spiritual tyranny

this might seem an odd topic for a mostly political blog, but the kind of behavior i’m talking about here is political in nature — class-based, hierarchical — in short, anything but spiritual. spirituality is merely the costume it wears.

i spent this past weekend writing with my favorite teacher and a group of poets at a workshop & retreat center in the berkshires. the workshop, as ellen’s workshops always are, was outstanding. i cannot say the same for the venue, and it took a group force of will on the part of the dozen of us in this writing group to prevent the incredibly negative and controlling behaviors of the “hosts” (as they chose to call themselves) who run the small community from completely poisoning the atmosphere.

there were some pedestrian glitches that i objected to, apart from the dynamic. if i sign up for a workshop, paying in full for room and board and so forth, i don’t expect to be put on kitchen duty. conversely, if all attendees are expected to participate in kitchen duty (and oh, the passive-aggressive displays of superiority that manifested in order to force paying guests to man the dishwashers!) then i expect to know that before signing up for the course. would that have stopped me from attending? not at all, it just would have made it a cleaner, more honorable transaction: no hidden strings to be found only after you’ve driven five goddam hours to get to the place.

likewise, if i’m going to be required — REQUIRED, mind you! — to hold hands in a big group for an extended period of time to listen to announcements and directions before saying the mandatory grace, i’d like to know that up front as well. and that is exactly the kind of thing that just might have stopped me from signing up.

i have no objection to saying grace, as long as it doesn’t go interminably on. but i would like to be invited, rather than commanded, to participate; i must be able to simply opt out of the process if i so choose, without that choice being viewed as some kind of evidence of inferiority.

i DO have an objection to holding hands with strangers while another stranger reads out a long, long list of rules and guidelines and requirements and notices for the day. it felt like nazi summer camp, to tell you the truth: the severe, unsmiling, no-doubt-boundlessly-spiritual “hosts” (i refrain from calling them wardens, though that was the vibe) sternly admonishing us lowly, unenlightened guests on how we should conduct ourselves.

well fuck all of that.

by the second day of workshop, most of the poets in my group resorted to hiding out on the steps as the big man rang (and rang, and rang) the bell calling everyone to “circle” before the meal. he had the good sense not to step outside and confront us about it directly. nothing was done directly in this place, it was all innuendo and the looking down of noses.

on the morning of the last day, shortly after we gathered for our last session, the obese hostess swept into our meeting room, the dirty hem of her floor-length elastic-waisted skirt swishing back and forth across her dirty feet. someone was in the midst of reading a new piece of work. hostess asked if we were busy, and we answered YES in one voice. it was made entirely clear that her presence was unwelcome; nevertheless, she sat her fat ass down and proceeded to make her speech.

ever call a company for some kind of support, and you get an agent who is going through a script? neither hell nor high water will stop that script from marching forward, whether it’s appropriate to your issue or not, like talking to a robot that can handle only output, none of the input gets through. that’s exactly what happened next in the room. the first thing she says is that they are always trying to improve, and really want suggestions on how they can make their center better — though big suggestions like putting in a swimming pool would, obviously, take some time.

i said “how about some small suggestions?” and she nodded her head. i said “how about not busting in and interrupting a workshop? you could start that one right now, there’s no time like the present.” poets to my left and right were holding their mouths shut not to laugh out loud.

and this woman looked right over my head, as if i hadn’t said a word, and continued reciting her script. is she actually putting the touch on us to donate to the center? oh, she has got to be kidding.

lady, you made us wash your dishes and mop your floor. you forced us to listen to “morning wake-up” singing in the hallways even after you were told we did not want that. you and your counterpart made us circle up quite uncomfortably while you preached your rules and guidelines. you made us read stupid notes all over the complex, like what the “toilet paper diva” suggested as a good amount of squares to use. now you are interrupting and wasting the last of the time we have available to work — less time than we SHOULD have had, less than we WOULD have had if you held to the terms of your brochure but no, because someone (who must be out of their fucking mind, in my opinion) is coming to get married at your place this afternoon we all have to pack up and leave earlier than advertised so time is very limited — and you actually think we might want to become MEMBERS? to make REGULAR MONTHLY DONATIONS?

i can’t believe she was quite that obtuse. she knew how we felt and she didn’t give a damn. she is obviously a superior spiritual being than the people to whom she is speaking — look at her long skirt! her bare feet! her prayer beads! — and therefore had the right to treat us however she liked. this would help us to “grow”.

if i ever grow to be anything like you, miss nameless conference center proprietress, may someone please god put a bullet in my head.