--- In [email protected], Peter <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Oh my God, her! She's an immature mood-maker supreme > who wears army boots.
Your muddah wears army boots! > > --- Rick Archer <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > > www.iowasource.com > > Fairfield, Iowa > > The Domes Revisited: A Personal Essay About the > > Golden Domes > > > > Fairfield: Home to over 2,000 Transcendental > > Meditation practitioners and > > Maharishi University of Management > > > > BY ROSES DERISE (formerly Sharalyn Harris, who used > > to post here) > > > > Silence. Many people think of silence as a > > problem-the awkwardness when > > conversation grinds to an embarrassing halt, a > > mother's sense of trouble > > when the kids go quiet, the media announcer's > > frantic attempt to fill up air > > time with anything other than nothingness. > > > > But as meditators, we know silence as something > > altogether different. To > > call it bliss seems trite, but even as a writer I > > fail to find an adequate > > description for that sweet spot inside so still that > > even breath causes > > ripples in it, that oasis hidden on the dark side of > > the moon, that place > > inside us where we flirt with genesis. Whatever name > > we give to inner > > silence, I've learned that the best place to find it > > is in the domes in > > Fairfield. > > > > We didn't have domes when I learned yogic flying in > > 1978 on the first MUM > > student's course. We'd heard whispers about flying, > > but I don't think we > > really believed it, not even when we saw sheets of > > foam spread on the > > pod-house floors. > > > > But on that magical summer, almost before we had > > time to close our eyes, the > > woman next to me popped up with an astonished "oh!" > > as if someone had goosed > > her. Like a pot at the boiling point, the room > > fairly steamed with > > intermittent stifled gasps and giggles as more of us > > experienced that > > sudden, bubble-like lifting into the air. We learned > > that the foam was to > > soften the landing. > > > > After the course, we did programs alone. A few > > months later, a message came > > that Maharishi wanted everyone to meet in the > > fieldhouse. It felt like a > > secret-service mission as we almost tiptoed into > > that stodgy, dark building, > > finding the basketball court covered with foam. > > > > What an adventure! We seemed less about silence then > > than noise and > > exuberance. We were filled with a sense of wonder > > and daring as we made > > great leaps and wild sounds like fledgling giants > > testing their reach. We > > watched the stock market and world news go up and > > down, depending upon our > > numbers. I have never lost my sense of sadness that > > on the one day we did > > not do program together, the day of my graduation in > > 1979 when they took up > > the foam for commencement, an airplane crashed > > killing 271 people, the only > > such accident in months before or after. > > > > After graduation, I left Fairfield. While I was > > gone, Maharishi himself > > inaugurated the 22,000 square feet (approximately > > the size of a football > > field) dome, called the Maharishi Patanjali Hall of > > Knowledge, in 1980. On > > returning, the enormity of it, the sheer volume of > > space from floor to > > ceiling, reminded me of the mothership in Close > > Encounters of the Third > > Kind. Tongue-in-groove wood ceiling, central > > skylights, red carpets, and > > gold velvet drapes covering more than a hundred > > arched windows all served to > > bring new heights to the depths of silence. > > > > I felt jealous because it had been built for the > > men, feeling only somewhat > > mollified when women got to use it on alternative > > months. At first, I felt > > traumatized by the segregation of the sexes. But the > > oscillation between > > dome and fieldhouse taught me what no amount of > > lecturing could have about > > why segregation was useful. It wasn't for arbitrary > > puritanical standards > > but because we were different. Where the guys had > > been for a month, it > > smelled like a locker room. Nice smell, actually, > > but it had a different > > energy, a more forceful kind that I began to > > identify as distinctly > > masculine as compared to our softer, feminine > > energy. It left me with a > > greater appreciation for both sexes and a longing > > for the completion of the > > women's dome, the Bagambhrini Hall of Knowledge, the > > twin to Patanjali. > > > > Looking up at the stars through its open rafters > > during construction, I was > > aware that, with every nail and board, history was > > being made. When we got > > to fly in it for the first time, in December 1981, > > it felt like coming home > > to a new level of silence. > > > > The pattern was clear-there was deeper silence in > > the fieldhouse than alone, > > more in Patanjali than the fieldhouse, and more for > > me, as a woman, in the > > women's dome. > > > > But while inner silence had increased, the outer > > level had gotten out of > > hand. Before program, hundreds of us gossiped in > > loud whispers against a > > background litany of microphone announcements and > > security procedures. Noise > > may not be a barrier to meditation, but during > > program there was so much > > coughing, clanking of keys, and rustling clothing > > that when I had to leave > > again in 1987, I looked forward to doing program > > alone. > > > > The Power of Flying in a Group > > > > But on returning to Fairfield ten years later, it > > became obvious that the > > outward silence wasn't what made the process work. > > At the Raj, where I > > stayed when I first arrived, program was obviously > > deeper. Then, when I > > moved six miles away, the quality of program > > dropped. The contrast was > > remarkable. I didn't want to spend the money or have > > all that hassle of > > getting dressed on cold mornings or rushing to be on > > time, but who can argue > > with direct experience? I signed up for the dome. > > > > Inside, I was thrilled (and, admittedly, chagrined!) > > to learn that the > > pre-program announcements and gossip sessions had > > ceased. But now it was > > more than a settled atmosphere. After the doors > > closed, the first thing that > > struck me was the awesome silence. I was so stunned > > by it that long after > > everyone else had gone inward, I sat, open-eyed, > > soaking up the feelings, > > amazed by the tangible power generated by the > > hundreds of people sitting in > > that warm, softly lit sanctuary, together in > > Silence. > > > > Beyond the power of those present, I could feel the > > accumulated effects of > > thousands of people meditating there over nearly > > three decades. They had > > imbued the place with an energy greater than the sum > > of the parts. What > > amazed me most of all, when I finally closed my > > eyes, was how much deeper my > > experiences were. > > > > I liked it so much I moved onto campus. I estimated > > that program in the dome > > was worth three in my room on campus, worth four or > > five in town, and worth > > at least ten elsewhere in the world. I heard > > Maharishi say that casual > > programs produce casual results. It appears to be > > true. The silence was so > > sweet, I felt inspired to go for even more of that > > wonderful feeling by > > doing whatever I could to aid it-even going to bed > > early. The more serious I > > got about it, the deeper my programs became. > > > > When I had to leave again, I hoped I could preserve > > the depth of silence. > > > === message truncated === > > > __________________________________________________ > Do You Yahoo!? > Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around > http://mail.yahoo.com > To subscribe, send a message to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Or go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FairfieldLife/ and click 'Join This Group!' Yahoo! 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