Cult Fit Quotes

The cult of friendship disturbs me. It's like our quality is supposed to be measured by the number of friends we have. For me, it's quite the inverse. When somebody says "I'm friends with everyone" I just assume they have the spine of your average jellyfish and the integrity of your average soap dish. "I have tons of close friends!" Ok, then you obviously have no standards. "I've slept with lots of people!" Good, I will shake your hand from inside this Hazmat suit. It's like you have to have friends or you're nothing, and you gotta have lots of friends, and the more friends you have the more value you have. This Is a way of lowering our standards to fit in. I'm a big fan of quality over quantity. Everyone wants to look at their life like it's a beer commercial they can just climb into. The larger the circle of friends the more alcohol is involved to blind yourself to the fact that you cant stand most of these assholes.

Couples are jigsaw puzzles that hang together by touching in just enough points. They’re never total fits or misfits. In time, a pair invents its own commonwealth, complete with anthems, rituals, and lingos—a cult of two with fallible gods.

Above all: only grant the suspicion that sport is a pastime for the most stupid as much space as it deserves, do not misuse it as a pretext to drift further in your customary state of self-neglect, distrust the philistine in yourself who thinks you are just fine as you are! Hear the voice from the stone, do not resist the call to get in shape! Seize the chance to train with a god!

I just think of people," she continued, "whether they seem right where they are and fit into the picture. I don't mind if they don't do anything. I don't see why they should; in fact it always astonishes me when anybody does anything." "You don't want to do anything?" "I want to sleep." -Gloria Gilbert "Once upon a time all the men of mind and genius in the world became of one belief--that is to say, of no belief. But it wearied them to think that within a few years after their death many cults and systems and prognostications would be ascribed to them which they had never meditated nor intended. So they said to one another: "'Let's join together and make a great book that will last forever to mock the credulity of man. Let's persuade our more erotic poets to write about the delights of the flesh, and induce some of our robust journalists to contribute stories of famous amours. We'll include all the most preposterous old wives' tales now current. We'll choose the keenest satirist alive to compile a deity from all the deities worshipped by mankind, a deity who will be more magnificent than any of them, and yet so weakly human that he'll become a byword for laughter the world over--and we'll ascribe to him all sorts of jokes and vanities and rages, in which he'll be supposed to indulge for his own diversion, so that the people will read our book and ponder it, and there'll be no more nonsense in the world. "'Finally, let us take care that the book possesses all the virtues of style, so that it may last forever as a witness to our profound scepticism and our universal irony.' "So the men did, and they died. "But the book lived always, so beautifully had it been written, and so astounding the quality of imagination with which these men of mind and genius had endowed it. They had neglected to give it a name, but after they were dead it became known as the Bible." -Maury Noble

Eventually, I trained myself not to speak that way because I didn’t want people to single me out. I wanted to fit in other places, not just where I grew up. That’s why I now sound like an Ohio weatherman—neutral, friendly, and almost fully recovered after escaping that cult.

This omnipresent cult of the body is extraordinary. It is the only object on which everyone is made to concentrate, not as a source of pleasure, but as an object of frantic concern, in the obsessive fear of failure or substandard performance, a sign and an anticipation of death, that death to which no one can any longer give a meaning, but which everyone knows has at all times to be prevented. The body is cherished in the perverse certainty of its uselessness, in the total certainty of its non-resurrection. Now, pleasure is an effect of the resurrection of the body, by which it exceeds that hormonal, vascular and dietetic equilibrium in which we seek to imprison it, that exorcism by fitness and hygiene. So the body has to be made to forget pleasure as present grace, to forget its possible metamorphosis into other forms of appearance and become dedicated to the utopian preservation of a youth that is, in any case, already lost. For the body which doubts its own existence is already half-dead, and the current semi-yogic, semi-ecstatic cult of the body is a morbid preoccupation. The care taken of the body while it is alive prefigures the way it will be made up in the funeral home.

