By Christopher Reeve
During the last few years, countless people have remarked, "Your faith must
be a great help in your ordeal." But the truth is, I only recently found a
religion I can reconcile with my search for the meaning of spirituality.
When I was a child, many teachings of Western religion seemed quite
disturbing to me. I thought that this God probably loves us but uses scare
tactics to keep us in line. That dynamic too closely resembled my
relationship with my own father; why would I choose to re-create it? And as
I moved on to college and then to New York in pursuit of an acting career,
I wasn't looking for answers to the Big Questions: Why are we here? Do we
have a purpose? Is there a right way to live?
In the fall of 1975, I was living on the Upper West Side and in rehearsal
for A Matter of Gravity, a Broadway-bound play with Katharine Hepburn. I
had just turned 22 and was enjoying my life as a bachelor. One afternoon I
came across a man standing next to a sign on the sidewalk that read "Free
personality test, no obligation." Figuring I had nothing to lose, I
followed his directions to the sixth floor of the building behind him. I
opened the unlocked door and found myself in the New York headquarters of
the Church of Scientology.
A young man, much like the one I'd met on the sidewalk, came forward to
greet me. He gave me his name, shook my hand warmly and never broke direct
eye contact. I told him I was interested in the test, and he showed me a
form to fill out. In answer to the question, "Are you affiliated with any
other church?" I wrote "no." In a few moments, the young man came back with
another form, which turned out to be the actual test. As I looked it over,
I wished it were multiple-choice. I wasn't expecting to write 20 short
essays
about myself. But I tried to do my best.
I had hoped to get the results that afternoon, but I was told I'd have to
come back tomorrow. I appeared at the church, and the same host greeted me.
He led me down a hall and into a plush private office. In came three
apparently heavy hitters. They shook my hand in turn and introduced
themselves with the warmth and direct eye contact that I now recognized as
a trademark of Scientology.
Then one of the officials gave me the bad news. There was no grade, just
their assessment. I was obviously depressed and carrying heavy "baggage"
around, not only from this incarnation but from previous lives as well. His
recommendation was that I begin "training" immediately.
The basic principles of the religion, described in the works of its
founder, L. Ron Hubbard, struck me as logical. Hubbard believed that every
thought, every emotion, every experience is stored in the memory banks of
the computer within us. What stops us from experiencing joy and achieving
success is that we are not "Clear." All the negativity—self-hatred, anger,
jealousy and the like—that remains in the computer brings us down.
No one at the church would estimate how long it would take me to "go
Clear," but they implied that it would require quite some time. The first
step was to stare intently into the eyes of another recruit sitting
opposite me. The objective was to empty our minds of extraneous thoughts
("clutter") and focus our attention on the other person. The TR-O
experience was relatively inexpensive, costing perhaps a few hundred
dollars. But the next step was "auditing," which was outrageously expensive
and would continue for an unspecified length of time. The church required a
deposit of $3,000; meetings with an "auditor" cost $100 an hour.
I put down my deposit and began meeting with my auditor twice a week. One
of the reasons auditing was such a long and expensive process was that we
had to recall the use of almost every kind of drug. Not just illegal
substances, but painkillers, antibiotics, routine vaccinations—anything
stronger than aspirin.
My drug rundown used up four or five sessions, and then it was on to past
lives. I was asked to go back as far as I could to try to remember my
earliest incarnation. Sitting across from my auditor, I searched the back
rooms of my mind.
Then my growing skepticism about Scientology and my training as an actor
took over. I began to remember details from a past life in ancient Greece.
I commanded a warship returning victoriously to Athens. My father was the
king, and I was his only son. When I had cast off, he had made me promise
that on our return we would set white sails for victory and black sails if
I had been lost. I had forgotten to change the black sails to white, and
my father, in despair over my death, killed himself. I could sense that my
auditor was deeply
moved. And that was the end of my training as a Scientologist. The fact
that I got away with a fabrication devalued my belief in the process. Of
course, my case may have been an exception to the rule. Many well-known and
highly respected people credit Scientology for success in their careers, in
relationships and especially in their family lives. I fully support
whatever belief systems make us better human beings. My problem has always
been with religious dogma intended to manipulate behavior.
