Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 9, No. 1, 2010, Page 146
what made us vulnerable to cults until we have taken an unconventional, risky look at
where we came from.
Yenner was married and earning a good living when he met Cohen but despite this
stability, he had a deep yearning to achieve something spiritually in his life. It was this
yearning, he claims, that allowed him to become so inspired by Cohen that four months
later he left his wife and everything else to join this new community. And, he says, it was an
―open heart‖ that was the important ingredient for why he and so many others stayed so
long.
I used to say something similar about my reasons for joining two different supposedly
spiritual communities. I used to say that I had a driving desire to have the most meaningful,
worthwhile life possible. This was true, but ultimately I don‘t find this enough of an
explanation for why one abandons one‘s life—everything and everyone one knows—for the
sake of an idea, of a possibility. At first glance, it seems noble. But looked at more closely,
it is a form of suicide, being willing to throw oneself away—to find no value whatsoever in
what one has so far created as a life, to be willing to ditch the lot.
In ―yogic‖ terms this action is seen as ―sacrifice,‖ giving up these worldly trifles for
something greater. But really, does Yenner—or anyone who gives up everything to join a
community—really have anything to give up? If they had meaningful, satisfying lives, the
appeal of Cohen and his ilk would be nonexistent. So one must look further back for the real
clues as to why a person chooses to disappear themselves into an oppressive, family-like
organization.
And why are there so many who are ready to believe that someone can tell them how to
have a better life? Why is there a basic assumption that authorities on this matter exist, as
if it were a generic subject?
Yenner holds onto the basic belief that yes, there are such things as true gurus and that a
quest for spiritual evolution is a good thing. I am surprised by how much benefit of the
doubt Yenner allows Cohen—there seems to be a reluctance to utterly reject him. Yenner
claims that his time with Cohen had meaningful benefits despite the heinous crimes that
took place against him and others.
Often I am asked, ―But didn‘t you receive anything from your time in Siddha Yoga?‖ The
assumption behind the question is that, despite my criticism of the guru and the movement
I was part of, I must be able to pick out something that was significant and true. ―No,‖ I
answer. What I received came from life. I lived my life as fully as I could during my many
years in other people‘s custody—and because of this I learned, I grew, I became more
independent but I claim that all this was despite the efforts being made to keep me small.
No matter where you are, what you are doing, you will grow up you will mature and
become stronger.
Yenner‘s point of view is that valid spiritual paths leading to spiritual evolution still exist. He
and his colleagues just chose the wrong one. I disagree. I no longer believe in this thing
called enlightenment or ―liberated beings.‖ Perhaps there are people who break through
something mysterious and become different from the rest of us. Why would such a person
mention it to anyone? Why would they be interested in drawing attention to themselves? If
someone were to become enlightened, I believe they would become the most invisible
person imaginable, smart enough to be indistinguishable from the rest of us. Like water.
Because when someone claims a special status on the enlightenment scale, it sets up a
hierarchy completely in opposition to their claim. It immediately establishes that you are
lacking and they are not. For this reason, a person who is enlightened (if such a state
exists) wouldn‘t tell you. They would simply continue their life—and allow you to continue
yours.
what made us vulnerable to cults until we have taken an unconventional, risky look at
where we came from.
Yenner was married and earning a good living when he met Cohen but despite this
stability, he had a deep yearning to achieve something spiritually in his life. It was this
yearning, he claims, that allowed him to become so inspired by Cohen that four months
later he left his wife and everything else to join this new community. And, he says, it was an
―open heart‖ that was the important ingredient for why he and so many others stayed so
long.
I used to say something similar about my reasons for joining two different supposedly
spiritual communities. I used to say that I had a driving desire to have the most meaningful,
worthwhile life possible. This was true, but ultimately I don‘t find this enough of an
explanation for why one abandons one‘s life—everything and everyone one knows—for the
sake of an idea, of a possibility. At first glance, it seems noble. But looked at more closely,
it is a form of suicide, being willing to throw oneself away—to find no value whatsoever in
what one has so far created as a life, to be willing to ditch the lot.
In ―yogic‖ terms this action is seen as ―sacrifice,‖ giving up these worldly trifles for
something greater. But really, does Yenner—or anyone who gives up everything to join a
community—really have anything to give up? If they had meaningful, satisfying lives, the
appeal of Cohen and his ilk would be nonexistent. So one must look further back for the real
clues as to why a person chooses to disappear themselves into an oppressive, family-like
organization.
And why are there so many who are ready to believe that someone can tell them how to
have a better life? Why is there a basic assumption that authorities on this matter exist, as
if it were a generic subject?
Yenner holds onto the basic belief that yes, there are such things as true gurus and that a
quest for spiritual evolution is a good thing. I am surprised by how much benefit of the
doubt Yenner allows Cohen—there seems to be a reluctance to utterly reject him. Yenner
claims that his time with Cohen had meaningful benefits despite the heinous crimes that
took place against him and others.
Often I am asked, ―But didn‘t you receive anything from your time in Siddha Yoga?‖ The
assumption behind the question is that, despite my criticism of the guru and the movement
I was part of, I must be able to pick out something that was significant and true. ―No,‖ I
answer. What I received came from life. I lived my life as fully as I could during my many
years in other people‘s custody—and because of this I learned, I grew, I became more
independent but I claim that all this was despite the efforts being made to keep me small.
No matter where you are, what you are doing, you will grow up you will mature and
become stronger.
Yenner‘s point of view is that valid spiritual paths leading to spiritual evolution still exist. He
and his colleagues just chose the wrong one. I disagree. I no longer believe in this thing
called enlightenment or ―liberated beings.‖ Perhaps there are people who break through
something mysterious and become different from the rest of us. Why would such a person
mention it to anyone? Why would they be interested in drawing attention to themselves? If
someone were to become enlightened, I believe they would become the most invisible
person imaginable, smart enough to be indistinguishable from the rest of us. Like water.
Because when someone claims a special status on the enlightenment scale, it sets up a
hierarchy completely in opposition to their claim. It immediately establishes that you are
lacking and they are not. For this reason, a person who is enlightened (if such a state
exists) wouldn‘t tell you. They would simply continue their life—and allow you to continue
yours.