If you’re going to build a strong culture, it’s paramount to make diversity one of your core values. This is what separates Bridgewater’s strong culture from a cult: The commitment is to promoting dissent. In hiring, instead of using similarity to gauge cultural fit, Bridgewater assesses cultural contribution.* Dalio wants people who will think independently and enrich the culture. By holding them accountable for dissenting, Dalio has fundamentally altered the way people make decisions. In a cult, core values are dogma. At Bridgewater, employees are expected to challenge the principles themselves. During training, when employees learn the principles, they’re constantly asked: Do you agree? “We have these standards that are stress tested over time, and you have to either operate by them or disagree with them and fight for better ones,” explains Zack Wieder, who works with Dalio on codifying the principles. Rather than deferring to the people with the greatest seniority or status, as was the case at Polaroid, decisions at Bridgewater are based on quality. The goal is to create an idea meritocracy, where the best ideas win. To get the best ideas on the table in the first place, you need radical transparency. Later, I’m going to challenge some of Dalio’s principles, but first I want to explain the weapons he has used to wage a war on groupthink.

Many things in this period have been hard to bear, or hard to take seriously. My own profession went into a protracted swoon during the Reagan-Bush-Thatcher decade, and shows scant sign of recovering a critical faculty—or indeed any faculty whatever, unless it is one of induced enthusiasm for a plausible consensus President. (We shall see whether it counts as progress for the same parrots to learn a new word.) And my own cohort, the left, shared in the general dispiriting move towards apolitical, atonal postmodernism. Regarding something magnificent, like the long-overdue and still endangered South African revolution (a jagged fit in the supposedly smooth pattern of axiomatic progress), one could see that Ariadne’s thread had a robust reddish tinge, and that potential citizens had not all deconstructed themselves into Xhosa, Zulu, Cape Coloured or ‘Eurocentric’; had in other words resisted the sectarian lesson that the masters of apartheid tried to teach them. Elsewhere, though, it seemed all at once as if competitive solipsism was the signifier of the ‘radical’; a stress on the salience not even of the individual, but of the trait, and from that atomization into the lump of the category. Surely one thing to be learned from the lapsed totalitarian system was the unwholesome relationship between the cult of the masses and the adoration of the supreme personality. Yet introspective voyaging seemed to coexist with dull group-think wherever one peered about among the formerly ‘committed’. Traditionally then, or tediously as some will think, I saw no reason to discard the Orwellian standard in considering modern literature. While a sort of etiolation, tricked out as playfulness, had its way among the non-judgemental, much good work was still done by those who weighed words as if they meant what they said. Some authors, indeed, stood by their works as if they had composed them in solitude and out of conviction. Of these, an encouraging number spoke for the ironic against the literal mind; for the generously interpreted interest of all against the renewal of what Orwell termed the ‘smelly little orthodoxies’—tribe and Faith, monotheist and polytheist, being most conspicuous among these new/old disfigurements. In the course of making a film about the decaffeinated hedonism of modern Los Angeles, I visited the house where Thomas Mann, in another time of torment, wrote Dr Faustus. My German friends were filling the streets of Munich and Berlin to combat the recrudescence of the same old shit as I read: This old, folkish layer survives in us all, and to speak as I really think, I do. not consider religion the most adequate means of keeping it under lock and key. For that, literature alone avails, humanistic science, the ideal of the free and beautiful human being. [italics mine] The path to this concept of enlightenment is not to be found in the pursuit of self-pity, or of self-love. Of course to be merely a political animal is to miss Mann’s point; while, as ever, to be an apolitical animal is to leave fellow-citizens at the mercy of Ideolo’. For the sake of argument, then, one must never let a euphemism or a false consolation pass uncontested. The truth seldom lies, but when it does lie it lies somewhere in between.

We also looked at confirmation bias—how our minds filter and select information that confirms our own point of view, and dismiss information that does not fit in or negates it. And confirmation bias is certainly not limited to cults. We basically see and hear what we want to, whether we realize it or not, and rationalize away what does not fit our preconceptions and predictions. We find it hard to accept or agree with even well-argued or supported views when they are expressed by a member of the other side. We speak to—and find affirmation from—those of our own political persuasion, but the level of passion is so high that often we do not, or cannot, talk to those across the divide.

[He] Ripped out a piece of his heart and gave it to Seong-Jae to have, to hold, to keep. A piece that would belong to him forever, and would never fit inside Malcom the same way again.

