Helen Zuman
Five Questions To Helen Zuman

I became interested in Wulf Zendik after listening to his albums. There is fragmented information about him, each of these recordings - practically "underground" - is difficult to catalog, and there isn't much information about Zendik in general. I mean that to really learn something about who Wulf Zendik truly was, you'll need to commit to a genuine research effort.

However, the initial idea I had formed, after also learning about the Zendik Farm, his "community" of artists founded at the end of the sixties, led me to think of him as a sort of new age "guru." Then I came across some contradictory information about him, his wife Arol, and the Zendik Farm in general, which aroused my curiosity and pushed me further to gather more information on the subject.

It was at this point that my research intersected with the work of Helen Zuman. Originally from Brooklyn, New York, Helen is an artist who graduated in sculpture from Harvard University and a writer. From 1999 to 2004, for practically five years, she was a member of the Zendik Farm. An experience that undoubtedly marked her life in a painful way and which she reconstructed and elaborated upon afterward. Her research on herself and her elaboration constitutes something unique among all the former members of the Zendik Farm (an experience that ended definitively in 2012). I mean to say that no one has undertaken or disclosed a work as detailed as hers; but this actually constitutes something broader, because her reflections and considerations related to her experience are something that transcends the personal and contextual aspect and can be extended to dynamics and behaviors that are somehow reiterated in any context and "closed circuit" or "tribe."

All this work culminated, in Helen's case, who today lives with her husband between Beacon, New York and Black Mountain in North Carolina, in the creation and upcoming publication of a book entitled "Mating In Captivity". A full-blown memoir that will be published on May 8, 2018, by She Writes Press (and which you can find here: https://www.amazon.com/Mating-Captivity-Memoir-Helen-Zuman/dp/1631523376/).

For Helen (official website: http://helenzuman.com/), who rebuilt her entire life after those years, starting from scratch and literally opening up to the world but without denying her past and staying true to those ideal principles she always considered central to her thinking, this book clearly has a very important meaning that goes beyond the satisfaction of completing a literary work.

I had the good fortune to meet her and get to know her through this email interview, in which Helen "generously" answered all my lengthy and inquisitive questions.

As always, I present the interview in both the Italian version and the "original" English version.

I can't add anything else at this point other than to thank her for her courtesy and great charm, and wish her the best of luck with the publication and, in general, for her activities as a writer and the continuation of her spiritual and human growth journey.

Happy reading.

"Vining through the ruins, human ties remain."

1. Hi Helen. First of all, I sincerely want to thank you for accepting to answer this interview. We will be discussing a reality that is probably somewhat popular and recognized in the USA, but about which we know nothing here in Italy, so I please** ask for your understanding and possible correction of any inaccuracies. Let's start. You lived at "Zendik Farm" from 1999 to 2004. Practically, your experience began a few months after Wulf Zendik's death. So at that time, the principal reference figure was his wife Arol, and I believe she continued to be one until her death in 2012. But let's talk about your direct experience, of course. It was 1999. How old were you? Were you already an artist? Why did you decide to become a Zendik? I assume some of the main criticisms of Zendik were already known. Did anyone try to discourage you from making this choice? Your family, your friends? What were their reactions?

HZ. I was 22 years old when I joined the Zendik community. Yes, I was an artist - I have always been interested and engaged in creating visual arts since I was a child, and I graduated in art from Harvard. At the same time, I have always been interested in writing, but at that time I had not yet found the right approach to practice, explore, and express content, and consequently, from this point of view, I was somewhat blocked.

I went there without any particular idea. I mean, I hadn't decided if I would stay. I never stayed more than three weeks in other communities I visited with fellow travelers in the four and a half months after graduation. What intrigued me was the social context: I liked the Zendiks - most were in their twenties and thirties - for their practicality, their vigorous physical appearance, and the firm and determined way they held their beliefs. In particular, I was fascinated by the men of the community, who were much more virile than the average Harvard students. I already knew that the Zendiks engaged in sexual relations with set methods, or "dates." It seemed like an excellent way to overcome my extreme ineptitude in dealing with the opposite sex. In one stroke, I could become part of a tribe of "badass" activists, and I could also solve my relationship problems. Well, I have to say it indeed seemed like a good deal.

