, and my own studies in the same field lead me to similar conclusions.
Richardson points out that, in spite of a few superficial similarities between the People's Temple (Jones's group) and many of the new religious movements such as the Unification Church (Moonies) and the Way International, there are nevertheless some important differences that critics of these "cults" tend to overlook in their zeal to condemn all equally. Allow me to use his points in drawing some comparisons between the People's Temple and the Way, since the Way is of such concern locally.
First, the new movements are products of the social ferment of the 60's. Most of them arose as part of the new scene rather than in reaction against it. Although the Way officially began in the 40's, it did not become a significant movement until it began drawing from contemporary youth. The People's Temple, however, dates back to the 50's and was specifically oriented to combat a prevalent reality of the day -- racism. It was never "part of the scene."
Second, the characteristics of the members are different. Where the new movements (including the Way) draw primarily from white, single, middle-class youths who are relatively well-educated, the People's Temple drew mainly from the ranks of the lower-class blacks, many of whom were married and brought their families with them into the group. In this, the People's Temple more closely resembles the Father Divine group than the Way.
Third, the organizational structures are noticeably different. Although both are hierarchical, the People's Temple was much more rigorously controlled than the other movements. A simple, uncomplicated authoritarian structure, going from Jones through a a few "angels" and a fairly small "planning commission" to the unranked mass of followers, allowed for direct and personal control by the leader. The Way (and other new movements), being larger and more diffuse, cannot and do not operate in such a controlled way.
Fourth, contact with the outside world is different. Although all these groups are somewhat isolated from the world, the People's Temple carried its isolation to extremes, relocating itself in a remote jungle and then committing corporate suicide when the world threatened to "invade" its domain. Far from removing itself from the community, the Way is in contact with many segments of it, sometimes to the point of being defined as obnoxious about it.
Fifth, the resocialization procedures are different. "Brainwashing" is the common but inaccurate word for what goes on in virtually all religious (and political) groups; resocialization is the appropriate term. An important concern is the amount of physical coercion used in this resocialization. The People's Temple members lived a rigorous, deprived -- even grim -- life in which the family ties were openly challenged by their leader. Deprivation of food and shelter were not uncommon as tools to elicit conformity. Although the Way does engage in a certain amount of thought reform it is based on different principles and does not even approach the severity of Jone's tactics. To draw people in through what the Moonies call "love-bombing" is far different from holding them through deprivation and terror.
Sixth, the ideologies are quite distinct. The Way, like most groups in the Christian tradition, focuses on the individual as the object of concern. Salvation is individually obtained through the person's relationship with God. Membership in the group is important, but only insofar as it reinforces the individual's commitment to faith. The People's Temple was more communally oriented, openly espousing communistic ideals before the tragedy at Jonestown. Membership in the group and subordination of the individual to the group was central. The mass suicide was treated as dying for a collective cause -- a form of altruistic rather than egoistic suicide, such as one might find among soldiers who gave their lives for their comrades in arms. An individually focused philosophy such as the Way''s is unlikely to lead to the excesses of self-sacrifice shown by Jonestown.
Seventh, the general orientations differ as well. With the focus on the importance of the individual, the Way tends to emphasize self-development and introspection more than the People's Temple. There is less concern with political matters in favor of individual seeking. Social change is essentially the sum of individual efforts to "do right." The People's Temple has a more structural orientation in its focus on dealing with social (rather than individual) problems. Its early emphasis on the problems of racism led it into instituting soup kitchens, legal aid, and political support on behalf of poor blacks and other minorities. Jones saw social change as most effective when accomplished through collective political rather than individual channels. This of course contributes to their collectivist orientation.
Finally, the rituals differ. The ritual activities of the Way are important but less central than they were in Jonestown. Those most obvious to outsiders are the unique form of togetherness they have at their noontime meal and their regular jogging exercise around the streets of town. But these and the other rituals are not as structured or demanding as sessions in Jonestown where the members would be required to drink "poison" to show their loyalty to the group and to Jones. This "practice suicide" drill occurred a few times before the real thing occurred a year ago and was doubtless instrumental in preparing the people to commit suicide with as little resistance as the did. In this instance and many like it, the ritual superceded any meaning that was attached to the action. Congressman Ryan's visit provided the spark or catalyst to set in motion the mass suicide for which the Jonestowners had been "practicing" for a long time.
