A Cult and the Space That Saved Me
It was an odd thing that the thought had never before occurred to me to Google the meditation intensive. Sure, there were things that seemed strange, almost comically so. I noted them and brushed them aside as not applicable aspects in my diligent quest for self-improvement. As I typed in the name of the group I saw the answer loudly plastered all over my search: CULT. DESTRUCTIVE SEX CULT. GET OUT NOW!
Sometimes there is nothing more clarifying for our own sense of knowing than space. Taking space. Allowing ourselves the space to breathe, regroup, and change course. In this particular instance, it appeared to take more than five thousand miles of physical distance for me to get the illumination I needed.
The night I made my discovery found me alone in my bedroom, enveloped by the ample space of a sleepy evening to contemplate this new revelation. With an unsettling combination of furious indignation, I spent the next several hours hanging on each quickly emerging thought as my memory compiled movie-like montages detailing the separate and often odd events that happened over the course of those past months.
I was supposed to move in at the end of the week and it was unlike me to be so unprepared. I hadn’t packed so much as one box nor had I reserved a moving truck. Believing myself to have every intention of moving into this communal…
