Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003 - 10:57 p.m.

Brainwashing, American Style

In my last post, when I referred to Naka-Ima as a “cult brainwashing weekend in the mountains”, I was being facetious. I guess I was using sarcasm to acknowledge, and at the same time mask, my trepidations about it, as well as to try to connect with readers who may have had negative judgments about touchy-feely stuff. I was planning for my next post to explain how while Naka-Ima may superficially resemble cult brainwashing, I gained immeasurably from it, yadda yadda. After participating in weekend’s Naka-Ima experience, however, the term, “cult brainwashing” seems pretty apt to me after all. But while I think labels are sometimes convenient, I have seen them often result in confusion and misunderstanding. Details matter supremely. Allow me to share the details with you.

I signed up for this thing after My Very Busy Friend and She No Longer Hates Me strongly recommend it to me. They said it transformed them in profoundly positive ways. They lauded its psychological healing properties, and said they thought I’d benefit from it greatly. I don’t blame them for what happened to me. I’m tempted by the convenience of blaming them, but I acknowledge that I went there freely of my own accord.

They wouldn’t, or couldn’t, explain Naka-Ima as thoroughly as I would have liked. Or maybe I just didn't ask enough questions. I figured I'd have to go there in person and go through it myself to find out what all the hullabaloo was about. I was trying to exhibit neither an unthinkingly dismissive “closed mind” nor an unthinkingly credulous “open mind”, but rather, to use Ayn Rand’s term, an “active mind”.

But the truth is, I arrived with a very negative attitude. I didn’t mean to.

Naka-Ima takes place at an intentional community named Lost Valley Educational Center, a half hour’s drive from Eugene. It so closely resembled Twin Oaks Community, my home for over 7 years, that I found it uncanny. The main difference is that it was cleaner and more attractive. All their clutter fit in one little closet. Their dining hall has a much more user-friendly design. The chairs in the dining hall matched. They have separate men’s and women’s bathrooms with institutional metal stalls. And all their gardens were permaculture plots. They make money by giving personal growth workshops as well as by giving permaculture and sustainability workshops. I felt so at home there. Walking narrow gravel paths in the woods in the dark is totally second nature to me. Lost Valley just had tall conifers instead of Twin Oaks’ deciduous trees. The food at Lost Valley was superb, but distinctly lacking the beef to be found at Twin Oaks. I made due with hard-boiled eggs as my source of animal protein.

The classroom was large, open, and immaculate, with carpet on the floors, couches along the walls, and windows looking out into pristine, damp Northwestern forest on all sides. In 3 corners of the room were shrines to Hindu gods. A banner of Krishna, a statue of Shiva, a statue of a cute chick goddess, and a little wooden Buddha thrown in for good measure. Candles were burning at each shrine. It didn’t bother me to see that because I was confident that the Naka-Ima workshop was designed for the general public, so I wasn’t worried that they’d try to foist any religion on me.

Naka-Ima had 18 first time students, 22 assistants (former students who did most of the work) and two teachers. She No Longer Hates Me was one of the assistants.

Day 1, Friday night

They didn’t tell us what Naka-Ima was. They said instruction would begin the following morning. They had us mill around the room silently for 15 minutes. We were instructed to gaze deeply into another person’s eyes (with optional hand holding) until we felt we had made a connection, and then leave that person and go do the same with someone else, over and over. After that, for another 15 minutes, we did the same thing, only now the first person in each set of two was supposed to say the first thing that popped into their head. I ended up being partnered with one tall guy. He took my hands as we stared into one another’s eyes. My thumbs brushed the long hairs growing on the back of his hands, and I internally recoiled in disgust. I spoke my truth: “I really hate holding hands with guys.” But when in Rome…

Then we each student spent 45 minutes doing “the interview”, conversing one-on-one with an assistant about the personal questionnaire we sent in. My interviewer was kind and earnest, but his incessant staring and deadly seriousness was really creepy for me. I looked over at Anarchy Man smiling and joking with his interviewer, and I was envious.

Then my interviewer showed me the dormitory. I got a room of my own with a double bed. Lost Valley’s hospitality is first rate.

Here’s the reflection that I wrote in my notebook that first night:

Staring is meaningless. Eyes are not the window to the soul, because people have no souls. People are emotional robots, and eyes are just eyes. Touching too many sweaty hands. Whatever.

I can do this, I can stare my ass off. I can say what I’m feeling, but I still think individuals are fundamentally alone. Connection is a myth, it’s just coordination of behavior. If two people feel the same way around the same time, they call it connection.

And then the interview. Creeped me out. The guy was in my face staring at me. I presumed I was supposed to do the same thing too. Later, he said that it wasn’t required. By the end, my eyes were in physical pain. He said that after doing a lot of Naka-Ima over the years, he prefers staring at people. Egads. Does Naka-Ima transform ordinary people into creepy, invasive motherfuckers?

I’ve got so many layers of cynicism, I don’t know if I could ever enjoy a structured activity like this. I’m willing to play along and endure it. I dunno. I’m keeping an active mind about it.

My chief anxiety: do I “keep it real” by telling certain women in the group about the lust I feel towards them? I’d hate to make them self-conscious and mistrustful, or lead them to believe it’s more than just that: a fleeting emotion fueled by instinct. I think revealing that could be potentially socially destructive. I will play along if that’s part of the Naka-Ima game, but to be safe, there’s no way I’m going to volunteer that first.

