I was completely unaware that Dahn Yoga was a cult when I signed up. In the beginnings of the practice, I enjoyed their funky and quirky exercises because they really seemed to be helping my neck and shoulder pains.
The other members who exercised alongside me always looked to be in good spirits, too. There was no particular profile of Dahn Yoga members. In my class, the members' ages ranged from 30-60 and represented Hispanics, Caucasians, and African-Americans. Not only was I the only Korean member, but I was also the only Asian.
As I reflect on those fellow members now, I realize that everyone was quite friendly and participated with their own physical/emotional goals in mind. There were no "weirdos," which makes me believe that they were also oblivious to the dark side of Dahn Yoga. I think I would have had a much harder time processing and getting over the PTSD had I met a bunch of overly zealous Ilchi-lovers.
I didn't even sense anything unusual or strange during tea time when we went around to share any insights or observances during our practice. It was always a calm and friendly time. I would see the instructors going around and asking members to sign up for the upcoming $300-$1,000 retreats, seminars, and lectures but the members would respond in stride, unlike me, who was always suspicious and felt pressured by these aggressive sales tactics.
On a side note, I always thought it was ironic that these instructors were inviting non-Korean members to these Korean-language events. How awkward for the non-Korean speakers! Granted, we were advised that there would be an English translator at the events, but if you know anything about the Korean language and culture, you know that everything would be lost in translation and there would be a whole lot of charismatic cult chaos.