In moments of mass disillusionment, such as the one in which we are repeatedly reminded of being stuck, the desire for meaning registers distinctly in vast swaths of the population. It has a quiver to it, though not a pleasant one. It appears closer to an acid that has seeped under the skin and which, when so empowered, sparks light in those hollowed-out parts of the brain where abstract fulfillment would make its home.
That, anyway, would explain quite a lot. What besides the burn of phantom acid would compel people toward self-improvement, whether in its crude or elevated forms? Some will say there’s nothing inherently special about this moment compared to all the rest. Self-help is a reliable business model; the existential cavities today aren’t much different from those of the past. I’m sure anyone who wants to make that case can, it’s a free country. It’s also kind of a dumb one; filled with people too habitual in their ways and not imaginative enough in their thoughts to deal with problems that are more adaptable to the times than humans are. Few even think of their desire as being for “meaning” but for more precise, almost domestic issues that tended to resolve “meaning” for them.
I see you nodding along to their collective rhythm. You’ve been thinking about self-help as much as everyone else has. And that thought in your mind, like a spider in your basement, creeps freely, lays its eggs, and births a litter of more thoughts about self-help that take up more space than your skull can reasonably contain. They take strange new forms at that, shifting your attitudes in ways you can’t determine or direct. By what force you stand before your mirror and question your very self-worth, you don’t know, but there you are, reflecting unflinchingly on your lack of close friends, the widening emotional gulf between you and your family, your sagging flesh, your unmet potential, your intellectual inadequacies, your insecurities as a lover, your impulse to set high standards for yourself and your equal incapacity to meet a single one, etc. Then maybe you look out your window toward the nearest residential properties (if you don’t live in a wasteland perfectly amenable to your condition) and assume each person inside of them is doing the identical ritual and seeking the same solution.
But the desire and the attendant quest to satisfy it seem somehow untrue the more you dwell on them. “Meaning” doesn’t mean much to you. It’s not the neat little box for suffocating your maladies. It’s like seeking a neurological remedy for what is actually a cardiac defect. It’s an easy mistake to make when you overlook your greatest shortcoming: seeking the approval of others. This need to be agreeable, though not shameful in itself, is like a dingy tarp over your more adequately proportioned psychic sarcophagus. And if you removed it and saw it for what it is, you’d know also the exact route you need to take to satisfy it.
All it takes is a careful scouring of your internet search history. Surely there is an item you missed in your haste to cover your tracks. (When, by the way, does that ever work as something more than a personal face-saving palliative?) Pornography is fine. You don’t care all that much about how much smut you engorge—or want to give the impression of engorging. You don’t look at that shit; no one’s tastes are that eclectic. But as we’ve established, you place value in appearances, and you appear more balanced with a hideous porn library rather than what you really gawk at: the dead.
Not just any dead, let’s be clear, but the collectively and ceremonially dead: the dead of Heaven’s Gate, the dead of Jonestown, the dead of Waco. And to be sure, it’s not really the death that brings you there. Though it’s in death that the true nature of your desire is best articulated. Any idiot can die, but who can say that they died in a state of belonging?
Belonging. Not quite as respectable as meaning, is it? No one likes a joiner, and certainly no one would ever claim to be one themselves. They like causes more than attitudes; they like substance more than showmanship. Fine. But that hasn’t stopped any one of those non-joiners, those Free Spirits, from flocking to the kind of causes and substance on which a pretty wide generality of people seem to agree, and have no problem being seen as agreeing. And maybe that is a defect on your part. But that would take more unpacking than the time you and I have here, and even so, belonging is no trivial desire. It is, in fact, the first real basis of humanity. Animals have herds held in place by raw instinct; people need a more specialized glue for their communal impulses. Hence your interest in the especially adhesive quality of the cult.
