I was trying to remember the quote that tells about how forgetting the past condemns one to repeat it. After an online search, the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy was correct to say that the quote is often inaccurately quoted, just like I did.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”
The Life of Reason: Reason in Common Sense. Scribner’s, 1905: 284
I should have finished those books I started in college—the ones about cults and group psychology that I abandoned halfway through because they felt too heavy, too paranoid, too much like warnings I’d never need.
What prompted me to look back at them now—as well as the historical artifacts about large communities—is my dawning realization of how I have involved myself in one that conflates material blessing with faith and divine approval, while maintaining control through love-bombing, psychological manipulation, tribal exclusivity with an us vs. them mentality, and exploiting members by draining them of their energy and time. The hypocrisy and lies operated in plain sight, but somehow, nobody spoke up; everyone remaining blind to the truth and deaf to the reality that should have been obvious.
Now that it’s finally dawning on me what I’ve gotten myself into, I have been spending hours researching, reading, consoling myself about how one’s desire for community often gets enmeshed with human evil. Shameful as it may be to admit that I have become a member of a cultish community, I learned that nobody is too smart to fall into a cult. Those who fall into cults are not only the “weak people.” According to Steven Hassan, the smart and talented people are vulnerable too. And wasn’t I supposed to be smart enough to see this coming?
I read stories from others who got out of cultish communities. They said the main reason they stayed was the friendships they formed along the way, which created safe spaces in a manipulative and controlling environment. I understood. I resonate with them.
How long have I been here? How did I not see it? Here I am anyway, deep in the puddle, struggling to distinguish myself from the mud.
The friendships are real. The community feels like home. My calendar is full of commitments I made to people I genuinely care about. And underneath all of it, the slow recognition that I’ve been manipulated into this tangle, and I’ve helped weave it tighter with every yes I’ve given.
Awareness doesn’t automatically mean action.
I am still here, still showing up, still pretending everything is fine while my mind races through every conversation, every meeting, looking for proof that I am wrong. How I wish I were wrong.
Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I’m seeing patterns that aren’t there. But isn’t that what everyone tells themselves when they’re in too deep?
Santayana’s quote keeps echoing. I can’t shake the feeling that the past I forgot to remember is the present I am living right now.
jessa 
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