"I invite you to the world of no past. It's the only sane place to be."
- Byron Katie
If you aren't familiar with Byron Katie's work, you may think that she is insane when she offers quotes like the one above. Maybe she is. We might investigate.
This past week, something inspired me to do a Google search for the leader of the cult I joined not too long before I turned eighteen. Wham! I hit the jackpot! I found a website that's been up for a couple of years. It was created by two ex-cult members who thought that maybe they could connect with others who had been wooed by the cult leader at a young age when people are ripe for such things, .
Because of that website, I have now had phone conversations with Gary and with Chuck — men who were good friends, oh, about forty years ago.
A couple of days after finding these friends, a different man sent me a friend request on Facebook. He was in my life even earlier than the ex-cult members. He, my high school boyfriend of two years, was someone who helped set in motion my road to Cultville. Shortly after high school graduation I called Rick's house, and his younger sister answered the phone. "Is this Carol or Sharon?" she asked. I had heard of Sharon before, but I didn't worry about her. Now I understood why Rick hadn't been very available for awhile. My friend and I gathered every album and stuffed animal that Rick had ever given me, loaded them into my car, and dropped them all on Rick's porch while he watched and said nothing. At that time, I felt that I couldn't share with anyone the exquisite pain that radiated from my heart throughout my body, so in my brokenness I befriended anorexia.
The next spring, I found love in the cult.
Only there wasn't much love there. Mostly rules and control.
All of this reunioning over the last few days has been fascinating, and it's given me the opportunity to look at ways I still live in a cult mentality without actually belonging to a cult. There are many ways people do this. My preferred (and painful) cult drug is living my days feeling like I'm auditioning for a part in the play of life, trying to be good enough to not be left out when all the parts are given out. I'm beginning to understand that the casting director isn't who I thought it was.
I'm also exploring my feelings about Rick, and, in typical Byron Katie lingo I ask, "How do I feel when I look at a photo of a 61 year old man, and I believe that he hurt me?" Who would I be without that thought? Who would I be if I looked at the photo of 61 year old Rick and saw a nice-looking man who I don't know? Because the truth is that I don't know him. Is it fair to anyone to think we know them other than in this fresh moment?
Today I removed the mulch that had accumulated in the daisy bed in our front yard. Brown, brittle maple leaves - remnants of summer past - were blocking the light, not allowing it to get through so that the daisies could do what daisies do best - grow and blossom. Letting go of thoughts that create a "world of past" is kind of like that, isn't it? It lets us do what we do best — grow and blossom. We can only do that in the present. Maybe the world of no past is a sane place to be.
