Significant Insignificance

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My first session was tonight, first of five in an Authentic Writing Workshop.

I was nervous being among some writers, even though it was via phone. I felt small, insignificant and like, What have I got to share? My story is unimportant.

I'm not a professional writer. All I write is poetry, my journal, emails, and blogs. None are read much, and that's okay. My poetry and journaling are therapeutic writing; personal unless I decide to share it publicly. Well, most all my poetry appears on some sort of small public platform, but not my journaling. And even on the small public venues, the poetry is still therapeutic.

My blogs are mainly experimental. I don't have an audience. I doubt I ever will. I'm not sure why I decided to blog. I guess I want to be heard. But why; why does that even matter? And who even hears? And what impact would it ever have? Maybe those questions will be answered as I continue the process; maybe not.

In the workshop tonight I was again reminded of the importance of one's story. The story. The story.

No matter how unimportant one's story my seem, no matter how uneventful, no matter how insignificant, each story is unique and is worthy. Every window from which light emerges on a dark night, behind that pane is a story. Beyond it is a story. Inside the door and outside the door, is a story.

I was again reminded of my recent 'motto', or 'mantra'...if one dares: "There are no non-persons; there are no non-events."

Well now, this little blog took on ironic poles: the insignificance of my pennings, yet the significance of each person's story.

I am a person.

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Weighing and Waying Experiences

I am currently focusing my reading on a couple books.

One is Bounded Choice by Janja Lalich. I am in a section now reading about the Heaven's Gate cult.

The other is The Guru Looked Good by Marta Szabo. It is a memoir about her time as a true believer and Siddha Yoga follower, living in ashrams.

Heaven's Gate belief system was (is?) a mix of New Age, ufology, and biblical interpretations, with perhaps a few other ideas thrown in.

Siddha Yoga, of course, is of Hindu origin.

My personal experience with The Way was of biblical origin.

Yet the parallels between the 3 systems are somewhat astounding to me. I think that I shouldn't be astounded because of the many articles, books, conversations, etc. I've had and read regarding totalistic systems and groups. But once again, I get that uncanny and all-too-familiar feeling. Here are 3 different belief systems, yet they are so very similar.

Perhaps my "amazement" is that I was once a true believer; I really believed I was at "The School of the Prophets" while in The Way Corps. I truly believed Ohio Way Headquarters was "holy ground," a "spiritual oasis," a "bulwark for the accuracy and integrity of God's Word."

I recall "Dr." Wierwille saying something like, "As goes the Corps, so goes the Ministry. As goes the Ministry, so goes the world." Thus we, the Way Corps, were responsible for the state of our country and the world. We were elite; our campuses were elite...especially Headquarters. I continually battled shame for not living up to the standard of the Way Corps motto: "It is Written." I endeavored to believe my calling trying to discipline myself to the five Way Corps principles and unrelenting standards and at the same time believe in and embrace the grace of God.

All the while, the President of The Way, the Way Corps Director, and other top leaders (all who were teaching us) were abusing their positions of trust via emotional abuse, sexual abuse, and spiritual abuse. To think of it too much leaves a hole in my gut, an almost wretching feel.

This past week I pulled out a journal from 1982 - 83 which was my 1st in-residence year of the 13th Way Corps; it was my 2nd attempt at The Way Corps. (Decades ago I threw out my journals from the 10th Corps and prior to the 10th Corps; I wish I still had them.)

Thumbing through the pages, I read excerpts of a young woman striving to love God with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength. I read about someone who (among other things) never feels good enough, is in awe that she is chosen, is indebted to those who have gone before her, embraces the privilege to serve along side God's elite, who experiences the mystical highs of and 'more real than real' love of God among her beloved believer brothers and sisters, and who continually squelches her inner voice beating it into a type of submission as if it were some sort of rabid animal that needs to be kept on a chain.

Again I feel that hole in my gut.

What a rape of the soul.

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(And then I hear the whisper, It wasn't that bad Carol. You have a lot to be thankful for.

