I am very excited to present our first guest post by Koethi Zan who is the author of The Never List which is available TODAY in the US and Canada!
How a Cult Tried to Get Me by Koethi Zan
When I was eighteen years old, my college roommate and I
were lured into a cult. It isn’t what
you might imagine. We didn’t move to a
commune somewhere in Texas with some charismatic leader who had a cache of
weapons and multiple wives. They were
much too sophisticated for that. They
drew us in slowly with very innocent “study sessions” that were part self-help,
part group therapy, and part meditation class.
It started with my college boyfriend’s parents who had been
involved with this “philosophy study group” for many years. They urged my boyfriend to go so my roommate
Ann and I decided we’d tag along. We
were up for anything and curious about what we’d heard.
There were five of us at the first session, one of whom was a
stunningly beautiful girl about my age.
She had an ethereal quality about her and was very close to reaching the
next “level” in the study group. I was
convinced my boyfriend would end up in her group too—without me. I had to get to the higher level too, and
fast.
Like many cults, this one had a mystical text, a dynamic
long-dead leader, and an almost corporate organizational structure. They were practiced at the slow
seduction. Their main scripture
contained a bizarre and complex cosmology that made no sense whatsoever. We studied only a page or two each week,
carefully dissecting its strange logic and arcane symbolism. I was getting nowhere with it.
Study sessions began with a long meditation, in which the
teacher would ask us to focus on each individual body part until we felt it
tingle. I had a hard time sitting still
that long. Then we would work on our
main objective: learning to be “present in the moment.” Each week we would leave with specific tasks
to practice: upon entering a room, look
at the ceiling, or eat meals using the non-dominant hand. Eventually, our sessions involved learning
the art of bookbinding, which seemed a bit odd, but I mildly enjoyed that part
at least. It reminded me of being in the
Girl Scouts. All in all, it seemed
harmless enough.
Then, just as Ann and I were getting bored with the whole
thing, we were informed that we had reached a high enough level to go to a
special weekend “retreat.” An important
leader from New York City would be presiding.
The group had bought a house that needed work, so naturally there would
be “work sessions.” We were
flattered. We went.
The first thing they did was set us to work scraping the
floors of the house—for hours. That was
a mistake. Not my cup of tea. Next we had an extensive presentation about
the cosmology. I was bored out of my
mind. Then after lunch, we were
instructed in special “movements” at a school gym they’d rented out. We would hold out our arms and spread our
legs, and then, in time with ominous chords of piano music, we would have to
jump suddenly into the next position. I
was starting to freak out a little.
Up until that point, no one had mentioned money to us. They were clever enough to know we’d see that
as a warning sign. But back at the house
that afternoon, I overheard the fancy leader from New York City pressuring a
young member to make his contribution.
That was just about the final straw.
So when, in our next session, we were seated in rows for an hour-long
meditation session, I feigned illness and was excused to the other room. I realized I had to get out of there. I tried to signal to Ann through the doorway,
but she was in a deep state of meditation.
Without telling anyone, I slipped out the front door, hoping
Ann would figure it out and follow me when she finally opened her eyes. She did, and we reunited back at the dorm
that day to celebrate. Needless to say, we never got to the next level.
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