Those comments are not intended to defend any particular religious position. I am no "fan" of the Way, nor is anyone at the Way College aware of these comments before they go to press. (Hence, any misstatement of their beliefs is my responsibility and not theirs.) I do, however, feel that any assumptions about what goes on in that group should be grounded in reality rather than ethnocentric (or religiocentric) bias. It especially bothers me to hear hysterical cries from Way opponents that the Way represents another potential Jonestown, what with all the "brainwashing" and "secretiveness" that goes on there. This shows ignorance, disregard, or unconcern with the facts.
In the final analysis, the Way is disliked by many because the religious views -- being non-Trintarian -- are at odds with the traditional Christian conception of the Trinity. In short, they don't "think like we do." Therefore, they are heretic (which is true, according to traditional Catholic dogma) and should be eliminated. Or at least run out of town on a rail.
The problem is that in our religiously plural society we aren't supposed to persecute religious devinats solely on the basis of their beliefs. That would be gauche. But if we can somehow pin on them all sorts of negative lables (such as "evil brainwashing" practices), then they become more vulnerable.
(Incidentally, I would like to ask how their "brainwashing" is substantially different from that found in half a dozen other conservative and more traditional Christian groups in town.)
In any case, comparison of the Way to Jonestown is a dangerous and misleading practice. It provides simplistic and incorrect analyses of extremely complex issues. It is perhaps unfortunate for many of us that our traditional beliefs are being challenged by these "heretics" but it would be more unfortunate if our social system did no allow new ideas to be aired. I submit that further criticisms of the Way stick to the facts and avoid making unwarranted assumptions about its internal workings. He who faults others' beliefs opens himself to similar attack on their own faith.
************************************
In November, 2008, I was perusing some of my files, the kind of files one keeps in metal file drawers....the tangible on paper stuff. :-)
I came across a few various newspaper articles. I was unable to find them in the newspaper archives on the web. So....I'm thinking of transcribing and blogging them.
Following is one of the articles. I've endeavored not to make typos. My apologies if I have.
After a google search I discovered that the author, Douglas McGaw, was apparently a professor of sociology/anthropology at Emporia State in Kansas.
I would like to hear McGaw's opinions now, though he may be deceased. With further investigations and studies into cultic manipulation, some of his observations/ideas might have changed. I would think his final four paragraphs would remain the same.
Note: The article below, written in 1979, corresponds with Kristen Skedgell's first manipulative sexual encounters from VPW....not to mention others' encounters prior, during that time, and afterwards via TWI leadership. Point being, activities behind the scenes at that time were very much behind the scene and part of the "internal workings." It is the hidden (and even open) internal workings that help produce manipulation and toxic transcendent belief systems.
*********************************
The Gazette, Emporia, Kansas
Tuesday, November 27, 1979
by Douglas McGaw
Way College Compared with Dangerous Cults
Recently I attended a national convention on society and religion. Participants included sociologists, psychologists, religious researchers and leaders, and other interested people. Among the topics was some discussion on the lessons of Jonestown and its relevance to other modern religious groups.
The keynote speech by James Richardson bears paraphrasing in light of a number of comments I have heard in recent months here in Emporia in regard to comparisons between Jonestown and the Way College. Mr. Richardson, a sociology professor at the University of Nevada in Reno, and one of the foremost experts nationally on new religious movements, cautions against making such blithe comparisons, and my own studies in the same field lead me to similar conclusions.
Richardson points out that, in spite of a few superficial similarities between the People's Temple (Jones's group) and many of the new religious movements such as the Unification Church (Moonies) and the Way International, there are nevertheless some important differences that critics of these "cults" tend to overlook in their zeal to condemn all equally. Allow me to use his points in drawing some comparisons between the People's Temple and the Way, since the Way is of such concern locally.
First, the new movements are products of the social ferment of the 60's. Most of them arose as part of the new scene rather than in reaction against it. Although the Way officially began in the 40's, it did not become a significant movement until it began drawing from contemporary youth. The People's Temple, however, dates back to the 50's and was specifically oriented to combat a prevalent reality of the day -- racism. It was never "part of the scene."
Second, the characteristics of the members are different. Where the new movements (including the Way) draw primarily from white, single, middle-class youths who are relatively well-educated, the People's Temple drew mainly from the ranks of the lower-class blacks, many of whom were married and brought their families with them into the group. In this, the People's Temple more closely resembles the Father Divine group than the Way.
Third, the organizational structures are noticeably different. Although both are hierarchical, the People's Temple was much more rigorously controlled than the other movements. A simple, uncomplicated authoritarian structure, going from Jones through a a few "angels" and a fairly small "planning commission" to the unranked mass of followers, allowed for direct and personal control by the leader. The Way (and other new movements), being larger and more diffuse, cannot and do not operate in such a controlled way.
