I was a member of the New York school of practical philosophy from April 1977 until June 1986. The problem with the school was that there were enough decent people, primarily newcomers and a few oldtimers to almost legitimize the rest of what was happening.
What was happening was pretty wild. The head of the school was a closeted alcoholic. She was protected by an inner circle of disingenuous senior members who claimed to be lovers of truth. This phony setup allowed the head of the school with her secrets and cover ups to give instructions on how others should live. Not suggestions mind you, but instructions which were to be obeyed. I was instructed to marry! I was told that it didn't matter whom I married but if I didn't obey, the children would be taken from me. The children were the Sunday school children whom I worked with for several years and with whom I had developed a sweet and happy rapport. I was instrumental in ending the use of corporal punishment for lying, (can you imagine) and treated the kids with love and respect and humor which were conspicuously absent in the school.
This ultimatum regarding marriage didn't arise in a vacuum. A short time prior to this I was asked out on a date by one of the pet students of the alcoholic Miss D. The woman I dated had been instructed to leave her husband because he didn't want to have children. Now she was after breeding stock and I was apparently on the short list. The date was a disaster and I shied away from further contact. Mind you no one had ever so much as used the word marriage around me until I dated the aforementioned woman nor had I ever been called in for a private audience with the boss!
In the London school Mr. Mclaren had been arranging marriages for quite some time, usually between older male tutors and young nubile women. This is a tiny example of how deep the authoritarianism ran .
As mentioned previously, the school was humorless and largely uncompassionate. The students who did service, unpaid labor, were instructed to work silently and without break until told to stop by the IC, person in charge. This resulted in robotic behavior which was no doubt exactly what was desired by the mucky mucks.Sometimes during summer evening work parties people would be drenched in sweat and miserable, this after working a day job. I was working on removing grout from a kitchen floor, on my knees, using a 10 D nail in 95 degree heat for hours at a time twice a week. Another time I was on a work party at Walkill, our residential property, where the men were mucking out the septic system by hand! I was a skilled mechanic and was called on to do free tune ups and car repair for senior members on occasion. Too many examples of this sort of stuff to list.
The reason it was not clear to run like hell from this cult was that there were some very good people and some wonderful teachings from a man in India called the Shankaracharya. His teaching was wise and loving and grounded, unfortunately it was meant to be implemented by the chain of command established by Mclaren and his various school heads all of whom were cut from the same questionable cloth.
It has taken many years for me to separate the wheat from the chaff and if I had it to do again I would never have joined. Basically we were well dressed ( srict dress code back then) nice boys and girls sitting up perfectly straight and still as statues on our rock hard chairs desparately seeking approval from dysfunctional parents.
Now I hear about ads all over the city subways where the school is promising permanent happiness. If it weren't so corrupt and predatious it would be funny. The head of the school now is a wealthy restauranteur, the head after the notorious Miss D was a fabulously wealthy real estate mogul, who was actually a really decent guy.
I think the closest approximation to the school that I could make would be the Catholic church. Lots of corruption, ineptitude, wealth, blind faith and unhealthy relationships but with a fine teaching from an unimpeachable teacher way back there somewhere undoubtedly rolling in his sepulchre.
What was happening was pretty wild. The head of the school was a closeted alcoholic. She was protected by an inner circle of disingenuous senior members who claimed to be lovers of truth. This phony setup allowed the head of the school with her secrets and cover ups to give instructions on how others should live. Not suggestions mind you, but instructions which were to be obeyed. I was instructed to marry! I was told that it didn't matter whom I married but if I didn't obey, the children would be taken from me. The children were the Sunday school children whom I worked with for several years and with whom I had developed a sweet and happy rapport. I was instrumental in ending the use of corporal punishment for lying, (can you imagine) and treated the kids with love and respect and humor which were conspicuously absent in the school.
This ultimatum regarding marriage didn't arise in a vacuum. A short time prior to this I was asked out on a date by one of the pet students of the alcoholic Miss D. The woman I dated had been instructed to leave her husband because he didn't want to have children. Now she was after breeding stock and I was apparently on the short list. The date was a disaster and I shied away from further contact. Mind you no one had ever so much as used the word marriage around me until I dated the aforementioned woman nor had I ever been called in for a private audience with the boss!
In the London school Mr. Mclaren had been arranging marriages for quite some time, usually between older male tutors and young nubile women. This is a tiny example of how deep the authoritarianism ran .
As mentioned previously, the school was humorless and largely uncompassionate. The students who did service, unpaid labor, were instructed to work silently and without break until told to stop by the IC, person in charge. This resulted in robotic behavior which was no doubt exactly what was desired by the mucky mucks.Sometimes during summer evening work parties people would be drenched in sweat and miserable, this after working a day job. I was working on removing grout from a kitchen floor, on my knees, using a 10 D nail in 95 degree heat for hours at a time twice a week. Another time I was on a work party at Walkill, our residential property, where the men were mucking out the septic system by hand! I was a skilled mechanic and was called on to do free tune ups and car repair for senior members on occasion. Too many examples of this sort of stuff to list.
The reason it was not clear to run like hell from this cult was that there were some very good people and some wonderful teachings from a man in India called the Shankaracharya. His teaching was wise and loving and grounded, unfortunately it was meant to be implemented by the chain of command established by Mclaren and his various school heads all of whom were cut from the same questionable cloth.
It has taken many years for me to separate the wheat from the chaff and if I had it to do again I would never have joined. Basically we were well dressed ( srict dress code back then) nice boys and girls sitting up perfectly straight and still as statues on our rock hard chairs desparately seeking approval from dysfunctional parents.
Now I hear about ads all over the city subways where the school is promising permanent happiness. If it weren't so corrupt and predatious it would be funny. The head of the school now is a wealthy restauranteur, the head after the notorious Miss D was a fabulously wealthy real estate mogul, who was actually a really decent guy.
I think the closest approximation to the school that I could make would be the Catholic church. Lots of corruption, ineptitude, wealth, blind faith and unhealthy relationships but with a fine teaching from an unimpeachable teacher way back there somewhere undoubtedly rolling in his sepulchre.