From the Back Pew:

Midday services at the Ananda Ashrama Temple in La Crescenta were the ideal cure to what turned out to be a hectic day at work Wednesday afternoon. This also explains why I made it to the temple for the 12:30 p.m. services with only two minutes to spare.

As I arrived, I was greeted with the familiar scenery (although I did not see the family of deer that roams the grounds), as I’ve been to the Ashrama before. Immediately, I was in a quiet, forest-like setting. Every time I drive up to the Ashrama’s parking lot, I feel a sense of embarrassment at my car’s loud engine cutting like a knife through the quietness of the grounds.

When I arrived at the main temple, I was relieved to see that services had not started, and that one other person was waiting to enter the temple. I spent a few moments taking in the grounds, relishing in the quiet and thankful that I was able to get away from the hustle and bustle of activity that would once again be waiting for me down the hill after services were over.

As I drove up to the grounds, I noticed the blackened mountains above Pennsylvania Avenue, and I could see, for the first time, how truly close the fire came to destroying the homes on the mountainside, not to mention the temple itself.

A bell signaled to all that services were about to start, and we entered the temple. I took my seat. Then I saw the other person take off her shoes as a sign of respect. I felt awkward because I rarely take off my shoes anywhere. I quickly realized it was a sign of respect, and even though you’re not required to take off your shoes when visiting the temple, I used that moment as a learning experience and promptly and quietly took my shoes off.

The smell of incense filled the air, and I noticed in the center and below the altar a candle with a red, glass filter around it, similar to the perpetual light that burns in some churches symbolizing the presence of the Holy Spirit.

As I sat, I began noticing a peculiar sound — it was my heartbeat. The temple was so quiet, the scratching of my pencil on my note pad, I felt, had the same sonic effect as a jet taking off.

Prayers were said for people who “have lost jobs, homes.” Prayers were said for the “veterans of all wars.”

After prayers, at least 10 minutes were spent in meditation. Not a single word was said; not a single sound could be heard. It seemed as if time had completely stopped; even the candle stopped flickering for a moment.