Please dont think I know anything for certain. Im only writing to move my psychology from one thing to another, from brainwashed to thinking for myself. I make it public in hopes that readers might consider the very real possibility of being taken in and duped by someone with authority or power, charm or allure. It might be an eHarmony profile, or a highly paid liar from the National Institute of Health, or anyone who is only in it for their own enhancement beyond what is justified by the facts, and who could conceivably convince you they are other than what they actually are.
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I remember an evening in an ex-marines apartment, his pretty girlfriend who didnt seem all that interested in any of us. Her lipstick smeared off. The redness around the edge of her lips. The atmosphere all a prussian blue haze and the camera shots in my memory are tight on each character. My exhusband was hopping between the three of us, riffing and railing against the current political tide. Hoping to quell the incoming blasts of negativity from my ex, the marine turned to me to ask, Did you marry your father?
No, I said, my mother. Truth be told my ex was way more intelligent than my mom so his deprecating comments had a sharper bite. His criticisms more exacting. The recycling of negative judgements were continually amped up with wit and his manipulations a bit more cunning. Very familiar to me. Im only using him now to get back to the source. I loved him, his mind and his body and his hidden heart. But he was so negative. Like mom. Like me.
The motorhead picked up on that right away and nailed me to a dark cross that no one would forget, and that everyone reminded me of daily, then monthly, then perennially. Years afterwards, people were still reminding me. Oh remember what our beloved leader told you, Jess. Not a speck of negativity. If they werent rolling their eyes or wagging fingers, because those expressions werent allowed, they were looking around the room for confirmations. You may know bullies like this from your workplace. I hope not, but if you do, find a copy of The No Asshole Rule. This would have been a valuable read to re-educate myself and then be able to respond to the motorheads subtle bullying with some equally subtle course corrections in the face of his bad manners.
I need to potentize this! Even subtle manipulations, even bullying that enlists the lower vibrations of others to make things worse, even then there are alternatives to sucking it up in order to suck up to the father-guru-mother-motorhead-boss-asshole. There are ways to disengage from what allows others to be abusive. But I didnt do any of those things.
Enthusiastically, I took up that stupid cross. I would prove myself better than that. But the weight of it had no cure in it, and the suppression of what was inborn in me only added pressure to the piss and vinegar inside, curried by my mom and aged in my first marriage. It was essentially forbidden within the cult to express any strong emotions about anything, especially anything negative. What would happen if we did? Same thing that happened to doctors who spoke out about successful treatments for covid that did not necessitate a shot of unknown gene junk into our arms for the sake of the elderly.
Similar measures of control were cleverly used against everybody, sooner or later. The motorhead capitalized on the deficiencies he saw in his followers, calling someone a mouse or a cat or a dog, and the group, as the mass formation of the cult was called, would keep that thing turned on like a neon sign over the persons head. He once called someone smarmy who was anything but, and the group took up the name calling, forcing that one to make a change from heartfelt intention to a coerced humility. Real righteousness or sincere goodness was cut down to a miserable size, like a communist dance performance with the best dancers weighted so not to appear better than lesser performers. I think Ray Bradbury wrote that one. Remind me of the title if you know it. One of his short stories, exposing wokeology before it coagulated.
Back in the cult, years would go by without any mention of that awful speck, and then on a dark night, the fire dying low, the waves lapping against a shallow shore, Remember, not a speck of negativity, Jess.
Any apprehension or questions asked about what could be the gurus blindspot(s) were deemed negative. Not a speck of that—its all love! Only love! Love was a blindspot where we hung out in the belief of something beyond and transcendental. It was actually, objectively, materially, and mechanically something put to use by the motorhead to enhance himself, all at the expense of his doters.
I have started studying the origins of evil while balancing that inquiry with James Finlay on Thomas Merton. On the evil side of things, there are bioengineers hoping to diagnose psychopathy with magnetic resonance imaging. Theyre jumping up and down at the sight of brain function moving in real time. Woohoo! Its all very mechanical. Im surprised at the assumptions made as they plumb into the microscopic depths of humanity. They seem to be unaware that they are looking for anomaly and data in a laboratory polluted by medical interventions. Of the many revelations the covidcrisis has bestowed, the fact that our DNA can be altered and is mutable has been verified. Its highly unlikely that alterations, thanks to modern medicine, havent been happening for a very long time, thereby changing our genetics long before MRIs can show the brain at work. Todays anomaly may be the result of psychological disorders and not the thing itself. The origins might be found in the timeline of Big Pharma, that bugaboo, controlling our lives for the sake of their money.
For Merton and his sincere disciple, Finlay, there are no questions about the origins of evil. Pain and trauma, endured at the hands of psychopaths, are simply gods way of waking us up. The good life is preyed upon by evil doers to shake us out of our complacency, reminding us that the evolution of our souls is at stake. Once those questions are bagged, like pheasants on a day hunt, it becomes all about the mystery. I heard a lot about The Mystery in the cult, so Im suspicious. Heres what the penismind said about The Mystery: Respond to it. Let it take you. Transition beyond your self. As you enter it, you lose the capacity to register it. Like falling asleep. It belongs to love. Flesh becomes love. Love become flesh.
Translation: Youre feeling sleepy, very sleepy. When I count to three you will awaken and be utterly under my control.
Forget about him. Forget about Merton and any mystery. I look out the window and something catches my eye, a light reflecting. Something is shining through clear rays of white transparent light. Awareness homes in on that diamond light and surroundings disappear. The mind relaxes. It opens. There are no thoughts. The moment expands. There are no feelings. The light shines. There are no sensations. The mind is quiet. Theres only light and in that essence something exists. That is all.
Thanks, Jess.
It always helps me in my own process of cult recovery to read your essays.
Regaining more strength in my own valuable thoughts to establish my own real life. Bit by bit it is happening, real little steps letting my own truth shine. The pain felt in being lied to for so many years brings out the gold.
Love your writing, Jess. It has it's own appeal to be read, independent of the subject. I hope you will step into authorship seriously, not to say you aren't deadly serious in these writings! You have a beautiful voice.