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Saturday, 22 December 2012
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The beauty of life


Whilst reflecting on the changes that have occurred since I first realised that Scientology was not for me, I remembered an experience that I believe made a huge difference for me. Possibly made the difference. It was an experience that troubled me greatly, but I had not taken the time to dwell on it sufficiently. At least not until now, with the viewpoint of an ex-Scientologist.

In September last year my youngest sister gave birth, and the child was born with many problems. In fact she wasn't expected to be born at all. My sister had been told to abort her. She refused. The child survived. It took some time to establish the full extent of her disabilities. She is completely deaf, completely blind in her right eye, and mostly blind in her left eye. She can only be fed through a tube. She has a breathing tube for oxygen. They're not sure of intellectual disabilities.

I had just had a serious health situation myself, and so was currently away from my staff duties. I was recovering, away from the 24/7 madness that is the life of a staff member. My situation hadn't pushed me into doubt about Scientology. That was still to come. But I remember being struck with the difficulty of fitting my little niece's predicament into my Scientological world view. I couldn't. At least I couldn't and still face her with any confidence and conviction.

I could buy, at the time, that I had 'pulled in' my own situation. Sure, no problem. I can take responsibility for that. But what about my niece. She was born that way. At least give her a chance to fuck up. I'm sorry, but I couldn't accept that she 'pulled it in'. I didn't realise at the time my difficulty with this. Not until taking the time recently to reflect upon it. But it was there, eating away at me, so to speak.

I remember spending time with her, whilst she lay in her cot. Her tiny little hand wrapped around the end of my little finger. She would smile when contact was made. Her left eye would open slightly and look in my direction. She cried when I walked away. I had to forget I was a Scientologist to really appreciate that moment. To my fellow Scientologists this was further evidence of the PTS nature of myself and my family. More reasons one should go hunting for an SP. But this is life. This is the life I know, and the life that she knows. No Scientology stable datum could cover this scenario, for me, and still be stable.

I felt a strong sense of connection to my niece because of my own physical difficulties. But I felt so helpless looking at her. I didn't have any answers. And I knew for a fact that Scientology didn't. Perhaps this was the beginning of the end for me. It's bad enough that she should be born this way, but that I should write her off but implying that she was responsible for her condition. How does this help her? Or anyone for that matter?

These were all my own thoughts. She just held my finger. And looked in my direction. And she taught me something that I believe is far more precious than anything I learnt in Scientology. You cannot drill a person to love. You cannot drill a person to accept and appreciate the beauty in others, and in life in general. You can drill a person to observe the brutal and ugly around them. Co$ did this to me. It helps breed fear, which helps one stay within, and not look out. But looking at my niece, and spending time in my niece's space allowed me to observe that despite all the brutal and ugly moments that get served up to one on a daily basis, life itself is not so. It is truly beautiful. If one can just look at it.

You see, Scientology, by poking and prodding at my own personal weaknesses, got me to focus on the brutal and ugly side of life. Death, fear, and uncertainties became mental preoccupations. But thats not what I had set out to achieve. I remember thinking, and believing, that life is beautiful. There is beauty there. And that was reawakened by my little niece. Observing her, and knowing that I could do nothing about her condition. It forced me to confront the reality of her situation, and my own. It forced me to confront my need for solutions, and just be there with her. She wasn't asking for much, just my attention. And she gave back in abundance. I think that was more than fair exchange.

Scientology asked so much of me, and in the end I couldn't give anymore. It was too much one way exchange. My body told me it was time to get out.

My niece asked for very little. And repaid me with a beautiful little smile and twinkle in her eye. And that was more life than I had been privy to in awhile. She squeezed my little finger, and didn't let go. She wasn't interested in my stats or production record. Meaningless to her. She showed me that life truly is beautiful, even if it doesn't always appear so.

Her name is Scarlett. Scarlett is a very big being. She got me out of the Church of Scientology.

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