Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I did not stay at the “Commune” for the full two weeks.  I only lasted 4 nights.

The following narrative was written in my journal 24 hours after I fled the compound.  Names have been changed.

June 9th, 2016

This morning, Chelsea and I fled the commune.  I’m going to try and tell the story from start to finish so I don’t forget anything.

I chose this opportunity because it sounded like a kooky, hippy and unique way of living.  I was excited to experience something different, observe people living their lives outside of societal norms and discover what makes them happy.  I was excited at the community aspect of it as well; as you all know, I enjoy being a lone wolf – I was ready to challenge myself to live in a more structured communal environment for a bit.  I only planned on being there for two weeks; if the community was too stifling, I would be back on the road as a lone wolf once again.

The group is described as “a thriving intentional community of friends who have fun together and love to take care of each other and eat good food.”  They live their life based on this tenant: “We have found that a vast world of pleasurable sensation opens up for both women and men through the female model of orgasm.  By applying and practicing Deliberate Orgasm in our own lives, our research and discovery continues to expand.”  

Before joining, I was aware that some of the residents of this community are instructors at this “ sensuality school” – but that didn’t bother me.  I consider myself sexually open minded and accepting.  A course to help women have better orgasms?  Awesome!  I’m all for people experiencing higher degrees of pleasure and understanding their bodies.  I didn’t quite understand how the class fits into the lifestyle of this community and part of me wanted to discover that when I arrived (instead of heavily researching it online and then going in with a bias).

I drove to the ranch on Sunday afternoon.  I hurried through some last minute shopping at Walmart; being slightly neurotic, I wanted to make sure I had ample snacks and food in case the ranch didn’t provide what I wanted (part of the agreement was that all food would be provided).  I rushed out of the Walmart parking lot and called the house to give them a heads up that I was on my way; there is no cell service where they live.  I was ready to hit the road but noticed my gas tank was pretty low.  I knew I could make it there, but wanted to have enough gas because it’s a rural environment; who knows when I could fill up again.

It was a 45 minute drive to the compound.  I put on a dreamy, after-hours techno mix and had a reflective drive.  I was entering into a new stage of this journey.  I would be giving up some level of control; living in someone else’s space, abiding by someone else’s rules and being surrounded by complete strangers.  When I was younger , I dealt a lot with anxiety – but as I’ve grown older, had more life experiences and settled into the comfort of my own skin, I’ve been less and less anxious.  However, during the drive, my anxiety levels started to peak exponentially as I approached.  My nerves reached a fever pitch as I descended down the 1 mile gravel driveway for the final leg of the journey to the ranch compound.  “There’s no turning back now!” I excitedly thought to myself.  My heart was beating out of my chest and I had a sick feeling in my stomach – but I’ve learned that those feeling don’t mean something bad will happen – they are just part of my physiology.

I pulled in, parked and walked to the front patio area.  I met Cecil, a short yet powerfully built bald man with glasses and his counterpart, Reba – a smiling, chatty woman in her late 30’s.  Cecil has a friendly yet slightly awkward demeanor; clearly a sharp guy with an engineering mind, he reminded me of many bright yet socially stunted software engineers I’ve worked with in The Bay Area.  He runs all operations at the ranch; plumbing, electrical, mechanics, farm maintenance, etc.  Reba runs the kitchen and all meals.  Outwardly, Reba is a constantly smiling and has a bubbly, positive personality.  This characterization quickly starts to form cracks though; there are many times when she is smiling but is actually mad or upset.  “Everything is fantastic and amazing” she says through a forced smile – when you KNOW things are not great and she’s actually upset.  It’s all a facade if you look deeper.  Reba and Cecil would be my main contacts during my experience.

I also met Stevie, a lanky, toned brunette in her late 40’s, early 50’s.  Although outwardly friendly, she lacked any semblance of a smile or natural feedback during conversations.  Her eyes conveyed a hollow deadness and deep sadness.  A fellow volunteer, Chelsea (her real name) was also there.  She had already been there for 3 days.  Chelsea is a cute, spunky 23 year old redhead who recently graduated from Kansas University.  They were in the process of moving some pallets of chicken feed out of a truck and I immediately jumped in to help.

