I've pondered what to entitle this second entry. Waltzing the Woods of Bethel? Bethel Woods' Beats? Bitten by Bethel Woods?
As I was driving this evening up I-87, I again admired the fields and the beauty. I thought, This would be an awesome place to live. The atmosphere, warm and welcoming. The inspiring multi-cultural mix between natives and immigrants, past and present. The mingling together of youth and the elderly, crossing generation gaps. But the winters. Nah, I don't want the winters!
Still I found myself bitten by the beauty of my surroundings, the flavor of the culture.
The landscape here is similar to the North Carolina foothills and mountains. One difference is there appears to be more marshlands here; the colorful fields and meadows are poignantly noticeable to me. Yellows, greens, purples, burgundies, whites, pinks. And the cultural flavor is different, more open perhaps? A youthful zeal? Hopeful, yet grounded?
I was enthralled, listening to Carole King over my Explorer speakers, as I drove northward along I-87.
********************************************
Wednesday, 8/26, was leisurely. I wrote some in the early afternoon.
I left the hostel to head to Bethel Woods for the Allman Bros. Band concert. The drive is around 1 hour and 15 minutes, all through back country roads. On the way I stopped at Stonehenge Produce Stand and purchased some fruit, a cucumber, and a pickle. I sat at a picnic table crunching the large dilled cuke. Yum. I got back on the road after talking with John on the cell phone.
I had found a back road to Bethel Woods. I think the road is called Lake Shore Drive. It's a fun road and reminds somewhat of Botkins Road (I think that's its name) that is a back road in Ohio that leads to The Way International Headquarters in New Knoxville. Located along Lake Shore Drive are some Hasidic Jewish camps; followers walk the roads. It's a peaceful setting.
At the Bethel Woods Arts Center I am directed by parking staff to a spot in a large field. The Staff sure is friendly! Concert attendees are sitting outside their cars tailgating before entering the concert grounds. I pack my blueberries, fruit, a Cliff Bar, and water in my hip pack. I walk up the paved road along with other concert goers. It's a country road with no middle line, Hurd Road. I thought of walking Wierwille Road from the parking field down to Way Headquarters grounds during the old Rock of Ages Festival. I attended the Rock almost every year from 1978 through 1995. I think I only missed two, due to illness and childbirth.
I entered the grounds, picked up my rental lawn chair, and walked to a place on the hillside that I thought would provide a good view. A lady struck up a conversation with me letting me know good places to set my chair. She invited me to sit beside she and her husband. We introduced ourselves. Bill and Debbie Donnely who live about an hour from Bethel Woods. Bill's grandfather came over from Ireland. Bill and Debbie are season ticket holders at Bethel Woods, so are 'pros' at these concerts. We had a blast. Debbie showed me around sharing some of the foothill views and history. She took a photo of me eating a peach. I had to "eat a peach" at an Allman Bros. concert.
Beside us some dudes were setting up tall microphones to record Widespread Panic. All legal. (Check it out here: bt.etree.org Widespread Panic, Bethel Woods.)
Rain began. I pulled out my poncho and umbrella.
Debbie and Bill have 3 children, all grown now. Debbie works for the local school system. Bill is a firefighter in NYC, in Manhattan and the Bronx. He helped clean up after 9/11. Some of his buddies lost their lives in the process. Bill is a big Allman Bros. fan.
Debbie and I had fun swapping some high school days (daze) stories. She shared cheese and bread and crackers. She wasn't into blueberries last night. On one of our trips to the ladies room we ran into her concert buddy, Marta. Marta had just visited a friend in North Carolina near Winston-Salem, in the small town of Westfield. OMG, that was too funny! Westfield is right next to Pilot Mountain, which of course Marta called Mt. Pilot. I say "of course" because that's what Andy calls it on the old Andy Griffith Show. Andy grew up in those NC foothills and "Mt. Pilot" is a play off of Pilot Mountain.
During the concert I bought some roasted corn on the cob from Jon and Christine Allison, owners of Allison Farms. They grow corn and other produce on some 40+ acres and hay on some 100+ acres, the family generational farmland. They live about 15 minutes from Bethel Woods. They are busy!! Three young children. The farm. Full-time jobs as a nurse and corrections officer. Little League Baseball Coach and coach of football for kids. And now the corn stand at festivals and races. They are NASCAR fans, Tony Stewart enthusiasts. Their corn is so delish that I ate two ears, one Margarita flavored and one Bleu Pig flavored. Yum!
Widespread Panic gave an awesome show. I really,really enjoyed the percussion solos.
By the time the Allman Bros. Band came out, the rain had stopped and stars filled the sky. Another awesome performance. During the performance Greg Allman had the bass player from Widespread Panic, the saxophonist from BB King, and a drummer from BB King join in jamming on stage. BB King was to be on stage Thursday night.
The concert started around 6:00 and ended around 11:15(?). Both bands played a long time, well worth my $40.00.
Today (Thursday) I lounged around, laid in the sun, read, took a short walk, talked with Anti and Beth and Lito. Then tonight I headed north to El Rancho Restaurant where I delighted to meet up with Gerry Spoor and his lovely wife Judy. We visited for about 3 hours, talked and laughed and shared good food. The 25-minute drive up the road to meet them was gorgeous. I pondered the beauty of the land and the people while listening to Carole King.
I met Gerry back in 2007 on PoetryPages.com. I am a fan of his poetry and even wrote a poem in his honor. We had only communicated online, until this week. My heart is warmed by the visit with he and Judy. My tummy and taste buds are warmed too! And thanks for picking up the tab Gerry. I hope the Childress wine is tasty, but don't try to eat the pretzel.
We parted ways around 9:45. As I drove southward again listening to Carole King, warmed in body and soul, I thought what a beautiful place and people. I was 'bitten by beauty.' Yet it was a good bitten, "a blessed bitten."
