A few years ago, 2002 in fact, a former PAM came along to the ex-premie forum and dabbled a bit.  Under the alias E Rohm. Then after dabbling a bit with other posters (patc, richard and I believe Jim) he posted the following post.  Since then he has not posted, so far as I know.

The post speaks for itself.

____

I am new to this post belief world of former premies and my entry was ungainly as it was ungracious.
Yet I needed to see what feelings would occur if I threw a brick into the pond.
Was this world, I asked, some sort of post purgatory where the howling and the gnashing
of the disembodied  occurred? Or was it a place where the exchange of ideas led to some reasoned understanding?   Would some body respond?

They did patc first followed by Richard that made me feel very wobbly, not like m’s wobbly dance which I must say is in itself not as good as the fuehrer wobbly dance Paris, forty one or forty two.
I thank them both for their exchange their advice (patc) and the encouragement (Richard)
I have chosen to write under the name of e Rohm until I find my feet.  I believe you will understand there are the normal reasons for that.
There are many ways by which I could have come to understand my involvement in M’s world
Master slave is one; lots of good reads and information on that subject
But I chose a different way to see my involvement on the grounds that unlike Friday I wasn’t alone on the island with Robinson Crusoe, who I might add looks to be a nice guy, at first saving Friday from the cooking pot.

We were companioned by our brothers and sisters and we each to the other reinforced
belief and purpose where it was seen or expressed   to be flaky.
So my way is looking at mass movements; the third Reich being one and the other way is through myth creation
I was reading through the forum.  I read Joe Whelan’s open letter to Ron Geaves, what was being challenged was a history that appears revisionist; one, the Hindu, ‘why we had to get rid of it’ as spoken by Ron and others. And the remark m stated to Ron.
I wondered why Ron did not reply to Joe Whelan as regards M’s statement. I would have done on the grounds that those historical events in England actually support M’s statement. But if Ron was actually using m statement to justify what really got underway after seventy five, with the excess, all that has been achieved by Ron is for M to have more scorn pored upon him than he deserves.

On the other hand the Hindu thing is clearer cut as to where the truth lies; it reads like a group of people who have got together after a murder (the truth) and planned their statements before handing them to the police.  The similarities of expression suggest they were derived from a single script, which is quite crazy, when films, books, videos, support Joe Whelan’s assertions.
Perhaps Ron might have felt that why bother; this is a witch hunt that has predetermined events, that no amount of historical evidence, as such, would sway the minds of his accusers.  But I doubt it, the caution to silence is what I imagine took place. it has been the way of dealing with everything from rape, murder and of course JugDao.

So where are we on that one?  If we do not root out the truth from amongst the entanglements I suggest we are on dangerous ground.
We have revisionist history facing up to accusations based on facts of a life style that was not present then.   Now this can be dismissed as an apology, and we can then go on to say M was always like this; one big scam.

But for the record, as one who knew Golden Manor,  it was a small middle class family house of  say a white collar worker
with an above average income,  modern in a dreary way, small stairwell, small bedrooms,  small kitchen and garden. But had the luxury of being a detached house.
The English mission was very poor, the early premies poorer still. Most were hippies’ living in bed sits on squats. Granted there might be one or two exceptions hence M’s satsang at the hippie festival of Glastonbury, not something M would have been advised to do in the eighties.
so the perspective of Golden Manor  by a person living in a squat, would obviously be; its luxurious. On the other hand an Aristocrat would not stick his butler in it. So to judge the past by the present without returning events to their time is, I suggest, dangerous.
The danger of a myth being created for those who would choose to believe in that myth, due to anger and loathing, is that they are on their way to creating a pernicious myth. Because that myth then acquires a following and activity it is in the realms of becoming a pernicious philosophy, no better than the one it opposes. To me this hardens the heart it does not free it.
I for one don’t wish to blame M for what befell me. I don’t really want to concern myself with him.
I wish to have a free and caring heart that translates to my thoughts and activities.
Knowing I have learnt to care once again for my fellow man and letting the world surround me with its natural form .

I imagine bumping  into M, much like an ex lover  I once  bumped into after a disastrous affair(  takes  two to tango ); she was having a bad  day, we warily exchanged greetings but when I walked away smiling  I saw she was pissed with me; for being free and beyond her reach. I was doing fine.
Liberation:
Getting the historical facts right aides those who are at risk; those who see the contradictions in the arguments against M
This may appear to be a rather long and unnecessary argument to say M did not arrive at his current position because he was always like this. He evolved into this, and I believe there are genuine reasons and events that dictated the out come. By understanding them
One can have some compassion for him.
 Yes compassion.
Compassion gives us a clean power, strength   to face him for what he is.
Why waste your anger; save that for Bush or Sharon or Blair.
Try the feeling of compassion, for a man, your former master, who has corrupted himself and you have now outgrown