Day 2, Saturday

They sat us down, and the teachers began explaining the philosophy behind Naka-Ima. They said that Naka-Ima is the Japanese word for, “in the middle of the now.” Be present, that’s all that’s required to be happy. Pay attention to others in the circle. Notice how you feel with particular others. Explore why you feel that way. Notice what you’re thinking, feeling, wanting, and corollary bodily sensations. Intimacy means, “in-to-me-see.” Honesty always works because it filters out the people you’re not really in affinity with.

As I listened, I jotted down what I was thinking at the time:

“I’m so angry.”

A little later, “God, I’m fucking miserable. Fuck all these people, go the fuck to hell.”

Later still, “I’m needing authenticity, clarity, predictability, and emotional safety.”

The teachers asked the students to go around declaring their intention for being there in Naka-Ima. When it was my turn I said grumpily, “I’m here because my friends recommended it, and I’m curious about what it’s all about. I’ll try anything once.”

We did an exercise like the one we did the night before. This one consisted of 3 parts, 1) staring, 2) staring and talking 3) staring and giving a verbal assessment of the other person. Through this exercise, my mood progressed from anger to hatred to bemusement to optimism. I was shocked to hear people tell me I was calm, grounded, and solid, when in truth, I was about ready to punch somebody.

A couple of students got up on stage and were asked to verbalize what they were feeling in the present moment. They got coaching from the teachers who sat in the audience. It really reminded me of directors auditioning actors.

Lunch went much better. I told Anarchy Man how full of sour rage I was. He started making plans to drive me back to Eugene right away. Abashed, I rebuffed, “QUITTERS NEVER WIN!!!”

An assistant advised that my feelings were a result of reacting negatively to undesired aspects of my own personality which I was projecting onto others. “It’s all you. Every person here is you. Welcome to the hall of mirrors.”

I pontificated, “I guess pain is an opportunity for learning.”

Someone else added, “and learning is an opportunity for pain.”

Two guys in the dining hall had plugged in electric guitars and were playing Metallica, Megadeth, and Slayer songs, and playing them amazingly well. I walked over and started singing along, since I knew most of the lyrics. I sang a soft bluesy rendition of, “Am I Evil?” Pretty appropriate to my inner turmoil. Hearing them play that made me feel more at home than I ever felt at Twin Oaks. My mood elevated considerably.

After lunch, I was surprised to see the stereo blasting in the classroom, and people dancing to Dee Lite and Salt ‘n’ Peppa. An assistant announced we were going to dance Gabrielle Roth’s The Wave. I slam-danced with Anarchy Man when they played “Institutionalized” by Suicidal Tendencies. I really enjoyed the dancing, since I had a hell of a lot of frustrations to boogey out of my system.

We were formed into triads, which you’d think would mean groups of 3 people, but in practice were groups of 4-6 people including the assistants who gathered around. Each student took 40 minutes to talk about their problems. In my turn, I thought I’d work on my anxiety around money. I exhausted that topic pretty quickly and really struggled to fill up the rest of the time. I was feeling pretty mellow then, and couldn’t think of anything to gripe about.

The day ended with a lecture about the difference between being “at effect” (a whiny victim) and “at cause” (a bold, visionary, proactive Randian hero).

Naka-Ima seemed to be a mishmash of Nonviolent Communication (NVC), Re-evaluation Counseling (RC a.k.a. Co-counseling) and watered-down Buddhism. These seemed to blend well, but I couldn’t see how The Wave fit with it.

I thought the Naka-Ima organizers had a pretty good scam going, and I respected that. Just blend together ideas that other people came up with, throw in some other random elements, and then collect donations. Give the whole thing a foreign-sounding name to grant it all an aura of ancient, Eastern tradition and its attendant patina of authenticity. A plan brilliant in its simplicity.

I pitched in washing dishes after dinner. Later, I went to the dining hall in hopes of socializing, but they had a drum circle going, so it was too loud to strike up a conversation. And some children from the community followed me around, kicking me in the butt repeatedly. That served to reinforce my feelings of alienation.

Here’s the reflection that I wrote in my notebook the second night:

Naka-Ima is helping me realize that I really fucking hate people. Since I came here, I started having violent fantasies including:

• smashing a mug

• flipping my bed over

• knocking the teacher off the stage in such a way that he smashes his skull open on the ground.

• smashing a ceramic plate over someone’s head

• hitting someone as hard as I can square in the face with a cast iron skillet

• and slashing the throat of the next sensitive New Age motherfucker who goes to hug me without asking me first.

I’m really sad cause I thought I had licked my rageful tendencies. I haven’t had a violent thought in years. I don’t really know what’s triggering this, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m afraid to try meditating because I might find it too frustrating, and that would only feed my rage.

Part of me wants to be rejected by Naka-Ima people, cause that would meet my need for clarity.

I’m so mad that there’s no posted schedule. I just have to wait around to be told what to do.

God, I feel ill from all this. I hope I’m not making myself sick. I want to kill somebody. I’m in so much pain.

I didn’t like the pretty girl assistant touching my knee today unless she meant something by it, which she probably does not.

The thrilling conclusion tomorrow!

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