Cults

I've long been fascinated with the phenomenon of cults. My first experience of a cult was back at my Catholic primary school. Some kids were involved in a youth group which met on Friday nights at one of their homes and because they seemed like an interesting bunch of kids and I have always been attracted to quirky people, I thought I'd check it out.

I think I only went a few times and now, I can't even remember what they did at those meetings, but I didn't feel comfortable staying on, because they were just a bit too weird, even for my taste.

My next encounter with cults was when my favourite relative joined the Moonies. I remember listening to how stressed my mother and grandparents were about her and couldn't understand their concern, because whenever I saw her, she seemed quite calm and also bemused by all their fear. I've never had the courage to ask her about that time, even though I remember it really clearly, because she has never raised it with me.

The next experience was with another relative, who became a missionary for his church in Indonesia. I remember feeling so embarrassed at his wedding reception, because he decided that then was the perfect opportunity to confess all of his drug-taking and otherwise nefarious activities to the entire family, when he probably should have been thanking everyone for helping him celebrate his most joyous occasion. I was embarrassed, because his speech was such an intimate look into the dark side of his personal life and because he obviously felt ashamed of it all, I wasn't able to deal with hearing that at the age of 14.

He has since shared with me his entire experience of becoming involved with that cult church and I'm so grateful to him for doing so, because it has raised my awareness about why such groups are so attractive to followers. What the group offered to him, which he had never had before, was a sense of belonging, a surrogate family, in many ways, a place to openly and honestly admit to his failings, which acted as a powerfully cathartic experience for him, even though the information was being misused by the people in the church. It also provided a sense of purpose and a sense of self, even though it was only within the context of the group.

I have explored, if only on the outer edges, numerous cultish groups and am finally realising why they have drawn my attention at all.

I went out with a guy briefly, who had been a Hare Krisna at one time. His description of their life at the commune in Murwillumbah did not sound attractive to me. They were paired up in arranged marriages and were only allowed to have sex around the woman's ovulation, since it was supposed to be for procreation only. Those two regulations sounded like a recipe for disaster to me.

At the age of 22, I decided to abandon my Catholic beliefs. The most difficult ones to reconcile for me, were around sexuality, reproduction and the sanctity of life, with regard to abortion. Basically being a sexually active single woman who needed an abortion at one time, put me in the class of people 'going straight to hell' which I found hard to take, since it felt to me, that feeling horrendously guilty all the time about these facts, was in itself, a kind of living hell, anyway. I suppose it lessened my fear of that fiery place.

Confessing to a priest hardly lessened the grief or guilt, even though he offered full absolution. What I really needed was some decent counselling.

Anyway, after I had Sophia, I really started to feel the need for putting attention into some kind of spiritual life. Giving birth can do that to a woman. It makes her ask all the big questions that she stopped asking during her busy, mis-spent youth. The result of this, especially after we left the spiritual haven that we discovered and enjoyed in Arizona, was to find something that replaced the sense of loss.

In Arizona, I felt connected to others in a really satisfying way. I had my community, my surrogate family and they were some of the most nurturing women I have ever encountered. I had a sense of self. I was practising healing with all the other healers in town and there was a strong sense of solidarity in that. I had a sense of purpose, being involved in establishing the play group for our babies and offering nurturing and enjoyable activities for all the mothers of that group.

I lost all that when I came back to Australia. Instead I have stumbled across one form of cultish group after the next and it has taken me this long to realise how destructive this has been for me.

I have always been interested in meditation and have learnt different techniques over the years, mostly from books. Wanting to find a regular place to meditate with others has been the best way to discover these various groups around the place. Let's see, how many have I found? In order of discovery, there have been the following:

Brahma Kumaris: These guys are very adamant that if you don't do their meditation in this life, it will take you another 10, 000 lifetimes or so, to reach enlightenment. They are close-minded to other religions and practices and are very pushy.

Hare Krishna: These people can be so sweet, they just seem like little kids dancing around in their robes, how could they be a cult? Believe me, they are, big time. They get you in with their delicious, cheap food and free Sunday feasts.

Sai Baba: I am almost embarrassed to admit that at one time, I considered sending Sophia to their school in Murwillumbah. The Irish Principal was so eloquent and educated, espousing wonderful ideals, he had me convinced that there she would be able to gain such a strong sense of self, that bullying and criticism from others would never touch her. It was only by researching about the man Sai Baba himself, that the warning bells went off about what a cult-like environment it really was.

