One of the most elusive figures of modern times, Castaneda
recentlymaterialized, to great surprise, at a small conference in
Anaheim, California. Reporter Benjamin Epstein was on hand to score a
coup.
He is the 20th century's own sorcerer's apprentice. He is the
invisible man, ephemeral, evanescent: now you see him, now you don't. He
is a navigator making his way through a living universe in exquisite
flux. Or as Carlos Castaneda himself might say, he is a moron, an idiot,
a fart. It's been said that Jesus Christ was either the Son of God or the
greatest liar who ever lived. Carlos Castaneda, who may have a cult
following but says deities are the last thing people need, presents a
similar conundrum. Critics grapple for middle ground: One called him a
"sham-man bearing gifts . . . He lied to bring us the truth."
The jury has been out ever since books such as The Teachings of Don
Juan took the public and academia by storm in the 1960s and 70s, and it's
still out. Castaneda has now produced nine books he claims are based on
his supernatural experiences with Don Juan Matus, a Yaqui seer. To remain
invisible, he says, is the sorcerer's way. He never allows photographs or
a tape recording of his voice. He only rarely grants interviews. In the
80s, he effectively vanished altogether. But the books continue to sell
(8 million in 17 countries) and have never been out of print. In 1993, he
began to give occasional seminars, and the following year The Art of
Dreaming appeared.
Despite ads promoting "Carlos Castaneda's Tensegrity," even event
organizers didn't know whether Castaneda would actually show up at a
recent weekend seminar near Disneyland in Anaheim. Yet 400 devotees from
around the world--about a third from California--paid $250 each to
attend, whether Castaneda showed or not. They came to learn a series of
"magical passes," movements intended to heighten perception.
"It is a thinking universe, a living universe, an exquisite
universe!" Castaneda said, exuberantly kicking off the seminar. "We have
to balance the lineality of the known universe with the nonlineality of
the unknown universe." The charismatic Castaneda proved amazingly
convincing when describing life among inorganic beings, with whom he
apparently spends a great deal of time; the assemblage point, a place
about an arm's length behind our shoulder blades that can be shifted to
visit other realms; and a predatory universe in which "flyers"
incessantly feed on mankind's awareness, taking the sheen off our
luminous eggs and leaving only a rubble of self-absorption and
egomania.
He invents none of this, he insists. I'm not insane, you know.
Well, maybe a little insane. But not ridiculously insane!"
He is also charming, energetic, fit, and funny. And at the
conclusion of his opening talk, Castaneda responded to a request for an
interview by unexpectedly inviting the writer to lunch.
Sitting in a coffee shop in Anaheim opposite Castaneda was enough
to realign anybody's assemblage point: The writer later took his
nonlineality to heart, slipping easily between lunch and workshop talks,
and indulging in the conversational format that Castaneda often used to
elucidate his master's ideas. After all, Castaneda had replaced Don Juan
as nagual, the head sorcerer, a being with double luminous spheres, and
if it was good enough for one nagual, it's good enough for
another.
At the table were several Tensegrity staffers and the three women
chacmools who helped Castaneda compile the movements and who taught them
step-by-step at the seminar.
"Is this what you've been doing all this time, magical passes?" I
asked Castaneda.
"Noooo . . . . I was very chubby," he said. "Don Juan recommended
an obsessive use of magical passes to keep my body at an optimum. So in
terms of physical activity, yes, this is what we do. The movements also
force our awareness to focus on the idea that we are spheres of
luminosity, a conglomerate of energy fields held together by special
glue."
"Is Tensegrity the Toltec t'ai chi? Yaqui yoga?" I asked.
"To compare Tensegrity with yoga or t'ai chi is not possible. It
has a different origin and a different purpose. The origin is shamanic,
the purpose is shamanic. It has to do with our reason for being. Our
reason for being is to face infinity
"We're all going to face infinity, at the moment of dying," he
said. "Why face it when we are weakest, when we are broken? Why not when
we are strong? Why not now? You have to face it pragmatically No
idealities allowed."
"Where would Jesus fit into all this? Where would Buddha fit
in?"
"They are idealities," Castaneda replied. "They are too big, too
gigantic to be real. They are deities. One is the Prince of Buddhism, the
other is the Son of God . . . . Idealities cannot be used in a pragmatic
movement.
"Allowing your perception to break the interpretation system--a
tree ceases to be a tree and becomes sheer energy--that is a pragmatic
maneuver. The things shamans deal with are extremely practical. They
break down parameters of normal historical reality Magical passes are
just one aspect of that."
Castaneda is very negative about religion. But these aren't your
usual diatribes: "Leave Jesus on the cross. He's very happy there! Don
Juan said, 'Don't bother him, leave him alone. Don't ask him "why are you
there crucified." He'd go bananas trying to explain to you why.' So I did
that. He said hello to me, and goodbye."