Just as the group dynamics within the cult pushed them toward their horrific conclusion, so too did the group dynamics within law enforcement. Both groups tragically disregarded input that did not fit their world view, their templates. The law enforcement echo chamber magnified rumors about Koresh beyond belief; at one point, there was actually concern that he’d developed a nuclear weapon and was planning to deploy it at the compound. Both groups listened primarily to people who simply confirmed what they already believed.

The standard of living attained in the most advanced industrial areas is not a suitable model of development if the aim is pacification. In view of what this standard has made of Man and Nature, the question must again be asked whether it is worth the sacrifices and the victims made in its defense. The question has ceased to be irresponsible since the “affluent society” has become a society of permanent mobilization against the risk of annihilation, and since the sale of its goods has been accompanied by moronization, the perpetuation of toil, and the promotion of frustration. Under these circumstances, liberation from the affluent society does not mean return to healthy and robust poverty, moral cleanliness, and simplicity. On the contrary, the elimination of profitable waste would increase the social wealth available for distribution, and the end of permanent mobilization would reduce the social need for the denial of satisfactions that are the individual’s own—denials which now find their compensation in the cult of fitness, strength, and regularity.

I told him it would be a week, seven to ten days to get a new line. He said through his teeth he needed an exact day. I gave him my supervisor's number. This whole time, his wife was in the kitchen wiping a clean counter. I was filling out the work orders and emailing my supervisor to give him a heads-up on a possible call from a member of every cable tech's favorite rage cult when his wife knocked on my van window. She stepped back and called me "ma'am." Which was nice. Her husband with the tucked-in polo shirt had asked my name and I told him Lauren. He heard Lawrence because it fit what he saw and asked if he could call me Larry. Guys like that use your name as a weapon. "Larry, explain to me why I had to sit around here from one to three waiting on you and you show up at 3:17. Does that seem like good customer service to you, Larry? And now you're telling me seven to ten days? Larry, I'm getting really tired of hearing this shit." Guys like that, it was safer to just let them think I was a man. She said she was sorry about him. I said, "It's fine." I said there really wasn't anything I could do. She blinked back the flood of tears she'd been holding since god knows when. She said, "It's just, when he has Fox, he has Obama to hate. If he doesn't have that . . . " She kept looking over her shoulder. She was terrified of him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just need him to have Fox." I got out of my van.

If you’re going to build a strong culture, it’s paramount to make diversity one of your core values. This is what separates Bridgewater’s strong culture from a cult: The commitment is to promoting dissent. In hiring, instead of using similarity to gauge cultural fit, Bridgewater assesses cultural contribution.* Dalio wants people who will think independently and enrich the culture. By holding them accountable for dissenting, Dalio has fundamentally altered the way people make decisions. In a cult, core values are dogma. At Bridgewater, employees are expected to challenge the principles themselves. During training, when employees learn the principles, they’re constantly asked: Do you agree? “We have these standards that are stress tested over time, and you have to either operate by them or disagree with them and fight for better ones,” explains Zack Wieder, who works with Dalio on codifying the principles. Rather than deferring to the people with the greatest seniority or status, as was the case at Polaroid, decisions at Bridgewater are based on quality. The goal is to create an idea meritocracy, where the best ideas win. To get the best ideas on the table in the first place, you need radical transparency.

