Los Angeles August 1995 - 10
To: alt.dreams.castaneda
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
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