As I tell you about my life I realize that you are not a Scientologist, you are what we call a “Wog”. The word “Wog” In my religion is used to describe a non-Scientologist.
Because you are a Wog there are many terms I use that will be unfamiliar to you, so I will try to explain them to you as I tell you about my life. Being born and raised in this religion, its terminology is closely interwoven into my education.
Sheridan, OT, and my Parents:
I was born in Portland, Oregon in 1983. My mother Marj and my father Ted worked at a Scientology school called Delphi in the nearby rural town of Sheridan.
They were both in their early 30s when I was born and from the pictures I’ve seen looked like hippies.
My father grew up in a beautiful, and fairly small California farming town called Birds Landing in the wheat covered rolling hills of Solano County between San Francisco and Sacramento. The claim to fame for this sleepy farm town is that it once had the smallest post office in all of the United States. It’s here that my family came in the 1850s on a ship hailing from Denmark. The Andersen’s (as we were spelling our name at the time) are from the same island as the famous storyteller Hans Christian Andersen as my Grandfather tells it and swears that we are most likely related.
Realizing that he didn’t want to be a farmer my dad was pursuing other careers and searching, searching for something more. This something more turned out to be Scientology and then my mother.
My mother Marj was born in Missouri and while she didn’t grow up on a farm had a life of outdoor adventures as a wildlife biologist, camping, exploring the outdoors, rock climbing and caving. She would regale people with stories about catching snakes and squeezing into tight caves researching bats. It was while caving that an incident occurred, one that would be her most powerful story and the one that seemed to set her on the path of searching for answers, looking for some more meaning to life. An out of body experience while caving near St George, Utah.
My mom always tells a story about how on my first Christmas in this world I played baby Jesus in a play at Delphi. It seems whoever built the manger that I lay in didn’t do a very good job, as shortly after the play started it broke, and I was saved by my 4-year-old brother, a wise king as it were.
Shortly after I was born my mother did her OT levels. OT is short for “Operating Thetan”. A Thetan is you, your true self, you don’t have a Thetan but are a Thetan (pronounced “Thaytin”). As my mom explained it to me “It’s not your soul. People believe you have a soul like you have a pair of shoes.” The Thetan is not a thing but a creator of things. It is you in the purest form.
The “OT Levels” are higher levels of counseling in the Church where closely guarded secrets of the origins of the universe are revealed to you. But only when you are fully ready and have done all of the necessary steps that lead up to it. If you are not ready and you somehow discover the secrets contained in OT III, “The Wall of Fire” as it’s called, you can get very sick and die. My friends have told me about people going insane when they learned about the secrets of OT III. It’s very powerful stuff.
When my mom walked through “The Wall of Fire” and discovered the secrets of the history of the universe contained in OT III she decided that there was no better purpose in life than to devote the rest of this lifetime and a billion years hereafter to the cause of salvaging this sector of the universe from its dwindling spiral of existence.
She signed her billion-year contract and prepared to join the Sea Org.
The Sea Org and CEO:
The only problem was that my dad didn’t know if he could live up to the high standards of the Sea Org. This legendary, military-style intimidating group. But as my mom told me “Once he met some Sea Org members in LA he saw that they weren’t a lot different from him.” They also had two kids; My brother Hansen was born 3 years before me.
The Sea Organization (Sea Org for short) is the management structure of Scientology and consists of the most dedicated Scientologists. It was created in the 1960s when our Founder Mr. Hubbard took to the seas to manage Scientology from afar, away from the people looking to destroy the Church. In order to join, you must get rid of all debt, most of your possessions (a house for example) amongst other strict requirements for signing up. After signing your billion year contract and being approved to join, you go through a rigorous training program of coursework and physical labor that usually lasts 3–4 weeks. Members receive $30 a week ($50 in 2005), are provided with a dormitory to live in with other Sea Org members of the same gender. Meals are provided for as well as a naval style uniform. Meal breaks are 30 minutes each. You have about 4 hours on the weekend to clean your room. If you have been productive, (more productive than the week before) then every other week you can put together a submission for a day off on the weekend. In practice, though members rarely get a day off as they are so busy.
It’s a higher cause as they are working to make the world a better place. A cause I will join when I am old enough. These are the people who are actually doing something about the degraded state of this planet. They dedicate their lives (and millions upon millions of future lives) to salvaging the human race from its dwindling spiral of existence.
My parents both joined the Sea Org, and so at the age of 1.5 years, I was moved to Los Angeles a city with the highest concentration of Scientologists on earth. I was placed in a nursery with a bunch of other babies. The nursery was in an old building on Bronson Boulevard in Hollywood. They called it the “Cadet Estates Org” or “CEO” for short, in keeping with the naval/military theme of the Sea Org.
My dad’s first assignment was as the nanny or supervisor of the nursery I was placed in. This didn’t work out so well as I wanted all my dad’s attention to myself and didn’t take too well to him attending to other Sea Org member’s babies. Moving me to another nursery away from my dad was the solution to this problem. And thus at the age of 1.5 years old, a pattern emerged that I’m not sure will change as I grow up. Perhaps it’s because of this that I don’t really miss my parents all the time when they are gone. Perhaps I started to get used to it at the age of 1.5 years.
I’m 8 years old