To the infra-human specimens of this benighted scientific age the ritual and worship connected with the art of healing as practiced at Epidaurus seems like sheer buncombe. In our world the blind lead the blind and the sick go to the sick to be cured. We are making constant progress, but it is a progress which leads to the operating table, to the poor house, to the insane asylum, to the trenches. We have no healers – we have only butchers whose knowledge of anatomy entitles them to a diploma, which in turn entitles them to carve out or amputate our illnesses so that we may carry on in cripple fashion until such time as we are fit for the slaughterhouse. We announce the discovery of this cure and that but make no mention of the new diseases which we have created en route. The medical cult operates very much like the war office – the triumphs which they broadcast are sops thrown out to conceal death and disaster. The medicos, like the military authorities, are helpless; they are waging a hopeless fight from the start. What man wants is peace in order that he may live. Defeating our neighbor doesn’t give peace any more than curing cancer brings health. Man doesn’t begin to live through triumphing over his enemy nor does he begin to acquire health through endless cures. The joy of life comes through peace, which is not static but dynamic. No man can really say that he knows what joy is until he has experienced peace. And without joy there is no life, even if you have a dozen cars, six butlers, a castle, a private chapel and a bomb-proof vault. Our diseases are our attachments, be they habits, ideologies, ideals, principles, possessions, phobias, gods, cults, religions, what you please. Good wages can be a disease just as much as bad wages. Leisure can be just as great a disease as work. Whatever we cling to, even if it be hope or faith, can be the disease which carries us off. Surrender is absolute: if you cling to even the tiniest crumb you nourish the germ which will devour you. As for clinging to God, God long ago abandoned us in order that we might realize the joy of attaining godhood through our own efforts. All this whimpering that is going on in the dark, this insistent, piteous plea for peace which will grow bigger as the pain and the misery increase, where is it to be found? Peace, do people imagine that it is something to cornered, like corn or wheat? Is it something which can be pounded upon and devoured, as with wolves fighting over a carcass? I hear people talking about peace and their faces are clouded with anger or with hatred or with scorn and disdain, with pride and arrogance. There are people who want to fight to bring about peace- the most deluded souls of all. There will be no peace until murder is eliminated from the heart and mind. Murder is the apex of the broad pyramid whose base is the self. That which stands will have to fall. Everything which man has fought for will have to be relinquished before he can begin to live as man. Up till now he has been a sick beast and even his divinity stinks. He is master of many worlds and in his own he is a slave. What rules the world is the heart, not the brain, in every realm our conquests bring only death. We have turned our backs on the one realm wherein freedom lies. At Epidaurus, in the stillness, in the great peace that came over me, I heard the heart of the world beat. I know what the cure is: it is to give up, to relinquish, to surrender, so that our little hearts may beat in unison with the great heart of the world.

It was in postwar Paris that Mandelbrot began this quest in earnest. Uncle Szolem urged him to attend the École Normale Supérieure, France’s most rarefied institution of higher learning, where Mandelbrot had earned entry at the age of twenty (one of only twenty Frenchmen to do so). But the aridly abstract style of mathematics practiced there was uncongenial to him. At the time, the École Normale—dite normale, prétendue supérieure, says the wag—was dominated in mathematics by a semisecret cabal called Bourbaki. (The name Bourbaki was jocularly taken from a hapless nineteenth-century French general who once tried to shoot himself in the head but missed.) Its leader was André Weil, one of the supreme mathematicians of the twentieth century (and the brother of Simone Weil). The aim of Bourbaki was to purify mathematics, to rebuild it on perfectly logical foundations untainted by physical or geometric intuition. Mandelbrot found the Bourbaki cult, and Weil in particular, “positively repellent.” The Bourbakistes seemed to cut off mathematics from natural science, to make it into a sort of logical theology. They regarded geometry, so integral to Mandelbrot’s Keplerian dream, as a dead branch of mathematics, fit for children at best.

Not all monotheisms are exactly the same at the moment. They're all based on the same illusion. They're all plagiarisms of each other, but there is one in particular that at the moment is proposing a serious menace not just to freedom of speech and freedom of expression, but to quite a lot of other freedoms too. And this is the religion that exhibits the horrible trio of self-hatred, self-righteousness, and self-pity. I am talking about militant Islam. Globally, it's a gigantic power. It controls an enormous amount of oil wealth, several large countries and states, and with an enormous fortune it's pumping the ideologies of Wahhabism and Salafism around the world, poisoning societies where it goes, ruining the minds of children, stultifying the young in its madrassas, training people in violence, making a cult of death and suicide and murder. That's what it does globally. It's quite strong. In our societies it poses as a cringing minority, whose faith you might offend, who deserves all the protection that a small and vulnerable group might need. Now, it makes quite large claims for itself, doesn't it? It says it's the Final Revelation. It says that God spoke to one illiterate businessman in the Arabian Peninsula three times through an archangel, and that the resultant material—which as you can see as you read it is largely plagiarized ineptly from the Old and The New Testament—is to be accepted as the Final Revelation and as the final and unalterable one, and that those who do not accept this revelation are fit to be treated as cattle infidels, potential chattel, slaves and victims. Well, I tell you what, I don't think Muhammad ever heard those voices. I don't believe it. And the likelihood that I am right—as opposed to the likelihood that a businessman who couldn't read had bits of the Old and The New Testament re-dictated to him by an archangel—I think puts me much more near the position of being objectively correct. But who is the one under threat? The person who promulgates this and says I'd better listen because if I don't I'm in danger, or me who says, "No, I think this is so silly you can even publish a cartoon about it"? And up go the placards and the yells and the howls and the screams—this is in London, this is in Toronto, this is in New York, it's right in our midst now—"Behead those who cartoon Islam." Do they get arrested for hate speech? No. Might I get in trouble for saying what I just said about the prophet Muhammad? Yes, I might. Where are your priorities, ladies and gentlemen? You're giving away what is most precious in your own society, and you're giving it away without a fight, and you're even praising the people who want to deny you the right to resist it. Shame on you while you do this. Make the best use of the time you've got left.

