My Recovery from Cult Mind Control

Ultimately we have no choice but to feel what we are feeling…anon.

Coming out of Denial Years ago the media coverage of cults that was ignited by the Branch Davidians made me feel it was time to reconsider the morbid and confusing thoughts and feelings regarding a 15 year detour I began in 1971 when I’d taken a vow of lifetime commitment to a new age religious commune.

After finally leaving in 1984, I found and followed a thread back to my former intellectual and freethinking self, when in 1990 I finally went to college. The years spent stranded and mysteriously stuck in a commune left me anxious, amnesic, and panicky. College presented a new path in which I re-framed my prolonged hippie years as not only unhealthy but devastating. It was there I began to face the fact that I may have been in a cults and not a utopian community. And that I had been damaged by mind control.

The seventies and eighties were largely years of denial of hippie values in which yuppies became the new wave. Some of us more stubborn idealists, however, had tried desperately to keep the flowers alive and the incense burning. Ironically, we found that in pursuing our dreams, we had to take measures that were, in practice, against the very values we’d espoused.

Hopefully, some of my misery, along with the untold miseries of many others who would like to forget their detours following the sixties, can now be turned to valuable lessons: If we come out and stop defending our youthful follies, the psychological and educational co

Community could benefit from a close look at the undermining subtle forces that can and still do, attract and trap dissatisfied, intelligent young people in lifestyles that deter them from pursuing productive lives.

I have come away from the experience, learning some of the same lessons as Malcolm X learned (re. Elijah Mohammed’s Black Muslim Cult)

“. I realized how very dangerous it is for people to hold any human being in such esteem, especially to consider anyone some kind of ‘divinely guided’ and ‘protected’ person...I’ve had enough of someone else’s propaganda...I’m for truth, no matter who tells it...I was hypnotized, pointed in a certain direction and told to march...Well, I guess a man’s entitled to make a fool of himself if he’s ready to pay the cost. It cost me twelve years. [Malcolm X p.366]”

I spent thirteen years in a new-age religious commune that proclaimed itself to be self-sufficient and utopian. Much of the mainstream media looked favorably upon our illusion of being “alternative” and “progressive.” But like any dysfunctional family, we showed them only our bright side, minimizing our faults or denying them altogether.

When I left the commune at age 32 with a husband and three children, we were sent into culture shock; all except the infant. Had I been he, with what I knew then, as that newborn, I might have tried to crawl back into the womb, regardless of how confining it had become.

In an effort to liberate myself from the past, I needed to understand what had happened to me. However, the cult experiences could not generally be found in writing or on film. None-the-less, I did find enlightening similarities in the movie, “Split Image.” In this film Peter Fonda is a charismatic cult leader, un-unnervingly reminiscent of our own group’s founder.

Many ex-members, I found, tend to romanticize their experiences, feeling perhaps too guilty or humiliated to face the fact that they have been duped. This may, in part, explain why there has been such a dearth of accounts until now. Enough silence.

Defining Cult Mind-Control I found a book, (Combating Cult Mind Control by Stephen Hassan, a professional cult de-programmer) which dealt with some of my issues. A phone conversation with him helped me to realize that the post-commune panic attacks I was experiencing at the time, were the by-products of mind-control. Hassan had immediately asked me whether the group had used any techniques, which he labeled thought stopping.

I recognized this strategy when I recalled the years of sermons on the necessity of avoiding negative thoughts and analytical thinking. I now know that this practice of thought stopping is a misuse of the Buddhist teaching which stresses detachment. A little bit of truth, taken out of context, can certainly do a lot of harm!

Many times I was told to “stop using your brain.” When I caught myself thinking critically, I rationalized that I was falling into old, stuffy, “conditioned” thinking, and that I needed to “drop my conceptions” into order to see the “deeper truths”.

“Drop your conceptions” was a command that was drummed into my mind daily and nightly in the endless sermons called “meetings”. (As a hypnotherapist, I now know that such repetition of concepts, especially late at night, is one trick of hypnosis.)

When I worried about the direction that the community was taking, I would tell myself that “Michael Rapunzel,” whose last name was self-changed from Metalica, was someone who I came to believe, saw more, than I could see.