It's been a great week. Tomorrow I get to meet Fred and Marta, visit Woodstock, and engage the Catskills.
Meow...
**************************************
Click here for New York Log I
Here for New York Log III
Here for Each Voice Matters
**************************************
August 27, 2009
August 25, 2009
New York Log I: New Paltz Puttering
I feel like journaling and want to do it here on my blog instead of in my book journal. So I shall.
Thinking about what I want to write, I ponder to myself, Well it isn't about cult recovery, which is the main focus of this blog.
Further thoughts led me to the conclusion that it is about recovery, or rather rediscovery. My life is larger than my Way experiences. That said my Way experiences outnumber my other life experiences. I confess, I do think about my time in the Way every day. That's understandable. Some may say that isn't good. I don't see it as good or bad; it simply is.
What is New Paltz Puttering? Read on to learn more.
**********************************************************************
New York Log I: New Paltz Puttering
I left NC around 5:30ish Sunday evening, August 23. The drive up was good. I endured a bit of rain and the benefit of a lovely rainbow. There were lots of vehicles on the road, lots of 18-wheelers. When the clouds weren't drooling, I enjoyed the moon roof open. I could smell the rain and country and city scents. I enjoy being able to smell these days, a sense I've missed for about 2 decades. Passing through Hershey, PA, I could smell factories. I guess it was chocolate. I thought of when I was a Word Over the World (WOW) Ambassador in Milwaukee in 1978-79 where the air smelled like beer. Not literally, more like hops and yeast.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
I drove up alone. I'm spending Monday through Thursday in a hostel in New Paltz, NY. Friday, 8/27, I head to the town of Woodstock where I will stay in Heidi's home while I attend a workshop at Fred and Marta's. The last time I drove to the Northeast was in December, 1980, to pick up some belongings after I had AWOLed from the WOW field in Connecticut. I haven't done a long trip alone in a long time.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
On the drive up I spoke on the phone for over an hour with one of my WOW sisters from my '78-'79 WOW year in Milwaukee. We had a recent reunion, after 28 years, on Facebook. It's been a good reunion and was good to chat with her. My cell phone lost coverage in the mountains, so she and I will have to pick up our conversation later. She mentioned and used the term "Word over the world."
Reminded me of my early Way days.
Around 2:20 AM I stopped at a Love's Travel Stop in Jonestown, Pennsylvania. My Ford Explore and I joined the other wearied travelers for a snooze in the lit parking lot. My husband, John, had made me a wonderful cozy area in the back of the Explorer; I was able to stretch all 5 feet 2 inches of me down for a nice sleep. I never drive when I'm sleepy.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
All that reminding had led me in a brush with a Way daze. How did it feel? I felt 'split,' or like I was in two different rooms. I felt I had betrayed The Way. I felt that I should be thinking about the Christ in me, that that was the 'real' me. I felt my surroundings weren't real, like I was in a dream. I felt uncomfortable to meet the folks face to face for the first time while in New York this week; Marta, Fred, Gerry and his wife. Who was I? How was I supposed to act? I had been so excited to meet them, and now I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act or who I really was. I wasn't comfortable in my skin, or whoever's skin I was wearing while dazing.
I recognized what was happening, It lasted a few hours. Sleep helped some.
I hit the road again between 5:30 and 6:00 Monday morning. The sunrise was beautiful, bright pink ball of fire trumpeting the day's beginning. It was huge. I hadn't witnessed the sun rise in quite awhile. The Newark, New Jersey, commute traffic wasn't too bad and I had good sounds on the speakers.
I stopped at a travel plaza along the interstate. I got to thinking. Hmmm, check-in isn't until 4:00 at the Hostel. The Woodstock Festival Museum is to the west of New Paltz. It opens at 10:00. Maybe I'll just go there first.
I had tidied myself up back at the Love's Travelrest, so I looked decent enough to visit a Woodstock Museum. Ha!
I got to the museum a few minutes after 10:00 AM. Oh man; it is great! The museum's name is Bethel Woods Center for the Arts and is on its 2nd year. Not only is the 60's history and the Woodstock history intriguing, but also a current traveling exhibit, Give Peace a Chance.
I discovered the Allman Brothers will be in concert there on Wednesday evening. I didn't buy a ticket right away. However after museumifying, I decided to buy a ticket. While strolling and taking in the museum sights and sounds, I met a Donna Ackermann who lived on the farm some 24 years ago. She and her family rented the farm house for their crops and dairy farm business. She was visiting the museum for the first time yesterday. We met while both of us (and her mom) were studying a colored print of the original poster. Some of those posters had adorned the walls of the rented farmhouse when she lived there.
I was feeling more grounded, and more me like. The uneasiness I experienced on the drive up was subsiding.
After a meandering drive along winding country roads, I arrived at the New Paltz Hostel around 5:15 Monday afternoon. Lito is a warm and friendly host and is from Uruguay. He showed me a bunk and gave me the pick of top or bottom. I chose bottom. Lito made the bed with beautiful chocolate brown sheets and a neatly folded towel to match, with a blanket draped at the foot of the bed.
Monday evening I spent time conversing with a hostel guest, Rhia, who has recently returned to New York after being out west for 7(?) years. We had a wonderful chat. She sleeps in a bunk across from me.
Today I slept in, conversed with another hostel guest (Anti from Hungary), ate at P&G's Restaurant, and then (keying off my dialog with Anti) took a few-mile walk on the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail Greenway. It led me to a stroll through AndroGeny Art Gallery. I chatted a few moments with the owner, Sylvia, whose roots are of Brazil and Central America. Her art gallery represents local artists and includes music, writing, and hair design. I enjoyed the local art, especially the sculptures. I saw the coolest instrument in the music room. It was a combination of three wiros and four tones blocks, all on one base. Way cool! I'm so glad I saw her place and took the time to visit.