Snappy, voyeuristic, and upsettingly relevant, The Goddess Effect takes us on a heart-pumping romp through the ‘cult’ of contemporary wellness. Either ironically or sincerely, if you’ve ever opted to add CBD to your oat milk latte, moon bathed a crystal, dropped $110 on a pair of yoga pants, cried under the mood lighting of a fauxspirational fitness class, or made any other questionable life decision in pursuit of self-actualization

None of his texts asked how I was doing. He hadn’t stopped to consider that this morning might have been difficult for me too. And unlike him, who had a routine he could easily fit himself back into, I had no idea what I was supposed to do with a traumatized cult survivor who was also my husband’s former wife. Dead wife, technically.

Parents have a natural and fitting authority over their children. Their authority is of both types: a reflection of a commission from above and their possession of superior knowledge to impart to their offspring. They have a knowledge not just about the world around them but also about the particular needs of their children. This is knowledge gained from the intimacy of family life that a neighbor down the street does not have. They are bound by the bonds of their relationship to be intimately invested in the good of their offspring. But it is this intimacy and obligation that makes the abuse of the parental role so devastating. But its abuse

I had heard rumors from several people that CrossFit was cult-like and all-consuming, and that it pushed people so hard they injured themselves.

Se convertir d’une religion à une autre, c’est non seulement changer de concepts et de moyen, mais aussi remplacer une sentimentalité par une autre. Qui dit sentimentalité, dit limitation : la marge sentimentale qui enveloppe chacune des religions historiques prouve à sa manière la limite de tout exotérisme et par conséquent la limite des revendications exotériques. Intérieurement ou substantiellement, la revendication religieuse est absolue, mais extérieurement ou formellement, donc sur le plan de la contingence humaine, elle est forcément relative ; si la métaphysique ne suffisait pas pour le prouver, les faits eux-mêmes le prouveraient. Plaçons-nous maintenant, à titre d’exemple, au point de vue de l’Islam exotérique, donc totalitaire : aux débuts de l’expansion musulmane, les circonstances étaient telles que la revendication doctrinale de l’Islam s’imposait d’une façon absolue ; mais plus tard, la relativité propre à toute expression formelle devait apparaître nécessairement. Si la revendication exotérique — non ésotérique — de l’Islam était absolue et non relative, aucun homme de bonne volonté ne pourrait résister à cette revendication ou à cet « impératif catégorique » : tout homme qui lui résisterait serait foncièrement mauvais, comme c’était le cas aux débuts de l’Islam, où on ne pouvait pas sans perversité préférer les idoles magiques au pur Dieu d’Abraham. Saint-Jean Damascène avait une fonction élevée à la cour du calife de Damas (4) ; il ne s’est pas converti à l’Islam, pas plus que ne le fit Saint-François d’Assise en Tunisie ni saint Louis en Egypte, ni saint Grégoire Palamas en Turquie (5). Or, il n’y a que deux conclusions possibles : ou bien ces saints étaient des hommes foncièrement mauvais, — supposition absurde puisque c’étaient des saints, — ou bien la revendication de l’Islam comporte, comme celle de toute religion, un aspect de relativité ; ce qui est métaphysiquement évident puisque toute forme a des limites et que toute religion est extrinsèquement une forme, l’absoluité ne lui appartenant que dans son essence intrinsèque et supraformelle. La tradition rapporte que le soufi Ibrāhīm ben Adham eut pour maître occasionnel un ermite chrétien, sans que l’un des deux se convertît à la religion de l’autre ; de même la tradition rapporte que Seyyid Alī Hamadānī, qui joua un rôle décisif dans la conversion du Cachemire à l’Islam, connaissait Lallā Yōgīshwari, la yōginī nue de la vallée, et que les deux saints avaient un profond respect l’un pour l’autre, malgré la différence de religion et au point qu’on a parlé d’influences réciproques (6). Tout ceci montre que l’absoluité de toute religion est dans la dimension intérieure, et