This was another “fact” which he stressed through glorious accounts of visions, at countless meetings. He was so theatrical and powerful. I remember one time when he was emphatically stressing his message, and pointing inadvertently at a light bulb above his head, the bulb actually burst. He simply looked up, turned, and left the room, letting the incident speak for itself. With his dramatics, Michael helped us believe that we could do anything we put our minds to, from altering the weather to saving the world.

The sticky thing is, however, at the time, it appeared that we actually did change the weather. We practiced applying something we termed “thought force” in order to get things to happen. One time we were going to have a rock concert outdoors on our property and the rain was ruining it. We all stood in a circle, joined hands and sent “thought-force” to stop the rain. Not only did the rain stop within minutes, but also a rainbow appeared replete with a dove.

The Charismatic Leader Our leader was perfectly suited to fill the psychological and mythological vacuum which white middle class America had fostered. The aftermath of the psychedelic revolution left us ready to participate in a new society. The challenge was to convert our beliefs into a viable lifestyle. We would need someone strong and dynamic to do this. No, he wasn’t a stern goose-stepping fanatic. He was an ex-hell’s angel with silky golden hair, sculpted features and an explosive personality. To us he encompassed a diverse range of expressions from the humorous and bawdy to the ethereal grace of a prophet. He was Jim Morrison with a spiritual mission.

Michael had an impressive habit of voicing what I was thinking before I could say it. This made me very careful about what I would think, especially about him.

Over time I think all 350 of us, seemed to be more or less ruled by fear. When Michael would enter the room, everything would go silent, no matter how animated or dynamic we were moments before. We simply felt foolish, ashamed to speak without being spoken to first, in front of the Master.

But, if Michael liked what you said, he might bring it up in a meeting. It was quite a breakthrough for me, for instance, when he asked me to repeat a funny story to the whole group, who, for the most part, never before listened to me. He also was able to understand people and use that understanding to either heal or undermine them. Sometimes he did both. When he would take me into his confidence all my fears would be allayed. I recall his simple reassurances, mixed with a stern fatherly warning while he looked deeply into my eyes and told me, for instance, “You are a beautiful person, Laura. But your worrying about yourself keeps you from attracting people and opportunities and ultimately from manifesting what you want.” This was a revelation, which spoke to my innermost desire to be seen, and convinced me that he knew me, as one member typically told the press in testimony, “better than I knew myself.”

I’ve since learned, that in such instances of adulation, not only is a person attempting to satisfy the infantile need for a parent’s approval and praise, but the need to be seen by the world as valuable and appropriate. But a therapist is not meant to have a space in its title: the rapist. A guru, however, can become such. In a cult, when the father figure is considered by members to be a direct prophet of God’s will, his or her approval becomes absolutely essential, while disapproval is unbearably shaming.

In order to successfully repress all criticism of the new system, it becomes necessary to revamp members’ thinking entirely. The means now justifies the ends. Intimidation and threats are seen as fatherly disciplining for the good of the cause. Suspending criticism of shocking and rude behaviors on the part of the leader and his cronies, especially behaviors involved in violating people’s boundaries, is seen as being open-minded. For example, a promiscuous rampage by the leader becomes a demonstration of the true spiritual balance of male and female. Or he is sewing seeds to carry on his vision. For the group, his lust is divine love.

I recall one of hundreds of instances where he demonstrated his charisma and insight. A schizophrenic visitor who had lost control of her facial expressions was standing catatonically in the middle of the driveway of one of our houses. The group had ignored her because of her weirdness. Michael was speeding by the driveway, but upon spotting her, he suddenly told the driver to turn the Cadillac around and pull in. He jumped out of the car, and strode toward her. Members nearby watched approvingly as he lovingly embraced her and showed her what she was doing by mimicking her expressions. Everyone loved her at that moment. At first she looked confused and then suddenly smiled and stopped the wincing. The power of the group approval was intense. I read in Hassan’s book of similar instances of what one cult called “love bombing.” Apparently this too, is a device of mind-control. Michael had psychic power, not spiritual power.

The Road to Mental Illness “Rise about your logical brain and your carnal desires,” was another maxim that I heard again and again. How to do this was never explained. “Be strong.” The implied overemphasis on willpower was nothing new, just a more extreme version of the same patriarchal styles of thinking we thought we were breaking away from.

Over the years I began developing a growing dread of my own thoughts. The constant over-stimulation of the collective group energy, along with the taboo against thinking, made my mind buzz compulsively. Eventually I developed obsessive-compulsive behavior.