I do have a lot to be thankful for, but I don't want to minimize the damage/challenges that toxic belief systems and groups have upon the psyche. Someday I hope to understand more and have greater clarity regarding the process. )

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Crusades, Fence Sitters, and Yarn

I copy and paste the following from another blog, one I keep with the goal of writing some memoirs. I wrote the following on May 7. It is more a stream of consciousness type writing, and that's o.k.

Here goes; I'm gonna click "publish post."

An added thought regarding crusades: "Do You Hear the People Sing"

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This isn't a memoir. It's more of a journal entry.

I am now 50 years of age. In some ways I still feel like an adolescent. Don't people my age know by now their political stance and their religious stance? Those are the only two categories I can think of. Why?

Why are those categories so important? Is it because they have shaped so much of history? Have they? What other factors come into play?

What of the relationship stance, the family stance, the spiritual stance, the morality stance, the psychology stance, the science stance? Do I have opinions on those issues? I do, more so than religion and politics. But why do I get such fog in my mind regarding politics and religion? Is it because of their complexity, or is it because they are so divided? I much prefer harmony over division.

Let me take one issue: the gay issue. Does it really bother me that Henry and Paul are lovers?

No, not in their private lives. But yet it would bother me to see them holding hands in public.

Yet, if two male friends embrace, I don't think much of it. It is a greeting betwixt friends. Why would the holding of hands bother me? It must be a cultural bias.

I listed religious and spiritual as two separate stances. Perhaps by "religious" I really mean dogmatic crusades. Maybe that is what turns me off: crusades.

Yet, when I write that I have a whispering thought, Nothing would ever get accomplished on a large level if not for a crusade.

Yet, the other issues also have division. Perhaps in my mind the other issues are not as divided; there is an intuitive sense regarding relationships, family, and morals. However science, spirituality, and psychology have divisions galore.

Crusades and I don't get along anymore. I tried to be a crusader for God. I don't know; I just get confused.

My next thought is to write Carol, write. Even if it doesn't make sense, write.

O.K.

When I connect with my heart by focusing in the area of my physical heart and asking, What do I feel? ....there is an intuitive sense of knowing. I don't have to prove anything to anyone. I can simply be in the moment without being forced into a decision, which is an opinion.

Also, I can change my mind on matters. It's o.k. if I am a fence sitter. So what? Perhaps if the world had more fence sitters, we would have more peace.

Work would still get done: crops planted, people fed, people clothed, music played, poems and essays written, houses built, animals tended, lovers loved, stories lived and passed along, etc. That is life.

I've heard it said that necessity is the mother of invention. Perhaps emotional necessity is the mother of belief systems. That is much too simplistic.

But maybe I'm grasping an element of unraveling the ball of yarn.

A ball of yarn
rainbow cords
each color a season
of life

All wound up into
one big orb
hiding the central
core

It takes time
to unwind
to lay straight
to notice the patterns
of colors

What lies at the center?
Only the other end.

And I was hoping for a
revelation

Sigh

Ahh...perhaps that is
the revelation

The progress of
grasping that the end
and the beginning
look the same

That the discovery
is in the
unraveling

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Cleaver Radio, Marta Szabo, and Serendipity

My life is filled with serendipity and I enjoy it. Perhaps everyone's life is like that. Maybe some folks notice and some folks don't notice the "happenstances" in our lives.

Last week I ended up on a radio show talking about myself and The Way International. (oh my!) I honestly had no idea I was calling into a radio show to be on the air. I have never in my life called a radio show and wouldn't have last Saturday...except for the "happenstance" of "circumstance." The name of the show is Leave It To Cleaver with host Steve Cleaver.

You can listen to the podcast here:
Steve Cleaver Interview with Marta Szabo

The interview with Marta Szabo is terrific. The sharing, the power of writing, the love of life, and some education about cults. Cults? Yup... The interview with Marta begins around 30 minutes into the podcast. I come in about 30 minutes after that.

