The Family in Action!--#10
DFO
Amazed at the Power of Jesus!--By Phoebe (French)
Life Story of Ex-Prostitute & Former Buddhist Nun!
Copyrighted May 1995, Family Services, Zurich, Switzerland
This magazine may be reproduced in full or in part for friends of the Family.
"Promise me you'll never marry!" my lesbian mother screamed at me! All her bitterness toward my father and men in general came to the fore, as she tried to implant her hatred in my heart as well. Little did she know that my unhappy beginnings would lead to over-indulgence in sex as a high-class prostitute and jet-setter. Rejected also by my father, I would rebel against accepted norms and begin a frantic search through intellectual pursuits, regular drug use, meditation, and become a Buddhist nun. My earnest quest would end only when I found a power greater than any I had imagined ... one which healed me and took away my fear and anger ... leaving love and peace in its place...
Childhood Memories
I was born into a lower middle class French family and raised a nominal1 Catholic, with no real faith. My mother married my father to get away from her parents. After two years she and her husband thought a child might save their failing marriage, so they had me. It didn't help. When I was two years old my mother decided to leave my father.
My mother was very bitter towards my father and men in general. She became a lesbian, and was never with another man after that. From then on I went from one institution for children to another, to my grandparents, to my mother for a while, and then to another institution. I had a very broken childhood.
As far back as I can remember, I was very angry and very mean. One early childhood memory was of being in an institution. We slept in baby cribs, even though we were three or four years old. One night I was too lazy to get up to go to the toilet, so I wet my crib. Not wanting to get into trouble, I forced another little boy to switch cribs with me so that he would be blamed instead!
I wasn't getting love, so I had none to give, and my behaviour grew worse. At five years old, if one of my pre-schoolmates had something I wanted, I would force them to give it to me. I bullied the girl sitting next to me for months, becoming more and more violent with her. One day I bit her! Then because she had marks on her arm, her parents complained to the teacher.
The headmistress called me in, and, with a huge pair of pliers in her hand, said, "I'm sorry, there is no other solution. I'm just going to have to pull out all your teeth!" It was late and no one was around. I remember screaming and begging the headmistress not to do it, as she took me down the long dark corridors, and into one of the darkened classrooms. With pliers in her hand, she said, "Now, open your mouth!"
I was crying and begging, saying everything I could to try to get her to change her mind. I had my mouth wide open and she had the pliers in it, when she finally said, "Do you really promise that you'll never do it again?" Of course I promised! And I didn't bite or even pinch much in that school after that. I was shook up, but I was still very angry and very rebellious inside. These are some of the unhappy memories of my early childhood.
Caught in the Middle, Blamed and Rejected!
Around that time I lived with my father's parents for awhile, and my grandmother would pick me up from the school every day. One day while I was living with my grandmother, my mother ran up to me screaming, took my arm and forced me into her taxi. My grandmother screamed, and they began insulting each other, one on either side of me, pulling me by my arms and fighting over me in the taxi. My grandmother won the fight over me that day.
This was a physical illustration of what was going on constantly with my father and mother. They hated each other. When I was with my mother, she would tell me how bad my father was, and when I was with my father, he would tell me how bad my mother was. It was a horrible situation for a child.
Each one would make their love for me contingent2 on whether or not I took their side in their conflict. Sometimes I would side with one, then I would feel bad that I had betrayed the other. If I didn't side with them, I didn't get their love, only remarks like, "You're just like your mother!"--Or, "You're just like your father!" I was getting rejection, not love. It was an impossible situation. I didn't respect myself, because I felt I was betraying everybody, and it was destroying any self-esteem I had. It was making me distrust them, and distrust myself.
During that time though, I did have a good relationship with my grandmother. She was the one I was closest to and the most open with. However, I was still a very difficult child--a true delinquent. At seven years old, my grandmother, whom I dearly loved, had a heart attack. Everybody blamed it on me because I was such a problem. Because of this I was screaming inside with guilt. After that I wasn't allowed to live with my grandmother any more, so I was sent to an institution again. I would visit my grandmother from time to time, and each time I had to leave her it broke my heart.
I remember making a decision at that age that I would just not love anyone. I decided to just close my heart and become hard so I couldn't be hurt. I equated love with hurt. I loved my mother, but I could never be with her for any length of time. I loved my grandmother, but I always had to go through those difficult partings. I loved my father, but he never wanted to be with me. I would beg him to spend a weekend with me, or go on holiday with me, but he would always say no. So I closed my heart to everyone.
My Lesbian Mom and Puberty in Conflict!
When I was nine years old, my mother was more stable financially, and she decided to have me come and live with her. By that time she had begun living with a woman whom she's been with for nearly forty years now. I lived with them for almost four years.
My mother had become very masculine and had very short, cropped hair. She and her companion were both working in fairly nice bars, but it was not a good environment as they were around people who would continually get drunk.
When I was living with my mother, we would come home, undress, and walk around the house naked. That's how she had raised me, so to me it was the most natural thing in the World. While at home we did everything naked--cooked, worked--whatever we did, it was naked.
One day at school, I was talking with my friends about my home life, and I told them about how my mother and her "wife" friend and I went around naked at home. Everybody was interested, and nobody seemed shocked, but the next day when I came to school, nobody would talk to me. I asked my friends why, and they said their parents told them not to have anything to do with me, as I was weird. I didn't understand why they would think that!
I was left to myself most of the time, as my mother and her companion would go to work very early in the morning and come back very late at night. They imposed many rules on me without any explanation. I was not allowed to watch television, nor listen to the radio.
My mother would have big sessions with me, asking me to swear with everything that was dear to me that I would never get married, because she said men couldn't be trusted. They cropped my hair very short, and dressed me in unattractive clothes, so I wouldn't be attractive to men.
My father remarried, and his new wife was a very feminine woman. I really looked up to her because of this, but I felt there was rivalry between us. She didn't want my father to give me attention, as they also had a child together and their own little family. I felt she considered me an intruder. This woman was sweet, but kept me at a distance.
For my thirteenth birthday she bought me a pair of shoes with heels. I had never had feminine shoes before, as my mother always bought me masculine-looking clunkers. She also bought me my first garter belt3 and stockings. For me that was a big "Wow!" I was 13 years old and somebody was acknowledging that I was becoming a young woman! She even bought me a bra! It was a dream come true.
I was so excited when I went back home, but when I showed my gifts to my mother, she threw them in the garbage. She told me I was a whore, and that my father's wife was a whore, and it was another dreadful scene. I retrieved the things from the garbage, but I had to hide them. From time to time I would visit my father or grandmother, and I would wear them there.
My Social and Home Life--More Unanswered Questions!
The entire time that I lived with my mother and her "mate," the only fellowship I had with other adults was with her homosexual friends, as these were the only friends she had. One man was about 55 years old, and his (male) "mate" was about 23 years old.
There was another man there, who to this day is quite a mystery to me: I don't know if he was homosexual, bisexual or heterosexual. He was very friendly with my mother, and seemed to love me very much. He was about 28 years old, and we got along well together. He was kind to me and I really loved him. One day we got a letter informing us that he had killed himself. My mother was very emotionally unstable, and never wanted to take the blame for anything. She never wanted to see things the way they were. So she blamed the death of this man on me, which added to my burden of guilt.
Up until that time I didn't realise that there was anything different about my mother and her companion. They would caress and deep kiss in front of me, but to me it was normal, as I had never seen anything else. But for some reason, one day when I was about 13, I looked at them making out4 and suddenly I realised, "My mother is a lesbian!"--and it just changed my whole way of looking at her.
I became scared then that she would want to make love to me and from that point on, I couldn't give her a hug, or let her give me one.
My father asked me, "When your mother and her girlfriend say hello to each other, how do they say hello?" I told him they kiss each other on the mouth, and he told me how wrong and bad that was, that I should never do that. That's all he would say, with no explanation. I wondered what was so bad about it. I wondered if my mother was bad, and if I was bad, and as a result I had all these horrible weights and questions in my mind.
Abandoned to a Boarding School
I was already hard, but in my early teen years I became even more rebellious. All those years when my mother had forbidden me to do things, I was doing them anyway, but lying about it and concealing it. I became an avid5 liar and couldn't even distinguish between the truth and a lie. Nothing mattered to me, as long as I could get my way.
I was expected to do housework when I was alone during the day, but instead I'd spend most of my time watching television, eating, and reading their sleazy, weird, perverted magazines. One day they came home early. The whole house was a complete mess, and I was watching television. I had food all over their bed, and had their sleazy magazines out--doing everything I wasn't allowed to do.
They were very angry. When I wouldn't say I was sorry, they became even more angry and beat me till I was black and blue, and my eyes were red and swollen. Then they packed all my things, and drove me to my father's house. I was 13-1/2 at this time, and that was the last time I saw my mother for the next five years.
I arrived at my father's house at 2 a.m. It wasn't very good news for him and his wife. They had their own 3-1/2-year-old little girl, and I was just plopped on them unexpectedly. They didn't want me living there, so they sent me to a boarding school. My mother had violently rejected me, my father had rejected me, and my grandmother now couldn't take me. I didn't want to go to this boarding school. This was the biggest crisis of my life!
Church, Religion, and My Decision
Up until then I'd had a vague Catholic upbringing. I say vague, because I had visited some kind of Sunday School, but I didn't understand much of it. I believed in God, but I thought He was a vengeful God--some type of old man with a long beard sitting on a cloud with a big stick, hitting you when you do something wrong. I had the deep guilt feeling about everything that many Catholics have, and would do penance6, but it was all an unhappy experience for me.
The only church experience I had had was my first communion. This was when I was about 12-1/2. It was a big ceremony.--All the girls wore long white robes and all the boys wore something like a tuxedo. I didn't even know what it was supposed to represent. Nothing was explained to me and there was no mention of establishing a personal relationship with Jesus.
During this ceremony my mother and her family were on one side of the church, and on the other side was my father and his family. They never once talked to each other. After the service I had to go back and forth from one group to the other. There was a horrible feeling of division.
When I found myself in that boarding school, I made a decision that if there was a God, He was my enemy. I decided that He was not a God of love, and I wouldn't have anything to do with Him.--I would fight Him! I became the type of professed atheist who hates God, is fiercely against Him, and preaches against Him. I began reading Nietzsche7, and other anti-God philosophy8, as well as books on psychoanalysis9.
Prostitution Became My Dream
At this time I made a friend who was into the occult10. She came from Madagascar, an island off East Africa and she had black ancestry. We were best friends for a long time. We were both rebels, stealing and smoking. Whatever was against the System attracted us, as we just wanted to rebel.
I started to think that the ultimate way to rebel against the System was to be a prostitute, because they were so looked down upon. I thought they were really free, that they had licked the System at its own game, and were the ultimate rebels. So when we were 16, whenever I visited my father's house on the weekends, I would escape, and my friend and I would spend the whole night in the sleazy bars in Paris. We wanted to learn, so we watched the prostitutes to see how they would speak to men, how they would pick them up, and work out their deals.
The first time I made love I was 16-1/2. My friend had made love already, and there was a lot of peer pressure to be equal to her and my other friends. One night I decided that I was going to make love that night. I ran away from my father's apartment and went into a caf, ordered a coffee, and decided that the first man who would talk to me would be my first lover!
The first man to come up to me was a medical student, and I thought that would be perfect--he would know all about the body and what to do. He took me to his place and we made love, and it was horrible: he just hurt me. In the morning he asked if I wanted to make love with his friends too, but I didn't. When I returned to school I was so proud that I had made love and was no longer a virgin, even though it had been a bad experience for me.
After that I had some more one-night stands--making love but never seeing the man again. I wanted to have lovers, and wanted to have sex, but there was never good communication, and it was not pleasant for me physically. I hoped that when I would become a prostitute and make love a lot, I would have a breakthrough, and I'd overcome my fears about love-making, and learn to enjoy it.
A Philosophy Student/Prostitute--Homework between Customers
I became determined that as soon as I was able, I would become a prostitute. It wasn't easy, as I didn't really have the guts to become a street prostitute and find customers that way. There were brothels in Paris, but I had to have an introduction to get into them. I found a girl who worked in those places, and made friends with her, but it was a whole year before she gave me the phone number of a place. She had dropped out of it herself, and didn't want to encourage me to go there, because she knew what it was like. But I was determined.
The woman who owned this brothel was about 75 and had been a prostitute all her life. Brothels were illegal in France, but because she had helped France against the Germans in the Second World War, she had special permission from the government to have one--for being a good citizen! She was allowed to have two girls.
At this time I was studying philosophy during my third year at university. I was very anti-God, a rebel, and a thief. I was searching for something, but I didn't know what. I thought that studying philosophy would give me answers, and that all these "great" philosophers and writers would know what I was searching for.
The lady who ran the brothel took a liking to me because she had never had an educated girl working for her; most of them were pretty low class. (I learned that prostitutes actually were not rebels after all, but they were just like everyone else in the way they acted and what they wanted.) I would arrive at her little brothel with my homework and my books. One of my books was "The Metaphysics11 of Sex", and I would do my research and homework between customers! A lot of philosophies at that point revolved around sex, because Freud12 based everything on sex. He said all human behaviour is dictated by sexual instincts, or love is reduced sex, sexual impulses. He even reduces your relationship with your parents to sex. I didn't work at this first place for long, as this woman would only have the same girls for two weeks at a time. She had regular customers who would have sex with you a few times, but then they wanted somebody else, so she would rotate girls. She introduced me to another brothel, and I ended up working in various brothels in Paris and Lyon.
My Life as a Prostitute
One of the reasons why I wanted to become a prostitute was because I wanted to overcome my extreme fear of sex and men. I had no pleasure when I made love because I was very tense and frightened, which made me frigid13. I couldn't establish any relationship with men because my heart was hardened, so there was no emotion involved.
When I was working in the brothels I would make love with ten or twelve men a day. It was like a crash course, and I did overcome certain fears about sex, but it didn't teach me to communicate or love. I had only half an hour with each man. There really wasn't time for communication.
A lot of the men who came to the brothels needed sex, but many were also married men who just wanted perverted14 sex. Sometimes I got really scared. We were surrounded by many weird people. That's prostitution for you.--It's not nice!
My first night I was with a 75-year-old, very fierce-looking man, and it was the most horrible and humbling experience. He asked me to do perverted things to him. It was an awful experience, and I was just shaking from head to toe.--I was very shocked! A lot of those men were searching for more and more sexual gratification, so in trying anything to get that gratification in the flesh, they would get more and more perverted! This man probably had dozens of years of weirdness behind him. That was my initiation to prostitution!
A New "Liberated" Life --But Still Searching!
Looking back though, I know the Lord had His hand on me through that whole experience--and if He had not protected me, things could have been even worse, as they are for many prostitutes. One time a young man who was about 25 came in. Usually young men would like older women, and older men would like younger women, so I usually went with the old men, and my partner who was 30 took the young men. But this guy chose me, and then fell in love with me. He was a rich young man, pretty normal sexually, except that he couldn't have an orgasm when he made love.
We were attracted to each other and began living together, although we were very different: I was from a poorer background, searching for answers, and very desperate; he was from a rich background, not searching at all, and quite satisfied. By that time I was living in Spain writing my thesis15 for a university there. I had just gone to Paris to make enough money to spend the winter in Spain. I could make enough money in two weeks in the brothel to live frugally16 for six months.
This man and I both had a fascination for prostitution and sex. There was a big sexual revolution in France at that time, and everyone was saying that you could find answers in sex. The popular attitude was that if you were not liberated sexually, you might as well forget it.--You would not get anywhere, do anything, or become anybody if you were not sexually liberated.
We tried all kinds of sexual experiences, like going to big orgies in high-class apartments where there would be 50 people from all types of backgrounds. Everyone would have sex with everyone else the whole night, swapping partners. It was very shallow. Everyone was seeking only physical satisfaction. Or we would go to a park in Paris called the Bois de Boulogne, where people would come in their cars and pick each other up. There would be couples, singles, prostitutes, Sodomites--whatever you wanted was available. We would go there and pick up couples, bring them home, and have sex together. It was very meaningless, and very sad, because there was no love involved at all.
From Jet Set to Ashrams17, India and Buddhism
I began to study Buddhism, so this young man invited me to go to India with him because I was so interested in Buddhism and meditation. My interest in staying with him was fading, but then he more or less bought me with his support. We spent six months travelling all over India, dividing our time between tourism for him, and Buddhism, ashrams and gurus18 for me.
After that we went back to France and led the jet set style of life for about a year together. We were in night clubs every night, going to bed at 5 o'clock in the morning, getting up at 2 o'clock in the afternoon and going out at 5 o'clock in the evening again. All his friends were involved in show business, the media, movies, etc. It was a very high class, snobbish crowd, glamorous on the outside, but very shallow on the inside. Everyone was always bored and smoking dope.--It was a very superficial world.
After a year we separated, and I decided that I wanted to go back to India. He was very sweet and continued to support me in my search. In fact, all his friends were supportive of my search, both as friends and financially, because I was the only one who was searching for something more in life!--I was the only one who was willing to pay the price! They all had their cozy little life with their foot in the System, and had their futures all planned out. They were on the road to success, but they seemed to still admire someone who rejected those goals and wanted more.
Menacing Meditation Mysteries
I went back to India and began to get deeply involved in Buddhism. I started to study with a Burmese master19 who was travelling all over India, leading meditation classes. It was very intense meditation. We would get up at 5 o'clock in the morning and sit down with crossed legs, with our backs straight and our hands in our lap. It's extremely painful, and after ten minutes the pain becomes excruciating. You're supposed to meditate to dissolve the pain with your mind, but I never did very well with that. You had to sit for at least an hour; some people would sit for two hours.
Not very long after I started to meditate, funny things began to happen. Everyone would be meditating, motionless and silent, but my body would start shaking or rocking. It was not something that I was consciously initiating; it would just happen. I could exercise a certain control to make it stop, but if I would not control it, it would just keep going. Then my arms started to swing themselves and hit my back, almost beating me, and I would sway violently back and forth. It was very strange.
No one had an explanation, although some said it was impurities coming out and I was just purifying myself. After awhile these actions became very violent and extreme, and I started to have very deep, low, long guttural sounds coming out of me, then I would howl like an animal. These were sounds I couldn't reproduce while not meditating even if I tried! They sounded like they came from the depths of Hell!
One of the last intensive spiritual retreats that I was on was in a forest in Rajasthan, India. It must have been inhabited by all kinds of weird spirits. They put me on my own, far away from anyone else, because I would disturb everyone else with my noisy manifestations. I started to come out of these meditations in deep despair, and extremely fearful. I felt like all the darkness of Hell would overcome me.
Taking Vows in a Buddhist Temple
I started to question the type of meditation that I was doing and look around for something else. Between these different retreats I had gone back to Europe, met other Buddhist masters, and had helped organise meditation retreats in Europe. Then I returned to India, and this time I decided to dedicate myself completely to Buddhism, as I was so desperate to find a lasting solution in my life.
I had already been shaving my head for quite some time, so I decided to become ordained as a Buddhist nun. At that time I was in Sri Lanka, a largely Buddhist country, so I went to a temple and let them know that I wanted to become a nun. They asked me a lot of questions and then agreed to ordain me.
When you become a Buddhist nun you take the vow of chastity, the vow of poverty (you cannot have any money), and a vow to not kill. You cannot eat any meat or animal products, and you cannot kill even a mosquito or spider, not even if you're in danger.
They believe in the law of karma20, that you're being reborn continually. They say we've always lived, there was no Creation, and we will always live, and there is no end to the World, except when we reach enlightenment through meditation--only that will break the cycle of karma. Karma is a form of the law of cause and effect. If you're good, you'll have a good life sometime down the line. If you're bad, you'll go from bad to worse, and keep getting worse. There is very little hope of redemption. If you kill an ant, you'll be reborn a thousand times as an ant, and you'll die the violent death that you gave that ant. It's not like an eye for an eye, it's a thousand eyes for an eye.--The bad multiplies itself, they say.
Convent Life as a Buddhist Nun
After I was ordained a Buddhist nun I began living in a convent in Sri Lanka. Life in that convent was extremely rigorous. I was alone in my cell and couldn't have contact with anyone else. I couldn't look people in the eye and I couldn't talk.--There was complete silence restriction. For a few months I didn't talk or even have eye contact with anyone.
We got up at 3 o'clock in the morning and meditated. At 5 o'clock in the morning we had a bowl of rice. Then at 11:30 the people from around the community brought us food, because it was a really good deed to feed the monks and nuns. But we could never look at them. The only thing we could look at was the ground, so about the only thing I saw during the months that I was there was feet. Everyone walked barefoot all the time, and most had deformed feet. It was my distraction for the day; I studied feet the whole time I was there.
The monks and nuns also take a vow of not eating after 12 noon. We had our bowl of rice in the morning, and one meal before 12, and that was it for the day. We stayed in our cells and meditated until 11 o'clock at night, went to sleep, and got up at 3 again the next morning. In the cell I just had one straw mat on the ground where I slept. We had to shake it daily or it would become full of all kinds of vermin21.
My Karma!--Killed by a Broom!
Once I didn't shake the mat for a couple of days, and when I finally lifted it up, a couple of hundred ants had moved in. They had their eggs and their soldiers, their queen ant and their whole colony there. It was a big dilemma because I couldn't kill them, so I didn't know what to do. There were a couple of people working in the convent, so I went to get one of them. I couldn't talk to her, so without looking at her, I pulled her robe to bring her to show her the problem. She got a broom and showed me how to very, very gently, without hurting the ants, sweep them out of the cell. Then she gave me the broom and left.
For the next two hours I very gently tried to sweep the ants out of the cell, but these ants were about the most clever creatures I ever saw! I would just succeed in sweeping them towards the door when they would divide themselves, and half of them would go back into the room. After two hours of this, I got so mad at those ants I killed them all with the broom and swept them out of my cell! Afterwards I was under such condemnation for having killed all those ants! According to the law of karma, I was going to return to life 300,000 times as an ant, and be killed by a crazy woman with a broom!
From Hospital Bed to Movie of My Life!
The only food the people of the village fed us was rice, hot peppers and vegetables. I became very sick and skinny, and always had diarrhea. The toilet at the convent was constantly guarded by a cobra (which we couldn't kill of course), so as you can imagine, using the toilet so frequently was a frightening experience. Thankfully, he never hurt anybody, but we always went to the toilet two-by-two. Finally I went to the hospital for a check-up, and they wanted to keep me there because I was so sick. This hospital was very understaffed and full: they had 40 beds and 70 patients, so people were sleeping in the aisles.
I got a bed--because I was an honoured Buddhist nun--right next to the emergency bed, which meant I saw many frightening and strange scenes, people dying, etc. One morning a lady died of a heart attack right across from me, her mouth and eyes wide open. They left her there all day while her relatives came, beating their breasts and pulling their hair. They finally moved her body out that night.
One day the young Frenchman I had been living with suddenly appeared at my bedside. He told me he had been looking for me all over India. He said I looked terrible, and he wanted to take me out of the hospital. He explained that he and his friends had come to Sri Lanka to finish a movie about my life that they had been making!
I didn't know that they had been doing this, as they hadn't consulted me first. In Sri Lanka they were filming the ending showing this girl--me--who had been a prostitute and who had been searching all her life finally becoming a Buddhist nun. I found myself with the movie crew and the young French woman who was playing my part. They took me with them on a holiday. It must have been strange for people to see this film crew with two girls who had their heads shaved!
Fame, Money, and the Search Goes on!
I went back to France, and stayed there for awhile. The movie came out, and it was very radical, as it graphically dramatized everything I had told my friends who were making the movie about my life, about the brothels and what I had experienced there, the different weirdos that frequented them, etc. The French government censored it, so it couldn't be shown in normal movie theatres. It was a big scandal, so everybody heard about it. In France, when they censor a movie, everybody wants to see it, so when it was finally allowed, it was very popular, even though it didn't get very good reviews from movie critics.
The making of this movie really helped me financially at this time. I wanted to return to India to continue my search, but I needed some money. I went to different magazines and told them I was the girl in the movie, and thus I was paid to write many magazine articles. A couple of editors wanted me to write a book. They usually gave authors a sum of money in advance, and one of them offered me quite a large sum to write my story. I told him I would write the book from India. After awhile I changed my mind, but this man said I didn't have to give the money back. With these funds I was able to return to India.
God's Intervention Kept Me from Heroin Use
I took a lot of drugs throughout those years, and I always had bad experiences. I would have horrible trips while on LSD, but I always shied away from shooting22 hard drugs like heroin. I now know the Lord was protecting me from it. Once He miraculously kept me from taking heroin: I was in Afghanistan, travelling overland from Iran to India, hitch-hiking and taking buses.
I had teamed up with two English boys who were both junkies23, taking heroin. I hardly knew them, but there was a real camaraderie24 amongst the hippies. We were staying in the same hotel room, and they were shooting heroin every day I was with them. I kept wondering if I was going to try it or not. They were both telling me not to try, not to start, because I wouldn't be able to stop.
One evening after they had both injected themselves with heroin, I decided I was going to do it. We didn't have a bathroom in our room, so I went out of the room to wash the needle under the tap in the communal bathroom, as I was going to use the same needle one of them had just used. However, just as I opened the door of our room, the owner of the hotel was standing there. Right away I put the needle behind my back, but he said, "I know exactly what you're doing."
He grabbed my arm and took the needle away! The two junkies were completely stoned and unaware of what was happening. He started to intimidate me, saying he was going to call the police. I couldn't figure out what he was getting at, because Afghanistan was the land of drugs! It seemed like every hippie on the face of the earth was going there to get drugs, so it should not have been a big thing.
Finally he said that if I agreed to have sex with him, then he wouldn't tell the police I was taking drugs. I was scared so I said okay. We made a deal that I would give him sex, but he didn't have time right then. I was really dumb, and just sat there waiting for him to call me.
The two junkies were horrified when they became aware of what had happened and said, "You can't do that!" I said, "That's OK. I don't want us to go to jail. I can do it." They said, "No, you can't! You're not a prostitute!" They were very sweet, and helped me pack my bags and sneaked me out of the hotel, even though it was kind of difficult for them to act normal as they were still stoned. They took me to a bus stop in the middle of the night. I waited until the early hours of the morning for the bus and got out of there.
The Lord had stopped me right in my tracks when I was going to start shooting heroin. In the spirit of despair that I was continually in, I would have become a junkie for sure. Once you're hooked on heroin, it's very difficult to get off.
Deepening Darkness--Then a Light of Love!
By that time I had stopped meditating because of all the dark experiences that I had when I meditated. I didn't know what I should do with my life. I started to travel all over India, searching out and meeting all the famous spiritual gurus who were there at the time. I met the Dalai Lama twice. Anyone who was a respected teacher--the Sai Baba and Rajneesh, to name a few--you name them, I met them.
I always asked them what was wrong with me and what I should do, but I never got any answers! Some didn't say anything. Others said my spiritual manifestations were good for me, and I was being purified. Some started teaching me yoga or their type of meditation. But whenever I tried to meditate I again fell back into these horrible howls, beating myself, and those same deep, dark experiences.
I could come out of these fits when they happened, but they were becoming more and more intense. I became aware that one day there would be a point of no return, when I wouldn't be able to pull myself back any more. The manifestations were getting more and more violent, so I decided to completely stop any meditation altogether. I started to work at spiritual retreats, helping with the organisational side of things, rather than meditating myself.
One time during this period I was in the Himalayan mountains organising retreats in two separate retreat houses. The people who participated in these retreats were young hippies of various nationalities. (They were sincere and searching youth, and later the Family won a lot of disciples there.)
After I'd been there for a few months and knew the way between the houses, I had to lead some people from one house to another. It was a dark path, with a cliff on one side. At one point, instead of turning right to go to the house, I turned left, fell down about 30 feet, and lost consciousness! It took some time for them to rescue me, because I had dropped so far and the face of the cliff was so steep. Finally they wrapped me in a sheet and pulled me up.
When I regained consciousness I had lost my memory. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what I was doing, or who anyone was.--I just didn't remember anything! It was a very scary experience because I had absolutely nothing to hold onto. I was like that for about half an hour. It seemed like a long time, and then my memory came back. Somebody said the universe had me in its arms. I should have died, but I didn't!
I then had a spiritual experience. I found myself in something that was like a cocoon of love. I suddenly felt I was loved! It was bright and light. It was understanding. It was wonderful! I felt completely secure, completely at peace. I felt loved like I had never been loved before. It was supernatural, and I knew it! I don't know how long it lasted, but then it faded away.
I didn't believe in God at this time. All this meditation is very intellectual--an intellectual process. I was taught that you don't need God, you don't need to believe in God. You apply the meditation techniques, you improve in them, and one day, they say, you'll snap into enlightenment25.--You'll merge with the "universal consciousness," and be part of the "one being," or whatever it is. But there is no Creator, or God of love. So I had no understanding or concept of God or faith until I had that experience. Then I realised that there was something spiritual, supernatural, and It was something good, something loving.
After that I had hepatitis and was in bed for three weeks, so I started to read books on faith, but Hindu faith. In Buddhism, faith is very much looked down upon. They say meditation is the highest way to spirituality, and faith is the lowest road to spirituality; you can somehow manage to elevate yourself a little bit through faith, but you can never reach enlightenment. In Buddhism, nobody wants to have faith.
Angry at Love and the Family!
During my travels, I had met the Family from time to time. I had always rejected them because I really didn't like them. I knew of the Family in France because they were very famous. At the time they were known as "Les Enfants de Dieu" (the Children of God) and had a music group. But I didn't like their music. To me they were not radical enough, and I felt they had compromised with the System.--That was the opinion of an extremist, a rebellious radical! I was also very self-righteous, and I just didn't want to hear anything about God or Jesus or love. I couldn't stand it when people tried to tell me about love, and I would get very angry at them when they tried.
The very first time I met members of the Family was in Spain, on the little island of Formentera (off the eastern coast of Spain). I was waiting for a bus on a lonely desert road, when suddenly a couple came and began talking to me about Jesus and the Bible. They were very sweet to me, but I blasted them. I was very bad and very mean to them, Lord forgive me!
I continued to bump into the Family from time to time, and each time I would have the same reaction. One time I was in a coffee shop in Bombay where a lot of hippies went. Everybody seemed to be unhappy, nobody had any light, and I was really looking for somebody who had some light and spirituality. Then two people came in with bright smiles on their faces, and it was just beautiful. I smiled at them, they smiled at me, and they came to my table. After a few minutes they started to talk about Jesus, and as soon as I heard that I was very mean to them and sent them away from my table. I didn't want to have anything more to do with them.
Another time I was in Katmandu, Nepal. (I remember all these incidents well, because the Lord highlighted them to me.) I saw a girl there who had a noticeable light on her face and a beautiful smile in her eyes. I smiled at her and she smiled at me and we started to talk. After a few minutes I looked at her and asked, "Are you with the Children of God?" When she said yes, I said I was sorry, but I didn't want anything to do with her!
Each time I bumped into them I had this strong initial attraction to them, but when they started talking about Jesus or love, I would close the door on them; I would get really angry and leave.
Everything I Was Looking For!
By this time, I had pretty much dropped out of Buddhism, and had started to have sex and take drugs again. I heard that you could make a lot of money in Japan doing live sex shows, having sex with somebody on stage. I decided to go for that, and was getting ready to leave for Japan.
In Katmandu there were many little coffee shops for hippies. When I smoked hash I'd always be ravenously hungry. These coffee shops had American snacks and would play very spacey rock music. I was tired of this, and wanted to hear live music, so when I walked by a restaurant and heard live music playing, it sounded really nice.
I was very stoned at that time. There were four of them: a drummer and two or three guitar players. They played and sang to me for about an hour. They were singing their hearts out to me, but as soon as they stopped playing I left, as I didn't want to speak with them. I was very, very proud.
The next day I was walking down the street in Katmandu, and I bumped into the singer. He didn't recognize me, but I recognized him. My first reaction was to walk away, but I heard a Voice telling me to go and talk with him. For some reason, as rebellious and proud as I was, I followed this Voice. I turned around, which was unheard of for someone as proud as I, and walked behind him and called him. As he turned around to see who it was, he recognized me.
We started to talk, and he invited me to come and have a cup of tea where they were living in their little apartment on that hippie street. I followed him, and right at the top of the stairs there was a big poster of "Les Enfants de Dieu." I said, "Oh no! Are you with those people?" He said that he was, so I said I was sorry, but I didn't want anything to do with them, and I left. But, God bless him, he ran after me and said, "Look. Don't be stupid. Just come. You were going to have a cup of tea." That pricked my pride a little bit, so I went to have a cup of tea.
He pulled out the Letter, "The Look of Love" and read it to me. I really fell for the spirit of love everybody had there, and that amazed me. I was very intellectual, and they were very simple. I had money, they didn't have anything. I had all these hip intellectual friends and was hobnobbing with the people from the French embassy who were all doctors and diplomats, but these guys were nobodies. I was well-dressed, a bit of a luxurious hippie at times, but they hardly had anything to wear. But they had so much love and conviction and happiness. It was so obvious that they had so much to give!
They had everything I had been looking for, but each time I would ask them about it, they would say it was from Jesus. I didn't want to have anything to do with Jesus, but I really fell in love with all of them. I would get up very early in the morning, jump on my bicycle and go to a French bakery to buy them croissants26, come to the Home for breakfast, and then I would leave. In the evening I would return and do dishes for them. I wanted to be with them, but I didn't want to be preached to. I just wanted to be their friend.
One evening Abner, the shepherd of the Home, was witnessing--explaining about faith--to a hippie, and I was helping him and agreeing with him. Then he asked the hippie if he wanted to pray to ask Jesus to come into his heart, and I said that it would be good for him and he should do that! I was so proud, telling others what they needed, but not admitting that I needed it, too! Then Abner turned to me and said, "What about you?" I couldn't say no in front of this boy, because of what I was telling him, so I prayed with them both! (I also prayed to ask Jesus into my life again later, just to be sure He knew I wanted Him, because I wasn't sure how sincere that first prayer had been!)
Freed from Meditation Monsters by Jesus!
After that, the Family tried to strengthen and encourage my new faith from the Bible and Letters, but I didn't want it. They said, "You come to our Home and bring us food, but we would like to share our spiritual food with you." I was honest with them and told them I didn't want to read or pray with them because I was scared. I explained why I stayed away from anything that was spiritual.--But their reaction surprised me! Abner just said, "Don't worry! Jesus can take care of it!" He had complete faith that it could be taken care of, and that Jesus was powerful enough to take care of me!
It was the first reaction I'd had like that, and I was amazed. I'd talked with many of the well-known spiritual teachers in the World at that time, and they hadn't been able to help me.--And now here were these little "nobodies" giving me the answers! I even kind of looked down on them, but they had so much faith and conviction that it gave me the faith to give it a try.
The first time I began to read the Word with them, it only took a few minutes before I had the strongest attack I'd ever had. My whole body went wild! My head was being thrown back and forth violently. (This sort of thing happens in mental hospitals a lot. I later came to believe that a demonic spirit was trying to break my neck.) My head was going all directions, and my arms were flailing about wildly. It took four of their boys to hold me down. One boy sat on me and held my arms, one held my head, and two held my legs. They prayed over me, but the attack went on. Nothing helped me.
This very strong attack continued, and this time I saw I couldn't stop it! I was almost delirious27 with fear! I yelled, "See, I told you it was going to happen!" That was the worst part--I had guarded myself against this for so long, and then I had trusted them, but now here it was!--My darkest fear was happening!
One of them said, "We can't help you with our prayers only.--You have to pray and rebuke the Enemy." He told me to repeat, "I rebuke you foul spirit, in Jesus' name!" I repeated that, and then my fit just stopped--right that second! I was totally astounded at the power of Jesus! That's what won me--the power of Jesus--and the love of the brothers and sisters!
Learning to Resist the Darkness!
For a long time it was very difficult for me to believe in the Love of Jesus, but I was convinced as to the power of Jesus. So I began believing more in Him personally, and began to study the Bible and MO Letters. I had recurring attacks for a few weeks after that, but I learned how to fight back. When I sensed an attack coming, I would leave the room and pray on my own. (We were not very accustomed to praying for each other at that time.) I would pray, rebuke it in Jesus' name, and fight it off. The attacks became less frequent until they were completely gone.
Even now, I can feel a weird sensation trying to bother me at times. Evil spirits are numerous, but I now know each of God's children who belong to Him have a protective hedge of Angels around about them. I just rebuke the evil in Jesus' name and it's gone.
After this remarkable deliverance--which was virtually an exorcism--I visited the Home more often. From the day I met them until I actually joined was only two weeks. They said I could join them on a trial period, so I moved in with my things, but after three days I was still smoking and doing my own thing, so they had a little meeting with me. They told me that I had tried Family life, and now I had to make a choice. If I decided to join full time, I would have to dedicate myself completely to the Lord and His service, leaving behind my old life and ways: If not, that was fine, we could still be friends, but I needed to make a choice.
It was a big decision for me, as I really didn't want to fully commit myself. I asked them to pray with me to ask the Lord to give me an answer. When we prayed together I heard this Voice, like a thundering voice in an echo chamber, saying "Stay! Stay! Stay!" It was very impressive, and it startled me!
I burst out in tears, and told them I was going to pray on my own and make my decision. I had never heard the Lord speak to me before.--It was a brand new thing and I just didn't know how to handle it. The Lord had delivered me from all that weirdness, and now this Voice was telling me to stay, and it all seemed so strange. When I went to pray on my own. I heard the same thing, "Stay! Stay!" I went back to the Family again, and asked them to pray with me, and it happened again! I finally realised the Lord was calling me, so I decided to become a full-time member.
On My Feet at Last--and Helping Others!
I was 27 years old, and very capable in some ways, but I was a big problem for them. Within the first couple of weeks after joining, I left three times. I didn't want to leave permanently, but I just wanted to go out and smoke dope, since this isn't allowed in the Family. I would be with a partner outside, and as soon as they were not looking, I would disappear, and go into one of those little cafs where hippies passed joints28. Then I would come back to the Home, completely stoned.
After the third time this happened, Abner waited until after I had come down a bit from the drugs, and had a talk with me. He was really sweet and matter-of-fact about it, and said, "Welcome back! I'm real happy that you came back, but I just wanted to let you know that this is the last time that you'll come back. Next time, when you leave, you don't have to come back. We can be friends, and you can come for dinner and fellowship, but you won't be able to live with us any more." I never left like that again!
I did continue to be somewhat of a "stretcher case" spiritually for a few years. I had a lot of drive, and I was experienced and could do many things, but then I would collapse spiritually very easily. I still had a rebellious streak in me, and was a big mess at times.
It was the Family's love and patience, the Lord's love, and Dad and Mama's love and patience for me also, that pulled me through. It took them years of showing me lots of tender loving care and patience, and manifesting a lot of faith in me, that one day I could stand responsibly on my own two feet, and be a help to others!
My happy new life is all to the credit of Jesus, Dad and Mama, and the Family!--They've made it all possible, and I'm so thankful! Thank You Jesus!
My Past in Retrospect
The Tormented Travels of a Runaway
Reading this, I wondered if some young people might think that in spite of all the torments, heartaches, and sufferings I had to go through, I didn't have it so bad.--I was really footloose and fancy-free, and had a good time. Yes, I did have a certain freedom, that of not having to answer to anyone for my actions, of being able to go where I wanted to go, and within certain boundaries, to do what I wanted to do. But the truth of the matter is that it was a very lonely, selfish, empty type of freedom, and it never satisfied. There was no purpose to it, no achievement in it, and I knew it.
I was travelling, but not even really enjoying my travels. There was so much fear, distrust, anguish and confusion in me that I just couldn't relax, or really appreciate anything. I remember one time in Nepal, in one of the most beautiful landscapes of the World, facing Mount Everest, I began crying bitterly because all this beauty didn't touch me. I wasn't feeling any pleasure or joy from it. It was all cold and empty.
Yes, I was able to do a lot of travelling, but I was not going anywhere, and not reaching any goals. I wasn't a pilgrim, I wasn't even a vagabond29. I was a runaway, on the run spiritually: running from my problems, running from the Lord, running from the System which I hated, running while trying to find answers, running and not knowing where, but always with a terrible feeling of anxiety. Fear seems to have been my motivating force all those years.
Friends and Lovers, Yet Empty and Alone!
I had few friends, and no real friends, as with my kind of freedom, I wasn't giving of myself or of anything else. I was living for myself, like most people in the World, and most "freaks" at that time, and no one else around me was really giving either. No one could really be trusted, even though the ideals of the hippies were very high compared to the System. Everyone still had a "me-first" attitude that choked out any real love.