The philosophy of overcoming limitations taught me to feel guilty and antsy if I wasn’t constantly working, meditating, or “teaching” someone. I also had to constantly fight paranoid feelings. Since I was told always to be “myself,” (i.e. like Michael) I learned to never hide my feelings. This was a catch-22 because then I was accused of being weak and immature.

I became hyper-vigilant of my thoughts. Over time every critical thought was replaced with some reference to something “Michael said,” and so therefore “it must be true “. I would tell myself, “Michael knows more than me. I have to be open....” This then led to extreme self-consciousness, and it created a pressure in me that made me feel like a walking time bomb. As a result of this overwhelming pressure I ultimately began feeling as if I’d lost track of my soul.

Recently I viewed a film on the state of mind of a long-term cocaine abuser. I was struck by how accurately the imagery portrayed how I’d felt after years of abuse in the commune: The world looked gray, lifeless, and one-dimensional and the person saw it through a fog. In the film it was a flat city in the distance. The woman described a complete loss of emotional feelings, as if she were moving in a dream or underwater. How well I understood! Having lost all feeling other than craving for my drug (Michael’s approval) I had become the mindless follower who was completely open to the absolute will of the group as dictated by a charismatic leader.

I was so confused that I was completely open to being told what to think, in order to get out of my misery. Through Michael I could reach that higher plane to which he was privy. A simple nod or look in my direction would bring a promise of fulfillment. A touch was a blessing. However most of the time he frustrated not only me, but everyone. (Confusion and frustration are also hypnotic devices.)

The punishment for failing to be spiritual was shunning from the leader on down. It was not uncommon to pass members in the higher ranks along the road and be treated as if I were completely invisible. A simple “hello” on my part was not acknowledged. Trying to break through the barrier was met with scorn, as when I called out hello to Michael the first time I saw him, and he turned quickly in my direction asking his cronies who said that. When he pointed in my direction he picked up on my nervousness and called out to me “What’s your name? You are deceitful.” This was another hypnotic devise utilizing shock and humiliation.

A Little Bit of Truth Can Do A Lot of Harm We were a macrocosm of the problems we had encountered in our families of origin, and a microcosm of society itself, and in many ways we were more extreme.

What is so confusing in cults or in groups with cult-like tendencies is that there is a strain of truth, which resonates with spiritually aspiring people. It sounds right, and may even feel right but.... Most cults teach some kind of meditation or focusing—fine and good in their proper context. New Age religious cults tend to pervert the principles of the human potential movement. One of these beliefs is that true knowledge resides within. This is a beneficial idea, when influencing a person to be in touch with their intuitive knowledge—“know thyself”. However, when information outside of the cult is discouraged as being irrelevant or destructive to spiritual development, a kind of spiritual fascism begins to set in.

When I was trying to figure out whether my group was a cult or not Hassan mentioned “information control.” Many, many meetings focused upon the dangers of being “influenced by the negativity of the outside world. If one left, or expressed disillusionment with the group, he or she was accused of having been influenced. (Not unlike being influenced by the devil.) For years and years, this idea that I was being influenced by evil powers, kept me from leaving. If they could make me want to leave, what could else could they make me do, once I left.

When the psychological abuse became too obvious, Michael reminded us again and again “as bad as it gets here, things have gotten much worse out there. You don’t know because you don’t have access to this information. He was out there in the “real world” relating more than we were because he was stronger, and also he was psychic and had previewed the massive Earth changes, (land rising and sinking) which only our group or those working in our behalf, would survive. “People will literally stab you in the back while you’re walking down the street.” All forms of intellectual discourse and stimulation were absolutely taboo. In fact, in the early and more primitive days of communal life, it was common to find classic literature used as toilet paper in the outhouses—our hippie style of book burning!

