waysider

Very nice cover---captures the original feel (IMO)----plays better harp than "Zimmy" HaHaHaHa!---Can't quite place his accent----Russian, perhaps?

It kinda makes you mad, at first. Then sorta sad. Followed by a sense of embarrassment and betrayal. If you're lucky, there comes a time when you can laugh about it, like you can laugh about the time you broke your collar bone in junior high school. There's no time frame to any of this stuff, though. It really has it's own schedule that it follows. For some it evolves quickly. For others----not so much.

ya go, Thomas

I'm not so sure I buy into the analogy as it pertains to individuality vs. uniformity. I say this for two reasons. First, there is no evidence that "hardened/fired" bricks existed before the time of The Roman Empire. Thus, these bricks had a tendency to deteriorate over time. They would not have been a prime choice of building material for anything that was expected to have long-term permanence. Secondly, although ancient brick makers were able to achieve a degree of uniformity in size and shape through the use of molds, bricks were hand made, one at a time and thus, individual composition varied from brick to brick in regard to the "clay to straw ratio", iron content of the clay, etc. So, though they may have achieved a level of uniformity in appearance, each brick was, in fact, uniquely individual.

And you know, that raises an important point. If the whole thing was only glossolalia anyhow, who cares whether or not VPP did the manny thing?

I think he might have been THIS guy's protege

Maybe Tom Strange could add a touch of bongos. :)

He couldn't even correctly recite the Greek alphabet, as evidenced in the PFAL class.. edit: I stand corrected. It was, in fact, the Hebrew alphabet that he botched.

Let's get away, you say, find a better place, Miles and miles away from the city's race, Look around for someone lying in the sunshine Marking time, hear the sighs, close your eyes... Ba - da - pa do da da - ba - pa do da da... Stepping from cloud to cloud passing years of light Visit the frosty stars in the backward flight Star becomes a vision, never mind the meaning, Hidden there, moving fast, it won't last... Ba - da - pa do da da - ba - pa do da da... Time passes all too soon, how it rushes by, Now a thousand moons are about to die No time to reflect on what the time was spent on, Nothing left, far away, dreamers fade Ba - da - pa do da da - ba - pa do da da... Strange visions pass me by, winging sweetly close inside [*] O-ver the wa-ter, ah.... Swirling, the waters rise up above my head. Gone are the curling mists how they all have fled. Look, the door is open, step into the space Provided there Da do da, da, do da... Ba - da - pa do da da - ba - pa do da da...

I remember Heart. It was more like a newspaper format than a magazine. There were few copies amongst the dozens of old way Magazines I trashed a couple years ago. I think there were some special edition Rock of Ages magazines, as well. If I remember correctly, the focus of Heart was supposed to be anecdotal remembrances of "deliverance". (as a result of taking PLAF [The Wonder Class] and standing with the ministry.) I don't think it lasted very long. (Kinda like the thread I started a couple years ago called "It Happened To Me", in which people recalled instances of using the "law" of believing to reap tangible results.)

The Way is not dead. It has simply changed its name and relocated. HERE "Any volunteer may be dismissed at any time and/or program cancelled at sole discretion of those charged with oversight." Sound familiar?

I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up.

My old girlfriend, Flo, used to really get a charge out of that stuff.

Does this mean they'll take an axe murderer as long as they're not a trainee?

Yeah. All those years of hearing "We sure do love you" and then when I left---- nobody even noticed. Never heard from them again. Not that I really want to. You understand, I'm sure. edit: very cool post, excie!!

BUMP

Well, once again, Mr. Squirrel, you've cut to the chase. (Albeit, it was via a twisting path.) You are correct, in my opinion, when you point out their advise wasn't really designed to help the individual at all. It was designed to make sure you gave your extra money to The Way. who needs a stinking 1.20 to toss in the horn of plenty, when one can purchase the secrets of the universe.. in broad daylight..

(shouldn't have bought those moonpies...). One can never have too many MoonPies!

Did someone say saxophones?

Oh, heavens no! Except that, without an internet back then, he probably never dreamed that anyone would catch on to his con.

Bunch of money grubbing bastages. I hope they're happy, as they sit there in Cornfield, USA, counting their 54 million dollars worth of golden eggs that all we silly gooses laid for them.

In the early days of the PFAL class, the "law" of believing, was called the "magic" of believing. (The original collateral was even titled that way.) That's because it's not (and never was) a "law". It's fantasy. You can't change physical realities with the power of thought. Try to levitate a table sometime with your mind. Good luck. Wierwille hitched his wagon to the new age thinking that was prevalent at the time and slapped a few Bible verses on the cover to give it an air of holiness. Consider, if you will, Norman Vincent Peale and his "Power of Positive Thinking". It's mumbo jumbo. I personally know of people who literally died trying to prove that the "law" of believing works. Read the L.E.A.D thread sometime to get an idea of how, needlessly, people suffered because they bought into this nonsense. Where we differ from the new phenomenon of The Secret is that we combined this stuff with glossolalia, or speaking in tongues, if you prefer, which reduces one's abilty to question and exercise critical thinking skills.

Oh, my word! Can you imagine him ever having a firm enough grasp on Greek to be able to quote an entire chapter??? Even if it was only a portion of the chapter, I find it incredulous. The man was clearly either delusional or a pathological liar.