The ranch is nestled in a valley, with dense forest covering the walls.  A beautiful creek flanks the lower portion of the property.  There are two vegetable farms, an egg-laying chicken house, a duck/chicken house (for meat), a pair of milking goats and their babies, cherry trees, a beehive, composting bin, several ATV’s, a machinist shop, a woodworking shop and several trucks.  It’s a beautiful and picturesque space.  The main house is two levels, with a gigantic kitchen that is completely decked out for cooking and entertaining people.  Every luxurious kitchen appliance that exists can be found in this meticulously organized kitchen.  There is a gorgeous patio, bocce ball court and manicured lawn.  At first appearances, this is a utopian paradise.

I spent the first afternoon helping Reba and Cecil with random, uneventful chores.  I received an orientation which essentially explained the rules of the ranch (there weren’t many), and in general what to expected.  It wasn’t too notable and everything seemed reasonable: “Tell us if you’re ever in pain or feel uncomfortable/unsafe doing any tasks, let us know if you’re not being fed enough, don’t bring dirty shoes inside, etc.”  She also mentioned that because there is one bathroom, several people will be in there at the same time – sometimes up to 5 – so if you want privacy, lock the door.  Sounds good to me – I thought to myself – seems like a natural thing for a bunch of people living on a commune together.  A signed a waiver saying I wouldn’t sue them if I got injured or died, and I was all set to go!

The first day I met the rest of the crew, everyone was a woman except for one man in his 70’s/80’s.  The women were roughly in their late 40’s to early 60’s.  Everyone was friendly and asked me questions about my life, where I’m from, where I’ve been on this journey, etc.  I did note that people seemed a bit robotic in their actions, almost like they were following a script.  Once again, their eyes seemed vacant and without life.  Their personalities were uninteresting and they rarely offered any personal thoughts or feelings.   My interactions with people seemed a bit forced and structured, as if they were all playing a part in a play.  I consider myself a very genuine person – an open book – and pride myself on being able to detect the sincerity of others.  I felt like they were holding something back, hiding something or simply lacked an ability to have a genuine interaction.  The questions were serious and formal – smiles did not come easy for most of these people.  These are all subtle observations I had – in hindsight they are a lot more meaningful.  Despite everything I just described, I had no alarm bells going off and I felt completely comfortable and at ease being there.  I told myself: “Well, you just don’t have a lot in common with these people.  That’s ok.  They’re not going to be my best friends, but it’s only a two week deal, so no worries.”.

Monday was the first day of work on the ranch.  We woke up bright and early at 6AM to feed ourselves and get ready for work that generally began  an hour later at 7.  Cecil, Reba, Chelsea and I all worked together to put netting up on 3 cherry trees to protect the fruits from birds.  The work was tiring and physical; especially on a scorching hot day – yet very satisfying.  Everyone worked together to get the nets up on these large trees.  Being the tallest of the crew; I had the special job of getting on a ladder and handling the synching of the top portion of the net.  It was an important job; I was honored to be thrown into the mix of it and have a meaningful role.  After hours of work, we were finished; we had worked together to complete a task and it felt good to get the job done.  The next task was weeding in the garden – once again, the job was physically taxing, exhausting and hot.  We constantly drank water and re-applied sunscreen.  .  I did not feel like we were treated as slaves or indentured servants; we were working side by side.  Other tasks included feeding the animals, milking the goats, weed-whacking and collecting hay, shoveling chicken shit out of the pen and picking strawberries.  I attacked all of these jobs with enthusiasm and gusto (even the chicken shit one).  Reba and Cecil were always quick with compliments and thanks for the work we did; although it began to feel a bit repetitive and scripted, it still felt nice to hear words of praise.  Although this may sound like miserable work, it was actually very rewarding to put effort into something important and then see it completed.

Typically, we would work from 7AM-Noon.  The morning work was grueling (before the heat came on).  The last hour of the morning work would usually be helping Reba prepare lunch in the kitchen.  Lunches were delicious and varied; we had bulgogi one day and tacos the next.  We would have a 3 hour break in the afternoon (during the hottest part of the day).   During breaks, we would typically lounge around on the couch, catch up on computer time, go for a swim in the creek, or try to take a nap.  It was too damn hot to do much of anything.

At around 3 or 4, we would start our afternoon shift.  It could be anything from helping prep for dinner to shoveling chicken shit.  The work would last for 3-4 hours and then we would be instructed to shower up and come hang out for dinner!  There really wasn’t much of a break between afternoon chores and dinner; we would have just enough time to shower and join the group to help set the table.

The dinners were very formal.  The women would wear heels and dresses.  The men generally wore dress shirts and slacks.  People would have one to two drinks and help prepare the meal.  Everything was very ritualistic; the table would be set in the same way, the food would be lined up on the countertop, everyone would line up and serve themselves, people sat down and waited until the last person sat before eating.