que la relativité de la dimension extérieure devient forcément apparente au contact avec d’autres grandes religions ou de leurs saints. ---- Notes en bas de page ---- (4) C’est là que le saint écrivit et publia, avec l’acquiescement du calife, son célèbre traité à la défense des images, prohibées par l’empereur iconoclaste Léon III. (5) Prisonnier des Turcs pendant un an, il eut des discussions amicales avec le fils de l’émir, mais ne se convertit point, pas plus que le prince turc ne devint chrétien (6) De nos jours encore, les musulmans du Cachemire vénèrent Lallā, la Shivaïte dansante, à l’égal d’une sainte de l’Islam, à côté de Seyyid Alī ; les hindous partagent ce double culte. La doctrine de la sainte se trouve condensée dans un de ses chants : « Mon gourou ne m’a donné qu’un seul précepte. Il m’a dit : du dehors entre dans ta partie la plus intérieure. Ceci est devenu pour moi une règle ; et c’est pour cela que, nue, je danse » (Lallā Vākyāni, 94)

One of the functions of consciousness is to justify on-going behaviour: that is to make excuses, to ‘rationalise.’ If you hypnotise someone to get angry at someone else for no good reason, just because the hypnotist suggested it and the hypnotised person is asked why they are angry, they will justify their anger! Even though it wasn’t their idea. This has huge ramifications regarding whether our thoughts are our own! Think about it. One of the prime functions of consciousness is to ‘think critically,’ this faculty is strongly present from early childhood; however is can be crushed if what children experience is repeatedly contradicted by parents, teachers and other ‘authority figures.’ Why? The child’s need for approval and attention, support and survival override the intelligence and function of the critical faculty and the child instead begins to ‘parrot’ those who have power over it in order to ‘fit in’ and be a ‘good boy/girl.’ Totalitarian political cults have always known this and used it to their advantage.

Foreword Reviews Magazine. Foreword Reviews. Summer 2014 issue. "By way of introduction to Vivienne Kruger’s Balinese Food, bear in mind that eight degrees south of the equator, this modest-sized lava rich, emerald green island rests among the 17,508 remote, culturally distinct constellation of Indonesian islands. It is home to three million mortals who believe they are protected by an unfathomable number of Bali-Hindu goddesses and gods that inhabit the island’s sacred mountain peaks. The Balinese are unlike almost any other island people in that they are suspicious, even distrustful of the sea, believing mischievous spirits and negative powers dwell there—the underworld, as it were. Yes, they eat seafood, they just mostly let other Indonesians do the fetching. Fittingly, Kruger’s masterful use of language; dogged, on the ground conversations with thousands of Balinese cooks and farmers; and disarming humanity leads to a culinary-minded compendium unlike almost any other. Bali, you got the scribe you deserved. What made Kruger’s work even more impressive is the fact that almost nothing about Balinese food history has been written down over the years. She writes: “Like so many other traditions in Bali, cooking techniques and eating habits are passed down verbally by elders to their children and grandchildren who help in the kitchen. However, Indonesia has an old orally transmitted food culture because the pleasure of storytelling is entwined with the pleasure and effort of cooking and eating.” Balinese Food is framed around twenty-one chapters, including the all-important Sacred Ceremonial Cuisine, Traditional Village Foods, the Cult of Rice, Balinese Pig, Balinese Duck, and specialized cooking techniques like saté, banana leaf wrappers, and the use of bumbu, a sacred, powerful dry spice paste mixture. In the chapter Seafood in Bali, she lists a popular, fragrant accompaniment called Sambal Matah—chopped shallots, red chilies, coconut oil, and kaffir lime juice—that is always served raw and fresh, in this case, alongside a simple recipe for grilled tuna. An outstanding achievement in the realm of island cooking and Indonesian history, Balinese Food showcases the Balinese people in the most flattering of ways.

