All of them, those in power, and those who want the power, would pamper us, if we agreed to overlook their crookedness by wilfully restricting our activities.
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left after 12 years. Authored four books.
Library: “Margery Wakefield”
I began to complain to the C/S, and was then given a series of "reviews" which were supposed to remedy the problem.
Meanwhile, when I was not in session, I volunteered to work in the juice bar in the dining room, making up exotic fruit shakes for other guests who would come into the lounge between sessions to relax.
I had arrived in Clearwater in November of 1979. We struggled through the auditing until late January of 1980. Nothing was going well.
When the auditor told me to close my eyes and be out of my head and look around, I simply told her that I couldn't see anything. I wasn't able to "exteriorize." I kept saying, "The tech's not working." Like the story of the Emperor's New Clothes, this was the one thing you were never supposed to say about Hubbard's "tech."
I felt terribly guilty about the money. As the $16,000 dwindled away, I became more and more desperate.
"MAKE MONEY. MAKE MONEY. MAKE MORE MONEY. MAKE OTHER PEOPLE PRODUCE SO AS TO MAKE MONEY."
Hubbard was probably one of the, if not the, most successful con men that ever lived. He was able to convince thousands of people to sell their homes, liquidate their assets, and give everything they had to him, in exchange for the questionable commodity of spiritual salvation for eternal lifetimes to come. And not only did they buy it, but they bought it fully believing they had made the best of the bargain.
15. I consider myself to have been an average Scientologist in the performance of these and other duties for the G.O. In one other case, I was included in a meeting where two murders were planned by Scientology personnel, and I was at that time in agreement with everything I heard planned in the meeting.
I knew the answer. Hubbard was not worthy of godhood. Not any more. Strangely and miraculously, having made my choice, one night I suddenly snapped out of the hypnotic trance I had been in for twelve years. I literally woke up, as if an invisible hypnotist had snapped invisible fingers. And I knew from that moment that I would never return to Scientology. A decision began to emerge. I would, I decided, return to Florida to talk with the attorney to whom I had been referred by the lawyer in Boston. Over the ensuing weeks, this resolve hardened into action.