Papa J and the UHC were now openly described as the world’s best hope. Though Wace hadn’t appeared since the first dinner, Robin knew he was still present at the farm because church members made frequent mention of the fact in hushed, reverent voices. The infrequency of his appearances seemed to fuel rather than quench his followers’ adoration. Robin assumed he was holed up in the farmhouse, eating separately from the mass of members who, in spite of the church’s stated allegiance to organically produced and ethically sourced food, ate meals largely composed of cheap dehydrated noodles, with small amounts of protein coming in the form of processed meat and cheese.
On Wednesday morning, Mazu Wace, who unlike her husband was often to be seen gliding through the courtyard, conducted a joint session in the temple with Fire Group and Wood Group. A circle of lacquered chairs had been placed on the central pentagon-shaped stage, and when all had taken their seats, Mazu gave a brief speech about the need for spiritual death and rebirth which, she said, could only take place once past pain and delusion had been accepted, healed or renounced. She then invited the group members to share injustices or cruelties perpetuated on them by family members, partners or friends.
After some prompting, people began to volunteer their stories. A young member of Wood Group called Kyle, who was thin and nervy-looking, gave a detailed account of his father’s furious reaction on hearing that his son was gay. As he told the group how his mother had sided with her husband against him, he broke down and cried. The rest of the group murmured support and sympathy while Mazu sat in silence, and when Kyle had finished his story, she summarised it while eradicating any words relating to familial relationships, substituting the terms ‘flesh object’ and ‘materialist possession’, then said,
‘Thank you for being brave enough to share your story, Kyle. Pure spirits are untouchable by materialist harms. I wish you a hasty death of the false self. When that’s gone, your hurt and your suffering will depart, also.’
One by one, the other group members began to talk. Some were clearly struggling with profound hurt caused by outside relationships, or the lack of them, but Robin couldn’t avoid the suspicion that some were dredging up and even exaggerating trauma, so as to fit in better with the group. When invited by Mazu to contribute, Robin told the story of her cancelled wedding and her family’s disappointment, and admitted that her fiancé’s abandonment had left her bereft, particularly as she’d given up her job to go travelling with him once they were husband and wife.
Those in the circle, many of whom were already tearful after sharing their own stories, offered commiseration and sympathy, but Mazu told Robin that placing importance on professions was to connive at systems of control perpetuated within the bubble world.
‘A sense of identity based on jobs, or any of the trappings of the bubble world, is inherently materialist,’ she said. ‘When we firmly reject the cravings of the ego and begin nourishing the spirit, hurts disappear and the true self can emerge, a self that will no longer care if flesh objects pass out of its life.’
Mazu turned last to a skinny girl with a heart-shaped face who’d remained conspicuously silent. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and her legs were crossed, the upper foot hooked behind her lower.
‘Would you like to share with the group how you’ve suffered through materialist possession?’
In a voice that shook slightly, the girl replied:
‘I haven’t suffered anything.’
Mazu’s dark, crooked eyes contemplated her.
‘Nothing at all?’
‘No, nothing.’
Robin judged the girl to be in her late teens. Her face was reddening slightly under the censorious scrutiny of the circle.
‘My family’s never done me any harm,’ she said. ‘I know some people here have had really awful things happen to them, but I haven’t. I haven’t,’ she repeated, with a shrug of her stiff shoulders.
Robin could feel the group’s animosity towards the girl as surely as if they’d declared it openly, and willed her not to speak again, to no avail.
‘And I don’t think it’s right to call, like, parents loving their kids “materialist possession”,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think it is.’
Several group members, including Amandeep, now spoke up at once. Mazu intervened, and gestured to Amandeep to continue alone.
‘There’s a power dynamic in all conventional family structures,’ he said. ‘You can’t deny there isn’t coercion and control, even if it’s well intentioned.’
‘Well, little children need boundaries,’ said the girl.
Most of the group now spoke up simultaneously, some of them clearly angry. Vivienne, the girl with spiky black hair who was usually at pains to sound as working class as possible, spoke loudest, and others fell silent to let her carry on.