A little later along my walk, I heard the beat of drums. A drum circle! I followed the sound and found djembes, and other drums echoing African beats. I met Abu and Anis. Anis is from Haiti. Abu's roots are in West Africa.
This evening, as I was typing this blog, some young ladies joined me around the kitchen table. What a beautiful group of humanity. We laughed. They shared some Chinese food with me. We chatted. All attend SUNY in New Paltz and are rooming here at the hostel this semester.
Daisy, from New York, is majoring in Early Childhood Education. Liz, form Peru, Clinical Psychology with a minor in Art. Ling, a native of China, Pysho-biology. Maureen from Bangladesh is double-majoring in International Relation and Philosophy. And Zhangxing (Cynthia) from China is majoring in Music Therapy.
After writing all this out, "word over the world" takes on a different concept.
How 'bout "peace around the world."
Whirled Peas!
Peace out....
*************************************************************************
Addendum: One other thing. I've not stayed in a dorm setting since the mid-90's range when I attended The Way's Advanced Class at their previously owned Rome City, Indiana, campus. I had stayed in dorm rooms while in-residence in the 80's as well. It is refreshing here at the hostel to hang my clothes and towels on the bunk railings without being reproved. I look around the room and others have various items draped through the railings. Unmade beds are the norm and co-ed dorm rooms with 3 bunks each. Ahh, the imperfection is absolute. I like that kind of absolute....
******************************************************************
Click here for New York Log II
Here for New York Log III
Here for Each Voice Matters
******************************************************************
Thinking about what I want to write, I ponder to myself, Well it isn't about cult recovery, which is the main focus of this blog.
Further thoughts led me to the conclusion that it is about recovery, or rather rediscovery. My life is larger than my Way experiences. That said my Way experiences outnumber my other life experiences. I confess, I do think about my time in the Way every day. That's understandable. Some may say that isn't good. I don't see it as good or bad; it simply is.
What is New Paltz Puttering? Read on to learn more.
**********************************************************************
New York Log I: New Paltz Puttering
I left NC around 5:30ish Sunday evening, August 23. The drive up was good. I endured a bit of rain and the benefit of a lovely rainbow. There were lots of vehicles on the road, lots of 18-wheelers. When the clouds weren't drooling, I enjoyed the moon roof open. I could smell the rain and country and city scents. I enjoy being able to smell these days, a sense I've missed for about 2 decades. Passing through Hershey, PA, I could smell factories. I guess it was chocolate. I thought of when I was a Word Over the World (WOW) Ambassador in Milwaukee in 1978-79 where the air smelled like beer. Not literally, more like hops and yeast.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
I drove up alone. I'm spending Monday through Thursday in a hostel in New Paltz, NY. Friday, 8/27, I head to the town of Woodstock where I will stay in Heidi's home while I attend a workshop at Fred and Marta's. The last time I drove to the Northeast was in December, 1980, to pick up some belongings after I had AWOLed from the WOW field in Connecticut. I haven't done a long trip alone in a long time.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
On the drive up I spoke on the phone for over an hour with one of my WOW sisters from my '78-'79 WOW year in Milwaukee. We had a recent reunion, after 28 years, on Facebook. It's been a good reunion and was good to chat with her. My cell phone lost coverage in the mountains, so she and I will have to pick up our conversation later. She mentioned and used the term "Word over the world."
Reminded me of my early Way days.
Around 2:20 AM I stopped at a Love's Travel Stop in Jonestown, Pennsylvania. My Ford Explore and I joined the other wearied travelers for a snooze in the lit parking lot. My husband, John, had made me a wonderful cozy area in the back of the Explorer; I was able to stretch all 5 feet 2 inches of me down for a nice sleep. I never drive when I'm sleepy.
Reminded me of my early Way days.
All that reminding had led me in a brush with a Way daze. How did it feel? I felt 'split,' or like I was in two different rooms. I felt I had betrayed The Way. I felt that I should be thinking about the Christ in me, that that was the 'real' me. I felt my surroundings weren't real, like I was in a dream. I felt uncomfortable to meet the folks face to face for the first time while in New York this week; Marta, Fred, Gerry and his wife. Who was I? How was I supposed to act? I had been so excited to meet them, and now I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act or who I really was. I wasn't comfortable in my skin, or whoever's skin I was wearing while dazing.
I recognized what was happening, It lasted a few hours. Sleep helped some.
I hit the road again between 5:30 and 6:00 Monday morning. The sunrise was beautiful, bright pink ball of fire trumpeting the day's beginning. It was huge. I hadn't witnessed the sun rise in quite awhile. The Newark, New Jersey, commute traffic wasn't too bad and I had good sounds on the speakers.
I stopped at a travel plaza along the interstate. I got to thinking. Hmmm, check-in isn't until 4:00 at the Hostel. The Woodstock Festival Museum is to the west of New Paltz. It opens at 10:00. Maybe I'll just go there first.
I had tidied myself up back at the Love's Travelrest, so I looked decent enough to visit a Woodstock Museum. Ha!
I got to the museum a few minutes after 10:00 AM. Oh man; it is great! The museum's name is Bethel Woods Center for the Arts and is on its 2nd year. Not only is the 60's history and the Woodstock history intriguing, but also a current traveling exhibit, Give Peace a Chance.
I discovered the Allman Brothers will be in concert there on Wednesday evening. I didn't buy a ticket right away. However after museumifying, I decided to buy a ticket. While strolling and taking in the museum sights and sounds, I met a Donna Ackermann who lived on the farm some 24 years ago. She and her family rented the farm house for their crops and dairy farm business. She was visiting the museum for the first time yesterday. We met while both of us (and her mom) were studying a colored print of the original poster. Some of those posters had adorned the walls of the rented farmhouse when she lived there.
I was feeling more grounded, and more me like. The uneasiness I experienced on the drive up was subsiding.
