A Walk on the Weird Side: Part Two

As we neared our destination I began to pick up disturbing snatches of conversation from the women. Apparently this place had “silent meals” where talking was forbidden. The idea supposedly was to enable people to deeply appreciate the flavor, the consistency, the spiritual wonderfulness of the food they were consuming, or something like that. And there were references to a “men’s area” where males of the species could hang out and “clothing is optional.” And there were areas where you had to go barefoot so as not to contaminate the floor. And there were no private bathrooms. And…, well, you get the idea. This was starting to sound a bit like boot camp, and in a way that’s what it was.

I asked, “What sort of place is this? A cult center?”

Silence.

"Well..., sorta."

I began to worry, but not too much – I had been through these sorts of conditioning routines when I was in the military, and this was only for a weekend, and it's hard to teach old dogs like me new tricks. I was sure I'd survive with my values intact and might even enjoy the experience. A few days as a granola-muncher might be interesting.

We finally arrived, checked in, and were assigned our cells. The place had once been a Jesuit seminary so the accommodations were sparse, but adequate. A bulletin board carried a list of planned activities and sign-up sheets. Jeez, just like summer camp! Nothing appealed to me, although I was a bit intrigued by the term “pole walking.” Was that something like balance beam training or was it a beginner’s course for aspiring strippers? Nobody was signed up for it, so I demurred. “She Who Must Not Be Named” and her friend were scheduled for a full and intensive round of yoga training sessions. These ran from early morning to evening. At least they would be out of my hair for most of the weekend.

I set out to explore, avoiding of course the “clothing optional” men’s area. I had no interest in seeing the local version of the “Borat” cast.

This place was estrogen central. About ninety percent of the attendees were women -- mostly middle-aged, but with a sprinkling of twenty-somethings and oldies. There was little interaction. People tended to pad around quietly, keeping mostly to themselves. The setting was beautiful – high on a hill overlooking a lake with mountains trailing off into the distance. The weather was ideal – cool and clear. I grabbed my camera and took to the trails.

As I walked, talked, and listened to people I began to figure the place out. It had originally been a cult center – organized by a “swami” to exploit new-age silliness. At first it had operated in Pennsylvania, not far from where I live today, but moved to Massachusetts a few decades ago. Some of the old-timers, who had been attending for fifteen or twenty years spoke nostalgically about those days, when discipline had been rigorous, when activities had been strictly regulated, and when there was a purity to the experience that had been lost in recent years.

Hmmm….

I began to realize that these days all the cultiness was little more than window-dressing – a draw for people who wanted to enjoy the cult experience without actually having to live it. In a sense it is still exploiting new-age silliness, but in a different mode.

A few examples:

There were “silent meals” but that only applied to breakfast, and there was a sound-proofed area nearby for people who wanted human interaction while they ate, and when people did break the silence nobody glared at them or shushed them. It was pretty much like a library environment.

There was a strict vegetarian foodline, but there was an alternative line where you could get dairy products [but no meat].

When told I had to remove my shoes to enter an area because “people’s faces are in contact with the floor and you wouldn’t want to lick your shoes, would you?” [I suppose to someone, somewhere that makes sense – it didn’t to me.] I responded with my best Mr. Monk imitation and said “have you people never heard of foot fungus?” after which I was told by a supervisor, “well…, if you really don’t want to take your shoes off, you don’t have to.”

In other words, every aspect of the cult regime was negotiable or could easily be abandoned. The aim was no longer to dominate and change the people who flocked to the center, but to cater to them. Some of the old-timers I talked to really resented that – they longed for the old days of rigid discipline and anti-capitalist, anti-bourgeois purity.

More tomorrow.