One thing I will not be adding to my website is Zendik. I did some in-depth Googling and learned that yes, they are a cult. I am posting about this here because I find it quite amusing that in this particular cult, the Marx was literally married to the Stalin. Marx ("Wulf Zendik") died in 1999, leaving Stalin ("Arol Zendik") to exercise dictatorial control over the community. It's a shame, because Wulf and I are of very close minds, and he wrote some excellent stuff like this:
Why is it that even though the day may be warm, the wind soft, the scents sweet and the birds play and sing in the trees, you often do not feel the warmth of the windo or hear the birds--but rather feel unconnected and harsh? Why is it that you cannot feel the good of the day?
Speed. The numbing drive towards goals is the problem. When you feel this deprivation, this loss of contact with the sweet of your environment, it is because your fast fascination for goals has sped you away from the Moment, has forced the present to recede into a trifling annoyance and you have become vaguely irritable, irritated with the sweet s l o w of Now. But listen, Now is all you have.
Arol, on the other hand, is a Lyndon LaRouche kind of character. She produces truly awful art and angry screeds like this:
Male cultural influence on women is pervasive, it is total, and there is no balance from women and their real influence on men.
These profit-makers keep using the same death-and-sickness-causing technology to generate electricity and more vehicles. Try getting inside the minds of these corporates who daily, every day, go about their killing business not only legally but with approbation, blah blah, fart
The result of this sort of person ruling the farm, as described by an anonymous Internet poster:
I was more depressed and fatigued than I'd been when I arrived. And now I was expected to do ten hours of farm/housework every day. There were no days off. Of course I didn't have the other fourteen hours to myself-- there was a mandatory meeting every morning (which often dragged on for hours), three communal meals every day, and classes, lectures, or meetings every night. New recruits had to take extra "philosophy classes" and complete reading assignments after the workday was through. Non-Zendik books and music were confiscated from newbies and divvied up among older members. We read only Zendik books. Listened only to Zendik music. Except when the core members we bunked under were listening to cassettes they'd stolen from us.
Guess what we read in philosophy class. Just guess.
The Zendiks knew that I had been suicidal, that I was depressed. They did nothing to address this. When I expressed the hopelessness and loneliness I was feeling, the Zendiks were extremely cold and unsympathetic. They told me that I was not special-- that everybody felt that way (uh.. everyone is suicidal??) and it didn't stop anybody else from doing their work, so I had no excuse. I was told to "snap out of it". Their cruelty and neglect was far worse than anything I'd experienced in the "Deathkultur". I was a threat to my own safety-- this was clear-- and instead of encouraging me to find qualified help (which need not be mainstream/conservative, mind you), the Zendiks used my emotions as a weapon against me.
It was like living with forty Doctor Lauras. They tore me to shreds.
That's all for today, see y'all on Monday.