There’s a lot of confusion about cults; about what constitutes a cult and what the desired traits of a cult member are. It seems it takes no effort in the internet age to start a cult. Just set up a Discord chat or even a private group DM, assert a leadership role early on, treat your permission of membership as manna from the stars, and “orbiters” become capable drones very quickly. Other people think themselves cult “experts.” They have a kind of gaydar for cults. They treat any gathering of which they are not a part as suspect until they otherwise prove their pure intent. Why they deserve that proof, I don’t know, but the simple rule of thumb is that anything they don’t like is cultic and nefarious to some degree. One person’s QAnon is another’s Peloton, and so on.
The fear of cults is almost always a projection. Often what is seen in the cult follower by their detractors—rigid conformity, stupidity, sycophancy, fear of standing out, death wish—is better applied to their own characters. You and I know the matter is more complicated. Cult members tend to be soberer in their judgment and sharper in their intellect than they are generally given credit for. People talk about joining things like it’s a simple leap into the dark, as if the dark does not instill, let alone demand, respect and understanding. The members of Heaven’s Gate probably had a better sense of what they were getting themselves into than the members of NXIVM. Cults thrive on devotion, devotion requires self-knowledge; cynics are wanting in both and disdain them in others.
Maybe there’s something to the cynics, you think in dark moments. But you’re also tired of those dark moments and you’ve felt like a cynic for long enough. You want something more. You want to come out of the shadows and dwell in the bubbling spring of fellow-feeling. But a problem remains. Without a fondness for meaning, devotion wilts. Belonging in any true sense is not going to happen. Does that mean you shouldn’t pursue it? Sort of, yes. But what it should stop you from doing is putting on an effective show of it, for your benefit and perhaps even for those around you.
Instead of belonging, consider performative belonging, or simply “belonging.” Just because no self-respecting cult would ever have you as a member does not mean you are forbidden from speculating on one that could quite possibly make an exception in your case. Think of it as an exercise in applied creativity in which your mind and body are the medium. Some may look on this and see a tangling of lies and delusion. I consider it closer to imagination and perception.
The first matter is: what is your cult? What is its basic belief system? What are its rituals, its typical times and locations of meetings? How did you come to join this cult? Were you recruited by a comely, flower-dappled maiden? Did you discover it by happenstance or through an inexplicable event or vision? Do members wear certain clothing? Do they behave in a certain way with each other? Do they speak in a certain way or use secret hand gestures? Does the cult adhere to a creation narrative? A destruction narrative? Does your cult view the world as something to escape or as something to change? You, of course, will be acting alone but these must not be neglected if you are to make a substantial impression.
Here I must make something clear: though I can’t compel you against portraying yourself as a leader, that is something for advanced practitioners with a handle on the attendant risks and higher degree of scrutiny. There is also an under-appreciated challenge, and even satisfaction, in playing a follower. It is in any case important to draw up your cult in very careful dimensions. Nothing so vague as to be generic and nothing so precise as to make you actually adhere to it, or worse, convince others to adhere to it. Imagination is a terrible weapon without discipline.
Once you have imagined your belonging, you must then ask: who is your audience and what are you presenting to them? Because as you’ve figured out already, belonging is a matter of perception.
Typically your audience for such an exercise is the Normal Person; which is to say, someone you know generally if not personally. They surround you. They see you as much as you see them. This is important. For your few conversations with these people have shown a marked inability on their part to listen beneath a surface layer. Anything beyond generalities and pleasantries is an impenetrable regional dialect to them. Yet you’ve also noticed that they make up for this verbal deficiency with a visual one. Normal people are sensitive observers. They are attuned to their surroundings to such a degree that they are set off by even the slightest departure from what they’ve come to accept as the proper arrangement of things. You have felt this setting-off in relation to yourself. It may or may not be in your own mind, but knowing how the people around you work, you are more than capable of bringing it into reality on your terms.
Even though I’m about to say it anyway, it goes without saying that performing your belonging must be done with care. What that constitutes is up to your judgment and must be flexible with the circumstances. But much of what you can do can be very simple. For instance, consider keeping late hours. You’re probably not sleeping well anyway, so use it to your advantage. Go for late-night drives or walks. Don’t return until just before dawn. At least one person is bound to notice, and one person is all it takes.