After calling in, I wondered what all I had exactly said. Through this past week I wondered how "dumb" I must have sounded. *rolleyes*

I just today (Saturday, 5/16) was able to hear the podcast. Part of the serendipity is that I had no idea what had been discussed prior to or after my calling in; until I listened to it today.  And my "dumbness" I was so concerned about? Well....I didn't sound so dumb, and apparently what I shared was significant enough for Steve and Marta to discuss a bit more.

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I wrote the following last Sunday, May 10th, the day after the radio incident, and how it came about that I ended up on the radio.  And yes, I laughed at myself.
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I awoke Saturday morning, May 9, wound quite tight. I take Xanax at times for anxiety, so popped one...had sex with hubby...and fell back to sleep. I awoke around 1:00ish PM, donned my robe and proceeded downstairs. I looked at the clock, 1:10.

Self to self: Oh! Marta's radio show! I wanted to hear that. I'll just call and tune in late.

I sign into Twitter on the computer to get the phone # of the radio show.  Marta and I met on Twitter and have communicated a couple times about she and her husband's writing workshop via short emails.

Now, dumb me...I'm thinking that I call the phone # to hear the radio show...you know, like a conference call.

Show host answers the phone, but I wasn't paying that much attention.
(Quotes are very paraphrased, from memory.)

Me: Yes, I'm calling in late for Marta's show.
Host: Great! What's your name?
Me: Carol Welch
Marta: Hi Carol! Carol signed up for a workshop. We met on Twitter.
Host: Really? Ya'll met on Twitter?
Marta: Yea!
Host: So Carol, do you have any questions for Marta?
Me: Not really.
Host: Could we ask you a couple questions?
Me: Sure...
Host: Well, do you write?
Me: Yes
Host: Why?
Me: For me. Writing has been therapy for me. I journal. Journaling changed my life.
Host: Can you tell us how?
Me: Well I was involved in a bible-based fundamentalist group, most call a cult, and journaling really did change my life.
Host: Do you mind sharing what group?
Me: The Way International. I left in 2005 after 28 years.
Host and Marta: *gasp*
Me: Am I on the radio? I just woke up.
Host or Marta: Yup
Me: Oh. (thinking that it must be a small show since no one else was on the conference call... *redface* )

(The three of us talked 10ish to 15ish minutes about The Way and its effect and about journaling and memoirs. )

Host: Thank you so much Carol! We're gonna take a break and play an Eva Cassidy song and then be back for more of Marta.

I stay on the phone thinking I'll hear Eva Cassidy over the phone receiver and that this must be a small radio show because I didn't hear any other people. Then, click...they are gone.

And it dawns on me...'holy shit, I was just on the radio. You dumbfuck! You don't call in to hear the show, you go online!!'

So, I guess I'll have to wait until the podcast to hear it all! :-o :-D
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note: After listening to the podcast today I discovered that when I asked the question, "Am I on the radio?" Marta replied, "Yes Carol; the world is listening." Apparently that went in one of my ears and out the other; it still didn't dawn on me (until the 'click' before Eva Cassidy) that I had been on the radio. Ha! :-D
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The Bumper Sticker

I've been thinking about memoirs for a few months; you know....writing in short snippets about different times in my life.

I've avoided it for a few reasons. At least some of those that I can identify are: perfectionism, feeling that I should write in chronological order, becoming overwhelmed by the details of it all, the laborious task of handwriting. (I only have one desktop pc at home, which the family shares.)

Then a couple or so weeks ago I ran across some blogs by Marta Szabo and her and her husband's (Fred Poole) website on Authentic Writing. I resonated with much of Marta's writing; so much so that I started a private blog for my own memoirs. I even bought a laptop today.

Yea....I bought a laptop with wireless and the IT guy is coming out on Wednesday to set it all up. :-D

I am so excited!!!!!!!!!!

Following is one of the memoirs I've written. It's short. It's simple. That is all I can handle at one time.

*~*
The Bumper Sticker

I drove up to the health food store; I forget the name of it now. My friend Gretta worked inside. At the time I was in college, about 2 hours away. I must have been home for a weekend.

As I parked my car I noticed a bumper sticker on another car. It read The Way in bold black letters on a green background.

That's that group, I thought.

