No Out-of-Body Experience Necessary - page 2

"Yeah, right, about a year ago. Actually, all the guy did was answer questions from the audience. I'm not a big fan of Castaneda, but he was pretty interesting."

I told Mike to include me if the legendary author ever made a return appearance. Like magic, several weeks later the phone rang. It was a clerk from the Phoenix: Castaneda would answer questions again that night.

The tiny basement room was crowded with about forty California-style intellectuals like myself seated on folding chairs. Carlos Castenada, came down the basement stairs wearing a nondescript tan sports jacket, open neck shirt, and slacks - a smaller, older man than I had anticipated.

I'd heard somewhere that Castaneda was a student of kick-boxing, and standing before us he looked firm and fit. A man of about sixty, he could be a former bantam-weight fighter or a South American soccer coach. His demeanor was intense and, for the most part, serious, but not serene and not self-important.

For those who hadn't read his books, he sketched in his unusual history: During his graduate studies he'd stumbled into something incredible, scarcely believable; he'd become fascinated; now it was the driving force in his life.

Attentive to the hilt, I tried mightily to determine if this teller of extraordinary tales was telling the truth. He didn't seem like a phony or a crackpot. Skepticism must be an occupational hazard for sorcerers; he immediately addressed the issue of whether his writings are fact or fiction. He said they are factual and honest.

He pointed out that he had nothing to gain from fabricating lies. He wasn't interested in followers, fame, or fortune. He'd devoted his life to trying to understand certain mysteries and he'd committed himself to the "warrior's" path. It meant for him a life of total self-discipline and extreme austerity: no wife, no family, no high-profile academic career, no celebrity status as a best-selling author (no book tours, no groupies, no flattery, no drinking, no drugs). Wouldn't he have to be a madman or a fool to give up all life's perks and pleasures just to deceive an indifferent public that barely knows his name and has never seen his picture?

Castaneda told us he recently attended a social gathering with a friend at the home of a UCLA professor. Someone mentioned that the famous author Carlos Castaneda was in the next room. "Oh, really," said the real Carlos. "I'd love to meet him."

Surrounded by admirers, an arrogant, self-important-looking fellow was holding forth. (Castaneda imitated for us the imposter's smug expression.) He listened to the man - "a total bullshitter" - prattle on about "the customs of the Yaquis of the Sonora"; but he didn't identify himself, and he left soon afterward.

The experience seemed to both amuse and annoy "our" Carlos Castaneda. He went on to explain that self-importance and sorcery are by nature incompatible. He said don Juan, his spiritual guide and teacher, made him give up his academic position and fancy apartment, made him work as a cook in a greasy spoon and live in a rented room for years in order to overcome his own feelings of self-importance.

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