Breaking Agreements with Karmic Lords of Dark Side

Wow that is a pretty intense article and I couldn’t stop reading… I can’t imagine that the sentient or “demiurge” beings in the astral plane are so devious to our enslavement, however. But still makes you think. I imagine what he is describing is similar to the cleansing that is done in inner alchemy.

I think the original one is better :http://www.ascensionhelp.com/blog/2013/08/23/why-i-am-no-longer-a-light-worker/
But lacks, like you said Steve, concepts of true ying/yang.

In this second he seems a little too obsessed in get free. Wich makes him not free…But I think what he call “lors of karma” has nothing to do with ouversouls but to high dark forces who presents themselves as gods.

What he says in “why im no longer a light work” is very relevant. I’m seeing tremendous powers of false polarization in my country those days. And these powers are not restricted to “energy workers”. It seems the dark forces are really revealing themselves.

Thank’s Steve for the great answer!

Like I said before, I dig his firt text “Why I stopped being a light worker”. I was in a very similar point years ago when I started my Kan&LI practice.

I agree in your observations about people being ungrounded. This movements generally start in the social networks.

About “dark force” I will add that this general are mass forces, who try to attract everyone to their field to suck their energy.

Paranoia is considered a high spectrum of psychosis. Maybe we can say craziness is a manifestation of being too ungrouded?

Again, thank’s for the answer.

The Qliphoth/Qlippoth/Qelippot or Kelipot (Heb. ÷ìéôåú, the different English spellings are used in the alternative Cabalistic traditions of Hermetic Qabalah and Jewish Kabbalah respectively), literally “Peels”, “Shells” or “Husks” (from singular: ÷ìéôä Qliphah/Kelipah “Husk”), are the representation of evil or impure spiritual forces in Jewish mysticism, the polar opposites of the holy Sephirot.[3] The realm of evil is also termed “Sitra Achra/Ahra” (Aramaic ñèøà àçøà, the “Other Side” opposite holiness) in Kabbalah texts.
-https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qliphoth

Many years ago, to save earth from the captivity of Hiranyaksha, Lord Vishnu had arrived in the avatar (incarnation) Varaha (boar) form and killed him. Hiranyakashipu, Elder brother of Hiranyaksha wanted to take revenge on the devotees and in particular on Lord Vishnu. He wanted to become the master of all the three worlds -Heaven, Earth & Pathala. According to a story from Bhagavata Purana, Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha are Vishnu’s gatekeepers Jaya and Vijaya, born on earth as the result of a curse from the Four Kumaras. In Satya Yuga, Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha – together called the Hiranyas – were born to Diti, daughter of Daksha Prajapathi , and sage Kashyapa.
-http://apnisanskriti.com/the-story-of-hiranyakashipu-and-prahlada-narsimha-avatar-61

Kilana: Lit. “nailing” It is the process by which a spirit or other ethereal being is “nailed down” or captured with a mantra; and made to remain in a certain location for a specific purpose.
-ROBERT E. SVOBODA, Aghora: At the Left Hand of God

Virodha Bhakti-“Perverse devotion”; said, for example, of Hiranyakashipu, whose hatred of Vishnu was so powerful that he remembered Him constantly.
-ROBERT E. SVOBODA, Aghora II: Kundalini

This is the first complete text I’ve seen on summoning spirits for personal contact. So in that sense, I applaude Tyson’s work. However, it could be more complete. Firstly, as a neophyte, I’m not familiar with the characteristics of entities other than deities. The Goetia may be a useful reference but the spirits described may not be suitable for what Tyson has in mind. Tyson does speak of the “Children of Lilith”, but who are they? He doesn’t give names or a place where one can research them. Also, as imperfect as human sexual contact maybe, there are few people who would willingly give that up, even for the phenomenal spirit sexual experience Tyson describes. In which case, how does one break up with a spirit? Tyson, again, doesn’t mention how to sever a spirit link, even though he says that spirits can be get very jealous of mortal lovers and make a nuisance of themselves when scorned. Then after all the wonderful things the author has to say about the loving experiences he had, at the end of the book, he describes the sensations as something akin to the “heebie-jeebies”.It was a great book and I’m tempted to make it a part of my library because there are not too many books on this subject, but I wouldn’t summon anything based on this book alone. There are no safeguards listed on ensuring what arrives is what you called and there’s no information on how to make a spirit leave once you’ve invited it into your life. Life’s too complicated without being stalked by an entity that can appear wherever it likes.
-http://www.amazon.com/Sexual-Alchemy-Magical-Intercourse-Spirits/dp/1567187412

As you can see by my use of quotes around the word “lords,” I despise calling them that at all. So in my usual style, I have given these beings a new, somewhat sarcastic name: The Turds of Karma. I started calling them this after an encounter several months ago when I was removing deep layers of imposed agreements that they were trying to hold in place. At one point in the process I forcefully told them, “You are the biggest pieces of sh** that I have ever seen. I don’t owe you ANYTHING. YOU owe every single being that you have manipulated a debt that you will never be able to repay!” At that point, they left very quickly.
-http://www.ascensionhelp.com/blog/2013/11/21/tell-the-lords-of-karma-that-you-are-sovereign-no-longer-a-lightworker-part-2/

Sorry for my broken English.

