The time my Mom made me join a cult

Just read that title.  Go away, I'm done here. 

J/K

My mother, an unassuming woman not even 5 feet tall, is the sort of person the cashier at Publix talks to about her dead cat Garfield for 20 minutes, while the converyor belt just piles up everyone else's groceries until they start leaving.  (Actually happened). Maybe time consuming and bothersome, but no harm no foul. The line is drawn where my mother will actually stop and talk to the crazy homeless lady in Union Square about Michael Jackson being the savior of our race before giving her $5 (also actually happened).  That goes to say, she's eternally empathetic, consistently sees the good in everyone... and this frequently (usually... more often than not... always.) crowds her better judgement. 

Me?  Guilty as charged.  I, too, have this curse, coupled with a electro-weirdo magnet installed in my chest like IronMan.  And without all that benevolence garbage.

So my Mom came to visit me in lovely Winter Park, FL, where we took a stroll down around the fancy shops and restaurants of Park Avenue.  Park Avenue- famous for upper class white folk, stroller moms, Rollins College students, and overpriced everything (butgreat happy hours).  Not famous for crazy hippies and cult leaders.

As we exited Penzey's Spices, a couple intersected us.  The man looked remarkably like Moby (really? again?), but clad in tie-dye.  The woman was softspoken and charming, dressed in autumn colors of many layers and textures.  She had long, brown hair and a round face.  She asked us if we would like to hear about the Avatar Project, and take a minute to talk about compassion.

Red flag.  Like the ProActiv people in the mall, folks like this are to be 100% cold-shouldered.
NOPE.
My sweet mother, not wanting to hurt their feelings, complied.

We participated in a short excersize in compassion, which was unfortunately very relaxing.  After we were done, we were offered the opportunity to attend a seminar on this particular breed of compassion.  No, thanks.

You guessed it, Mom's all in.  Except Mom isn't local.  How sad for her, because she really, really wishes she could go.  Oh, what a drag.  Well, good thing her daughter is local, because she would certainly love to go.  In fact- here's her contact information.  Oh, no, no, Mom is in the process of moving and can't possibly be reached, but you can get in contact with her through her unwilling daughter, who again would be delighted to attend your seminar on how aliens live in our brains and turn us against each other, L Ron.

So now I get twice- weekly calls from these lovely people telling me all about how I can increase the colors of my aura, and get those goddamned aliens out, and why haven't you come to a seminar yet, we have them once a month in Longwood?

I'll post an update once I go to one of those bad boys.