Mormons: In general, Mormons have done a lot of personal growth work. It's part of their church's regimen. For that reason, when you meet them, you are often impressed with what organised, thoughtful, caring, dynamic people they are. The Mormon woman I became close to here on the Gold Coast was an amazing dynamo. She was raising and home-schooling 5 kids, nurturing each and everyone of them with love and good nutrition, as well as being heavily involved in her church, the home-birth community and running childbirth preparation classes.

I realised at some point that by allowing her to wow me with her various talents and stop listening to my own inner wisdom, I was subjugating myself to her power. It could have been so easy for her to convert me, if I wasn't so angry about giving away my own power to her.

Jehova's Witnesses: Like a lot of cults, these people are always on the look-out for caring, humanitarian people to convert. It's the hook they use, when they emphasise how much they care about the state of the world too.

New Age Groups: I have encountered various New Age communities who draw people in with the solidarity that they offer those who are seeking spirituality after chucking the religion they were indoctrinated in for the first half of their lives. They exist in communities surrounding Steiner Schools and alternative health centres like Network Chiropractic clinics, where people are urged to 'Let Go' of various aspects of themselves, in an attempt to heal. Whilst the healing work that the individuals actually achieve can be significant and profound, the sense of dependency that is encouraged by the leaders of these groups, through the continued participation and surrender to the process is parasitic and pervasive.

Maharaji: I have recently discovered followers of Maharaji and am dismayed that with the kind of history of Indian Gurus that the world has seen, with the likes of Rajneesh et el, that these people, who seem to want the same kinds of things as me, i.e, a peaceful existence, a sense of connection to spirit and one's inner wisdom, a source of strength in themselves, to help them weather the stresses of life, are in this day and age, willing to submit to this kind of self-styled master who owns multi-million dollar properties in the U.S. and a Lear Jet to get himself from one seminar to another. I have heard followers compare him to Christ, like he may be the next incarnation of the one and only. How that could not be called a cult, I do not know.

I have read some great books on this subject, mostly from the point-of-view of the ex-cult member. A couple of these books are "The Serpent Rising", by Mary Garden and "My Life in Orange", by Tim Guest and "Holy Smoke" made into a movie by the Campion sisters, starring Kate Winslet and Harvey Keitel.

Sophia's Story

The last time I saw my friend Joy, before she died, I promised to read her the story I had written about Sophia, the next time I was to visit. I never got to read it to her, because she died a few days later.

I was telling Joy that I was in the process of collaborating with my Japanese friend, to translate the story and that I had found a bi-lingual company which I felt the story might have a chance being published with, since it specialised in cross-cultural stories. I will send it off to the publishing company tomorrow, so publishing it here, is an attempt to put it out there into the consciousness of the world, first. Hope you like it Joy. Wish me luck!

Sophia's Story

When Sophia’s mother held her for the very first time, she loved how warm, wet and slippery she felt. When she gazed at Sophia lying beside her, she noticed her dark skin and black hair and she knew there was something special about her new baby.

When Sophia was two weeks old, her papa got a job in Arizona. It was hard work packing up their things, with a small baby to look after, but her mama and papa were excited about living in the countryside, away from busy streets and big city noise.

When the last of their belongings was loaded onto the removal van, Sophia and her mama hopped on the plane leaving for Tucson while her papa drove their car to their new house, far, far away. It was her first plane ride, but Sophia didn’t see very much, because she slept all the way.

Arizona was a hot dry place, where the horizon stretched on forever. Along the flats, heat shimmered in waves and the spiny Ocotillo cactus bloomed its tiny red flowers. Sophia lived with her parents in a little town way up high in the mountains, where the air was crisply cool. She was still a tiny baby when she first saw snow and her mama had her so tightly bundled in blankets that she hardly saw a thing.

Sophia’s grandparents lived in New Mexico, four hours drive from Arizona. They lived in a big adobe style house with long strands of chillis hanging on the walls. Sophia and her parents often made the long journey to see her Mama Judy and her Papa Roy. They spent long weekends together taking walks into the Mexican village of Old Mesilla, past the fields of chilli plants growing in the hot sun. On Sundays there was often a wedding party in the town square with a Mariachi band playing Mexican wedding songs.

Not long after they arrived in Arizona, her parents took her to Oklahoma to meet the rest of her relatives there. Mimi, her great grandmother, had white hair and soft wrinkly skin. Her brown eyes sparkled and her face and arms were the colour of dark honey. She was descended from Cherokee people, the original people of the south-eastern part of America.

