I was familiar with some of the points in the email. "It is traditional" to bring some washed, organic fresh fruit, some flowers (with stems already removed), and a donation. These I managed to round up, but I was unsure about the presentation. Do I carry them in a sack, or is something nicer, such as a plate, suggested? My landlady, who had been to many of these performances, said an untorn bag would be fine.
More interesting were some of the additional instructions:
Please read these important points:
1. Leather (purses, belts, wallets, watch bands or cell phone cases) should not be brought into the building. However, shoes will removed in an indoor entry area. We also ask that you don't bring cameras, video or other recording equipment into the Hall.
2. Ladies' dress - Saris, long skirts or dresses (avoid pants or punjabis). Also, please cover your head with a scarf, shawl or sari when entering or exiting the Performance Hall.
3. Men's dress - Dignified dress (avoid jeans, shorts or t-shirts).
4. We have been asked to remind everyone not to wear any perfume or other scents.
5. Younger children should not attend the Vedic performance. If you have older children who are interested in attending, please email or call me at the number below to make arrangements.
6. It is very important not to attend if you are not feeling well or coming down with a cold or flu or if you have a cough.
Plus, regarding the parking and being allowed onto the pandit campus:
Because the bus and van need to finish transporting everyone by 10:20, we ask that you arrive at the corner of 170th Street and Invincible America Avenue (directions below) at 10:00 a.m. Someone will direct you where to park. From there everyone will board the bus or van and be driven to the Performance Hall.
With all of these instructions I found myself getting nervous with anticipation. I left the dome earlier than necessary by about 15 minutes, and after killing some time was the second vehicle to park. The parking director was a fellow I hadn't seen in eight or nine years. Two vans took our group into the pandit campus. Some of my fellow passengers hadn't caught the point about removing the stems from the flowers, but they learned in the van and made quick adjustments.
I can report that there were no X-ray machines or security guards frisking you down for contraband leather. (My only leather item, a belt, was back in the car.) We entered through the guest door, removed our shoes, and there was a long table with a plastic tub for everybody's fruits, another tub for everybody's flowers, and a wooden donation box. The coordinator, Eloise, checked our names off a list. Then we were inside.
It was chilly. Eloise explained that the heat had been balky and had come on only half an hour ago. Everybody kept their jackets on. Half the ladies were wearing saris, half were wearing long skirts; daringly, one or two of the skirts were less than floor length. I was in the middle of the pack sartorially, having donned a tie of a typical TMO color, light yellow. The front ranks of viewing chairs were plush models, and reserved; the last two ranks were padded folding chairs, unreserved, and that's where I sat. On my left was a young man from Austria, attending his second performance.
The hall was divided by a five or six foot screen, essentially a one-way glass. We could see the pandits, tinted a little, but they could not see us. Their isolation is always protected. From my seat, a pillar blocked my line of sight, and I could see little of the activity in the ceremonial center (fire, offerings), just the pandits' faces. I did not mind.
The walls and ceilings were decorated with truly eclectic variety. There were chariot wheels, posters of palm trees with a cityscape (four copies of the same poster), red, green, and silver tinsel garlands, painted stripes with embedded traditional symbols, such as the swastika, a white "40" medallion that looked like it had originally been a birthday decoration, one Indian flag, and several red-white-and-blue pleated paper bells from the 4th of July. Behind us was an arch, painted in multiple colors in the exuberant Indian style, with a large walk-in alcove beyond that could hold a dozen people. I didn't find out its purpose.
The performance began with the pandits again creating the striking baritone über-voice. As time went on, the tempo increased and the chanting became more normal. It was a long performance, at least 2½ hours, so I can understand the pandits preferring it not stretch to 3 hours. Still, the metamorphosis was noticeable and allowed my mind to wander. After the pandits had left the building and we were allowed to exit the hall to wait for the vans, the Raja who looks after the pandits -- I forget his name -- remarked about how difficult it was to keep them at a deliberate speed on such a long performance, especially one that delays lunch. Counting our van transport times, Eloise's orientation, and a slight starting delay, attending the performance took up 3½ hours. I was pleased to have finally attended, and also ready for lunch myself. Would I attend again? I liked hearing the über-voice, but the necessity of investing four hours makes it a tossup.
Monday, my last night in Fairfield, included an evening presentation on "Maharishi Light Therapy with Gems." This is a modern addition to Ayurveda, created, according to the presentation, by a German gemologist over a couple of decades under Maharishi's guidance. In a nutshell, bright light is beamed through gemstones at you, and it's good for you. There is a little more about it here. Interestingly, the treatments also include some amorphous -- non-orderly, non-crystalline -- gems such as coral. If you check the picture in the first link above, the patient is under a blanket. Questioned about this, the presenters said you can wear clothes during your treatment, because the beams are working not on the physical body but the "light body." (Think of people who can see auras.) In fact, the beams affecting the head are aimed not at the head, but just above the head. This contradicts some of the explanations in the second link above, but that is what they said.
So you can see the last five days of this visit had something novel each day.
In November the hours of daylight were such that I caught good photographs walking to and from the dome, both on daylight savings time and standard time. Indulge me, and take a peek at a few now. We'll start with the ladies' dome.
From the southeast corner, the men's dome.
Sunrise behind the Drier building.
Drinking in the rays of the setting sun before going in to meditate.
That setting sun, through the clouds.
The two domes, framed.
And finally, the obligatory shot of sunrise on the Student Union.
And that's the end of this report.