Fourth, contact with the outside world is different. Although all these groups are somewhat isolated from the world, the People's Temple carried its isolation to extremes, relocating itself in a remote jungle and then committing corporate suicide when the world threatened to "invade" its domain. Far from removing itself from the community, the Way is in contact with many segments of it, sometimes to the point of being defined as obnoxious about it.
Fifth, the resocialization procedures are different. "Brainwashing" is the common but inaccurate word for what goes on in virtually all religious (and political) groups; resocialization is the appropriate term. An important concern is the amount of physical coercion used in this resocialization. The People's Temple members lived a rigorous, deprived -- even grim -- life in which the family ties were openly challenged by their leader. Deprivation of food and shelter were not uncommon as tools to elicit conformity. Although the Way does engage in a certain amount of thought reform it is based on different principles and does not even approach the severity of Jone's tactics. To draw people in through what the Moonies call "love-bombing" is far different from holding them through deprivation and terror.
Sixth, the ideologies are quite distinct. The Way, like most groups in the Christian tradition, focuses on the individual as the object of concern. Salvation is individually obtained through the person's relationship with God. Membership in the group is important, but only insofar as it reinforces the individual's commitment to faith. The People's Temple was more communally oriented, openly espousing communistic ideals before the tragedy at Jonestown. Membership in the group and subordination of the individual to the group was central. The mass suicide was treated as dying for a collective cause -- a form of altruistic rather than egoistic suicide, such as one might find among soldiers who gave their lives for their comrades in arms. An individually focused philosophy such as the Way''s is unlikely to lead to the excesses of self-sacrifice shown by Jonestown.
Seventh, the general orientations differ as well. With the focus on the importance of the individual, the Way tends to emphasize self-development and introspection more than the People's Temple. There is less concern with political matters in favor of individual seeking. Social change is essentially the sum of individual efforts to "do right." The People's Temple has a more structural orientation in its focus on dealing with social (rather than individual) problems. Its early emphasis on the problems of racism led it into instituting soup kitchens, legal aid, and political support on behalf of poor blacks and other minorities. Jones saw social change as most effective when accomplished through collective political rather than individual channels. This of course contributes to their collectivist orientation.
Finally, the rituals differ. The ritual activities of the Way are important but less central than they were in Jonestown. Those most obvious to outsiders are the unique form of togetherness they have at their noontime meal and their regular jogging exercise around the streets of town. But these and the other rituals are not as structured or demanding as sessions in Jonestown where the members would be required to drink "poison" to show their loyalty to the group and to Jones. This "practice suicide" drill occurred a few times before the real thing occurred a year ago and was doubtless instrumental in preparing the people to commit suicide with as little resistance as the did. In this instance and many like it, the ritual superceded any meaning that was attached to the action. Congressman Ryan's visit provided the spark or catalyst to set in motion the mass suicide for which the Jonestowners had been "practicing" for a long time.
Those comments are not intended to defend any particular religious position. I am no "fan" of the Way, nor is anyone at the Way College aware of these comments before they go to press. (Hence, any misstatement of their beliefs is my responsibility and not theirs.) I do, however, feel that any assumptions about what goes on in that group should be grounded in reality rather than ethnocentric (or religiocentric) bias. It especially bothers me to hear hysterical cries from Way opponents that the Way represents another potential Jonestown, what with all the "brainwashing" and "secretiveness" that goes on there. This shows ignorance, disregard, or unconcern with the facts.
In the final analysis, the Way is disliked by many because the religious views -- being non-Trintarian -- are at odds with the traditional Christian conception of the Trinity. In short, they don't "think like we do." Therefore, they are heretic (which is true, according to traditional Catholic dogma) and should be eliminated. Or at least run out of town on a rail.
The problem is that in our religiously plural society we aren't supposed to persecute religious devinats solely on the basis of their beliefs. That would be gauche. But if we can somehow pin on them all sorts of negative lables (such as "evil brainwashing" practices), then they become more vulnerable.
(Incidentally, I would like to ask how their "brainwashing" is substantially different from that found in half a dozen other conservative and more traditional Christian groups in town.)
In any case, comparison of the Way to Jonestown is a dangerous and misleading practice. It provides simplistic and incorrect analyses of extremely complex issues. It is perhaps unfortunate for many of us that our traditional beliefs are being challenged by these "heretics" but it would be more unfortunate if our social system did no allow new ideas to be aired. I submit that further criticisms of the Way stick to the facts and avoid making unwarranted assumptions about its internal workings. He who faults others' beliefs opens himself to similar attack on their own faith.