Obtain some LED wave lights of a single color—say blue, red, or extremely opalescent green—to have glowing in slow throbs through your shaded window at select hours. Consider also some obscure soundscape to accompany it. Something atmospheric and ominous—like Sunn O))), Tim Hecker, Jenny Hval, or Andy Stott—but not too abrasive; no Merzbow or Lingua Ignota. Certainly no “Come to Daddy” by Aphex Twin or “Loco” by Coal Chamber on a loop. Always aim higher.
Presentation is another matter that requires delicacy. You have seen cult members with extravagant dress, but let us for the sake of suspense try not to fall into that custom. Abstain from robes, special haircuts, and footwear. Do not even consider making black a regular part of your wardrobe. Even when the grey scale is somewhat in fashion, there are still strict occasions for the color black; being outside of them invites extra scrutiny. Granted the situation is more nuanced with varying perceptions rooted in personal ideology. Someone of a more conservative bent will deduce that you drink babies’ blood from mason jars. Someone of a liberal bent will think you are a surly teenager with glandular issues. It is best to stick with very small things detectable in half-glances: a special scar or a small tattoo. Even just a baseball cap would work if you thought it through enough.
Verbal signals are discouraged. Non-verbal acts offer a sort of plausible deniability that words cannot. Even if normal people are observant, many are not always confident in what they see. Eyes are relied on but somehow not to be trusted in some cases. Language always places the burden on the one speaking. As you already deal with these people on a very minimal basis this should not be a challenge. Consider an elliptical and sparse style of speaking, as if what you’re saying is being transmitted from a great distance. No one cares about a thundering prophet anymore. Refrain from speaking too overtly in riddles, paradoxes, jargon, or code. Esotericism is somehow boring and dicey. It may put you in another situation where saying the wrong thing to the wrong person will expose you. One neighbor might think you’re trying to recruit them into some kind of snuff film trading network. Another neighbor might think you’re trying to gain access to their snuff film trading network. If there is etiquette to guide you through this and similar fiascos, I don’t know it. Maybe someone should write that self-help book.
In carrying out belonging it is easy to lose track of the central purpose of incremental self-fulfillment and swerve straight into provocation. Even if that is fulfilling in its own way, it is not safe. The importance of a disciplined imagination is made evident by the feral and raw imaginations of the normal. It is a strange paradox indeed that their stretches of stability, and free hand given by authorities as a result, make them unpredictable. Beneath their inoffensive demeanors is a host of unexamined fears and triggers, untested tolerance limits and erratically drawn red lines. When these are given pressure, they have a way of detonating with a wide blast radius. Think of the normal person as basically a hippopotamus with outstanding student loans.
These concerns are important to consider when cultivating the aura you want to give off. How will you imply your possession of arcane truths that don’t exist? How will you live a completely fabricated double life of carrying concealed plans to alter human consciousness as we know it by dropping samples of extraterrestrial DNA in water supplies across the country or to direct a massive rogue planet into our orbit? Whether your cult is just a clique with enigmatic in-jokes or a Lovecraftian cabal conjuring hostile cross-dimensional entities in the bayou, the same craftsmanship applies; the same performance takes place. It is at the mercy of your judgment and tastes. But your judgment and tastes are your responsibility. Cults are not led by layabouts or followed by dipshits. You should be neither.
At some point in the process of the performance, provided it is free of error or disaster, you should have an inkling of what belonging feels like. You will have the strong impression of heightened well-being, restored confidence, and maybe even a reinforced core strength (not that I know what that is). And you know what? Great! Because sometimes that’s all you’re going to get. That may be all anyone gets.
Cults are like rock music, abstract art, prose poetry, and satire: once powerful, subversive social irritants that now dwell comfortably and inoffensively in office buildings and suburban living rooms. A cult is just something we lost, or simply discarded, in our wild and reckless quests for dull, overrated meaning. But being human, you are a capable simulator of lost things. You will probably notice soon enough that everyone around you is putting up the same front. You look at your new, more confident reflection in the mirror, then look out once more at all those neighbors, each in their own state of personal “belonging.”