After a meandering drive along winding country roads, I arrived at the New Paltz Hostel around 5:15 Monday afternoon. Lito is a warm and friendly host and is from Uruguay. He showed me a bunk and gave me the pick of top or bottom. I chose bottom. Lito made the bed with beautiful chocolate brown sheets and a neatly folded towel to match, with a blanket draped at the foot of the bed.
Monday evening I spent time conversing with a hostel guest, Rhia, who has recently returned to New York after being out west for 7(?) years. We had a wonderful chat. She sleeps in a bunk across from me.
Today I slept in, conversed with another hostel guest (Anti from Hungary), ate at P&G's Restaurant, and then (keying off my dialog with Anti) took a few-mile walk on the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail Greenway. It led me to a stroll through AndroGeny Art Gallery. I chatted a few moments with the owner, Sylvia, whose roots are of Brazil and Central America. Her art gallery represents local artists and includes music, writing, and hair design. I enjoyed the local art, especially the sculptures. I saw the coolest instrument in the music room. It was a combination of three wiros and four tones blocks, all on one base. Way cool! I'm so glad I saw her place and took the time to visit.
A little later along my walk, I heard the beat of drums. A drum circle! I followed the sound and found djembes, and other drums echoing African beats. I met Abu and Anis. Anis is from Haiti. Abu's roots are in West Africa.
This evening, as I was typing this blog, some young ladies joined me around the kitchen table. What a beautiful group of humanity. We laughed. They shared some Chinese food with me. We chatted. All attend SUNY in New Paltz and are rooming here at the hostel this semester.
Daisy, from New York, is majoring in Early Childhood Education. Liz, form Peru, Clinical Psychology with a minor in Art. Ling, a native of China, Pysho-biology. Maureen from Bangladesh is double-majoring in International Relation and Philosophy. And Zhangxing (Cynthia) from China is majoring in Music Therapy.
After writing all this out, "word over the world" takes on a different concept.
How 'bout "peace around the world."
Whirled Peas!
Peace out....
*************************************************************************
Addendum: One other thing. I've not stayed in a dorm setting since the mid-90's range when I attended The Way's Advanced Class at their previously owned Rome City, Indiana, campus. I had stayed in dorm rooms while in-residence in the 80's as well. It is refreshing here at the hostel to hang my clothes and towels on the bunk railings without being reproved. I look around the room and others have various items draped through the railings. Unmade beds are the norm and co-ed dorm rooms with 3 bunks each. Ahh, the imperfection is absolute. I like that kind of absolute....
******************************************************************
Click here for New York Log II
Here for New York Log III
Here for Each Voice Matters
******************************************************************
August 15, 2009
It Hurts
******************************************************************************
Emotional suffering and pain are real. It's not a matter of just "changing one's mind." If someone is in a car accident and severely injured, that one can't just "change their mind" or distract themselves and the injury is gone.
My father spent 13 years living as a quadriplegic due to a head-on automobile collision. One split second, and life was forever changed. The damage was obvious and he lived, we lived, coping with that injury the rest of his days. It had impact; great impact. The family learned together how to care for Dad. Dad learned how to care for himself. I wonder how many nights he spent awake staring at the wall knowing someone would be in soon to turn his body so as not to get bedsores. He was powerless to turn his own physique. He knew his limitations. He made the best of his life and my mom was a huge, huge player in that.
Damage from emotional abuse (which may include negligence, verbal, physical, sexual, religious, spiritual) is similar; it can be paralyzing. The person may be left battling injuries that aren't apparent on the surface: shame, distrust (especially in oneself), betrayal (even feeling they have betrayed themselves), feeling they don't fit anywhere, depression, suicidal ideation, worthlessness, self-hate, anxiety. They may become the "identified patient" or scapegoat and used as an 'example' for others in a social group. (Click Second Chance to Live for an excellent sharing about the "identified patient.") They may be labeled as weak-minded or having a victim mentality, when the reality is probably the opposite. Meanwhile the details regarding interactions within the abusive relationship remain hidden, until the survivor dares to speak up. (I totally understand and have deep empathy if one chooses not to speak up.) The survivor has to be prepared (at least somewhat) to handle the labels and criticisms thrown at them while weighing their own vulnerabilities and health if they choose to expose abuses.
Yet, like my Dad's paralysis, anyone who has survived trauma (which is on a continuum) learns to function, even if that function is limited. One learns ways to cope and ways to even heal. The overwhelming up and down process and waves sometimes seem too big to handle. Loss and grief and rage arise. Damage takes it toll. The wave subsides and one is sometimes left feeling like a different person.
It hurts.
In transcribing one of my journals from my foundational, early Way years when I was in-residence in the Way Corps....well.....some of it is hard (an understatement). I see the damage. Some of it is embarrassing and I am tempted to reword the journal, but I don't. Then it wouldn't be peering into the mindset at that stage of indoctrination toward the true believer.
In transcribing the journal I see quite clearly four aspects at work which are described in detail in the book Bounded Choice. These are charismatic authority, transcendent belief, systems of control, and systems of influence. Perhaps I'll blog about those at some point and time. The glossary that I'm compiling in order to explain some of the wording in the journal is empowering for me, to help see the totalistic aspect of The Way.
I am also currently battling (for lack of a better word) blaming The Way for the challenges I've faced with illnesses in the physical, mental, and emotional arena; I have mostly blamed myself for decades. Looking at the organization with its indoctrination process as holding a large(?) part of the responsibility is new to me, and difficult. I'm confident that as I progress through these layers toward greater wellness, I'll find a perspective which helps toward wholeness.
*******************************************************************************
Emotional suffering and pain are real. It's not a matter of just "changing one's mind." If someone is in a car accident and severely injured, that one can't just "change their mind" or distract themselves and the injury is gone.