Initially, my journey from Brooklyn, New York to the woods of western North Carolina left me isolated: I didn't have a car, I couldn't drive, and I could only make calls from a phone shared with the other occupants of the busiest room at the "Farm." So it was objectively difficult to contact the outside world, regardless of whether I wanted to discuss my experience. Quickly, Zendik became my world, and to belong to this world, you should adhere to precise rules: I had to surrender all my cash, and I would have committed to staying there for life. I made this decision in two weeks.

When I moved to Zendik, Google was just born; the primary source - perhaps the only one - of information about the Farm on the Internet was practically its official website. I would say that consequently, my family and friends were both concerned about my firm adherence to this lifestyle, as well as open to the possibility that perhaps it was my rightful place – but they didn’t have access to information that either confirmed or denied their thoughts.

2. Earlier, I asked why you decided to become a Zendik. Obviously, it is necessary to now introduce Wulf Zendik and his wife, Arol, to begin understanding better what we are talking about. I believe you never personally met Zendik, but you lived for five years with his wife, Arol. Who were Wulf Zendik and Arol, really? What exactly was a Zendik Farm? Apparently, at this point, I don't think it can be precisely defined as a hippie commune. So, what was it? What principles did the entire project base itself upon? What were the objectives? And what exactly did a Zendik do during their stay there?

HZ. Who were Wulf and Arol vaguely? That's a good question. I can tell you what they did, but can I say who they indeed were? I think, however, I can explain what they meant to me and how this changes, as they changed over based on my experiences.

When I lived at Zendik Farm, I thought Wulf and Arol were the first couple in the history of humankind to practice absolute honesty and loyalty in a male-female relationship, and that only by following their example could I also find true love (in its pure sense and not according to what might be a less ideal vision typical of our days). They both – their words, their actions, and how they expressed their art – were my guide: everything they said and did – even what could seem like contradictions – was, for me, a model for how I should live my life.

In addition, I can say that I considered Arol as my teacher, mentor, guardian angel, and my surrogate and spiritual mother. I did everything I could to earn her approval, and at the same time, her criticisms could ruin me. I relied on her to guide me in discovering my sexuality, developing my arts, and enlightening the path – even though she lacked sweetness and was tactless, and her love was highly conditioned.

The Zendik Farm could, in some way, be considered a hippie commune, in the sense that it was inaugurated right during the hippie period (in 1969) and united in intense interdependence among people who had no blood ties: it was also born with the intent to promote the "return to the earth" and principles like tie-dyeing, natural fermentation, and outdoor baths. Moreover, Wulf and Arol rode the long wave of disillusionment with institutional models (war, corporate governance, cultural isolation...) that pushed thousands of people, especially young people, to quit everything and dive into experiences like these. Most Zendiks were also young. However, as far as I am concerned, I would be careful to define Zendik as a "commune," since, for my experience, I can say that in this case, only one or two people controlled the money and owned the land. In addition, you could say that those closer to Wulf and Arol would receive better treatment than everyone else.

The objective that Zendik was supposed to pursue, and the reason for its foundation, is that if artists banded together in a dimension foreign to them, they wouldn't only survive but thrive and grow artistically and spiritually. Moreover, the idea was that being part of a family broader than the traditional one composed of parents and children would create a more extensive network of support and mutual comparison, where aspiring couples, following the pioneering example of Wulf and Arol who had what was considered the perfect relationship, could finally achieve what can be defined as true love. Meanwhile, by simply living together and cooperating with each other, while working on evolving toward sexual emancipation and general spiritual enlightenment, we constituted a model for the rest of humanity, which one day would end lies, violence, solitude, competition, and environmental devastation.

