Recently I was discussing “HelP!” with a fellow “evil” blogger. Sometimes we like to compare and contrast New York and Boston, just for giggles – like cult members, or ex-cult members do.

“HelP!” is what I like to call cult common – all cults offer answers to life’s questions! Just ask Scientology. “School’s” version of “answers to life’s questions” is “HelP!” and there are 2 categories, coddling & character assassination (also cult common). A good cult must at least wink at coddling: aren’t you special, aren’t you great! Otherwise you would never have found your way to us!

“School’s” Boston branch seems to coddle for (roughly) 2 years. After that honeymoon, “school” swaps out coddling for full frontal character assassination – Boston tends towards the shaming variety. At this point, minions learn certain lessons quickly: if you fail at anything (especially if it’s a “school” thing) ” …you must not be trying hard enough!” If you question “school” wisdom or demand, “…what is your valuation for school?” (Valuation for school is my favorite “school”-sponsored guilt trip). If you dare utter the words “ I didn’t have time to [FILL IN BLANK]”,  “ … your relationship to time is skewed.” Robert is quite skilled at manipulating “students” into rhetorical corners with rhetorical questions and claims of superiority.  I, myself, never saw him bludgeon “students” in the way that I’ve heard that Sharon does – for example, calling women whores, cunts, bitches — sort of like a gangster rapper without the back beat. But I’ve heard reports that she taught him well. At certain choice moments he brings out the Sharon dagger.

Isn’t that heartwarming!

If you need further confirmation that Trump is trying to become a cult leader, watch & listen as his cabinet kisses his ass. Apparently, the administration invited the press in to this revolting display of groveling and brown-nosing, somehow believing it was an impressive display of Donny’s leadership … it brought back echoes of “school”. Good times!

You see, if you’re in a cult, you lose touch with reality. You believe in a contrived version of the world and as well as a contrived “leadership.” If you’re impressed by Trump and this group of toadies, if you believe all the praise and “great success” Donny’s claiming, you’re either in a Trump coma, or as dumb as a fence post … or both.

The good news is this: you no longer have to worry about “…libtards ruining the country with political correctness”– for the record, I can no longer even try to be polite or kind to anyone supporting the pussy-grabber-in -Chief.

Recently I read a Facebook post from the one sane Republican left in this country. It said: “There are no longer Republicans, Democrats and Independents; there are Trump supporters and there are Americans. You can’t be both.”

From this point forward, I have only this to say to anti-American, Trump supporters: I know a very white country in Eastern Europe that would be happy to have you. Don’t let the Stars and Stripes whip your sorry ass on your way out.

Monday night I had my first close-encounter-of-a-“school”-kind since leaving the hollow halls in 2011. My husband and I went to an old haunt, The Cantab, in Cambridge’s Central Square. In 1991, The Cantab started an open mic. Every Monday, you’ll find local talent, and songwriter legend, Geoff Bartley, hosting a slew of guitar slinging song writers trotting out their newest songs.

Geoff was featuring a friend of mine, so we met up with other friends to listen, including my one “school” recruit (so to speak) –  I now refer to him as 007, a name he earned when springing himself and a number of others free from “school” — but that’s another story. OO7 immediately recognized an ex-essence friend in the crowd — his sustainer. Ex-sustainer-man appeared blissfully unaware that two evil disgruntled(s) were on the scene … that is until my featured friend asked me, from the stage, to join him on a song.

I saw the look – shock and sudden recognition!

The featured ended and open mic-r’s continued the night. 007 told me that his set was back to back with ex-sustainer-man’s set and we laughed; I saw ex-sustainer-man starting to prepare, taking guitar out of case, tuning it up, etc. but upon hearing 007’s name, ex-sustainer-man quickly packed his guitar back into the case and high-tailed it out of the bar.

At this point, I will direct this post to him: ex-sustainer man, there are plenty of legitimate things to run away from in life. As we all know, the world threatens with dangers a’ plenty and in some cases you are wise to run away. Just look at our current orange president.