My father spent 13 years living as a quadriplegic due to a head-on automobile collision. One split second, and life was forever changed. The damage was obvious and he lived, we lived, coping with that injury the rest of his days. It had impact; great impact. The family learned together how to care for Dad. Dad learned how to care for himself. I wonder how many nights he spent awake staring at the wall knowing someone would be in soon to turn his body so as not to get bedsores. He was powerless to turn his own physique. He knew his limitations. He made the best of his life and my mom was a huge, huge player in that.
Damage from emotional abuse (which may include negligence, verbal, physical, sexual, religious, spiritual) is similar; it can be paralyzing. The person may be left battling injuries that aren't apparent on the surface: shame, distrust (especially in oneself), betrayal (even feeling they have betrayed themselves), feeling they don't fit anywhere, depression, suicidal ideation, worthlessness, self-hate, anxiety. They may become the "identified patient" or scapegoat and used as an 'example' for others in a social group. (Click Second Chance to Live for an excellent sharing about the "identified patient.") They may be labeled as weak-minded or having a victim mentality, when the reality is probably the opposite. Meanwhile the details regarding interactions within the abusive relationship remain hidden, until the survivor dares to speak up. (I totally understand and have deep empathy if one chooses not to speak up.) The survivor has to be prepared (at least somewhat) to handle the labels and criticisms thrown at them while weighing their own vulnerabilities and health if they choose to expose abuses.
Yet, like my Dad's paralysis, anyone who has survived trauma (which is on a continuum) learns to function, even if that function is limited. One learns ways to cope and ways to even heal. The overwhelming up and down process and waves sometimes seem too big to handle. Loss and grief and rage arise. Damage takes it toll. The wave subsides and one is sometimes left feeling like a different person.
It hurts.
In transcribing one of my journals from my foundational, early Way years when I was in-residence in the Way Corps....well.....some of it is hard (an understatement). I see the damage. Some of it is embarrassing and I am tempted to reword the journal, but I don't. Then it wouldn't be peering into the mindset at that stage of indoctrination toward the true believer.
In transcribing the journal I see quite clearly four aspects at work which are described in detail in the book Bounded Choice. These are charismatic authority, transcendent belief, systems of control, and systems of influence. Perhaps I'll blog about those at some point and time. The glossary that I'm compiling in order to explain some of the wording in the journal is empowering for me, to help see the totalistic aspect of The Way.
I am also currently battling (for lack of a better word) blaming The Way for the challenges I've faced with illnesses in the physical, mental, and emotional arena; I have mostly blamed myself for decades. Looking at the organization with its indoctrination process as holding a large(?) part of the responsibility is new to me, and difficult. I'm confident that as I progress through these layers toward greater wellness, I'll find a perspective which helps toward wholeness.
*******************************************************************************
August 11, 2009
Over Ninety-nine Percent Identical
***
I have a lot running through my head. I'm not sure where to start. I've learned through years of journaling that it really doesn't matter where one starts. The point is to put the pen to paper, fingers to keys. In the doing, a transformation on the page begins. Seldom is it ever complete. What fun would that be anyway?
So what's on my mind? Life. Art. Abuse. Healing. Cross-fertilization. Birth. Rebirth. Loss. Grief. Bridges.
I've come to see that abuse is not unique, anymore than childbirth. How unique is childbirth? For the one born, for the mother of that one, for the father of that one, for the family of that one, for the friends of the that one? It is so unique that no two humans (nor their births) are ever the same; yet, the DNA of all us humans is over 99%(?) identical. Somewhat of a paradox. (Oooo...reminds my of a poem!)
The event of childbirth and birthing is unique for each individual, but not for humanity. Childbirth has been around a long time. Likewise with abuse. As long as there are humans (at least on this earth in this age), there will be births. There will be deaths. There will be joys. There will be tradegy. There will be abuses. There will be healing.
One to two years ago, I read this introduction by Jim Moyers which includes the following quote:
"It has been repeatedly, sometimes tragically demonstrated that isolation from the cross-fertilizing and moderating effects of the larger society tends to result in derangement of some degree in groups as well as individuals."
What does that have to do with my prior paragraphs? Groups that isolate themselves (physically or ideologically) are not unique to society nor human interactions. Does that mean abuse will automatically occur? No. However, it does mean the group will have less checks and balances, possibly more prejudices and us-them thinking, which is oftemtimes a path that results in abuses. It happens in all sorts of settings, from therapy and new-age "cults" to Bible-based "cults" and even in "recovery groups."
As far as recovery-type groups, if someone continues to spin their wheels among the same people about the same thing, does it not become insular itself? I imagine it might be similar to what happens for some people going to AA meetings; eventually some people realize that the meetings are keeping them stuck in a mindset they are ready to move beyond.
Recovery from cultic thinking may be more efficient (or at least aided) if ex-members "cross- fertilize." I think it is important for folks to learn about others who were abused in the group in which they were involved, but then a next step (if needed) may be to learn about/converse with/listen to ex-members of other groups, to get a bigger picture. And, depending on one's interests and needs, to investigate societies and cultures as a whole.
That doesn't negate an individual's experience, pain, suffering. That must be acknowledged, honored, and owned. A broader perspective may then help build a bridge to more wholeness and balance.
****
note: I've found the book, Bounded Choice by Janja Lalich, one of the most understandable books for explaining and dissecting cultic group dynamics and influence techniques, all on a continuum of course.
***
I have a lot running through my head. I'm not sure where to start. I've learned through years of journaling that it really doesn't matter where one starts. The point is to put the pen to paper, fingers to keys. In the doing, a transformation on the page begins. Seldom is it ever complete. What fun would that be anyway?
So what's on my mind? Life. Art. Abuse. Healing. Cross-fertilization. Birth. Rebirth. Loss. Grief. Bridges.