When Sophia was almost two, her mama started feeling homesick. She missed the ocean and the long winding rivers, the colours of the wattle and the Jacaranda tree blossoms and the call of the Kookaburra and Magpie. It was time to move back to Australia to live for a while, so they said goodbye to their little house and friends in Arizona, then hugged Mama Judy and Papa Roy at Tucson airport and got on a plane for the long journey to her mama’s homeland.

When they arrived in Australia, Sophia discovered it was a very different place. Everything was green and the air was warm and humid. Sophia also discovered that she had another set of grandparents, her Australian grandparents: Granny Leigh and Poppy Eric. That year Sophia had her first hot Christmas, where she spent the day at the beach and enjoyed a picnic of fish and chips.

Sophia loved spending time at her grandparent’s farm. They lived in a big steel shed. In the evening Granny Leigh would take Sophia outside to watch the wallabies hop across the paddocks and when it got very dark, they would take their torches (Sophia called them flashlights) with them to look for green tree frogs that lived in the pipes around the water tank. Sophia would fall asleep listening to their “croak, croak, croak”. On rainy nights she lay awake unable to sleep because the sound of the rain on the tin roof was like the pounding of drums.

When Sophia was nearly three, her Mama and Papa wanted her to have a Native American name. They reflected carefully on what her spirit animal might be. In a dream, a big brown bird with a white head, the Brahminy Kite, appeared to her mama. The next day as they drove along the beach road, her mama yelled out, “Look, there it is!” and they all looked up to see a Brahminy Kite gliding powerfully above them.

Her papa thought it would suit her well, because it looked just like the American Bald Eagle. Her parents organised a naming ceremony with a Cherokee elder who lived nearby. How fortunate they were to know a Native American in Australia.

Now Sophia’s name was “Little Eagle”. This was a special name, that she might want to use for a special reason. Her papa explained that the eagle was her spirit animal who could protect her, especially when she needed help. It was also very powerful because it could see far and wide, from up high. Her spirit animal would help her to see like this too.

Not long after her third birthday, Sophia’s baby brother was born. He was tiny and dark and made funny gurgling sounds. Sophia’s mama said he looked just like Sophia when she was a baby and she knew there was something special about him.

They had been living in Australia for a while now and Papa was starting to feel homesick. It was time to visit America and show her American grandparents how much she had grown, as well as her new baby brother. It was autumn in Australia, but it would be spring in New Mexico and Sophia was looking forward to watching the Hummingbirds buzz around Papa Roy’s bird feeder and taking the dogs for a walk with Mama Judy in the early morning sun.

Her great grandmother Mimi was there too and everyone was so happy to see Sophia and her baby brother. Mimi was getting old, but her brown eyes still sparkled with delight when she held Sophia on her lap.

Sophia and her Mama Judy went for long walks along the canal that came from the Rio Grande, which supplied water to all the chilli fields around their neighbourhood. The New Mexico sun beat down and the dry wind made their skin feel crackly. It was fun to hop in the pool nearby and cool off.

Before long, it was time to go home to Australia. Everyone was sad to see Sophia and her mama, papa and baby brother leave on the plane, but they all promised to get together the following year in Hawaii, because that was Mama Judy and Papa Roy’s favourite holiday place and it was half-way between New Mexico and Australia.

Sophia had completely forgotten about the plan to go to Hawaii, then one day, her parents said that they would be going soon. Although it was summer in Australia, it was winter in Hawaii and Sophia was really excited to see snow on the peaks of the volcano with her Mama Judy and Papa Roy.

When Sophia arrived at the tiny island airport with her family, her grandparents were there to greet them and her papa Roy made her feel special, when he placed a beautiful flower necklace around her neck.

The next day they went to a resort which had a dolphin education centre and Sophia was able to join in the kid’s dolphin play programme and feed and hold a dolphin. She loved being so close to the dolphins and thought their skin was so smooth and slippery.

There was something about Hawaii which reminded Sophia about Australia. She wasn’t sure exactly, when she heard her mama say ,“We have many of the same trees here, back home. We have the Jacaranda and the Frangipanni and the mango, star fruit and macadamia nut trees too”. Sophia loved to walk through the orchard where they were staying and pick star fruit for her breakfast.

All too soon their Hawaiian holiday came to an end and it was time to return to Australia. As she sat on the plane, she thought about the wonderful things she had seen in Hawaii. She also thought about the last thing her Mama Judy said to her as she got on the plane.

“Sophia, when you’re flying over the Pacific Ocean, you’ll be able to see us here in Hawaii if you look behind you and if you look ahead, you’ll be able to see your grandparents in Australia waving hello to you from down under, because you’ll be able to see far and wide from up high”.