Of this world

For seven days, I put down my pen and picked up my paddle.

My 35-year-old fiberglass boat still suits me well enough. She carried me and my gear to campsite #10 where I mingled with newts, listened to loons, stretched out my sleeping bag on the soft earth, and yes: interacted with fellow two-legged creatures too.

Towards the end of my week outdoors, an odd memory bubbled up: Doug, the secular leader of the dream-based cult I was in for eighteen years, was encouraging us devoted members of the tribe, to be “in the world but not of it.”

In the world but not of it. Ugh.

It is a juicy line used by countless cult leaders to inspire those who might wander to tether themselves to the exclusive doctrine they are serving up, along with several helpings of word salad. Especially prolific in Christian cults, this well-oiled phrase is used by both controlling ministers and secular teachers alike.

When Doug, my dream-analyst ex-teacher, talked about being in the world but not of it, my cult-brain was lulled into quiet but smug superiority. At the time I couldn’t see this as a defining feature of being a committed CTL (Center for Transformational Learning) member. Of course I was in the world - that’s a no-brainer. But my dedication to the CTL principles elevated my awareness, linking my higher self to the spiritual guidance offered by the all-wise Animus and Anima. The world was not as it appeared. The real world, the important world that held the real power, was the invisible one. When I elevated my consciousness above the fray, I was no longer OF the world. That, my friends, was the goal. Separation. Exclusivity. Othering.

But I have changed in the last twelve-plus years.

If there’s one thing I return from the woods with, it’s this: I am entirely of this world: made from its carbon, fed by its rain, reformed a little by its wildness every time I let it in. Today, I picked up my pen because I wanted to anchor myself in that rich tapestry. My pen drafts a song of gratitude because I am happily IN this world and also, OF it.

Even as I have to cut this essay short to go deal with broken cars and financial woes. Even in this challenge, I am still OF and IN this gorgeous world.

Before I go, I am compelled to ask:

How did the idea of not being OF the world manifest itself in your cultic experience?

What words want to spill from your pen today?

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