I've come to see that abuse is not unique, anymore than childbirth. How unique is childbirth? For the one born, for the mother of that one, for the father of that one, for the family of that one, for the friends of the that one? It is so unique that no two humans (nor their births) are ever the same; yet, the DNA of all us humans is over 99%(?) identical. Somewhat of a paradox. (Oooo...reminds my of a poem!)
The event of childbirth and birthing is unique for each individual, but not for humanity. Childbirth has been around a long time. Likewise with abuse. As long as there are humans (at least on this earth in this age), there will be births. There will be deaths. There will be joys. There will be tradegy. There will be abuses. There will be healing.
One to two years ago, I read this introduction by Jim Moyers which includes the following quote:
"It has been repeatedly, sometimes tragically demonstrated that isolation from the cross-fertilizing and moderating effects of the larger society tends to result in derangement of some degree in groups as well as individuals."
What does that have to do with my prior paragraphs? Groups that isolate themselves (physically or ideologically) are not unique to society nor human interactions. Does that mean abuse will automatically occur? No. However, it does mean the group will have less checks and balances, possibly more prejudices and us-them thinking, which is oftemtimes a path that results in abuses. It happens in all sorts of settings, from therapy and new-age "cults" to Bible-based "cults" and even in "recovery groups."
As far as recovery-type groups, if someone continues to spin their wheels among the same people about the same thing, does it not become insular itself? I imagine it might be similar to what happens for some people going to AA meetings; eventually some people realize that the meetings are keeping them stuck in a mindset they are ready to move beyond.
Recovery from cultic thinking may be more efficient (or at least aided) if ex-members "cross- fertilize." I think it is important for folks to learn about others who were abused in the group in which they were involved, but then a next step (if needed) may be to learn about/converse with/listen to ex-members of other groups, to get a bigger picture. And, depending on one's interests and needs, to investigate societies and cultures as a whole.
That doesn't negate an individual's experience, pain, suffering. That must be acknowledged, honored, and owned. A broader perspective may then help build a bridge to more wholeness and balance.
****
note: I've found the book, Bounded Choice by Janja Lalich, one of the most understandable books for explaining and dissecting cultic group dynamics and influence techniques, all on a continuum of course.
***
August 6, 2009
Guilt Trip
Click here to read about an introduction to memoir: Journey through Memoir: Introduction .
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Non-subject: "old connections."
Guilt and shame; those are old connections for me.
*****
Late summer, 2003.
****
Non-subject: "old connections."
Guilt and shame; those are old connections for me.
*****
Late summer, 2003.
I sit on the screened-in back porch, on a cushion-seated, metal, straight-back chair that matches the cream-colored-marbled-with-gray table. I'd bought the Formica-type table dinette set at a great price at the secondhand furniture store. It had a hint of elegance without the pomp and without the price. I was pleased with it and admired how it contrasted the rustic wooden floor, brick wall, and the dark brown, metal trim of the screen porch.
My 13-year old son and my 15-year old daughter sit with me. We are eating lunch together as we do most every day.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish and leaving my kids without enough structure for the afternoon.
I journal a lot these days. I spend hours at a time at Borders. Reading. Journaling. Talking with someone I meet there, sometimes another journaler. It's magic to meet another journaler; we have an instant connection.
"Is that a journal?" one of us might ask. Usually the answer is a somewhat timid, "Yes." And then a light in both our eyes dances. And we share how this act of pen to paper, this scribbling on parchment, is changing our lives. We share about books we've read, types of journals we've kept. "Do you index? Do you go back and forth with different topics? Do you start off nice and neat and end up messy? Do you write in shorthand? Do you ever write with your other hand?"
It's like journaling is an entity of itself. These strokes on the page are life changing.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish.
Why do I write so much, especially about me? I'd asked my psychologist if I was a narcissist. He replied, "No. You are far from a narcissist. Your writing is a help to you."
But why? What will I ever do with it? The only one I share this stuff with is he and sometimes Dr. Piva.
Dr. Piva had been my Osteopath. In the past few years, he had shared with my son his collection of baseball cards. I later stated to Dr. Piva, "I don't collect anything." He replied, " You collect thoughts; you collect solutions." I was rather stunned with his remark replying, "Oh."
I don't collect things; it's all temporal anyway. All that really matters is the Word, the Word, the Word, and the legacy I leave by doing God's Word. Yet, sometimes I feel a part of me is missing; my life seems irrelevant.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish.
As is our manner, my children and I talk much during our meal. We have the most entertaining mealtime discussions, from subjects such as the death penalty to how can one tell the difference between a male or female toad.
I share with them my desire to go to Borders to journal, and my dilemma of feeling guilty about it. My 13-year old son gets up from his chair and walks around the rectangular table to where I sit.
"Mom, would you stand up and come with me out on the deck?"
"Sure," I reply puzzled.
We walk to the screen door and exit out of the screened enclosure onto the exposed deck in the sunshine, the roof of the porch no longer covering our heads. My son is almost my height in stature. He puts his arm around me and we start walking to and fro along the rustic wooden deck.
He says, "So you feel guilty for wanting to go to Borders?"
"Yea..." I answer, feeling guilty for feeling guilty.
"You feel like you're not a good mom and that you are neglecting us by journaling?"
"Yes," I sigh.
We walk, his arm around me. He gently pats my back as he speaks, asking me questions.
"Do you know what a great mom you are?"
"Sometimes."
I'm wondering what he is up to.
"And we know you like to journal. You like to journal don't you Mom?"
"Well, duh..." I chuckle lightly, quite curious as to what he is getting at. Then I ask, "What are we doing?"
He answers, "We are going on a guilt trip, until your finished feeling guilty and can go to Borders and have fun." He smiles.
My heart is warmed. We laugh. My daughter laughs. My son and I walked to and fro a few more times.
Maybe I wasn't such a bad mom after all.