Apparently, this would have been the purpose of the community; in reality, I can't say how or more consciously they cultivated the desire (at least regarding Arol) to obtain profound loyalty and devotion from their followers, which would secure their material well-being and their offspring.

In reality, during the stay at the community, a Zendik does practically everything, depending on their abilities and talents, their place in the hierarchy, or Arol's decisions and whims. Those higher in the hierarchy were tasked with more qualified jobs and were involved in administration and organization; the last arrivals would probably weed, wash dishes, chop vegetables, or harvest grain. Many of us would spend more than half our weekends on the city streets, during concerts, protests, and festivals, selling Zendik's self-produced items (magazines, CDs, stickers, T-shirts) to keep the community afloat. We also held many comparisons – big or small ones – on issues like sex, interpersonal conflicts, sales organization, any problem perceived within the community. Finally, we gathered to listen to Arol's "rap," a kind of Sunday sermon; to listen to the worst and wildest parts of the band’s latest album; to complete the simplest but most laborious parts of significant projects. And, of course, we went for "walks" and "dates": we would meticulously and almost obsessively analyze everything the next day and try to avoid our ex-lovers, obsessed more with our relationship with Arol and our role within the community. In the end, we had woven an extremely thick but also thin network of relationships – yes, we were interdependent and shared experiences as profound and distressing as happy ones, but we were always afraid that this thread could break at any moment and that would cut us off from everything.

3. Let's talk about what could have been the "critical" aspects concerning the organization of the community. First of all, I assume it functioned as a form of dictatorial regime by an elite composed of Arol, her daughter Fawn, and Zoe, who was practically the "alpha male" of the group and the father of Fawn's first child. Has it always been like this even when Wulf was alive? I read that Arol had always been the one conducting the community from the beginning, while Wulf mainly focused on his artistic activities or what I imagine were spiritual activities. Is there any truth in this statement? Apart from that, you primarily lived in the community by working and selling things to collect funds to support the structure. You had no time to practice your arts, and there "was no true freedom of any kind." Why did you stay there for so long? Can we say something conditioned you? Were you "afraid" of returning to what we can define as everyday life? Were you threatened? When did you finally decide that you needed to leave, and why do there seem to be so few Zendiks who have spoken about their experience?

HZ. I can't assert with certainty how the community functioned when Wulf was still alive. My understanding is that Arol always played a more determining role than Wulf on the operational and administrative level; however, I would not at all say that Wulf did not exert his power over others. Quite the opposite. From my point of view, Arol was Wulf's "first follower" - it was she who legitimized his beliefs and practices because she was the first to adopt them, thus helping to make them appealing and intriguing to a broader circle. Additionally, as I explain in my memoir, the Zendik's idiosyncratic approach to birth control seemed to be systematically implemented to serve Wulf, who had sexual relations with most of the women in the community, to which not all had any interest except to gain a prominent position within the community.

No, it is not true that I had no time for my art. I took my spaces to write during spare time, often late at night; my only outlet for publishing was the Zendik magazine, the only approval that counted was Arol's, and the electric fences built in my mind strongly circumscribed and limited the territory I could imagine occupying. Moreover, since I was so deeply immersed in the Zendik reality, I couldn't risk exploring other solutions, fearing losing trust and being unable to describe my life there in detail or any other way, through words, to those not part of the community.

Concerning freedom: I had some. I refer here to "Bounded Choice," a fascinating book by sociologist and ex-cultist Janja Lalich. She argues that people part of a cult make many of their decisions independently, but these happen with confinement or a highly limited belief system. So, for example, at Zendik, I could choose whom to "hit up" for a "date" or sexual assignment, but I couldn't bypass the formal system that required regulation.