it’s important not to overdramatize; and as a whole, woo-woo workout mantras are very different from the deceptive, reality-warping dogma of leaders like Marshall Applewhite or Rich DeVos. I can safely say that most “cult fitness” rhetoric I came across wasn’t camouflaging evil motives, and importantly, there tended to be boundaries separating it from the rest of members’ lives.

Myth 7: Visionary companies are great places to work, for everyone. Reality: Only those who “fit” extremely well with the core ideology and demanding standards of a visionary company will find it a great place to work. If you go to work at a visionary company, you will either fit and flourish—probably couldn’t be happier—or you will likely be expunged like a virus. It’s binary. There’s no middle ground. It’s almost cult-like. Visionary companies are so clear about what they stand for and what they’re trying to achieve that they simply don’t have room for those unwilling or unable to fit their exacting standards.

Community First Community is a fundamental societal unit. From Sol’s r/Fitness subreddit to yoga classes to family to the group of friends we game with in the middle of the night, communities are a place where we can connect, learn, and have fun. For minimalist entrepreneurs, communities are the starting point of any successful enterprise. That doesn’t mean you should run out and find a community to join just for the purpose of starting a business. It means that most businesses fail because they aren’t built with a particular group of people in mind. Often, the ones that succeed do so because they’re focused on a community that a founder knows well. That process can’t be rushed because it comes from authentic relationships and a willingness to serve, both of which take time to uncover and develop. You may even have to learn a new language—or at least some insider lingo. Communities used to be limited by geography, but it’s never been easier to connect to people with whom you share something in common, whether it be an interest, a favorite artist, or a belief system. But a community isn’t a group of people who all think, act, look, or behave the same. That’s a cult. A community is the opposite. That’s what I discovered when I moved from San Francisco to Provo and got out of the Silicon Valley bubble. For one of the first times in my life, I saw that the best communities are made up of individuals who might be otherwise dissimilar but who have shared interests, values, and abilities. It’s a group of people who would likely never hang out with each other in any other situational context, and it often encompasses virtually every identity, including, yes, politics.

Nous vîmes sortir du monastère une nonne. Elle portait sur l’épaule gauche une planche étroite et longue, la toaca, et dans sa main droite un maillet. Pour appeler au culte, elle fit le tour de l’église, en frappant avec le maillet sur la planche, tantôt au centre, tantôt vers les extrémités, de manière à produire des notes plus graves ou plus claires, et à moduler un véritable chant.

Cult followers typically consider their leaders divine or, at least, mandated by some supreme authority (God, fate, the forces of history, or whatever ethereal idea fits their particular world view) to change the universe.

The Italian scholar Carlo Ginzburg sees her as the prototype for the later deity of the medieval Diana Cults, and, as such, the leader of the Wild Hunt, something that fits with Kondratiev’s identification of her with the Mari Lwyd.

The Camorra's proud little labyrinthine club could have fit inside either of our potential locations multiple times. One of them was 550 square meters, the other one over 600; both were two stories, both for sale for half a million Euros each. I knew before even opening our own club it might be stolen from us by the Camorra. I knew I would have to be the bridge, the interpreter, to perhaps make a deal with them instead. Meaning, without me, Adam would not be able to make a deal with the Camorra. I did not think that I would, could, or should cross Adam with the same move.

Cult. My Dad always used to say he didn't care at all about fashion. But he (and everyone I know) care deeply about style and what it says about who you are and the group you want to fit in with. Everyone from the Cowboy to Joe sixpack, the retiree to grumpy teen, dress in a way that clearly communicates to others their chosen group that they want to belong. My Dad would say, "I'm retired, I can wear whatever I want' but I never saw him wear a suit to play golf or an AC/DC concert T-shirt to the links. 'Style' as a concept has been hijacked to mean elite, refined and expensive when it should be thought of as a basic expression of life in much the same way as we all identify with music or speech. At the end of the day style is communication.