****
Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
****
My 13-year old son and my 15-year old daughter sit with me. We are eating lunch together as we do most every day.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish and leaving my kids without enough structure for the afternoon.
I journal a lot these days. I spend hours at a time at Borders. Reading. Journaling. Talking with someone I meet there, sometimes another journaler. It's magic to meet another journaler; we have an instant connection.
"Is that a journal?" one of us might ask. Usually the answer is a somewhat timid, "Yes." And then a light in both our eyes dances. And we share how this act of pen to paper, this scribbling on parchment, is changing our lives. We share about books we've read, types of journals we've kept. "Do you index? Do you go back and forth with different topics? Do you start off nice and neat and end up messy? Do you write in shorthand? Do you ever write with your other hand?"
It's like journaling is an entity of itself. These strokes on the page are life changing.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish.
Why do I write so much, especially about me? I'd asked my psychologist if I was a narcissist. He replied, "No. You are far from a narcissist. Your writing is a help to you."
But why? What will I ever do with it? The only one I share this stuff with is he and sometimes Dr. Piva.
Dr. Piva had been my Osteopath. In the past few years, he had shared with my son his collection of baseball cards. I later stated to Dr. Piva, "I don't collect anything." He replied, " You collect thoughts; you collect solutions." I was rather stunned with his remark replying, "Oh."
I don't collect things; it's all temporal anyway. All that really matters is the Word, the Word, the Word, and the legacy I leave by doing God's Word. Yet, sometimes I feel a part of me is missing; my life seems irrelevant.
I really want to go to Borders and journal after lunch. But I feel guilty, like I am being selfish.
As is our manner, my children and I talk much during our meal. We have the most entertaining mealtime discussions, from subjects such as the death penalty to how can one tell the difference between a male or female toad.
I share with them my desire to go to Borders to journal, and my dilemma of feeling guilty about it. My 13-year old son gets up from his chair and walks around the rectangular table to where I sit.
"Mom, would you stand up and come with me out on the deck?"
"Sure," I reply puzzled.
We walk to the screen door and exit out of the screened enclosure onto the exposed deck in the sunshine, the roof of the porch no longer covering our heads. My son is almost my height in stature. He puts his arm around me and we start walking to and fro along the rustic wooden deck.
He says, "So you feel guilty for wanting to go to Borders?"
"Yea..." I answer, feeling guilty for feeling guilty.
"You feel like you're not a good mom and that you are neglecting us by journaling?"
"Yes," I sigh.
We walk, his arm around me. He gently pats my back as he speaks, asking me questions.
"Do you know what a great mom you are?"
"Sometimes."
I'm wondering what he is up to.
"And we know you like to journal. You like to journal don't you Mom?"
"Well, duh..." I chuckle lightly, quite curious as to what he is getting at. Then I ask, "What are we doing?"
He answers, "We are going on a guilt trip, until your finished feeling guilty and can go to Borders and have fun." He smiles.
My heart is warmed. We laugh. My daughter laughs. My son and I walked to and fro a few more times.
Maybe I wasn't such a bad mom after all.
****
Click here to view the memoir index: Journey through Memoir (an index).
****
August 3, 2009
Cult-Recovery 101 and Beyond
I like the terms uncover and rediscover rather than recover. I think of recover as uncover and rediscover. Sometimes it's uncover and discover. Yet most folks know what recover means, in the sense of wellness.
Somewhere along the journey of recovery, whether its during phase 101, 201, 301, 1001; it's a good idea for a person to look at their strengths along the path. What have they learned? What have they utilized in their life as a result of those experiences?
One of my assignments during counseling since exiting The Way, was to list my strengths as a former cult devotee. I had a difficult time thinking of any strengths so I used this list, "The Strengths of Former Cult Members (link no longer works) as a springboard. Then I had to put that springboard list aside; I had to think of things that resonated with me, with Carol.
Thus the following list was born. I wrote it almost eight months ago, December 7, 2008. It'd probably be a good idea to come back to it on occasion to review and even add to it.
Every individual has strengths to celebrate, share, and draw upon.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(note: "TWI" = The Way International)
Empathy: I understand the darkness of depression, the fear of anxiety, the struggle to climb out again and again. I understand the pressure of unrelenting standards and guilt feelings. I no longer fear that I will be a "miserable comforter" which was one of my fears while I was in TWI.
Good Listener: I practiced to learn the art of listening, even when I would "witness" to people. Even though I thought I "knew" the answers, I still believed people's stories were valid and I would listen. I believe that my desire to help was genuine.
Courage: I chose to join TWI even though it was looked upon despairingly by the Christian world; ie: it wasn't a popular choice. It took courage to not follow the crowd. On a flip side, when the masses left TWI, I didn't follow then either. Part of that was due to indoctrination and part was due to endeavoring to do what I thought was right. The point is, it took some courage to not follow the crowd.
Loyalty: Even after AWOLing from the Way Corps, I rose above public shame and was steadfast in my belief. Again, when the masses left TWI, I weighed what I knew and had experienced. I wanted The Way to change from the inside. Part of my loyalty was misguided, yet I was loyal.
Ingenuity: In spite of TWI teachings, I figured out a way to wellness. I even utilized mental health professionals (including a type of hypnosis) and acupuncture (by a lesbian) , all looked upon with suspicion of possible devil spirit possession by TWI. When I exited TWI I had a thought-through plan from months of mental preparation and at least a year of investigation. It wasn't a knee-jerk response. I exited on my terms and my deliberate decisions, even without my family. I allowed my family the same leeway, and they exited on their own within 6 to 8 months.
Endurance: I endured hardship, especially with my health. I didn't blame God. I didn't blame The Way. Even though I blamed myself, I continue(d) to strive for wellness. I was (many times due to illnesses) under intense and tremendous mental, emotional, physical, and performance pressure.