Everyone lives within their story (some are denser with content than others); I stayed so long at Zendik because I wanted its story to be mine: I truly believed that my only chance to establish an honest, sincere, and lasting relationship with a man was to learn everything from Arol, the only woman on Earth who had ever succeeded. I also believed that if I returned to the mediocre daily life ("Deathculture"), I would die spiritually. If not in body, as a punishment for betraying the true and authentic meaning of life by renouncing Zendik's mission to stop destroying the world we live in. The fact that all of this existed only in my mind doesn't mean it was any less frightening. Additionally, there were some threats: I knew, as I had seen other Zendiks leave, that if I was expelled from the community for this reason, I would have to abandon all my ties. I had no money, and there was a massive and gigantic gap in my resume and my work experience in general, all things that made starting over financially and professionally largely difficult. Naturally, there were also some things that pushed me to stay: I liked that feeling of euphoria during sales; the "honeymoons" during various love relationships; the camaraderie from feeling part of a "badass" collective at home and on the streets and, above all, those strong (though twisted) bonds with these people with whom I shared so much.

Anyone who has never been part of an experience like this generally assumes that these organizations ("cults" or "sects") will do anything to keep their members and not let them go. But it doesn't work this way. The real wire doesn't wrap around mythical aspects, but around each member's heart and mind – and a practice of periodic purgation or exile can actually help maintain the leader's power and group cohesion. How? By making those who stay feel even more special than they thought (it's a concept that may seem twisted, but if you think about it, it works) and reminding them that reaching too high or reducing their commitment might make them next.

I never thought I should leave, but in September 2004, almost five years after my arrival, I was expelled.

Why? I tried to explain it to myself this way: although I still believed that Zendik was the only possible place to achieve that form of lasting and honest companionship that I sought, I had begun failing hope that I was indeed equal to the challenge I set out for myself. This could consequently have led to a subconscious feeling of giving up on the cause, which Arol might have picked up. Another reason could be because Arol just wanted to eliminate someone, and it was my turn.

As I said, I left Zendik in September 2004; it then took me another fourteen months to free my heart and mind from the feeling of loss and failure. However, when this happened, I was in a state of ecstasy: the transition from "I failed and am doomed" to "Zendik is a cult!" was liberating and allowed me to open up to the world and build my life. So I embraced the truth of things and shared far and wide my experience. And although it took me more than twelve years to gather my entire Zendik story as a book, I felt since the moment I freed myself, being well-prepared and able to explain to non-Zendiks how Zendik worked and what I experienced. However, I can say, but I could be wrong in either case: on the one hand, many ex-Zendiks prefer not to talk about the time they spent there because they are ashamed (as if they were naive and let themselves be "fooled," etc.); on the other, they don't expect outsiders to understand what it truly meant to be there. But it could also be true that some ex-Zendiks (who still consider the Farm as a revolutionary movement) try to protect and defend their choice by keeping only the worst aspects of the story to themselves. Moreover, not everyone is a writer.

But I am, and one of the reasons I have worked so long and hard for my book to be published is that I actually want this to be a support for my ex-Zendik friends: perhaps it will help those who feel this "shame" to start deserving their hard work and solid ideals, and maybe it can be a way for them to talk about things they've never been able to explain until today.

4. There is an aspect of Zendik philosophy that I find particularly interesting and I would like you could explain to us. I'm referring to what you called "Psychic Cause and Effect." What are we talking about and how and where should we place this principle within Zendik's philosophy? However, you used the word "cult" to describe all those who belonged to the Zendik community, why? Do you mean that at the end it was a kind of community of religious fanatics? You also explained how members of the so-called elite practically enriched themselves on the backs of the other community members. That seems sensible to me; there is no doubt about it. But how could it happen? I mean, it seems strange to me they could have done it through selling CDs or various activities tied to the community. I don't want to presume and maybe now I'll say something totally wrong, but what do you reply if I ask you if the Zendik were involved also in illegal activities?