I also collected oddities and one of those was a human skull, a real one. I'll not say who gave it to me, in case they are still involved in the medical world and get them in trouble, but, needless to say, the person whose skull it was signed his rights away to it, and I got it. What made things worse was that I had some rabbit fur and cut it up to look like a Mohican and glued it to the skull: fabulous, and then I got hold of some fluorescent green lights which are used on aircraft and glued them into the eye sockets; perfect fit and, as soon as night came and a light hit them, bang! Glowy green lights in a human skull. The skull used to sit on my window ledge, looking out, and for a time nobody took offence; it was a continuing joke on camp. The nutty Skin has a skull, but they didn’t know it was real unless they asked.

The princess within yourself. The feminine aspect within the man. But there is also a woman waiting somewhere out there. If men and women only knew the possibilities they possess when they are together. The initiated ones in antiquity always worked in pairs. Just as Simon the Magus had his Helen and Yeshua his Mariam, Paul had his Thekla. Not many Christians are aware of this. When they established the Church in the year 325 it was first and foremost a political act, with the purpose of stopping the autonomous gnostic and mystical society which was flowering at the time of Yeshua and in the years after his ceremonial death. When they established the Church they also adopted the dogmas and some of the rites of the Mithras cult and the Ishtar/Isis tradition, which fitted the political agenda under new headings and names. The rest was silenced. In this way they literally threw out the wisdom aspect, Sophia, with the bath water. The symbolic Second Coming happens through Sophia, that is the higher Sophia aspect, which is secret. Find her and you have found the princess. It’s happening now. The Second Coming of the higher Sophia aspect is not just a collective matter but also a process, which each and every one of us must go through. That is why so many people, and especially those who work spiritually, experience that these are turbulent times. This implies a confrontation with the old. All that limits us. And that is hard for most people. Look around. Have you noticed how many men and women leave each other in this day and age? Not because something is wrong with any of them. They simply started their relationship on the wrong foundation. People now must enter into true relationships. This is how it is at all levels. Not just between man and woman but also ties within the family, friendships, and the old teacher/student relationships are also broken because of the new which is on the way.

Lawyers with political aspirations are accordingly constrained by the demands of their profession. An elitist law practice fits ill with grassroot politics so necessary for mass leadership. In a sense my ability to marry a successful legal practice with an almost uninterrupted parliamentary career of 35 years has been because the politics of that period consisted of a battle between feudal forces wedded to a dynastic cult and the forces of Constitutional liberalism.

there are clear sectarian boundaries, the same way there are differences between Protestantism and Catholicism, and even differences between the various Protestant sects and the various Catholic sects, Hinduism may be broken down into many major sub-groupings that may or may not have much in common at all. Additionally, in the same way Christianity contains many smaller, spirituality heterodox groups like Gnostic Christianity (which are sometimes called cults), Hinduism also contains many groups that have beliefs that do not fit easily within the common corpus of Hindu belief systems. All of these divisions came well after the time of the Aryans, and Hinduism likely began to divide around the 1st century CE, about 1,000 years after the arrival of the Aryans into the Indian subcontinent.

A global society such as ours has created a spiritual meal not even fit for demons, a meal that they might call trash and throw to Cerberus as scraps from a table. This is the state of our society, we have damaged the teeter-totter, found no middle ground and the playground adventures have ceased to be shared by anyone. There are no great sinners or great saints, especially the latter.

This had become the fertile soil that we all tilled to create a field that fit the perfect conditions for the rise of New Atheism. Religious tolerance has become so rampant that truth was forsaken for subjectivity. There should be no surprise then that the New Atheist Apocalypse should arise as Horsemen, like Nazgul, to prevent the ring bearer from reaching Mount Doom.

As applied to education, this cult of manliness and godliness was admirably designed to fit boys for shouldering the burden of the heterosexually deprived white man in far-flung outposts of the Victorian empire,