Emily, it was a great post you made. I think you're extraordinary, so smart, funny, you've got it all going on there, woman. Don't apologize for one damn thing.
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Emily Reyn <emilymae.reyn@...> wrote: > > Dear Ann:  Forgive my recent post - the timing was poor.  My email doesn't > present things in order.  Share, Ann has weighed in.  I am dropping my > cause.  Love, Em. > > > ________________________________ > From: awoelflebater <no_re...@yahoogroups.com> > To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com > Sent: Monday, November 12, 2012 1:21 PM > Subject: [FairfieldLife] Weighing In > > >  > I want to tell a short story. It is the story of my second to last > confrontation. This story does not refute, undermine or invalidate what Bill > has written in his book 'Cult'. Bill began sending me excerpts from that book > as long ago as 1987. He had started writing with the intention of publishing > it one day. After a year or so and many instalments later I asked him what > had become of his book and the publishing idea. He had decided at that time > (around 1989) that it had served its purpose as a therapeutic exercise for > him and it had done its job. I haven't seen the book again until it recently > resurfaced as it now exists in its present form. I have not yet read it, I > glanced quickly at some passages. I will get down to reading it, however, > after I write this post. > > I want to emphasize that what I remember of the book it reflects absolutely > Bill's true and tortured experience of his days; especially I remember > reading about his time following his exile from Robin and the people he > loved. Bill, is in my estimation, one of the gentlest, kindest and most > sensitive friends I have ever known. I do not believe him to be out for > revenge in his making available this memoir of his. I respect absolutely his > need to have written it when he did and I do not judge him harshly for having > made it public here at FFL. > > But I digress. My 26 year old story is what I wanted to write about. I will > be as brief as I can. > > During Christmas of 1985 I was living very happily with four of my closest > friends at a house called Millstream outside of Victoria. Four of those > friends are featured in Bill's book. We were the Americans (with the > occasional Canadian ending up on our doorstep for brief periods) who lived > together, cooked together, piled into our cars together to attend spur of the > moment Robin meetings, chopped wood, scrubbed floors, shared common > bathrooms. We were virtually inseparable and very, very close and intimate. > > That Christmas of 1985 I decided to do a very unusual thing: I spent the > Christmas with my family in Mexico. There was a seminar going on during the > holidays and virtually no one would miss something like this, even to go to > see their families. But off I went and returned after about a week. I had > spent a large part of my time there scouting the Oaxacan markets for gifts > for my friends back in Canada, at Millstream. I took great care to choose > what I thought were perfect gifts for each one of these people and was > excited to return, to see them and to give them their presents. When I > arrived at the house I remember the atmosphere to be strained, subdued. The > welcome I was expecting was not there. I felt like a stranger. But in my > typical fashion I rounded everyone together where we could sit at the dining > room table and I could present them each with the various gifts I had chosen > for them. Again, this was met with restrained emotion, surreptitious > glances. This wasn't feeling right to me at all but I persevered and > everyone received what I had brought back for them. It was like pulling > teeth, not the warm, receptive occasion I had expected. I was happy to be > back, happy to see everyone and I was being treated like I had done something > really bad. I had no clue what that might be other than I had "defected" and > gone away for Christmas. > > This homecoming back to Victoria would have been around December 29 or so. > Over the next couple of days it became clear something was coming my way and > it was my housemates that were making sure it was going to happen. The > hard-to-ignore whisperings, the strained atmosphere when I walked into the > room the signs were unmistakable, confrontation was inevitable. I was now > openly being accused of "dominating the context"; this basically meant some > demonic influence was emanating from someone (me), overpowering the acoustics > and infringing on people in a very negative way.  Robin, at this point ,was > being asked to confront me, to make sure he got me up to the microphone as I > was wreaking havoc at Millstream and something had to be done. These people, > at this point, are practically begging him to deal with me, to fix the > situation which had become untenable for them, in the living situation at our > house, and now, probably all the time. > > So, on January 1, 1986 I am called up and I already know I am gone because my > friends are just salivating, just waiting, just knowing what is going to > happen. At this moment they are not operating from a place of caring and > love. They are just freaking glad it isn't them up there. And confrontations > were not just Robin speaking, they involved everyone who had a tongue in > their head. The event was often created  and sustained by the audience. > There was never a time that I witnessed where anyone, ever, jumped up and ran > to the stage and said, "Hold on everyone! We are all deluded here. Mary isn't > demonic. Robin, you've got it all wrong, here listen to me, I know what is > happening. Mary's friends set her up. Let's stop this mixup, this charade, > right now." Nope, never happened. > > My point here has nothing to do with exonerating Robin or myself or to lay > blame on others. Everyone was on the dance floor. We were all jitter bugging > like crazy. We didn't want the music to stop, we wore our shoes out. My point > is that the predators were, at other times, the prey. The difficult, > confrontational parts of those days so many years ago was a collective effort > by all involved. > > Robin was at the helm, for sure, many people suffered, yessiree, Bill's > tortured months and perhaps years were real just as mine were, and all the > rest of those who were cut to the quick. There is no denying we all suffered > (Robin included), each in our own way, just as there is no denying that each > one of us has picked ourselves up and created a life for ourselves through > the choices we make every day. And it has been many, many days for each one > of us to make of our lives what we can. And I personally have chosen to pick > up each and every one of those suitcases that hold the experiences I had of > being betrayed, of having betrayed others and carrying them with me to each > new place I go. They are a part of who I am, what I have become and just as I > hold no grudge or bitterness toward Robin I do not resent my closest of > friends for the part they played in what was one of the most difficult > periods of my life. How could I? They suffered as well, we healed > together, we have shared so much - during our time of WTS - and so much > afterward. No matter what, the four (and they know who they are) are in my > heart forever, no matter how much we might disagree on who Robin was then or > who he is now. No matter if some are devout Catholics, others Sufi or, like > me, just a regular non-religous, non-meditating average Josephines plugging > along doing my day job and mucking out horses twice a day. For me, and I > speak only for myself, I would not have changed a moment of my life, not then > and not now. > > I believe I have lost a friend in LK. I am sorry for that. He can not accept > the fact that I view and know Robin to be a changed man since 1986. I have > the benefit of having had in-depth private correspondence with Robin over > some months during this year. It has been a revelatory and happy thing to > know him as I do. For me he embraces all of those qualities that I valued in > him 29 years ago, the ability to care, nurture, love, the bright spark of his > intelligence. He now embraces them without the terror, the doubt, the > distortion that accompanied these beautiful qualities two and a half decades > ago. > > I hope ( and I do pray) that everyone can respect what happened to and for > all of us who lived through such perilous times back then. >
