Enter the Integratron & This is What Happens

I finally made it to the Integratron in Landers, California, and can say unequivocally, it's awesome.

The owners describe the domed shaped structure as a "resonant tabernacle and energy machine sited on a powerful geomagnetic vortex in the magical Mojave Desert."

UFOlogist George Van Tassel came up with the idea for the building in the mid-50s as a place for rejuvenation of the human body, sort of a time machine for people's cells.

He said the design was based on Moses' Tabernacle, the writings of Nikola Tesla and telepathic directions from extraterrestrials. Did I mention Van Tassel was a bit eccentric? Unfortunately for Van Tassel, he died just a couple weeks before completion.

The Integratron thrives today as a curiosity, sure, but also as a serious venue for sound therapy and meditative healing, thanks to three sisters who bought it a couple decades ago, and decided to open it to the public.

Co-owner Christine, who played the bowls for my session

They came up with the sound bath idea because the acoustics in the dome are truly spectacular.

A visit to the Integratron may not be for the closed minded, but you don't have to believe in extraterrestrials to have a fascinating or spiritual experience. By experience, I mean, a "sound bath."

I'm a skeptic, but open to almost anything healing, calming, joyful, inspiring or uplifting, so I took the plunge.

First, know this:  There's no water involved. I'm guessing the name came about because the idea is the sound is washing over you, and indeed, it did kind of feel like that.

When you enter the structure, you're immediately struck by the wood. It's made without a single metal nail or screw, for magnetic scientific geological vortex type reasons, resulting in a construction quite similar to that of a boat hull. As someone who grew up with a boat building dad, I found this architectural design fact fascinating.

But the sound bath! After putting your shoes in a bin, each participant enters the sound chamber via a short ladder to the upper level.

About 30 comfy thick mats are on the floor, with blankets if you need one.

Prior to beginning the sound therapy, Christine talked a little about Van Tassel, the history of the structure, and about the bowls. She explained they're tuned to musical notes, which she said basically align to our "chakras." She took a swirl around one of the bowls to give us a sample of the sound.

When I say she "plays" the bowls, she uses a thick, short drum stick-like instrument with rubber knobs on each end. She takes the instrument and swirls the rubber tip part around the bowl rim and sides to create the sounds. Her first swirl was loud, powerful, and sustained long after she put the instrument down. I had to remind myself there was no microphone. It was pure sound reverberating around the dome.

It was loud enough, in fact, that I panicked. What was I thinking?! I hate loud noise! Is it going to be pleasant, or like fingernails on a chalkboard? What if I find it excruciating? I was crazy to think this was a good idea! I already have ringing in my ears! How come I didn't think this through a little more? But just when the panic was setting in, and I was starting to map an inconspicuous emergency exit in case I needed to escape, I relaxed and sunk into the experience.

It wasn't like fingernails on a chalkboard.
It wasn't excruciating.
It wasn't irritating loud noise.

I was lying on my back, arms at my sides, palms down, eyes closed. Soon, with my arms still at my side, I was compelled to open my palms, instead of having palms down. It seemed the energy was racing up my arm and into my body via my open palms.

The sound was hypnotic, deep.
It was soothing.
It was meditative.
It was moving.

As I let the sound wash over me, a sliver of sunshine from one of the windows diagonally sliced across my legs. It was gloriously warming, just as I was wishing I had grabbed a blanket. Then, Mother Nature continued to make her presence known as the thunderbolt of sunshine slowly, imperceptibly, moved up my body, to my upper thighs, my hips, my stomach, my chest. I opened my eyes at one point and watched clouds floating past the window above me. It was indeed a magical, beautiful moment. A tear trickled from the corner of my eyes, down the side of my face.

Christine played for 25 minutes and then put soothing music on to gently reel us back to reality.

Slowly, people began to sit up and take stock.

As I stepped onto the ladder to leave, I was already thinking about a second visit.

Me, after the session, "Integratron'd"