Immediate Stress Relief: Join a Gang…
Dateline: Stress in a New Mexico Maximum Security Prison, via television.
Where would any of us end up if–during those needy barely adolescent years—we had no sense of self and no sense of a future? And we were offered both for the mere orice of turning our thinking over to a group, a gang in this case. (Instead of say, the military, where the leaders, at least, have to answer to someone?)
“In October of 2009 :: James Arthur Ray’s $10,000 per head Spiritual Warrior seminar ended in calamity and tragedy. Three people were killed :: eighteen injured {many seriously} :: and thousands of followers were shocked to learn the true dark nature of the man they’d been paying large sums to follow.”
Prisons are full of people whose “group think” landed them in big trouble, somewhat like the ill-fated sweat lodge followers of James Arthur Ray. Trial update. The inmates, of course, didn’t have to pay thousands of dollars for the experience of giving up thinking as individuals, but then again…I’m quite sure if someone opened the flap of their tent there’d be a rush for the doors.
“Any relationship can function like a gang if the requirement ito belong is giving up using your own “best thinking”. The less developed a person’s “self,” the more impact others have on his functioning and the more he tries to control, actively or passively, the functioning of others.” For a full description: The Bowen Family Center.
I remember a movie (not the title, sadly) which opens with a lovely wedding being held on the lawn of a Southern plantation-style mansion. The day is beautiful, the grounds lush with just the right amount of moss hanging from the trees. The guests are dressed in bright colors and the newly married couple are lovely. As the credits finish, guests are leaving with many kisses and good wishes for the bride and groom. Now only a few family members remain scattered out around the lawn chatting with the wedding party. The bride, after a particularly pleasant send off for some friends, is walking across the grass alone when she spots a plate next to the wedding cake. On the plate are the remains of the ceremonial piece of cake her husband had offered her with their arms linked. She smiles, the sweet memory still warm in her mind. She steps over to the table and picks up the piece of cake for another lingering, dreamy bite.
And that’s when it happens. Her very new husband hurries over to where she stands ready to pop a bite of cake into her mouth. He grabs her arm, frowns, and says, “Hey, not with your fingers!” A look of horrified recognition registered in her eyes.
Welcome to the gang.
