Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
The Integratron: a tool for soundness
The shape of the room intensely amplifies the tones
The Integratron: exactly where it needs to be.
The situation of so many structures in Southern California feels haphazard: buildings plunked down here or there by whim or whimsy. But the Integratron really belongs in its place: an auspicious spot in the Mojave Desert town of Landers. The day of my visit is the last healing sound bath before the annual summer vacation, and according to the brief talk given by the crystal bowl player, there are a variety of reasons for this place’s power. For one thing, there is the proximity to the powerful Giant Rock up the road — believed by the Integratron’s creator George van Tassel (1910-1978) to be both a native sacred site and point of contact with Venusian aliens. There’s also its placement on an energy-rich “geomagnetic vortex,” at the intersection of numerous ley lines — straight paths between significant structures and landmarks — and over three coalescing aquifers, one of which reaches north all the way to Mt. Shasta. (Dowsing rods helped choose the exact location.) But for some people, the power of this place is evident simply from the way it feels.
Welcome, friends!
Originally, the Integratron was supposed to harness and transform that power in dramatic, measurable fashion. We are told a bit about the original equipment for high-voltage healing that this time machine and tabernacle was supposed to house, involving a current of electricity, blasted into the building via a conductive rod that is the only piece of metal the Integratron contains. Van Tassel’s never-completed plan, a mixture of terrestrial and extra-terrestrial technologies, was aimed at creating an electrified rejuvenation process for participants. This anti-aging mission was encouraged by his space contacts, who related to him that humanity’s advancement in wisdom would require a lengthening of the human life span by at least several decades. The engineering plans disappeared, perhaps mysteriously, at the time of Van Tassel’s death.
Moses, Tesla, and E.T. helped with the design.
The energies on offer in Landers today are different. They come in the form of the Integratron’s sound baths, which marry the tones of quartz bowls with the remarkable effects of the dome’s acoustic properties. The shape of the room intensely amplifies the tones, which requires that the bowls be sounded very gently. It’s louder than I would have expected, but not at all agitating. Lying on the ground on a mat in this place, you really do feel like the sound is covering you, soothing you. “Bath” is not the wrong word; sounds are waves, after all. I could be persuaded that this is indeed good for me.
At least a few attendees ignore the warning that the experience is so relaxing that those given to snoring should adopt snore-proof positions. Their snoozing rumbles soon float around in the dome beneath the singing of the crystal. The bath lasts around 45 minutes. When it ends, we are asked to stand in the center of the room, on a spot where anything spoken is supposed to have a special force, and to summon a deep wish.
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Integratron: a tool for soundness
The shape of the room intensely amplifies the tones
The Integratron: a tool for soundness
The shape of the room intensely amplifies the tones
The Integratron: exactly where it needs to be.
The situation of so many structures in Southern California feels haphazard: buildings plunked down here or there by whim or whimsy. But the Integratron really belongs in its place: an auspicious spot in the Mojave Desert town of Landers. The day of my visit is the last healing sound bath before the annual summer vacation, and according to the brief talk given by the crystal bowl player, there are a variety of reasons for this place’s power. For one thing, there is the proximity to the powerful Giant Rock up the road — believed by the Integratron’s creator George van Tassel (1910-1978) to be both a native sacred site and point of contact with Venusian aliens. There’s also its placement on an energy-rich “geomagnetic vortex,” at the intersection of numerous ley lines — straight paths between significant structures and landmarks — and over three coalescing aquifers, one of which reaches north all the way to Mt. Shasta. (Dowsing rods helped choose the exact location.) But for some people, the power of this place is evident simply from the way it feels.
Welcome, friends!
Originally, the Integratron was supposed to harness and transform that power in dramatic, measurable fashion. We are told a bit about the original equipment for high-voltage healing that this time machine and tabernacle was supposed to house, involving a current of electricity, blasted into the building via a conductive rod that is the only piece of metal the Integratron contains. Van Tassel’s never-completed plan, a mixture of terrestrial and extra-terrestrial technologies, was aimed at creating an electrified rejuvenation process for participants. This anti-aging mission was encouraged by his space contacts, who related to him that humanity’s advancement in wisdom would require a lengthening of the human life span by at least several decades. The engineering plans disappeared, perhaps mysteriously, at the time of Van Tassel’s death.
Moses, Tesla, and E.T. helped with the design.
The energies on offer in Landers today are different. They come in the form of the Integratron’s sound baths, which marry the tones of quartz bowls with the remarkable effects of the dome’s acoustic properties. The shape of the room intensely amplifies the tones, which requires that the bowls be sounded very gently. It’s louder than I would have expected, but not at all agitating. Lying on the ground on a mat in this place, you really do feel like the sound is covering you, soothing you. “Bath” is not the wrong word; sounds are waves, after all. I could be persuaded that this is indeed good for me.
At least a few attendees ignore the warning that the experience is so relaxing that those given to snoring should adopt snore-proof positions. Their snoozing rumbles soon float around in the dome beneath the singing of the crystal. The bath lasts around 45 minutes. When it ends, we are asked to stand in the center of the room, on a spot where anything spoken is supposed to have a special force, and to summon a deep wish.
Comments