I pose no real danger to you; 007 certainly does not — I’m more cranky than he is, truth be told. You stayed the entire night, only to scuttle out right before you were going to play. Why? You don’t have to live this way — ducking into the shadows every time you encounter an ex-“school” doobie. The irony is that this group you’re hued to “school”, “the study”, “class”, “the work”, inflicts far more damage  on you, than a brief encounter with a “disgruntled ex-student”.

Ex-sustainer man, I didn’t interact with you a lot. But I do remember a few things about you: for example, your help when I was drawing, enlarging really, an illustration I’d found in a book of Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales. It was Christmas Party time. We were making decorations to match the theme — The Snow Queen. You are a gifted artist and under your guidance, I created the first piece of visual art I’d drawn for many years.

It was a magic. The drawing felt like it flowed through me with you guiding the process when I got stuck. When it was finished, I got lots of kudos from fellow essence friends and teachers, a like. I was proud of it. For a brief time, “school” affirmed and let me reconnect to my inner, neglected artist. That experience set deep hooks in to me — I kept waiting for a repeat performance that never came.

I also remember seeing you lurking outside the Belmont Lion’s Club space, back in 2007, when I was a fresh-faced “youngest student”. I noticed it; I wondered why, but never asked. Now I know that you were the sentry, on the lookout for disgruntled ex-students who put flyers on cars and warned businesses and potential targets away from the cult.

I hope that you don’t fritter away your time and talent, till death do you part, following arbitrary rules, and protecting this con job. Really, it’s bullshit. And your talent is real. “School” is sucking the life out of you. Try two weeks away from  “class”. Break the rules. Talk to some disgruntled(s). Tell some un-“schooled” souls about your secret world (if you know any). Watch some bad t.v.

Maybe you’ll start to recognize normal life again. Maybe you’ll be able to go to the Cantab open mic and stay the entire night to play your set, no matter who is in the room! Imagine that. Imagine a life in which “school” no longer holds court over your every thought, decision, emotion, artistic endeavor and interaction.

That, my “essence friend”,  is true freedom.

Recently I was talking politics with a friend, who described a conversation she’d had with couple Trump supporters;  evangelical Christians who voted for a narcissistic, pussy-grabbing, child rapist. When she pressed them on the obvious hypocrisy, they defended the indefensible with an esoteric argument — apparently God’s plan includes having a sexual predator and pathological liar lead the free world. Her opposition to fascism was merely “sense-based” — gosh, no wonder Trump trolls are quick to dismiss common sense and human decency.

“School” also used to (and probably still does) scoff at the sense-based world. With enough time a good “school” cog starts to realize that your senses are to be regarded as inferior to an illusive state of enlightenment touted within the hollow halls — only attainable through all things cult. Disregard your senses along with your thoughts, perceptions and emotions.

You were striving to attain a state of fineness, a humming of vibrations, that you couldn’t see , or hear, or smell, or touch  … it was beyond your senses and perceptions therefore always beyond reach. If you strived hard enough you … might … just … reach … it … but without “Help!” from those “who’d been doing the work longer” it was impossible.

This, of course, is a belief system that requires full-tilt cult indoctrination and more proof that our current president is just another cheesy cult leader, with millions of sycophants, like Hope Hicks, propping him up. Anyone who justifies the indefensible with this beyond-the-sense-based-world argument has drunk the Kool Aid.

I don’t claim to have access to secret esoteric knowledge, or a direct line to God; hell, while I do believe in God, I’m aware that my need to believe might be based in my need to hope that we’re here for some reason. Does God exist? I can’t say for sure. I do know this: when in my best state, I am keenly aware of and trusting my senses.

The other day, I was out for a run — I’m not a very good runner, but I do it because it quiets my mind and because I need the exercise. I find myself soaking in the beauty of my surroundings – eyes. Smelling spring – nose. Letting the rhythm of the music in headphones vibrate through me and direct my feet — ears. Feeling the sun and wind — skin. When I’m present to my senses in this way, I feel grateful for my time here on this planet and in this body.

If there is a God, and God made us with five senses, it stands to reason that God wants us to honor our sensory human experience. When you do honor your senses, perceptions and experiences, no one else can dictate your experiences …yep, that’s a good thing.

Have a good day!

This type of ass kissing should sound familiar to those who’ve had cult tenures: