Breuer: You've said that hypersensitivity is a major weakness in society, but it seems to me that lack of sensitivity is a much greater weakness.
Aran: [laughing] Lack of sensitivity is a weakness. But consider how many people are afraid of learning, of doing, of expressing their opinions, because they're afraid of criticism, and especially of scorn. This is particularly true of children. And how much criticism results from hypersensitivity to imperfectionsand perceived imperfectionsin other people! And in public and private agencies! I'm talking about intolerance nowoften chronic intoleranceof modest flaws. That's a major weakness in society all by itself.
Breuer: But isn't the alternative a fatal permissiveness of poor performance and malfeasance?
Aran: If carried to extremes. But what levels of performance can we appropriately require? From the viewpoints of tidiness, of efficiency, of communication, of loving each otherfrom those viewpointswe're an imperfect species in an imperfect world. Let me repeat: an imperfect species in an imperfect world. Our most precise and perfect sciencetool, field of learningis mathematics. But when applied to the real world, even math has a wealth of imperfections. How much more true that is of such imprecise activities as parenting, teaching, business, governmentand evaluating people!
This doesn't mean you shouldn't try to improve things. What it does mean is not being hypercritical. It means being compassionate, instead of attacking or ridiculing people for perceived flaws, which may, after all, exist largely or entirely in the eye of the beholder. And when pointing out demonstrable shortcomings, it means being mild, factual, and constructive, not scathing or scornful.
Compassion, incidentally, is not the same thing as pity, though they sometimes resemble each other superficially.
Breuer: Okay, I see what you're getting at. But surely you don't imagine people will stop scathing and ridiculing others.
Aran: Not entirely, and not all at once. But I do imagine scathing and ridiculing becoming much less, as people become aware of them as harmful. And especially as they grow in lovein love of themselves and one another.
From the first appearance of
Ngunda Elija Aran on
Conversations with Warren Breuer
The word had been passed two days earlier: A team from CNN would arrive at the Cote to tape a special on Millennium. A chartered shuttle-copter from Pueblo landed shortly before 9 a.m., and a CNN production van pulled in minutes later.
The crew scattered almost on arrival, different people looking at different aspects of Millennium's headquarters' operations. At noon, cameras even recorded families eating in the staff dining room.
At lunch, Lee's daughters, especially Raquel, were full of a camera team's late morning visit at school. It had recorded classes in operation, and interviewed several children. One team had recorded an exchange of questions and answers between Raquel and a teacher, Mrs. Lundgren. Then it had visited with Raquel alone, which Becca said demonstrated the attraction sages had for public exposure.
A Ms. Thomas visited Lee's office at 2:10, accompanied by two cameramen. Meryl Thomas was darker than many African-Americans. Perhaps forty years old, she was tall, slender, stylish, and sure of herself. She suggested that Lee call her Meryl, and asked intelligent questions without being confrontational.
To Lee it was obvious that Thomas had been well briefed in advance. By Anne Whistler, she supposed. She herself had been given several areas to avoid discussing, but beyond that was constrained only by professional ethics.
The experience wasn't bad at all, but when Thomas and her camera team left at 2:50, Lee was glad to see them go.
At 4:20, Lor Lu stopped by. "How was it?" he asked.
"Better than I'd expected."
"Ah. And what did you think of Meryl Thomas?"
"Intelligent. Able. Courteous! I liked her as well as I would anyone under the circumstances."
"Good. She's asked to interview some staff families in their homes, and I agreed to let her pick two, one each evening. Subject to their agreement, of course. She wants to do yours: you, Ben, and the girls."
Lee's face registered her dislike of the idea.
"You don't have to do it," he went on. His easy gaze never let her go. "It's your choice. I've asked Ben, and he said fine if you're willing. I presume the girls are willing." He laughed. "Raquel could occupy a team by herself."
When he left, Lee couldn't quite remember how it had happened, but she'd said yes. They were to expect a camera team at 7:30. She looked forward to it uneasily, and called Ben to let him know. They decided to eat supper in the staff dining room.
Lee didn't eat much. She felt somehow threatened, though how and by what she didn't know.
The team arrived at 7:30, and by 7:35 all four Shoreffs were seated in the living room with Meryl Thomas. She addressed them one at a time, beginning with Becca.
"I understand you just arrived here a month ago. How do you like school on the Ranch?"
"A lot," Becca answered. "I like my teachers a lot, and the other kids, and my classes. I've always liked school, but I like this one best."
"What do you especially like about it?"
"You really learn things here. Where we came from, I was in a class for gifted kids"Lee noticed she didn't name her old school, and Meryl Thomas didn't ask"and the ordinary classes here are at least as . . . tough's not the word, or demanding. Maybe requiring. I'd just started trigonometry there, but here, lots of kids take it in fifth grade, some in the fourth. I'm in the sixth. I don't think anyone here gets through the sixth without it."
Thomas turned to Raquel. "What do you like about it here, Raquel? Or dislike?"
"I don't dislike anything about it. It's fun! One of the things I'm taking is human geography, that they didn't even have in grade school, backwhere we came from. And the teachers know how to help by asking questions that make you realize stuff.
"And I really really like book discussion class. We've just started on the Life of Socrates. He's really interesting! And after school, the older kids can get Life Healing. Becca's old enough now, and we're working on Mom for permission. In January, when I'm ten, I'll be old enough, too, and if Becca gets to, then I will. And . . ." She paused. "I better stop and let other people talk. I forget to sometimes. I'm an old sage in passion mode, with a goal of growth. We tend to talk too much."
Thomas laughed. "I think you're neat, Raquel, and you really helped me feel what it's like."
After that, Meryl Thomas talked mainly with Lee and Ben, until 8:30, when the hour was up. Before she left, she told Lee she'd like to talk with her privately, off camera. "I have questions not appropriate for this interview, second thoughts that developed after our talk this afternoon. There's a small coffee shop in the visitors' lodge. We can have a degree of privacy there. Our conversation will be off the record." She grinned. "You can ask me questions, if you'd like."
Lee usually had good presence, even when she was disturbed, and she knew it. Also, she almost always handled herself well one-on-one, though the realization never seemed to protect her much from advance nervousness. But this invitation felt somehow dangerousand it was with surprise tinged with dismay that she found herself agreeing again.
She rode in the production van with Thomas. It dropped them off at the visitors' lodge, and before they went in, Thomas paused, looking upward. "The sky here is unbelievable," she said quietly. "I've never seen so many stars. It's the lack of city lights, I guess, and the elevation. The thin air."
They went inside. Lee had never been in the visitors' lodge before. A single employee was tending the softly-lit coffee shop. "Our team is most of the visitors they have in this building just now," Thomas said.
She led Lee to a window table. A minute later the waitress came over and took their orders. Thomas asked for low-fat lemon cheesecake and an herb tea, Lee a dinner salad and decaf. For a moment they disagreed over who would pay, but Thomas prevailed. "You're here as a courtesy to me," she said, "and I'm on an expense account."
She paused. "You're wondering why I asked you. After our interview this afternoon, I talked with Lor Lu about my interviews, and told him you were different than the others. I couldn't put my finger on what it was though, so I asked him. Do you know what he said?"
Lee smiled slightly. "He probably told you to ask me."
Thomas laughed. "Exactly." Her face became suddenly intent. "What is the difference? Between you and the others."
"I suppose it's that they're true believers, most of them at least. They believe in Mr. Aran, in what he says, and they probably believe he's . . . whatever it is he's supposed to be. I've never heard it said here."
"Interesting. Are you uncomfortable with that?"
"A little. Sometimes. The people are remarkably easy to work with. Smart, and with very good attitudes. I like all of them I've met, without exception, including Mr. Aran. But the things they seem to believe . . ." She shrugged.
The waiter arrived, set their orders on the table, then left. Both women began to eat, Lee poking fitfully at her salad, afraid she'd said something she shouldn't have. By contrast, Thomas ate with evident enjoyment, taking small bites and savoring them.
After a couple of minutes she asked, "Why did you come here if you have misgivings? Clearly you do."
Lee nodded. "I like the job and the challenge. And my office. And in these times I especially like the money; they pay me well."
"I suppose they do. Lor Lu says your job is quite important, and that you're very good at it."
"He's right."
"What does your husband think of all this?"
"He likes it unreservedly. I think he believes. Or maybe it's more that he doesn't actually disbelieve. He's been interested in New Age philosophies since before we met. We've been together nearly five years."
"And your daughters believe?"
Instead of answering aloud, Lee simply nodded.
"It's that bad, is it?"
"Merylif it weren't for the girls, I'd love working here. But they're children. I'd never have brought them into a cult environment if my consulting business hadn't basically died. We were seriously in debt, our home was being foreclosed on, and neither Ben nor I were having any luck finding work. So when this opportunity found us, it seemed we had no choice. I mean, they wanted both of us! Ben and me!"
Thomas frowned. "So the problem seems to be that your daughters believe. How bad is that, actually?"
"It's a cult, Meryl, and my children are becoming part of it. They may grow out of it, but for now . . ."
"What makes it a cult?"
For a moment the question stalled Lee's mental processes. "It'sthe things they say. That they believe."
"And what are those?"
"Oh, past lives. And things like Raquel was talking about to you this eveningthat she's an old sage in passion mode. Passion mode, for god's sake! She's only a child!"
Meryl Thomas's dark eyes were intent now, seeming to gleam. "What does that mean: old sage? And passion mode?"
Lee looked blankly at her. "I . . . don't know. Some cultist thing."
"Wait a minute. Let's see if I've got this straight. Things like 'old sage' and 'passion mode' make it a cultist thing. But how can you know that if you don't know what 'old sage' and 'passion mode' mean? And as for past lives, two of the world's oldest and largest religions believe in themas well as a lot of mainstream Americans. 'Try this out, see how it feels.' Instead of 'true believers,' think of the Millennium people as dedicated to what they consider as helping."
She paused, waiting. When Lee didn't respond, she continued. "What church did you grow up in?"
"Evangelical Reformed. It's pretty strict, I'm afraid."
"And they taught you . . . ?"
"About heaven and hell, and Jesus . . . The usual."
"Those are pretty far out, aren't they? And what does Ngunda teach?"
Lee sank inwardly. "I don't know," she answered, realizing that her WebWorld search had avoided that part of it. She'd told herself it was irrelevant. She realized now she'd been afraid to know.
"Maybe your fears are worse than the reality."
Lee didn't answer. It occurred to her she should be angry at this black woman who was exposing her to herself.
Thomas reached, and lay a hand on one of Lee's. "My dear, I've horned in where I have no business being, and I apologize. It's a characteristic of mine, I'm afraid. I'm a mature scholar in agression mode. Now it's time for you to ask me questions."
Lee sat unspeaking. Mature scholar. Aggression mode. Ordinarily she'd feel betrayed by this woman. Angry. Instead she felt somehow defeated. Defeated beyond redemption.
"Well then," Thomas went on, "I'll volunteer some things. I grew up in Arlensville, Maryland, in one of the projects. I never knew my father. But we weren't as bad off as lots were, because my mom had a decent job, and my grandparents lived in the same building. They looked after me when Mom was at work. I grew up in the Methodist Church, and learned some strange things there that all in all did me more good than harm. A lot more, I think; I've never tried to sort it out. I've got an older brother who's a career Marine NCO, a gunnery sergeant. After the third grade, my granddad home-schooled me. He'd been a teacher, but he quit to look after me, and worked nights at the post office. I took journalism at William and Mary, on a scholarship. I was married once, a disaster, and haven't cared to try again. And I'm in aggression mode, as I mentioned. Overall it's stood me in good stead, but it's a considerably mixed blessing.
"And actually I arrived here knowing quite a bit about Millennium, in a tangential sort of waymore than routine preproduction research would tell me. I did a piece on Ladder, two years ago, at White River, Arizona, on the Fort Apache Reservation. The piece got a lot of favorable attention, and impressed my bosses. That's why they were so ready to approve this one.
"And Ladder really impressed me. Enough that afterward I got Millennium's Abilities Release processing in Atlanta, the whole procedure."
She paused, squeezed Lee's hand. "I'm sorry, but I seem to have totally blown this conversation. I betrayed your trust, which I shouldn't have. It was arrogant; arrogance is my chief negative feature. It's a lot weaker than it used to be, but right when I least expect it, snap! It grabs and runs with me."
Lee's mouth was a thin and bitter line, and she didn't meet Thomas's eyes. "I need to go home now," she said stiffly. "Ben will be wondering about me."
"Of course. I'll be right back, with keys to the van."
She returned within three minutes. Neither talked on the short drive back to the Shoreff home, but Thomas walked Lee to her porch, then stood with her hands on the white woman's arms. "Lee," she said, "just know that I respect and admire you, as a mother, wife, professional, and person. You're quality, a class act."
Then she turned and left.
Lee said little to Ben, except that she was getting a headache, a fiction she'd never resorted to before. Then she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him to put the girls to bed. When he came in, an hour later, she was still awake, memory loops old and recent cycling sluggishly, fruitlessly through her mind. She did not turn to sex for consolation, as she commonly did when troubled. She was sunken in apathy, that lowest and darkest of moods, where it seems that nothing will help. Consolation felt out of reach, and Ben seemed to know it, for when he lay down, he simply murmured, "Healing dreams, sweetheart," and very lightly kissed her cheek. Then he closed his own eyes, and soon slept. As eventually she would, a healing sleep deeper than her apathy, and busy with dreams that would not be remembered even vaguely. When she got up in the morning, a scalding shower and scalding coffee soon had her fit for work, though she was more indrawn than usual.