Let’s Hear It for a Little Peace and Quiet in Earsplitting L.A.

He got a racing car, a Bugatti, and when he was very nervous and tired he would go out in it and drive 95 miles an hour and come back looking 19 years old and perfectly relaxed.

--Carlotta O’Neill describing her husband, playwright Eugene O’Neill

For Los Angeles residents who take after Eugene O’Neill in that they are soothed by racing engines, life must be one long swing in a hammock. Likewise for anyone who finds relaxation in the music of car alarms and garbage trucks.

The rest of us need to shut out the roar now and then, particularly during the holidays.

The consensus among a small sampling of Angelenos is: You can never truly shake the hubbub within city limits. The search for serenity in Los Angeles, then, is a search for artificially created tranquillity.

Here are some places where men and women have painstakingly manipulated sights, sounds and smells to temporarily banish the multi-stimuli of the city.

Since it opened to the public in 1950, the Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine, three blocks from the ocean on Sunset Boulevard, has offered visitors free samples of “divine peace” in the midst of a busy beach area.

The fellowship, a nonprofit organization, was established in 1920 by the Indian yogi Paramahansa Yogananda. Because Yogananda believed in the underlying unity of all religions, there are shrines to the world’s major religions on the grounds, and people of every faith are welcome.

A husband and wife from Bel-Air come twice a week to stroll the path around the lake, said resident monk Brother Ramananda. “They claim it’s like a transfusion,” he said. And on a recent morning, Sister Mary Austin, a Catholic nun from East Los Angeles, had brought a visiting nun, Amy Baybay of Chicago, “to experience the peace of the place.”

Said Sister Amy: “This really is a place for prayer.”

The 10-acre site, open from 9 a.m. to 4:45 p.m. every day, is laden with birds of paradise, hydrangea, lantana, fig trees, hawthorns, begonias, calla lilies, geraniums and roses. “The roses really bless you when you walk in here,” Ramananda said.

The most imposing sight on the grounds is an enormous temple on the far side of the lake, whose columns are topped by golden lotus blossoms (symbols of divine unfoldment). There are swans placidly bobbing on the lake; numerous benches to pose on; and statues of figures such as Krishna and Christ to contemplate.

New condos and a shopping center are under noisy construction across the street from the Lake Shrine. But Brother Ramananda says they’ll just plant more trees to erase the sight of the new buildings. And the waterfalls on the grounds are like white noise, muting the beep of tractors backing up, he said.

The Robert O. Anderson building at the County Museum of Art is too new and busy to have developed a patina of tranquillity, museum spokesperson Pam Jenkinson said, but the Ahmanson building has entire rooms--such as the sky-lit 17th-Century Dutch gallery--that are hushed and reposeful.

As much as the paintings, it’s the controlled environment of the museum that makes it a sanctuary--the muted walls, the carefully placed lights, the lack of clutter. “And art in general is really calming,” Jenkinson said.

Perhaps the most popular serenity-inducing painting in the building is Winslow Homer’s “Lost on the Grand Banks,” said Jenkinson. There’s a comfortable padded bench in front of this painting, which may have something to do with its restfulness quotient.

Alice Archambault, a visitor from South Sarasota, Fla., chose this bench for a rest on a recent morning. Archambault removed her glasses and regarded Winslow Homer’s 1885 painting, which shows two sailors looking apprehensively over the edge of their small boat into the deep teal waves of a violent sea.

Archambault said she has visited most every major art museum in the world and finds them--along with public gardens--among the most serene places in any city.

Call the museum for information and hours: (213) 937-2590.

The Bodhi tree is a sacred fig tree under which the Indian philosopher Siddhartha Gautama was said to have sat in meditation until enlightenment came to him and he became Buddha. At the Bodhi Tree bookstore at 8585 Melrose Ave., there are always a few aspiring Buddhas sitting on benches that line the walls and on chairs tucked into small nooks. In an atmosphere one customer described as reverential, they contemplate books on topics such as Native American shamanism and neuro-linguistic programming and graphology.

Esther Wagner, a visitor from Tacoma, Wash., had spent an entire hour sitting in an alcove in the “Saints” section. The 69-year-old English professor at the University of Puget Sound said she found the experience “very agreeable,” despite the Christmas crowds filling the store.

“It’s something about the smell (incense and paperbacks), and the fact that they have chairs all over,” she said, attempting to describe the restful appeal of the store. She demonstrated that she could reach out with either arm and pull down handfuls of books to peruse without ever leaving her seat.

Browsers sip tea and listen to sample recordings of New Age music as they regroup at the Bodhi Tree after shopping Melrose or the Beverly Center. For last-minute gifts for the tranquillity-conscious, there are brightly colored mediation pillows, as well as an entire case of Tarot cards, and another just for crystals.

The Bodhi Tree is open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. every day.

Japanese gardens derive much of their character from Zen Buddhist philosophy, which places great value on serenity. So UCLA’s Hannah Carter Japanese Garden strives to provide a mood of “tranquil otherworldliness,” in the words of its brochure.

Because the parking lot only holds three cars in this off-campus location, visitors must make reservations to visit during the garden’s public hours on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. (For reservations call (213) 825-4574.)

Due to the limited parking, the garden is never crowded. Visitors move along the paths in a state of solitary sensory awareness.

The sound of moving water greets them at the main gate and follows them throughout the winding paths of the garden. Every rock, tree and pool in the garden has a special meaning; the garden itself is designed to take a visitor on a symbolic journey from wild youth to maturity. But you don’t have to understand the symbols to take comfort from the moist and fertile smells, and the air made cool by all the stone and water.

A guide to Catholic retreats in Southern California advises: “When you need a time for yourself, we’ve got just the place!”