The food was ridiculously good.  It was meticulously prepared over several hours, most of the ingredients came directly from the farm.  I tasted the most delicious eggs of my life at this ranch – they were picked the day before from the chicken coup 20 yards away.   Goat milk is also amazing – I’ve never tasted milk so creamy and pure in my life.  Anyway, the meals were spectacular, but the dinner etiquette was slightly bizarre.

The conversation during dinners could be described as sparse, flat and vapid.  It was dominated with incessant compliments to the chef, with such regularity that it was somewhat comedic.  One person would always begin: “This soup is SO good, Reba!” – which would be immediately followed by a stream  of similar compliments from the rest of the group.  It seemed very disingenuous.  Occasionally someone would throw in a ‘joke’ and a chorus of forced laughs could be heard.  For the first few nights, I was peppered with questions about my life; what I’m doing on the road, my career, past relationships, etc. I was happy to share personal details of my life, but I noted that when I asked questions to other people, I received vague and impersonal responses.  After awhile, this one way street of sharing information started to irritate me a bit.  When I was no longer “the new guy”, they stopped asking me as many questions and dinners were very quiet.  I noted that most of these people had been “friends” for 20+ years; it seemed like such an odd interaction for supposedly good friends.  I know that if it were my friends we would be constantly laughing, cracking jokes and generally at ease with each other.  This group was the exact opposite; quiet, unnatural, forced and stifled.

When dinner ended, one person would start to clear the dishes and everyone else would instantly spring to their feet and help clear and clean the dishes.  There were very specific and rigid rules for cleaning and drying the dishes.  Cutting boards do not get cleaned with soap.  No oil goes down the drain.  Only use a specific towel for drying certain types of glasses.  Everything has a place and an order.  If you deviate from that structure and order, you would be politely told that you did something wrong.  Everyone stays until all the dishes are cleaned.  One quickly learns the rituals and customs to this bizarre community.

From start to finish, this “dinner time” would be 4-5 hours.  It was amusing at first, but I quickly grew tired of this forced interaction.  I didn’t feel free to finish early and go relax on my own.  I had to fall in line with the group and do exactly what they were doing.  Of course, I could have asked to go to bed early, but that would have surely resulted in a passive aggressive response of “oh sure, you can go to bed and leave us all these dishes”.  Being a new guest, you want to please your host and get on their good side – so I just went along with it.  But yes, the dinners became stifling, boring affairs.  The conversation was vapid – there just wasn’t anything interesting being said and the jokes were not amusing.  The forced laughter and interaction was surreal.

I was mostly amused by these ritualistic dinners and soulless interactions.  I was so curious as to how this community functions.  Does everyone sleep in the same bed?  Do they swap partners?  How do the ‘female orgasm’ classes play into their interactions as a community?  Do they have group masturbation sessions to relieve tension?  In  terms of leadership or pecking order, I placed Reba and Cecil at the top.  Most of my instructions came from them and they seemed to have the most dominant personalities of the group.   That was my characterization, but something seemed missing; the group somehow did not seem complete.

During my time there, I got some clues and hints as to how they live.  I asked Reba how people can live in such close proximity without getting some alone time; I explained to her how I need some personal time (even from my best friends) to decompress and reflect on things.  She gave me a sly look and said, “oh you learn how to do that, and it can be done!” but did not elaborate on how it was possible.

The female orgasm / sensuality classes were discussed a few times with some of the residents.  They explained how through their philosophy, they are able to live in a harmonious, happy life – but did not give any specifics, only vague explanations.  The women convinced Chelsea to take an introductory course, but she fell asleep during the first online lecture.  She said it was mostly vague, pseudoscientific advice; nothing real or concrete..

After about 3 days of the same daily pattern (work, small break, more work, awkward dinner), I was still committed to staying there the full 2 weeks.  Despite the quirks of this group, the work was satisfying (and physically a fantastic workout), the days went fast and the dinners (albeit awkward) were some of the best meals I’ve eaten in recent memory.  I was fascinated by what it takes for these people to live in this harmonious community where they rave about how happy they are, yet don’t exactly seem like they’re enjoying themselves.  I was excited to dive deeper and learn the secrets behind this curious lifestyle.   It wasn’t until the fourth night that everything changed – and I knew I had to leave immediately.

