The day after last year’s Thanksgiving, I sojourned to Ingleside-On-The-Bay and thus crossed my personal “Rubicon”. In an odd twist of history and geography that led to Casablanca. The four days I spent with Marty and Monique began an adventure with the truth. Not only did Scientology work for me as it hadn’t for years in the church, but the time I spent with the “Kingpin” and his beautiful wife gave the lie to the torrent of crap about these two beautiful souls that was pouring from the mouths of those representing Miscavige and his sorry excuse for a religion.
As I say the Rubicon was crossed, because from then on my family and I were subjected to the various forms of garbage thrown at us by those who pride themselves on being spiritually enlightened. It also began a year of attempting to see through layer after filthy layer of what has been going on within corporate Scientology. With each revelation compounding the insanity, I decided to throw everything overboard. I was interested only in having Miscavige’s abuses come to light and acted upon. Screw everything else. Although my wife Joy had been helped by seeing Ingrid Smith, a field auditor, I, despite my earlier wins with Marty, was no longer interested — not in Solo NOTS, or being audited, or taking a course, or even reading a book; and I could no longer swallow the idea that Scientology was the only path and LRH the only and true pathfinder. I found that attitude arrogant and self defeating no matter from where it came.
But life has the continuing and annoying habit of asking us to confront it. So it was for our family of three. There was a barrage of “stuff” coming at us and we were not making great headway against it, We had only Ingrid close by to turn to, so my daughter and I went back to her. During an amazing communication with us, Ingrid mentioned how much fun it was for her to be solo auditing. I told her I never wanted to look an e-meter in the face again because of what a drudge it had become. She described the joy and freedom with which she audited, the ease with which things were handled, and the picture she painted was infectious. I also recalled the natural ease with which Marty had audited me. So then and there I decided on one more go-around with “the Tech” and made plans for a trip to Texas.
I left the day after Thanksgiving, exactly one year after my last visit. The symmetry appealed to me, but this time I would spend six days. I had booked my flight late in October, but by the time Thanksgiving week rolled around, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go. But I remembered the sparkling time I’d had with Marty and Mosey, so carrying a wrapped drumstick and wing from the day before, I boarded my plane.
Marty met me at the airport as he did the Friday a year ago, and from that moment I knew things were going to be good. Aside from a couple of adventures we had shared personally during the year, his blog had kept us in continual communication. The friend I had made twelve months ago was now an old friend. I saw again that the drivel Miscavige, his hired boobies, and the robotic sheeple spouted about Marty’s relationship with those who have left the church was truly absurd. No one kisses his feet, shines his shoes or falls before him on bended knee. He wouldn’t have it. While I was there we watched the film, “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo”. He loved the leading character of Lizbeth. Why? Because she didn’t take any shit, was true to herself, had integrity, would fight for what she believed in, and was intelligent without shoving it in everyone’s face. That’s how he hopes everyone would be, and that’s what he expects of himself.
As before, we had conversations about a multitude of subjects, always returning to the theme of freedom – spiritual, personal and political, and the paths one can take to get there. He introduced me to Victor Frankl and Frederick Douglass, both of whom I read having major cognitions. The ease with which we had our conversations were continued into the auditing room, where day after day I uncovered the lies which I had constructed long ago to rob me of parts of myself. And I came to a number of realizations. Those who disparage Hubbard’s technology, for whatever reason, no longer have any significance for me. It is what it is for them and it is what it is for me. Those who disparage Marty are also of no significance to me. I know who he is both in and out of the auditing room. And the same is true regarding the works of L. Ron Hubbard. I can accept whatever moves me forward and reject the rest.
There is sunshine at Casablanca. The star that rides the sky from east to west every day; the sunshine of welcome that Mosey bathes you with when you are in her company; the sunshine of truth that Marty is continually searching for no matter where he finds it. Juxtapose this against the dark insanity that is corporate Scientology and I saw that it was also no longer significant.
I had a wondrous six days. In Monique I once again found a gracious, kind, intelligent and compassionate being. Thanks to Marty, who shares those qualities, I again found solo auditing and more of myself. I also found something even more valuable — what it means to walk the “middle path”. I left Casablanca with a renewed energy and purpose, a heightened love and respect for these two unique people, and the knowledge and confidence that our family of three can take on whatever “stuff” life decides to hurl at us.
More On Michael:
Michael’s Declaration of Independence
Michael Fairman – A Resurrection Story