This network of about 20 retreat houses is among the best-kept secrets in peaceful escapes. They include Mary and Joseph Retreat Center in Rancho Palos Verdes, the Manresa Jesuit Retreat House in Azusa, Mater Dolorosa in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains in Sierra Madre and the Serra Retreat House with views of the ocean in Malibu.

The main purpose of the centers is to host organized retreats for religious men and women, as well as special Catholic groups. But most of the retreats are also open to what they call “privates,” visitors who come to partake of the serenity for an hour or for several days. You need not be Catholic to use the grounds and facilities.

“We welcome people who want to get away from the rat race,” said Father Ronald Colloty of the Serra Retreat, which is run by Franciscan friars. Colloty said that visitors should not expect the Biltmore. The accommodations are, however, quite adequate for those in a contemplative frame of mind. Most of the rooms, equipped with a double bed or two singles, share a bathroom with another room. The furnishings are Spartan--a bed, a desk, a chair and a crucifix on the wall above the bed--but the windows look out on dramatic canyon walls and lush gardens.

The housemother at Serra is Yvonne Bierley, who tells guests that there are no telephones in the rooms, and TVs and radios are not allowed. (Bierley said one woman cut short her stay after arriving at Serra and realizing that her retreat was to be TV-free.)

“We seem to be quite remote even though we are centrally located (just past the Malibu pier off Pacific Coast Highway),” said Bierley. “And the staff really does make an effort to make it a peaceful, quiet place to be.”

The Serra store stocks cigarettes, candy, toothpaste and other necessities, as well as religious and secular books that might appeal those engaged in self-examination--M. Scott Peck’s “The Road Less Traveled,” for instance, and Harold Kushner’s “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.”

There’s Mass in the morning. Meals are served at 8, 12, and 6; “And that’s the only time they’re served,” Bierley said.

Peter Sheils, 39, an artist’s agent with the William Morris Agency, recently spent three days at Serra, sharing the facility with only two other guests (one was a Catholic sister), and the staff.

“It’s a place to get away and put everything in perspective,” Sheils said.

Bierely asks that visitors call before visiting the grounds so that the solitude of others’ is not disrupted. The suggested donation for a day’s stay is $7.50 to cover the cost of lunch. Overnighters are asked to give $30 (the donation includes all meals). Those who want to spend the night, should give Bierely as much advance notice as possible. The retreat is closed for the holiday through Jan. 9.

The shopper said: “It’s probably the only quiet place in Westwood.” She was referring not to UCLA’s library, but to the green and hilly lawns of the Los Angeles National Cemetery, a part of the Veterans Adminstration.

Cemetery director Therese Bush reminds visitors that the grounds are not really a park, so activities like picnicking, jogging and bicycling are discouraged. Conduct should be “conducive to the dignity of the National Cemetery,” she said. Strolling, musing and bird watching, for instance, are all acceptable.

There are birds and small animals aplenty on the cemetery’s 114 acres. Caretaker John Lockhart said he has seen a trio of coyote pups on the grounds, as well as possums, rabbits and a family of hawks circling above the swaying eucalyptus trees. In his 20 years on the job, Lockhart has observed plenty of weary UCLA students, as well as Westwood shoppers and office workers slip in through the pedestrian gates on Veteran and Wilshire to enjoy the pastoral setting. The main entrance is at 905 S. Sepulveda; hours are 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day.

If finding peace in L.A. requires blocking out the tumultuous environment, then total sensory deprivation just might be the ultimate tranquilizer. Such an option is available, for $30 an hour, at Altered States Float Center in West Hollywood. (The number for appointments is (213) 854-4497.)

Invented by John Lily in 1954 to study human brain potential without environmental distractions, isolation tanks--also called flotation tanks--were quickly adopted by human potential pioneers who saw in them the ultimate tool to slow people down. In the mid-’70s the first commercial flotation centers in the country opened in Los Angeles.

After a period of faddish popularity--heightened by the 1980 movie “Altered States”--the tanks seemed to drop from sight. Contrary to what some people believe, they did not disappear altogether. There are still some 15 centers in the country that specialize in flotation, and 90 facilities--including those of chiropractors and therapists--that own tanks.

“People say, ‘I can get into my bathtub or have a martini to relax,’ ” said Altered States co-owner Jeff Labno. “People don’t yet know what relaxation means in terms of what a tank can produce.”

The one-hour flotation experience takes place in 10 inches of water in a plastic rectangular tank 8 feet by 4 feet by 4 feet; 800 pounds of Epsom salts are dissolved in the 93-degree water.

For those who are don’t like the sound of this, Labno can suggest an alternative experience. A new device called the synchro-energizer, he explains, is supposed to induce relaxation by manipulating a person’s brain waves through audio pulsations and flashing lights. The person being synchro-energized sits in a reclining easy chair and straps on custom-made goggles and ear plugs. Labno particularly recommends this route to repose for people with “busy minds” who might find it difficult to let go of chronic thoughts while floating.

Once in a tank, with the door closed, you are in a totally dark and nearly sound-proof enclosure. Because of the high concentration of salts, you float easily. Most first-time floaters bump around inside the box, exploring the walls of the enclosure and reacting to this new environment. It’s not unusual to get restless after a few minutes.

But eventually, the idea is, you become less aware that you’re floating in a small box in the middle of West Hollywood and it becomes difficult to distinguish the water from the air on your skin, or to sense bounds to the tank. Finally, someone taps gently on the tank to let you know your hour is up.

After showering to rinse off the salt, you can make the transition back to the stimulus-filled world in a sort of floater’s half-way house, the Altered States lounge. There’s tea, lemonade and fortune cookies.