On the third day, additional members of the community arrived.  JR, Raquel, Sally and 2 twin 14 year old boys.  JR is a red-faced man in his late 50’s.  My initial impression of him was that he is a sly jokester with a cocky side.  He seemed to have the most personality of the group; he was loose with his words, relaxed and exuded confidence; I was excited to see how he would mix things up.  Sally and Raquel are physically very similar, pretty, 40’s, dark hair, sharp features and curvaceous.  Both exhibited similar personalities as the rest of the group; unnaturally long eye contact, vacant eyes and stiff interactions.  The boys are sweet 14 year old, awkward teenage boys.  JR was clearly their father, but it was unclear who the mother was.  Sally acted like the mother but I noticed that the boys called her by her first name.

Fast forward to dinner that night.  Everyone seemed to be more on edge with prepping the meal and making sure it went smoothly.  The only relaxed person in the group was JR.  He didn’t do much to help with the meal – but rather appeared right as everyone was sitting down.  Typically, there is no assigned seating – so I sat 2 seats away from him – within a few seconds someone nervously said, “shouldn’t one of the boys sit there?  Patrick, can you move?”  I promptly obliged.  The seating arrangements seemed highly structured.  JR and Sally at the center, with the 2 boys flanking them.  Raquel was across from them and the other members on the sides.   The two workers (Chelsea and myself) were on each end of the table.

We began cracking open the crabs (the procedure is that we all crack open the crabs, collect the meat, then make a salad with the crabs and eat at the same time).  It quickly became apparent that JR is the patriarch of the group.  He completely dominated the dinner conversation: talking at people and going off on random tangents.  He used cuss words, loudly complained about things and generally asserted his opinion as fact.  Everyone was on the edge of their chairs, raptly listening to him speak.  He made commands and people scramble to complete them:  “More water!”  “Fix that lampshade!” “Take a picture of this food!”  It was as if he was giving stern orders to the family dog.  It was extremely bizarre and slightly scary.  He slurred his words and was clearly drunk.

Eventually, his attention turned to Chelsea and I.  He began to talk about happiness and loudly booms “Do you guys want to be happy?  I mean REALLY happy?  What would you do to be happy?  I haven’t worked a job for 30 years.  I can tell you how to be happy.  WE ARE THE ORGASM PEOPLE – that’s what we do!  We’ve learned that if a woman doesn’t have enough orgasms she doesn’t make the right decisions”.  Everyone else is stock silent during this, the only sound is utensils hitting their plates.

I’m dumbfounded.  In retrospect, I wished that I had the moxie to pry further on this, but I was literally speechless.  He then goes on to ask Chelsea “Do you want to be happy?  What would you do to be happy?”  I’m paraphrasing her response:  “I want to be happy as long as I don’t hurt other people along the way”.  JR’s response is scathing: “You’ll never be happy!  You’re wrong!  You’re out!”  He then turns to me and then asks what I was doing before:  “Data analytics for a tech company” He says “wow, doing anything other than that would make you happier!”.  He essentially shot us both down in front of everyone in a mean, scathing manner; especially Chelsea.  I was more amused by his antics, but could see that she was genuinely hurt.  I don’t blame her.  He asked her a personal question, she gave a vulnerable, thoughtful response and he essentially said she was wrong and stupid.  JR continued with his diatribe.  At some point during the dinner, he said to me: “You’re a big guy, do you want more crab?  Someone, give him more crab!”  Cecil asked me if I wanted some more and JR cuts in: “Don’t ask, just give it to him!!!”  Cecil instantly scrambled to give me more food.  At this point, I realize that this is a cult and JR is the leader.  He is the king.  He is the demigod.  He is the Marshal Applewhite of the Female Orgasm People.  Everyone exists to please him.  He does what he wants, says what he likes and issues commands.  Others are not allowed to think for themselves.  Eventually, him and Sally got up and walked arm and arm to the other house.  They did not clean or do any dishes. Everyone else instantly jumped to their feet and hurriedly started cleaning.

At that moment, everything else suddenly made sense to me; the lack of personality of the rest of the group, the dead eyes, the awkward interactions.  JR has surrounded himself with robots; sad brainwashed shells of human beings that exist to please him and support the structure of his highly rigid empire.   It was extremely disturbing to see how everyone bowed down to JR and his commands.   I never felt unsafe, but I could see his loyal followers doing anything he said.  Who knows what could set him off?  It’s a slippery slope to violence and aggression.  He controls everyone with 100% authority; if he issued a command to enact violence, I don’t doubt that his followers would oblige.