HZ. According to Zendik's "Law of Psychic Cause and Effect," we are all continuously connected to each other and simultaneously send "signals" that attract precisely what we seek in life, which could even be something buried deep in our subconscious corrupted by ordinary thinking ("Deathculture") and as such opposes our conscious desire. Accordingly, if you go out on the street to sell Zendik items with the desire to earn lots of money and meet many people, but you find yourself whimpering with only five dollars, which gets you down, it means that you still prefer the same pain to which ordinary thinking accustomed you or harbor doubts about the Zendik revolution.

In some way, all of this might seem similar to the "law of attraction" made popular by the bestseller "The Secret," and indeed the situation is like this. The main problem at the same time is that we Zendiks were mostly inclined to emphasize this small mechanism's negative effects; that is, we practically were much more likely to blame ourselves and others and therefore had a negative rather than positive connotation of ourselves. On the contrary, when positive things happened, credit would only go to Arol or the Zendik community as a whole.

However, talking of a complex of structural rules for what concerns Zendik's philosophy makes no sense, as it would imply coherence that doesn't exist; each of us would process our thoughts through connections between different ideas that were not adequately articulated and often contradicted how we lived. In this web of connections, the "psychic cause and effect law" was a tool we could potentially use at any time - thus, any concept or experience was extracted from reality, and complicated situations were never attributed to the Zendik community and its leaders but to what was our position within the hierarchy. This applied both collectively and individually.

I use two definitions of the word "cult." The first one, which is basic, is: "a group that strips the individual of self-trust." The second, more complex one involves the criteria established by experts like Margaret Thaler Singer and Steven Hassan - for example, the fact that each individuality is not essential (it's okay to sacrifice the individual for the good of the "mission"), the impossibility to appeal to a power higher than the leader, the absolute priority to recruitment and fundraising over focusing one's efforts on a concrete and achievable objective. Both definitions suit Zendik; at the same time, I wouldn't talk about religious fanaticism (I wouldn't define Zendik as a religion, even). Although it is true that most people labeled as "religious fanatics" are mentally and emotionally limited by social structures similar to the Zendiks'.

The leaders of Zendik did not get rich. Sure, Arol lived very well and without ever having worked in her life and – as far as I know – without having to ever resort to social support. Until her death, she was surrounded by many people willing to care for her. Yes, Arol and Fawn had many more opportunities than the generality of the Zendik to access resources to develop their artistic impulses and satisfy their material desires. But when Arol died in 2012, she left her daughter little more than a highly leveraged property acquired in a real estate bubble. So while Fawn – unlike others who also spent decades dedicating themselves to the cause of this supposed revolution – emerged with land she could sell, she didn't leave with loads of cash. Indeed, even before Zendik's end, it was financially supported by Fawn's husband's family and another long-term community member's family.

The money for Zendik primarily came from selling the magazines, CDs, bumper stickers, and T-shirts we sold on the street (we also sold T-shirts by phone). At the same time, as usual customs, anyone who committed to the cause would turn over their savings, college funds, inheritances, etc., to Zendik or "loan" money it never intended to return. (I know at least two Zendiks who invested six-figure sums into the community's funds taken from their families' funds). So, even when Zendik had financial problems, coercion – rather than real criminal activities – was primarily resorted to (that in my experience, was mostly limited to shoplifting and using fake passes to sneak into concerts and festivals).

If you struggle to explain how Arol and her family maintained a relatively high standard of living, try to imagine: Zendik was a business carried forward by employees with obsessive work approaches willing to work incredibly overtime in exchange for food, a place to stay, clothes, and taking part in a story seductive enough to give meaning to every sacrifice.

