The Spiritual Rights Foundation was famous for dragging everyone together for a weekend of trance, after trance, after trance until you had so much trance you had to enter another trance to get any kind of sleep at the retreat. Then after two days of trance, it's back home to sleep from Sunday afternoon to Monday morning. Weekend trance retreats were so common, and I went to so many of them, I even lost my once-rabid interest in football so I can drop my aching head on a pillow for ten hours.
Although this article is actually about something other than the effects of trance, I thought it would be appropriate to move it up front in honor of the upcoming SRF retreat to Lake Tahoe.
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- Hello Mike, I remember that incident. I was being completely shunned by
everyone. I shouldn't have even gone, but they made Linda make me go, so
that I didn't sink into greater evil, that is, get lose from their
control. I was accused by Bill of disloyalty to SRF in front of everyone
all night long he day before. Loneliness is exponentially greater when
you are alone among a group. Being useful crawling underneath the house
and burying the cat was a perverse way of feeling useful. It was better
than doing nothing. Maybe I could get a morsel of approval.
It was a shock when Mike offered to help, and it was deeply touching. It caused me to be less dissociated and to feel pain and emotion. I enjoyed doing it even though it was meant to be humiliating. Mike was the real minister of Christ in this story, I was the poor in spirit.
With love and forgiveness
Steve -
Anonymous said...
- lets not forget that leaders of the retreat could do no wrong and had to pay nothing while
charging outrageous prices to others for horrible food cooked up by the cult chef ( a short order cook who had deluded himself that his food and meal plans tasted good) typical meal was cheese bread and salad
Guilt by association. A term well-used in the McCarthy days. A logical fallacy like: all dogs have four legs. My cat has four legs. Therefore my cat is a dog. Q.E.D.
It makes no sense for those, like you, who have their brains intact. To those who gave themselves up to a mind control cult (as I had) it makes perfect sense.
The Spiritual Rights Foundation loved to hold weekend relaxation retreats. These retreats were big money makers for SRF, bringing in some $250 per person for two days of trance, hot tubs, saunas, sleeping on the floor, eating greasy food, sitting on hard chairs and being treated like a leper if you did anything wrong. These retreats were so relaxing, most people had to go straight home to sleep off the relaxation.
I remember one retreat, held early in the year in wet and cool weather. At that time, Steve Sanchez was in the doghouse for imaginary crimes, as usual. And as usual, everyone avoided him so they would not catch his disease. Despite the ridiculous and juvenile behavior of the congregation, Steve attended anyway.
While relaxing in the hot tub, two attendees of the retreat (a robust man who bragged of his physical prowess and a woman in a smallish swimsuit) began complaining of an awful smell. I recognized it. It was the smell of a dead animal. I didn't leap up immediately to find it. Instead, I waited to see if the man in the tub (a self-styled "skilled and enthusiastic worker") would rise to the challenge to identify and address the smell. Instead, he sat there drinking in the attention the woman in the smallish swimsuit was giving him - while he complained about the smell.
Knowing that there wasn't a soul attending who had the desire, skill or responsible nature to locate and address the source of the smell, I grabbed my flashlight (a tool I always keep with me that many at SRF had ridiculed me for carrying) and went on a search.
It didn't take long. After looking under one of the backyard houses (oddly, it was the one Bill and Angela lived in) I saw a dead cat all curled up and moldering. I had just announced my discovery and began the task of gathering the materials I needed to dispose of it when I heard (from I don't recall whom) "Hey Steve, go take care of that cat!"
Two people came up to me to ask me to stop what I was doing so that Steve can serve his penance by digging up that dead cat without benefit of a pair of gloves, a shovel, a bag to contain the animal or the help of anyone present. After all, Steve was in the doghouse and digging up a dead cat and disposing of it with his BARE HANDS was exactly the punishment God intended.
That situation was absolutely untenable to me.
As Steve dutifully began his disgusting task, I stopped him, saying that I have some tools and materials we can use to go take care of the problem.
That's right. I said WE.
After gathering some disposable gloves, plastic bags, a shovel and some other items, Steve and I both went where the animal lay, dug him out and disposed of him properly. The smell vanished and the "skilled and enthusiastic worker" got more attention from the woman in the smallish swimsuit but without the complaints.