My relationships with men were without love or communication, and without tenderness. When I would prostitute myself, I was being used by men more for their lust than for their physical needs. It was without any concern or love for me. I knew it, and the men were very blatant about it. All the prostitutes around me had reached a state of complete distrust and hatred for men, to where all they were interested in was their money, and in trying to cheat them. The way they talked about men among themselves was disgusting; the very name that they used for customers meant "dupe"30. It was war between them and the men, to see who could use and take advantage of the other the most.
I experienced having quite a lot of money with my rich System boyfriend, and we lived a jet set life.--But again, it was empty and without any lasting happiness or satisfaction, just seeking endlessly after our own personal and selfish pleasure and happiness.
We wanted sexual freedom and were living the "free sex" that was so popular in the World at that time: having sex indiscriminately31 with anyone we felt like, carelessly hurting others along the way, experimenting a lot with sex, going to organised orgies, "picking up" couples in the street to "swap mates," hiring prostitutes to have "threesomes," etc. Because having sex only for fleshly gratification leaves you hungry for more, and for different types of sex, we even got into different perversions, exploring to seek more satisfaction.
The End of My Friend's Selfish Freedom
I think the results of such a life, and this so-called freedom, can be summed up by what happened to my wealthy ex-boyfriend. Over the years since I have been in the Family I have stayed in contact with him, and have seen him a few times. He respected my choice and my stand for God, and I knew that the Lord was really on his trail too.
Twelve years ago, I visited France and I found him in a hospital where he had had heart surgery. At that time, he was studying in Rome with the Jesuits32 to become a priest. He confessed to having asked Jesus into his heart, and in his own words, admitted that when we were hippies together, he was a System hippie, and I was a revolutionary hippie.--And that now, I was the revolutionary Christian, and he was the System Christian, feeling unable to do things outside of the System norms. But nothing in his life had changed, and to my surprise and dismay, next to his hospital bed were the same pornographic magazines which he used to read when we were together.
Two years ago I saw him again when I went to France for a brief visit. He had dropped out of trying to become a priest, and was continuing his old jet set life. He told me about his prostitute friends, and I warned him that times had changed because of AIDS; he couldn't be so light with his life and his sex life any more, as it had become too dangerous. He laughed and didn't take me seriously. He was very numb spiritually, and completely into himself.
My Empty "Freedoms" in Exchange for God's Service!
A few months ago, I went back to France, and again I phoned him. He sounded quite low on the phone, and when I asked him how he was, he answered, "I have AIDS, I am dying." As I witnessed to him, I was touched to see that there has been a marked change in him for the better, and it has given me a peace and conviction that God is working a meaningful plan in his life, but it was still quite a shock. This is probably what would have happened to me as well, had I not yielded to the Lord when He reached out to me, and had I not traded my so-called "freedoms" for His service.
When I joined the Family, it was, in fact, very difficult for me to submit myself to a disciplined lifestyle and the Lord's guidance in my life. I was already 27, and had never submitted to anyone at all. I was an independent, proud and rebellious woman. But I knew the Family had what I wanted, and what I had been searching for for so long: joy, love, freedom of the spirit, the ability to give unselfishly, and Jesus!
My story is like that of the little girl who was letting go of her rag doll (the freedom of this World that I had been holding onto for so long), in order to reach out to receive the beautiful living dove of His Spirit descending from above. It was not easy; it was, in fact, a transformation that took years, but it was well worth it. I'm so thankful to Jesus!
Glossary for Young Readers
(Definitions compiled from the World Book, and Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary)
1 nominal: in name only
2 contingent: dependent on; conditional
3 garter belt: a band or strap to hold up a stocking
4 make out with: slang meaning to neck, pet (U.S.)
5 avid: eager about something
6 penance: a punishment borne to show sorrow for sin and to obtain pardon
7 Nietzsche, Friedrich (1844-1900): German philosopher who criticized religion and Christianity, claiming "God is dead"
8 philosophy: an explanation or theory of the universe, a system or set of principles for guiding life and conduct
9 psychoanalysis: a method for treating mental illness begun by Sigmund Freud, who believed mental disorders are cured by uncovering a patient's subconscious wishes and fears
10 occult: witchcraft; Devil worship
11 metaphysics: the branch of philosophy that tries to explain existence and reality, especially things that can't be measured in the physical. Loosely applied to anything abstract, philosophical, magical or occult.
12 Freud, Sigmund (1856-1939): Austrian who influenced much of modern psychiatry and theorized that subconscious motives (particularly sexual impulses) control human behaviour
13 frigid: lacking warmth of feeling; very tense and unable to attain orgasm
14 perverted: turned away from the right way; distorted; misguided
15 thesis: essay or written report presented by a student for a diploma or university degree
16 frugal: saving, not wasteful
17 ashram: a Hindu retreat for meditation
18 guru: (Hinduism) a religious teacher or spiritual guide
19 master: a spiritual teacher
20 karma: (in Buddhism and Hinduism) all the acts, thoughts and words of one's life, which are supposed to determine a person's fate in his next life
21 vermin: small animals such as fleas, lice, bedbugs, rats or mice, which are troublesome and destructive
22 shooting: slang for injecting a narcotic drug directly into a vein
23 junkie: slang for a drug addict
24 camaraderie: friendliness and loyalty among friends or acquaintances
25 enlightenment: in Buddhism, the state in which the individual is said to transcend (rise above) the mind and body and attain "nirvana," the Buddhist idea of heavenly peace
26 croissants: light bread rolls shaped like crescents, originating in France
27 delirious: out of one's senses for a short time; wildly excited
28 joint: slang for a marijuana cigarette
29 vagabond: an idle wanderer, tramp
30 dupe: a person who is being deluded or tricked
31 indiscriminately: not distinguishing carefully between persons or things
32 Jesuits: members of the Society of Jesus, an elite Roman Catholic order of priests, known to be very liberal
Copyright (c) 1998 by The Family