5. How does this story all end? The Zendik Farm did declare bankruptcy or something like that, right? Can we say that this experience has concluded at this point? What became of Fawn and the other members of the "elite"? But, above all, what can you tell us about yourself? You left the community in 2004. How did you restart your existence? I have read, and you have told us a lot about your life in the community, but can I ask what happened to you afterward? What can you tell us about your life today? I mean: are you married, do you have children, a "regular" job? Above all, I would like to ask if you still believe in the same ideal reasons that led you to become a Zendik twenty years ago. Did you resume your activity as an artist? And what about the book? You’ve practically written much about life at Zendik Farm. Definitely more than anyone else ever did. How well known and interesting is this story in the US? Have you ever had the perception that the topic was considered to be something that shouldn’t be talked about for some reason? Lastly, have you ever met any other former Zendiks who were your adventure companions?

HZ. No, I don't think Zendik went bankrupt; however, in the year Arol died (June 6, 2012), or shortly afterward, the community dissolved when even the last die-hards decided to leave. So yes, this experience is over in the sense that, in my view, the purpose and true soul of Zendik was to weave a web of relationships among people that wouldn't otherwise have intertwined; once the web was complete, however, the loom fell apart. But from another perspective, this experience persists through the actions of those who were part of it.

No, I'm not in contact with Fawn or other former members of Arol's inner circle. I prefer not to comment on what they do today and where they are.

As for me? When I left Zendik – with ten dollars in my pocket and a backpack on my back – I felt both free and doomed: yes, it was exciting to be out in the world again with no one controlling me – but I couldn't rid myself of the belief that I had betrayed my tribe and all my life, that I had been forced into exile. I believed that I could only save myself by going back, but at the same time, I knew that I had to survive by accepting that this could never happen.

More or less a year after my departure, I slowly rebuilt relationships with my family, made new friends with non-Zendik people and went on free appointments without any constraints. Although I still saw the world around me as what I first defined as "Deathculture," at the same time, I couldn't help but consider and appreciate the respect and kindness I regularly received. Nor could I ignore the contrast between this respect and kindness and the coldness I knew I would encounter if I ever called the community. In October 2005, in the quiet of my mother's apartment in Brooklyn (where I landed after a year of hitchhiking, moving, working in agriculture, and a forty-day trip around the world), I decided that I had no desire to evoke that coldness by making that call and – finally – with the help of a friend, I began to acknowledge all the most painful aspects of my experience in the Zendik community. A couple of months later, I read a book about cults suggested by another ex-Zendik, and I was happy to find that Zendik fit perfectly with the portrayals in the text. What I mean is that a revolutionary movement isn't solely responsible for saving life on Earth, and that I didn't betray everything I held sacred by leaving the community. This allowed me to open myself to the world and start living life how I wanted.

Since then, many things have happened, especially meeting the man who later became my husband (no, we have no children), writing and publishing my book "Mating In Captivity," and starting a new community (absolutely "non-cult"!) called "Earthaven," located in the North Carolina western part, not far from where Zendik was located. I've had several art exhibitions and experienced numerous jobs, most of which were very short-term and precarious; my current project – as I prepare to launch my book – is to work and earn enough by sharing what I do with others. After taming my demons related to my Zendik experience in understanding my human need to have meaning and be part of a context of broad social interaction, I feel called to give everything that I possess using my words and my presence to cultivate sensations like spiritual well-being, kindness, joy. For me, this call constitutes an evolution of that quest for a kind of "tribe" that originally led me to take part in the Zendik Farm.

I started writing the book about Zendik in January 2016; it will be published by She Writes Press on May 8, 2018. This project was what spurred me into engaging with writing; it was a process I worked on myself, eventually developing into an art form. However, this story interests many people in America; only that, nowadays, with a wholly inverted book market world, every author must find their unique path to publication, and it took me some time to find mine. However, in hindsight, I'm grateful for having had to take this long journey, as it appears I've found my right dimension. I couldn't be happier that my book is on the verge of publication and will be available in libraries and bookstores and accessible to many readers.

As for your last question, I’ll quote the book's closing lines: "I consider many former Zendiks among my closest friends. 'Vining through the ruins, human ties remain."