The need for connection and transcendence is real. So is the way harmful groups exploit it. See the red flags before you’re in too deep.
My husband likes to listen to the news on speakerphone. I often enter a room in a good mood, catch a snippet of mainstream media, and leave in a bad one. Rape, shootings, politics, war … it’s enough to make me want to get myself to a nunnery.
But I sort of did that already. In my early 20s, I spent over a year at a Hindu ashram, a place for spiritual study, on a path called Siddha Yoga. The mostly positive experience steeped me in yoga, chanting, and meditation. When I feel uncentered, I still do them.
My husband also likes cult documentaries. We’ve streamed boatloads of unhinged stories about fake yoga practices, narcissistic spiritual teachers, and abusive religions. Each reminds me that my ashram experience, despite being useful, was very culty. If I came across Siddha Yoga today, I would walk away.
That makes me a little sad. Not because I want people to be in cults, but because everyone I talk to is also overwhelmed and disoriented; many are lonely, and some feel spiritually adrift—states that good wellness groups can alleviate. But that’s the rub: our need for connection and transcendence also makes us vulnerable to harmful groups.
The Perils of Transition
When I found Siddha Yoga, I had just graduated college after majoring in theater (not great for job security!), was going through a breakup, and had a nasty inner critic. I didn’t know the anxiety and depression I felt were normal human emotions for someone in a major life transition.
Transitions can be fraught. Rachel Bernstein, LMFT, host of the “IndoctriNation” podcast, said, “When people are sent off balance, they look for something to rebalance.” In this state of flux, Bernstein suggested, a spiritual path might falsely promise, “If you follow these steps, you will remain safe.” So I wonder: Is it even possible to pursue spiritual and personal growth in a group setting and actually remain safe?
Definitions Help
In her book, The Culting of America (with Amy Reed), cult expert Daniella Mestyanek Young, also known as the Knitting Cult Lady, cites 10 factors that define a cult. Siddha Yoga met about half: a charismatic leader, a transcendent mission, a private vernacular (aka jargon), the sublimation of individuality, and exploitative labor practices.
At the ashram, I worked as a swami’s assistant, office manager, workshop creator, and more, in exchange for room, board, and a small stipend. Since I was encouraged to stay in contact with my friends and family, and there were no “exit costs” (no one stopped me from leaving), I refer to my involvement as a near-cult experience, although for many, it was a cult. Tragically, my teacher’s guru, who had died by the time I arrived, sexually abused young female devotees. My teacher, though she helped me grow, has also been accused of mistreatment.
If mindfulness, meditation, a sacred community, or a self-improvement group could help you feel better, you can engage with your eyes open. My first piece of advice? Start slowly.
Go Slow. Know Your Dealbreakers.
I was taken to a Siddha Yoga Center on a date. While the chanting and meditation soothed me, seeing people bow down to a picture of a guru made me cringe. But watching my date kneel and touch his head gently to the floor, I teared up. He modeled tenderness and respect, qualities I struggled to find within myself.
I didn’t think I’d go back, and I didn’t for more than a year. When my life started spiraling, I tried some of the practices and was amazed by their effectiveness. I wanted to be around people who got it.
I didn’t move into the ashram until I’d been involved for two years. It looked crazy, and some of it was, but the path felt right for me. Going slow helped me see some of what I didn’t like. But I had no clear dealbreakers—a list of issues to watch out for. Tenku Ruff, a Zen Buddhist priest who heads a temple in Beacon, N.Y., lays out red flags for seekers: if the current leader is or has been accused of having sex with their students; if the organization charges ghastly fees for next-level courses; if there’s no ethics statement (ask to see one), and if the teacher is only accountable to themselves, rather than a committee or board. Evaluate the information that’s out there and, Ruff recommends, “key into your own intuition.”
Manipulative Leaders and Groupthink
Intuition, however, can be difficult to access under the sway of a highly charismatic leader. When I was near my guru, my projection onto her as all-knowing, combined with her very real meditative charm, made me feel stoned. People became tongue-tied around her and followed her around like hungry puppies to be in her presence. Back then, those behaviors were evidence of her enlightenment. Today, they would signal danger.
I did find the courage to ask questions, which Mestyanek Young said is essential. “Folks should carefully watch how their questions are treated, especially when they are new to a group. Are they being given thoughtful answers, or being shut down and told this is the way the group does things?” she said.
Early on, I asked someone close to the guru why people bowed down to a picture on a chair. “It’s a metaphor for placing your heart above your head. It helps you relax into your higher self,” she said. I wasn’t shamed for asking, but I was given the party line (which I bought).
Ethical teachers are out there, and they may have useful recommendations. But know the difference between suggestions and orders: when they start telling you what to do next, you’re in the orbit of a controlling leader.
Don’t Work So Hard
Mestyanek Young believes that the exploitation of labor is a top feature of cults.
But volunteering for Siddha Yoga, particularly at free meditation evenings, felt like a satisfying way to give back. It’s not that you shouldn’t contribute, Mestyanek Young advised, but “keep a close eye on how much labor (free or otherwise) you are giving to any group, and most importantly, make sure you are not devoting 100% to any person, place, thing, or idea.”
Know When to Fold
When I felt ready to leave the ashram, I was terrified. I had built a career: teaching courses, writing, living a purposeful life. The pros and cons of leaving spun round and round in my brain until I finally went to a dark room known as the meditation cave and sat there until I heard my truth: It’s time to go. Ironically, meditation—the main practice I’d honed at the ashram—helped me leave it.
The longer you stay in an organization and the closer you get to the inner circle, the more exposed you are to abuse and dysfunction. I was lucky. I got in and got out with the goods before encountering harm.
Thirty-plus years later, ever since the pandemic, I meet monthly with a couple of Siddha friends to chant and meditate. Afterward, I feel as though I’ve finally cleaned my glasses. Then, we do a deep catch-up over a homemade lunch. It’s soul-nourishing.
I believe in the power of getting together with others to go within. There’s a time for concentrated practice, and even for teachers. I just don’t believe in bowing down to another human. Ever.