It’s had been 6 hours or so since this dinner charade began (from the pre-dinner drinks until the exit of King JR and one of his concubines).  We were in the ‘do dishes with great fervor’ portion of the night.  I’m exhausted and ready to sleep.  While I was doing drying the dishes, I went to the bathroom.  When I returned, Dick (the older man) blew up at me.  “Patrick, how about you finish the job you started?!  You put the drying towel in the wrong spot!  It’s you who had been doing it!”  I was too shocked to respond with anything coherent other than “uhhh…I went to the bathroom”.  He had flown into a rage about drying the dishes.  They had to be dried in the exact right way.  This was a tense moment; but everyone simply did their fake laugh.  They do their fake laugh when anything tense or awkward happens.  “HA HA HA HA HA, someone made a funny!!”.  This incident sealed the deal: I resolved to get the hell out of there.  I looked at Dick, put down the towel in the correct spot and said “I’m going to bed”.

I promptly collected all my things, packed my minivan and vowed to leave in the morning.  I did not sleep well that night – I was anxious about telling them I was leaving and making a clean break.  I didn’t know exactly how it would go down, but I needed to tell my compadre, Chelsea that I was leaving.  She drove all the way here from Kansas and was staying a full month; I couldn’t simply abandon her without giving her a heads up.  That morning, I caught her on the way to the compound from her campsite.  “LAST NIGHT WAS FUCKING WEIRD!” I exclaimed at her – she immediately agreed.  We were clearly on the same page; this place if filled with brainwashed minions; and JR is their leader.  Apparently, Reba had grabbed Chelsea and asked her what was wrong; Chelsea explained it to her but Reba flipped it on Chelsea.  “You’re not being open minded enough, Chelsea.  This is ok.  It’s you, not us.”  Utterly insane, cultish doublespeak.  If there is ever a dissenting opinion or disagreement, it’s clearly your fault not ours.  Side note: I noted that a lot of the women were very touchy with Chelsea; giving her hugs, touching her arms, etc.  I found out later that Chelsea had specifically asked them to stop; but they completely ignored her and continued with the inappropriate touching.

Chelsea said she was planning to leave on Tuesday – but after she found out I was leaving, she said “I’m taking off too.”

 

I hopped in my Van, drove it to the front of the house and parked it in “gateway position” with the front facing the driveway to the main road.  I wanted to wait to tell Reba or Cecil that I was leaving.  I waited 10 minutes and when no one appeared, I said “screw it, I’m leaving”.  I hoped in my minivan, slammed on the gas and sped off.  With the beautiful morning light cascading through the mountains, I squealed with delight as I drove through the winding road of the Klamath River and realized that I had made the best decision possible.

Chelsea and I regrouped in Ashville, one hour away from the compound, and spent the afternoon discussing our insane adventure and furiously writing notes so that we could fully document the madness.  That afternoon we met with two other “commune refugees” that had spent 3 weeks at the compound before Chelsea and I (Chelsea knew them because they overlapped with her first days there).  They had similar experiences and shared a few additional creepy stories.

There is no other way to describe the group than a cult.  It has connections to the Purple People; which is often described as a sex cult.  JR also mentioned the fact that a 23 year old (who volunteered just like us) was in the process of moving in.  Clearly, they are trying to recruit young women to join the group – and apparently they are finding impressionable young ladies to serve King JR.  Very scary stuff.  I plan on leaving a factual review on the work-trade website that connected me to this place.  My hope is that they remove it from their job board; it’s simply not a comfortable or safe environment to exist in.

I have no regrets about my experience.  It was one of the most bizarre three days of my life.  It makes me thankful that I have a wonderful group of friends and family to rely on for support and companionship.  It is also very scary that places like that exist in the world.  I’m worried about future workers that may visit and impressionable young girls that could potentially be pulled into this destructive environment.

Recap

1. Herm and Alberta in Sactown. 
2. The Devestated Area.  Semi stealth camping.
3. The Devestated Area.  Semi stealth camping.
4. Manzanita Lake Shenanigans and Tomfoolery
5. Manzanita Lake Shenanigans and Tomfoolery.
6. McArthur–Burney Falls Memorial State Park.
7. Castle Crag state park.  STEALTH CAMPING for the first time.  Spooky town of Dunsmuir.
8. Shasta.  Town Center.
9. Shasta.  Down by the river in the woods at a magical spot with two siennas.
10. Shasta.  Town Center.
11. Yreka.  Walmart parking lot.
12. Commune.
13. Commune.
14. Commune.
15. Cult!
16. Stay tuned for future updates…