My Breakaway and Recovery Spiritually “correct” thinking and behaviors, such as males being strong, and women being nurturing, was reinforced by acknowledgment and privileges from the leader. Michael once said to me that it had been statistically proven that men were superior to women. That was one of the times when my own thinking broke through. Due to my Jewish upbringing I was very sensitive to and detested prejudice against any group. I began to laugh at him in my mind, while not bothering to be baited. I knew he would try to overpower me if I argued. The next time I stood up to him I was warned that I would be thrown out. It was when he began bullying my boy and when I told him that he was “not being effective,” he demanded that I admit that his kids were all well behaved. The opposite was true and I knew it. I disagreed openly and got my first warning from him that if I kept it up I would have to leave. I realized then that there was more keeping me there than Michael and my dependency switched from him to the group. After all, there were a lot of benefits to living communally: it was cheap, I had near-free child care, we had eighty acres of land replete with orchards, vegetable gardens, poultry and eggs, and swimming ponds. If I was sick I didn’t have to worry about bills. We had built huge energy-efficient homes.

Like many well-intended young adults, I had wanted desperately to do the right thing. I still believe that Michael, in the beginning, did too. I believe the commune began with noble intentions. Perhaps Michael truly had had the visions with which he inspired us. But he was not mature enough to take charge of a group that would ultimately grow to include 350 people. It was as if the public- relations-director of a huge industry had suddenly become the C.E.O.

Eventually, as the members began to outgrow him, and Michael could not uphold his position he turned to desperate measures. He became a heavy cocaine and alcohol user, and then began carrying guns. He bought pit bulls and a boa constrictor, which he kept in the basement of a community house, full of families. Peter Caddy, founder of Findhorn, came over from Scotland to beg him to leave the group. (We’d had an exchange program with Findhorn in the more pure early days.) Instead of letting go and leaving Michael hung on and continued in his role, now as the abusive father. Although we were originally straight, the deteriorating situation eventually led to many instances of substance abuse.

I began breaking away when one evening he tried to force-feed my six-year-old son and I could not dissuade him. I used psychology on him, talking to him like a child, saying that although I understood what he was trying to do, he might get better results if he tried some other approach. This was a very delicate situation in which I felt he was too upset and I was trying to tactfully tone him down. I think he was drunk. After I out-reasoned him, he swore at us but left in disgust. I finally snapped out of my twelve-year trance because, however meekly, I had stood up to him. I decided then that I had an obligation to leave. My maternal instinct was the one impulse that could not be eclipsed by mind-control. The last straw for me was when, at a meeting, Michael praised the bravery of the Jim Jones Cult for their suicides. “What Loyalty!” he exclaimed ecstatically. After the meeting I went around interviewing members about whether they felt disturbed by Michael’s adoration and praise of Jones’ actions. To my horror, this inquiry was met with mute blandness, as if my concerns were superfluous. Yet, I still had to wonder, as I’d done for so many years, whether or not I was over-reacting, for I’d always been blamed for this “weakness.”

Making Meaning out of Trauma I am still uncovering the co-dependent issues which influenced an intelligent middle-class girl on her way to college to not only drop out in the late sixties (many of us did that) but to stay so long when it felt so wrong to do so.

Perhaps my years of denial in the commune were part of my being forced to come to terms with my “Peter Pan” complex. In trying to salvage some meaning from all of those lost years, I think of the popularized myth of “the Hero’s Journey.” In this myth, the hero, as a foolish youth, arrogantly rejects the security of home and familiar relationships, and goes off on a search for his or her true self, only to return later in life as a profoundly changed person. On this journey he or she incurs many scars, being physically or emotionally mutilated. Out of necessity, the sojourner usually gains specialized knowledge and seemingly magical survival skills, developing character and wisdom through learning to face hardships and suffering. The journeyer’s return enriches the community, often through bringing back some form of teaching, counseling or healing.

I now have much more appreciation and understanding for the world for which I believed I was both too good and yet not good enough when I left it. I am a Master’s level substance-abuse counselor, hypnotherapist, and bonafied adult: someone who has stopped the blaming. As I continue my education through spiritual and religious studies, I encountered concepts, which reminded me of some ideas, which were taken out of context in the community. These ideas were that thinking is an activity that can be monitored, controlled and changed at will; that positive thoughts are to be chosen, while negative ones are to be observed and transcended. Yet I find these old ideas refreshing in new ways. When I first started investigating mind control, five years ago, I had forgotten that indeed, I am not a victim, but rather someone who has taken the dangerous journey through the depths of inner hell and come out whole. I can change my thought habits, not because someone says this is spiritual, but because it empowers me to do so. What a relief this is! I no longer need to think of myself as an abandoned or abused child does. I have journeyed far and now want to make a meaningful contribution to the larger community I once scorned.