Flexibility: In The Way, I learned to be comfortable eating with a king or a pauper. I learned to function in various cultures:
1 - I functioned within the home school arena often surrounded by mainstream fundamentalist Christians, whereas I was in a non-trinitarian "cult."
2 - I functioned in the Christian South, though I held many doctrines contrary to regular Christianity.
3 - I functioned in The Way as one who leaned toward eclectic-/un-/home-schooling which was looked upon with suspicion by The Way. We chose the route of the family bed and having our children involved with us, instead of getting babysitters for functions all the time. We didn't follow the regular Way doctrine regarding raising children, though I would be confused and sometimes go back and forth.
4 - My husband and I maintained independent thought in regard to certain areas about family and personal decisions with health and upbringing, and still functioned as Way fellowship leaders. People liked coming to our fellowships because (I think) that for the most part we allowed them the same.
Skills: I learned to speak in front of 100's of people. This came into play with one of my jobs as a camp-in site director and presenter at a science center for about 5 years. I also learned people skills regarding communication. I learned organizational and set-up skills which I have utilized in all my jobs. My current boss thanks me on a regular basis for all I do to keep the business running.
Open to Ideas: The Way presented an alternative view of the scriptures and of education. I learned from those to not throw the baby out with the bath water, so to speak.
Creativity: In my early Way days I wrote poetry and sang and danced and acted in Way Productions. Through the years I taught much and oversaw Childrens Fellowship often. People regularly told me that they enjoyed my teachings and children loved to come to my children's activities. I utilized many props (even in adult teachings) to help with concrete examples. Though my individual creativity was stifled (and used to promote what was right for the org), it was dormant underneath and was resurrected again when I left The Way.
********************************************************************************
Somewhere along the journey of recovery, whether its during phase 101, 201, 301, 1001; it's a good idea for a person to look at their strengths along the path. What have they learned? What have they utilized in their life as a result of those experiences?
One of my assignments during counseling since exiting The Way, was to list my strengths as a former cult devotee. I had a difficult time thinking of any strengths so I used this list, "The Strengths of Former Cult Members (link no longer works) as a springboard. Then I had to put that springboard list aside; I had to think of things that resonated with me, with Carol.
Thus the following list was born. I wrote it almost eight months ago, December 7, 2008. It'd probably be a good idea to come back to it on occasion to review and even add to it.
Every individual has strengths to celebrate, share, and draw upon.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
(note: "TWI" = The Way International)
Empathy: I understand the darkness of depression, the fear of anxiety, the struggle to climb out again and again. I understand the pressure of unrelenting standards and guilt feelings. I no longer fear that I will be a "miserable comforter" which was one of my fears while I was in TWI.
Good Listener: I practiced to learn the art of listening, even when I would "witness" to people. Even though I thought I "knew" the answers, I still believed people's stories were valid and I would listen. I believe that my desire to help was genuine.
Courage: I chose to join TWI even though it was looked upon despairingly by the Christian world; ie: it wasn't a popular choice. It took courage to not follow the crowd. On a flip side, when the masses left TWI, I didn't follow then either. Part of that was due to indoctrination and part was due to endeavoring to do what I thought was right. The point is, it took some courage to not follow the crowd.
Loyalty: Even after AWOLing from the Way Corps, I rose above public shame and was steadfast in my belief. Again, when the masses left TWI, I weighed what I knew and had experienced. I wanted The Way to change from the inside. Part of my loyalty was misguided, yet I was loyal.
Ingenuity: In spite of TWI teachings, I figured out a way to wellness. I even utilized mental health professionals (including a type of hypnosis) and acupuncture (by a lesbian) , all looked upon with suspicion of possible devil spirit possession by TWI. When I exited TWI I had a thought-through plan from months of mental preparation and at least a year of investigation. It wasn't a knee-jerk response. I exited on my terms and my deliberate decisions, even without my family. I allowed my family the same leeway, and they exited on their own within 6 to 8 months.
Endurance: I endured hardship, especially with my health. I didn't blame God. I didn't blame The Way. Even though I blamed myself, I continue(d) to strive for wellness. I was (many times due to illnesses) under intense and tremendous mental, emotional, physical, and performance pressure.
Flexibility: In The Way, I learned to be comfortable eating with a king or a pauper. I learned to function in various cultures:
1 - I functioned within the home school arena often surrounded by mainstream fundamentalist Christians, whereas I was in a non-trinitarian "cult."
2 - I functioned in the Christian South, though I held many doctrines contrary to regular Christianity.
3 - I functioned in The Way as one who leaned toward eclectic-/un-/home-schooling which was looked upon with suspicion by The Way. We chose the route of the family bed and having our children involved with us, instead of getting babysitters for functions all the time. We didn't follow the regular Way doctrine regarding raising children, though I would be confused and sometimes go back and forth.
4 - My husband and I maintained independent thought in regard to certain areas about family and personal decisions with health and upbringing, and still functioned as Way fellowship leaders. People liked coming to our fellowships because (I think) that for the most part we allowed them the same.
Skills: I learned to speak in front of 100's of people. This came into play with one of my jobs as a camp-in site director and presenter at a science center for about 5 years. I also learned people skills regarding communication. I learned organizational and set-up skills which I have utilized in all my jobs. My current boss thanks me on a regular basis for all I do to keep the business running.
Open to Ideas: The Way presented an alternative view of the scriptures and of education. I learned from those to not throw the baby out with the bath water, so to speak.
Creativity: In my early Way days I wrote poetry and sang and danced and acted in Way Productions. Through the years I taught much and oversaw Childrens Fellowship often. People regularly told me that they enjoyed my teachings and children loved to come to my children's activities. I utilized many props (even in adult teachings) to help with concrete examples. Though my individual creativity was stifled (and used to promote what was right for the org), it was dormant underneath and was resurrected again when I left The Way.
********************************************************************************