************************************
June 3, 2009
No Road to Nowhere
************************************
The writing workshop I am currently taking brought to mind the rich stories we all have. That brought to mind the following.....
Some months back I viewed a video put together by someone who had been a follower of The Way International. If I recall correctly, this person was involved with The Way for 2 to 3 years some decades ago. The song featured on the video was Nowhere Road. The photos were of various scenes and books depicting the 'dark side' of The Way.
It hurt to watch. I was left with tears on my cheeks thinking, "My life has not been a road to nowhere."
In fact, all roads lead somewhere....even if that somewhere is "nowhere."
I appreciated the artist's expression and I recognize that was what the video was....or at least that is my impression. By that I mean that the photos put with the song are artistic expression, not necessarily a literal fact of life.
I think people who left The Way decades ago and/or who were only involved for a short period of time, can state that The Way was a road to nowhere...for them.
I cannot say that. The Way was my entire formative adult years and beyond. I was involved from ages 18 to 46. I am now 50. It will be over 6 more years before I will have spent more time out of The Way than in The Way.
I lived those 28 years; I lived. I cried. I laughed. I loved. I hurt. I rejoiced. I was manipulated. I manipulated. I gave birth from the womb. I ended a life in the womb. I found myself. I lost myself.
I hope some can understand that those years for me were not a 'Nowhere Road.' They were very much part of my journey that has led me to where I am.
If someone were to ask me, "Well, isn't The Way a road to nowhere?"
At this point I'd answer, "No. As of when I departed in 2005 it was a dead road, fossilized, that would lead to something akin to a boring social club. Prior to that The Way was a road of many landscapes: adventure, joy, God, truth, enlightenment, service, legalism, totalism, licentiousness, lies, suppression, abuses, toxicity and all shades in between. The scenery one experienced depended on when and where one took the detour or if they took it as a main route."
All that said, I still accept, acknowledge, and honor the artist's expression and that for some people their experience was a Nowhere Road. And I too got tired....
*******************************
So what song comes to my mind regarding my journey? Hmmm... How 'bout Carole King's... Tapestry.
I searched for the Nowhere Road video.I found it, but it appears to have been redone. Some of the images are different. It has since disappeared.
*********************************************
(Click here to go back to Parchment Anthology.)
The writing workshop I am currently taking brought to mind the rich stories we all have. That brought to mind the following.....
Some months back I viewed a video put together by someone who had been a follower of The Way International. If I recall correctly, this person was involved with The Way for 2 to 3 years some decades ago. The song featured on the video was Nowhere Road. The photos were of various scenes and books depicting the 'dark side' of The Way.
It hurt to watch. I was left with tears on my cheeks thinking, "My life has not been a road to nowhere."
In fact, all roads lead somewhere....even if that somewhere is "nowhere."
I appreciated the artist's expression and I recognize that was what the video was....or at least that is my impression. By that I mean that the photos put with the song are artistic expression, not necessarily a literal fact of life.
I think people who left The Way decades ago and/or who were only involved for a short period of time, can state that The Way was a road to nowhere...for them.
I cannot say that. The Way was my entire formative adult years and beyond. I was involved from ages 18 to 46. I am now 50. It will be over 6 more years before I will have spent more time out of The Way than in The Way.
I lived those 28 years; I lived. I cried. I laughed. I loved. I hurt. I rejoiced. I was manipulated. I manipulated. I gave birth from the womb. I ended a life in the womb. I found myself. I lost myself.
I hope some can understand that those years for me were not a 'Nowhere Road.' They were very much part of my journey that has led me to where I am.
If someone were to ask me, "Well, isn't The Way a road to nowhere?"
At this point I'd answer, "No. As of when I departed in 2005 it was a dead road, fossilized, that would lead to something akin to a boring social club. Prior to that The Way was a road of many landscapes: adventure, joy, God, truth, enlightenment, service, legalism, totalism, licentiousness, lies, suppression, abuses, toxicity and all shades in between. The scenery one experienced depended on when and where one took the detour or if they took it as a main route."
All that said, I still accept, acknowledge, and honor the artist's expression and that for some people their experience was a Nowhere Road. And I too got tired....
*******************************
So what song comes to my mind regarding my journey? Hmmm... How 'bout Carole King's... Tapestry.
I searched for the Nowhere Road video.
*********************************************
(Click here to go back to Parchment Anthology.)