"Read the rest of the excerpt from Christopher Reeve's new book Nothing
is Impossible in the October issue of ROSIE. "
I wonder if it is also about the clam cult...
--
Tilman Hausherr [KoX, SP5.55] Entheta * Enturbulation * Entertainment
til...@berlin.snafu.de http://www.xenu.de
Resistance is futile. You will be enturbulated. Xenu always prevails.
Find broken links on your web site: http://home.snafu.de/tilman/xenulink.html
The Xenu bookstore: http://home.snafu.de/tilman/bookstore.html
Tanya, what a great story about Christopher Reeves. Thank God he saw the
light rather than the dark. Would be interested in knowing where you
found this info. He has always been one of my favorite actors and I very
much admire the way he is handling his paralasis. He strikes me as an
extremely strong and determined individual and I am convinced he will
walk again someday.
Tahitian Princess
Monica
Tanya Durni <tdu...@rochester.rr.com> wrote in message news:<3D8DC2A3...@rochester.rr.com>...
> success is that we are not "Clear." All the negativity—self-hatred, anger,
> jealousy and the like—that remains in the computer brings us down.
>
> No one at the church would estimate how long it would take me to "go
> Clear," but they implied that it would require quite some time. The first
> step was to stare intently into the eyes of another recruit sitting
> opposite me. The objective was to empty our minds of extraneous thoughts
> ("clutter") and focus our attention on the other person. The TR-O
> experience was relatively inexpensive, costing perhaps a few hundred
> dollars. But the next step was "auditing," which was outrageously expensive
> and would continue for an unspecified length of time. The church required a
> deposit of $3,000; meetings with an "auditor" cost $100 an hour.
>
> I put down my deposit and began meeting with my auditor twice a week. One
> of the reasons auditing was such a long and expensive process was that we
> had to recall the use of almost every kind of drug. Not just illegal
> substances, but painkillers, antibiotics, routine vaccinations—anything
No, it's a book about his accident and his recovery process although
it appears that he did mention his experience, since this is an
excerpt from the book, but thats not the main topic. He did a Barbara
Walters interview about this just a few days ago that mentioned this
book. He's made miraculous progress, previously unheard of for
quadrapelegics.
Monica
I have read the chapter in which he discusses Scientology and I
believe that is the extent of it. (This excerpt may be edited slightly
for the magazine.)
I am glad that he did not get involved more than he did. He ends on a
very diplomatic note, doesn't he?
moontaco
Ida J. Camburn
"No passion so effectively robs the mind of all its powers of acting and
reasoning as fear .
Edumnd Burke
A friend.
He really takes you through the beginning stages of the indoctrination well,
doesn't he? He is lucky to have seen through the deception in the early stages.
Nevertheless, I find him telling about his experience a bold and caring move on
his part. Thank you, Christopher Reeve.
I wonder how CofS would edit Tom out of their Celebraty PR propaganda if he ever left the group? His
picture is everywhere in their mailings... my parents can't even stand to look at him anymore. No one
in the family will watch any of his movies. Not to be taken the wrong way, it is nothing intentional,
more of a gut reaction to knowing what we know, and then seeing his face promoting the cult to attract
more unsuspecting victims. Oh well, I suppose you could say we are only one family, maybe other
families affected by the cult feel that way also. I often wonder if he will feel any remorse or guilt
when he wakes up?
I'd say so, depending upon the nature of his departure. I don't know if
Tom has experienced the CO$'s special brand of coercion yet. How much
about Scientology's dark side is he aware of? If he thinks the cult is
"good, but no longer for me," he might feel no remorse at all.
On the other hand, if he ever decided to research the openly available
info on Scn in the real world, the remorse and guilt could eat him
alive.
Prozac and therapy can help him with that...
--
Barb
Chaplain, ARSCC
http://members.cox.net/bwarr1/index.htm
"$cientology sees the world this way: One man with a picket sign:
terrorism. Five thousand people dead in a deliberate inferno: business
opportunity.
$cientology oozes _under_ terrorists to hide."
-Chris Leithiser