Two months earlier, when I had been led into tongues at a charismatic church, I had been given a list of groups to be wary of; the literature had stated that the list of groups were cults. One of the groups listed was 'The Way.' I hadn't read up on The Way, so really knew nothing about it. Yet for some reason 'The Way' had stuck in my gray matter. I had even asked about The Way at college, but never got an answer as to why the group was considered a cult. Plus I thought, wasn't Jesus considered a cult leader?

Yet, here 'they' were; The Way.

It seemed a simple, yet foreboding, name. None-the-less, I wanted to know the way; I wanted to know.

I sat for a few minutes in my car. My heart beat faster as I silently spoke in tongues and whispered a prayer:

What if they are a cult? God, you know how much I want to know your will. You know how confused I am. Just because someone else says a group is a cult, that really doesn't mean they are. Look God, you protected me through years of drugs, surely you can protect me from this too, if it is a cult. Please protect me God; show me what to do.

I entered the store. Gretta was there; two guys in their 20s were speaking with her. I patiently waited. I then introduced myself to the two young-adult men. I was 18 at the time and none too shy.

"Hi. I'm Carol," I stated as I stretched forth a handshake.

"I'm Bill," stated one. "And I'm Dan," stated the other as we shook hands.

"What do ya'll do?" I asked, knowing full well they were the guys that owned the car with the bumper sticker.

They proceeded to tell me that they had just moved to Hickory to run some Bible fellowships. They had recently come from a festival in Ohio, a gathering of believers. They were part of a group that lived the book of Acts, the first century church in the twentieth.

Dan and Bill had my full attention. They shared with such love and they were so genuine. My heart opened as they spoke the Word to me making references to scriptures that had caused my heart to thrill. I was excited, and at the same time cautious. I didn't let on that I had heard that The Way was a cult; besides I was hungry and was still looking for answers.

Little did I know I would eventually lose myself. But at the time I don't think I would have cared; after all, my craving was God-consciousness, to know what was "the breadth and length and depth and height" of Christ's love, to "be filled with all the knowledge of God," to be able to understand the Bible as it was initially written, to know the will of God for my life. Yes, to know the will of God for my life.

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Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
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Mary Jane and Ruffled Feathers

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When I was 15 years old I quit (yes, quit!) smoking pot. Due to some other factors, my body/brain began to respond negatively to the mary jane high and I would become paranoid instead of 'happy.'

Three years later, after getting involved with The Way, a Way believer friend said to me, "I bet you could handle a joint now. I bet God has healed that part of you that would get paranoid." (O.K.)

I gave it a try.

Nope! After the merry tokes I spent a few hours laying in a fetal position on a floor telling myself, "I'm not crazy. I will come down. This will pass." It did pass. I've not tried it since; and I don't plan on trying it again. That was 32 years ago.

Marijuana is toxic for me.

In thriving toward wellness in the emotional/mental health categories, maybe I think that I 'should' (that damn word 'should!') be able to handle with ease certain stressful emotional situations; say when relating to/with a true believer of any certain belief system. Perhaps I unconsciously test myself, assaying the waters just to see if I can handle a certain situation/relationship without my feathers ruffling...or molting. Maybe I think that proves I'm 'well.'

All-or-nothing relationships/belief systems can be (are?) toxic for me.

This morning I wondered, "Hmmm....perhaps this is similar to when I retried pot to see if I was 'healed' from its negative effects on me?"

Just because I respond with uncomfortable, unpleasant, or uneasy emotional states to certain triggers doesn't mean I'm unhealthy. It might be a sign that I am healthy; that I am in touch with myself; that I recognize my limitations and current vulnerabilities.

Next is to continue to learn to listen to my 'wise' mind when I find myself in those relationship situations. It may mean that certain relationships may never be 'healthy' for me. That's o.k. too; I simply learn to recognize when that's happening and trust myself when I decide, "This isn't a good place for me; I think it behooves me to change direction."

After all, true believers are on every corner; joint toking isn't, not yet. (In all honesty, I hope toking never is....on every corner.)

To life, love, wellness, and my 'wise' mind!!

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