Not a word of thanks. No acknowledgment at all. But the guy in the tub did have a bigger grin on his face.
Steve received a hard time at that retreat. I expected that. But was was surprising to me was that I had a hard time there as well.
You see, everyone avoided me as if I had a contagious disease. Ebola? The plague? Flu? None of that. It's the disease of association. It's the sin of defiling yourself with the presence of the damned. The sickness of helping a fellow parishioner, a brother in Christ, a minister of the lord in a time of need.
I'm not sure what verse in the Bible is relevant to this particular situation (I wouldn't really, as SRF doesn't study the whole Bible - only small fragments of it). But I think I know what it might be.
It's guilt by association: Steve is evil. Those who help Steve are evil. He helped Steve. Therefore he is evil. Q.E.D.
It's a stupid association. One that no well-educated person (or even any reasonable, church-going person) would make. Would you shun a minister who visits those in prison, even on death row? I guess you would if we all think as those at SRF.
The remaining captives at SRF are afraid. Afraid that those of lower vibration will contaminate their good feeling. Afraid that those who are on the outs with the cult leadership will expose them to incurable ills. And there is the ever-present fear that the leadership will call them out next.
Since SRF is always on the lookout for the demon of the week, the Judas, no wonder the congregation shun anyone they believe is in disfavor. And no wonder they shun those who may be charitable and who practices love for his fellow man.
It's fear. Fear that only a cult can engender.
So, if you do want to join SRF and attend those refreshing and relaxing weekend retreats, be alert and aware. You don't want to be around the demon of the week. And God forbid that you display some Christian charity for said demon.
But make sure your linens are fresh and your bed is made. You'll need it to sleep off the relaxation.
And all the single babies like the single ladies:
Yes I remember those retreats. For years I attended everyone offered, once a month, twelve times a year.
ReplyDeleteMany members, especially the women had near emotional breakdowns during retreats becasue of the relazing nature of the retreat and all the compassion and openess of all those involved.
I personally had to attend to many of these woman, give them a healing and try to help them regain some sense of humanity and acceptance.
I myself had to have other woman help me with the emotional upheavel that occured inside of me because of all the fighting and demonizing that was going on around me.
The men either played it up or tried to hide in some room from everyone to get a moments peace.
A few people actually really enjoyed themselves if they were not on the hotseat.
Yeah, nothing better than comming home from the retreat and resting in peace and quiet with no one to yell at you, judge you, tell you to do something you really did not want to do. Ahhh, the list can go on.
In my begining years I expereinced many retreats as fun, enjoyable, relaxing but allways stressful as I always had a feeling that something was not quite right but I could not put my finger on it. Now I can. Cult leaders, mental and spiritual abuse, slavery, pressure...
Nice, real nice.
Oh and all the crazziness, the control, the mental, spiritual and emotional abuse was kept away from new people or begining students as best as they could. They did not want to scare anyone off. It was a tricky business. I guess it was a good thing hardly any "outsiders" ever wanted or want's to go on these retreats. I guess the slepping on the floor part and paying a couple hundred dollars to do so is not very attractive
ReplyDeleteThe cat should have bounced on your head and proclaimed tha all men will foloow Rev. Bill Duby and wif REv. Angelo in love and light.
ReplyDeleteYou helped a Demon. Is he family? He He He
Hello Mike, I remember that incident. I was being completely shunned by everyone. I shouldn't have even gone, but they made Linda make me go, so that I didn't sink into greater evil, that is, get lose from their control. I was accused by Bill of disloyalty to SRF in front of everyone all night long he day before. Loneliness is exponentially greater when you are alone among a group. Being useful crawling underneath the house and burying the cat was a perverse way of feeling useful. It was better than doing nothing. Maybe I could get a morsel of approval.
ReplyDeleteIt was a shock when Mike offered to help, and it was deeply touching. It caused me to be less dissociated and to feel pain and emotion. I enjoyed doing it even though it was meant to be humiliating. Mike was the real minister of Christ in this story, I was the poor in spirit.
With love and forgiveness
Steve
lets not forget that leaders of the retreat could do no wrong and had to pay nothing while
ReplyDeletecharging outrageous prices to others for horrible food cooked up by the cult chef ( a short order cook who had deluded himself that his food and meal plans tasted good) typical meal was cheese bread and salad