There are three events amongst the situations, some small, some big, which impacted me as a premie, that finally made me shrug and walk away.
I had a strange incarnation as a premie; in favour, out of favour, abandoned, blamed, spat on, accused of this that and any other but that was not what led me to walk away.
I one day fell out of a parked car (patc might understand this of me)   I lay on my back and looked up; I saw the sky and was shocked. Shocked that not once in two years had I ever looked up at the sky or taken notice of the world I lived in.
That was the first thing
The second thing was a few words a dear friend of mine spoke to me in the grounds of a residence.
As a prelude - Earlier than this (Days weeks months I can’t remember) I had been invited to dinner at the residence dressed in Armani and a good pair of shoes I set forth.  We were driving through Kensington when somebody remarked I needed a shave.
Harrods was down the road; I called in for a shave, and then proceeded. So much for the simple life when you have rich avatars who want you around
I arrived, knocked at the door, was invited in, escorted to the kitchen, handed two pieces of toast with caviar and a champagne flute.  Being somewhat more cool in those days
I thanked my host then I was informed poultry was on the menu.  This took me aback
I managed to say; could it not run fast enough?  We ate drank and ate the wobbly cake.   I was informed; you are x rated.  Really? I replied, what’s that?  ‘This is’ they said. I replied ‘funny we have been doing this for sometime haven’t we or have I missed something all but the meat.’ 
These were the early days; the scene was not one of excess, more like a gentle cocktail party of aristocrats with the rustics outside. Working off their sins with a spot of gardening or security work. I felt good; returned to a civilised world, a chair to sit on, good china to eat off, and cut glass to drink from, not forgetting the servants who served this. It was very nice indeed. Why couldn’t every one have been x rated; Instant enlightenment for the denied masses, we would have all been happy.
No longer would I sit on dingy floors of church halls
No longer the fumes of smelly socks or overcome by the gas of church ladies as the dhal
and lentils worked their magic.
No longer to sit and wait for the entry of a later day John Calvin  who placed on the rank and file  a  Calvinist  sin trip,   his  forever increasing demands for money.
No this was no longer to be my life.

I walked outside in the light of day looked over to the rustics hard at service and started whistling that working class refrain,
The working class can kiss my arse I have the foreman’s job at last.
I was free
So one night in the grounds of another residence I stood smoking a cigarette with my friend (the above mentioned).
He muttered something and shrugged. I enquired with a half smile indicating the house behind us.  He said; Ernst we are dammed, really dammed, look what we have become.  Where do we belong now? We are caught between two worlds; we have no innocence only pretence.
His words entered into me and a silence came between us.
I did not know how to reply I knew he was correct but at that moment I did not know why.
His word stopped their journey into my interior and like a cold, a very cold bucket of water being pored over me, I was awake in a world that was different from the one I was in just a few minutes earlier.
I saw exactly what he meant.   I swore. I touched his arm.
 He said friend Ernst we are friends, I said; yes we are friends.
We smoked another cigarette and walked in to the residence.
I realised I had been recreated in the likeness of my god.
I was seeing his realm through his eyes. I was now an enlightened premie with the discriminatory power to see two worlds and all its contradictions.
The world of ashrams and initiates and organisers became a meaningless blur as though they were an entirely different species.  Not only did I have my masters k I also had his secrets.  As my friend said, I no longer belonged to the premie world not even to my master I was owned by his secrets and trapped by my loyalty. 
I cannot really explain this jolt this sudden enlightenment of being awake, of looking
at those in the program dancing, sleeping to a truth.  I cannot explain how alone it makes you feel   you did not know if the other x rated felt the same or glossed over the sensation.  But to remain innocent of what we had become; so when standing on a stage or in a room or just talking to another premie it somehow could not translate.
What I had come to see and understand was that any action I performed, any task i undertook, was with the understanding of what my master had become. Therefore, as my friend said we had no innocence we could not fall back, point the finger of blame, we were awake.  And the only likely place one would end up was out the back door amongst the trash cans. Left to find your own way through purgatory to the afterlife.
So I do believe that some of us or me alone if you prefer have a responsibility from day one to the present in what became one major cluster fuck. Or supporting the myth of M when we knew what the actual truth of M was.

I am willing to say yes I am in part responsible for that.
Look at it this way; perhaps I was one of them folks who urged you to ‘row row the boat down the stream’ whilst knowing myself ‘life was but a dream’.  so now could not one or two of you consider this irony; that my former position  may have been one of telling you how to practise, and now due to my information, I could be considered in the same position but telling you the opposite. If you don’t see the irony, then trust me that I do for myself. 
I apologise to any amongst you who may feel misled by the likes of me.
of all the things that happened to me, the one  that shook me and to this day remains  painful in my memories is the death of my friend; the German initiator Bushy, who died from a heroin overdose.  Abandoned by almost everyone apart from a few friends.
These few lines by me do not tell his story.  One that needs to be told
E Rohm