Tensegrity Seminars

Los Angeles (6) - August 1995 [ 1995 Index | Previous | Next ] To:   alt.dreams.castaneda Date:   Fri, 4 Aug 1995 23:57:22 UTC Thursday, August 4th, 1995 was the first day of the Group B intensive Tensegrity seminar in Lost Angeles. Check-in was at six pm. As I walked up to the registration tables it occurred to me that, after so many years of reading his work, meeting Castaneda was like meeting the goddamn pope. I was very nervous and my palms were sweating. Looking back I realize it did not even occur to me that Castaneda would NOT be there for opening ceremonies. At 7 pm, a small group of people entered the cafeteria through one of the side doors, just like a rock and roll band. One minute there were 100 people sitting around examining the lint in their navels, the next minute an incredibly frail old man had taken the stage and was encouraging us to "Come closer! Come closer!" I've been reading Castaneda's books for over 20 years. The Castaneda in the books is always virile and strong. I had forgotten that he would be in his late fifties by now. The old man on stage looked like he weighed about 110 pounds on a good day. He wore blue jeans and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. His hair was dark grey and his face was weathered. His hands were an old mans hands, with prominent veins and tendons. His movements were vigorous, but no more so than many of the sixty year olds who work out in the gym I go to, some of whom could use Castaneda as a speed bag. He spoke with a distinct accent but was fairly easy to understand. He looked no different than any one of the infinite number of old Mexican guys hanging around whose job it is to cut every blade of grass in California. Castaneda is so skinny that his ass has completely disappeared. If you tried to grab Castaneda's ass, your hand would end up in the front pocket of his blue jeans. Castaneda is so skinny that, just like those Chinese college students, the smallest belt goes one and a half times around his waist and the free end of the belt hangs down like a tongue. Castaneda got up on stage at about 7:05 pm and spoke for the better part of an hour and a half without scarcely pausing for breath. He briefly sketched his studies with Don Juan, and then launched into his 'poor baby me' routine and talked about the flyers (Voladores). He brought the other members of his party and then the Chacmools up on stage and introduced them. Castaneda spoke very well, very convincingly, but it also occurred to me that he has given this talk many, many times before -- enough to get good at it. Because I was familiar with his ideas I was biased in his favor, but I could not help wondering how someone with no familiarity with his work would have reacted to his presentation. A skinny old man spouting smooth cliches with a group of bizzarre looking women behind him. Castaneda clowned on stage, laughing at his own material and generally hamming it up. There were two or three brief moments, in his 90 minute talk, when he was genuinely funny. But his audience did not feel the need to wait. If Castaneda so much as raised an eyebrow or slapped his thigh, they burst out into loud, forced, artificial laughter and applause. They applauded when Castaneda took the stage, when his partners took the stage, when the Chacmools went up on stage. They applauded when everyone left the stage, or when there was any pause, no matter how brief, during the entire evening into which applause could be fit. Wayne Newton never worked a room that easy. I can scarcely recall the last time I saw that kind of sycophantic behavior. It was worse than watching Garrison Keeler live in downtown St. Paul. It was like a group of students listening to a lecture from an important professor; forcing themselves to laugh at his tired stories because they're going to need a reference from him in order to get a job. If Castaneda had taken a shit on stage, ninety-nine volunteers from the audience would have jumped up on stage to eat it, and they would have had to duke it out with the Chacmools first. While Castaneda spoke I caught glimpses through the crowd of the people who had come in with him. I recognized the Chacmools, and there was a skinny blonde chick whom I suspected was Florinda Donner Grau. Toward the end of his speech, Castaneda brought three women up on stage and introduced them. Someone in the audience asked him to repeat their names. This request needed to be repeated about three or four times before Castaneda understood it. It seemed as though he was somewhat deaf. I was glad someone had asked him to repeat the introductions because I wanted to make sure I knew who these women were. Florinda Donner Grau was leftmost on the stage behind Castaneda. She was short and had very bright blonde hair so short it was almost a crew cut. I thought she was the only one of the group who would have attracted attention under other circumstances. She had the taut skin of an aging debutante, and bright active eyes. She looked like she might weigh about 75 pounds, assuming she had bus fare in her pockets. Standing next to Florinda was the famous Carol Tiggs. It was quite a shock to see her in person. She looked nothing like I imagined -- although none of them did. For some strange reason I always pictured Carol Tiggs as having long brown/blonde hair, an aquiline nose and high cheekbones. Sorry -- what can I tell you. The real Carol Tiggs has dark, almost black hair, with some grey in it, cut in a short bob. She had chubby cheeks and what looked like mascara enhanced eyelashes. She looked substantially younger than the others. Carol Tiggs looks like a housewife from Long Island; the kind that has two kids, plays tennis all day, and hasn't had an orgasm since 1975, which was the last time her husband was able to get the crowbar between her knees and pry her legs apart. Next to Carol Tiggs was Taisha Abelar. She had light reddish brown hair, also cut short and, perhaps because of her haircut, looked like she had pointed ears, which they say is a sign of imbecility, although maybe she's a Vulcan. Who knows. She was utterly unremarkable and slightly demented looking. She looked like one of those vague, frail clerks you see in health food stores who babble softly about the benefits of tofu but who look as though they would be knocked over by a stiff breeze. She looks like she would have a lot of cats and might speak angrily to them as she put out innumerable bowls of food and milk. The Chacmools were brought up on stage next. They were wearing makeup, tasteful jewelry, and similar, although not identical, tailored outfits. They looked like three normal, attractive young women who might work downtown in a gallery or shop. Kylie Lundahl and Reni Murez looked better than they did on video. Nyei Murez looked worse. She looked slightly chubbier than she did on the video and had a slightly dufus look to her. She looked as if she'd recently been hit in the head and hadn't quite recovered yet. She was charming when she spoke. After Castaneda finished his speech and his introductions, he and the three Carlos Castaneda backup singers left the stage, and the room, as quickly as they had entered. The Chacmools took over and, although it was already almost 8:45 pm, started to take us through some introductory movements. Unlike the rather severe video, where the Chacmools appear with no makeup, no smiles, and no monkey business, all three of the Chacmools were charming and kind. This difference was especially noticable with Kylie Lundahl who, on the video, always looked to me like a lesbian biker chick. The Chacmools smiled a lot and were kind and encouraging as they led us through the movements. It was a lot like being in a dojo, except that they were warmer and more friendly than most martial arts instructors. They began by exhorting us, at least during the three weeks of the seminar, to reduce our intake of sugar, salt, and fruit, and to drink lots of water. They said something about avoiding starches when they occur with sugars, but I was a little vague on that part. Someone asked why it was necessary for us to reduce the amount of fruit that we ate, but I don't believe a coherent reason was given. In fact, I don't remember a coherent reason given for any of the dietary changes. Then the Chacmools introduced us to two passes. The first was called "The Butterfly" and the second was called "Moving the left side into the right side and the right side into the left side" or words to that effect. I assume others will descibe these passes in detail. In addition to practicing the passes, the Chacmools also told us us to practice walking around in a slightly pigeon-toed fashion, and to be aware of the feeling that such a gait made in our legs and thighs. We all milled around the cafeteria like a bunch of pigeons and I did notice that my walk was a little springier. I felt like I might be able to jump or turn in any direction a little bit faster, the way they are always trying to get you to do in martial arts classes. But I really wondered whether asking us to walk around slighty pigeon-toed for the next three weeks was just a mechanism for trapping our attention with an unfamiliar behavior, the way that Don Juan used to make Castaneda walk in the desert with his fingers bent in unfamiliar positions. Desnate [ 1995 Index | Previous | Next ]

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