Of course blasphemy is quite important element in the practice of Black Magic, but there clearly are much more powerful practices even for person at the level of student.

So the main problem with this kind of things is that they are meant to be kept as secrets.

HOWDY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIM69ePi2VM

The claws of death awaits
Soulless on your deathbed
The witches dance in circles
As your manhood fades away
When the world of glass shatters
A shapeshifter appears before you
Exposing your loathsome self
Life does not forgive weakness
This is all but falseness
You have nothing, you are nothing
I shall reveal your truth
I Am the Ghoul you fear
I Am the psychic truth
I was there when Satan went
-MAYHEM, You Must Fall

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGUkcDhxRI0

…The Soft Machine is the first book in the trilogy, and is a compilation of descriptive and interchangeable scenes, which delve further into the sexual and biological issues previously explored in Naked Lunch…in The Ticket that Exploded, Burroughs deals with tape recorders (an allegory Burroughs links to the destruction of control systems), cybernetic pleasure farms, and homosexual erotic exploitations on the planet Venus…Nova Express follows Inspector Lee as he tracks down members of the Nova Mob…
-https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Nova_Trilogy

…you might find this site interesting.Taoism is about sphere-archy, vs. hierarchy, for all the reasons listed here…

I personally think that author is unnecessarily bitter about the situation.

One should admit also one’s own follies.

Major reason for this might be simply dominantly materialistically oriented people who haven’t allowed free expression of one’s individuality and one has simply behaved too sheepishly.

For example Castaneda, in my opinion, found very nice way to deal with this phenomena.

It’s only that novel like books are horribly boring to read.

HOWDY

https://moonmetaphysics.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/carlos-castaneda-all-books-in-one.pdf

from CARLOS CASTANEDA The Eagle’s Gift

It was midafternoon when I got to where la Gorda and the little sisters lived. La Gorda was
alone, sitting outside by the door, gazing into the distant mountains. She was shocked to see me.
She explained that she had been completely absorbed in a memory and for a moment she had
been on the verge of remembering something very vague that had to do with me.
Later that night, after dinner, la Gorda, the three little sisters, the three Genaros, and I sat on
the floor of la Gorda’s room. The women sat together.
For some reason, although I had been with each one of them an equal length of time, I had
isolated la Gorda as the recipient of all my concern. It was as if the others did not exist for me. I
speculated that perhaps it was because la Gorda reminded me of don Juan, while the others did
not. There was something very easy about her, yet that easiness was not so much in her actions as
it was in my feelings for her.
They wanted to know what I had been doing. I told them that I had just been in the city of
Tula, Hidalgo, where I had visited some archaeological ruins. I had been most impressed with a
row of four colossal, columnlike figures of stone, called the Atlanteans,” which stand on the flat
top of a pyramid.
Each one of the almost cylindrical figures, measuring fifteen feet in height and three feet
across, is made of four separate pieces of basalt carved to represent what archaeologists think are
Toltec warriors carrying their war paraphernalia. Twenty feet behind each of the front figures on
the top of the pyramid, there is another row of four rectangular columns of the same height and
width as the first, also made of four separate pieces of stone.
The awe-inspiring setting of the Atlanteans was enhanced by what a friend, who had guided
me through the site, had told me about them. He said that a custodian of the ruins had revealed to
him that he had heard the Atlanteans walking at night, making the ground underneath them
shake.
I asked the Genaros for comments on what my friend had said. They acted shy and giggled. I
turned to la Gorda, who was sitting beside me, and asked her directly for her opinions.
“I’ve never seen those figures,” she said. “I’ve never been in Tula. Just the idea of going to that
town scares me.”
“Why does it scare you, Gorda?” I asked.
“Something happened to me in the ruins of Monte Alban in Oaxaca,” she said. “I used to go to
roam around those ruins even after the Nagual Juan Mat us told me not to set foot in them. I don’t
know why but I loved that place. Every time I was in Oaxaca I would go there. Because women
alone are always harassed, I would usually go with Pablito, who is very daring. But once I went
there with Nestor. He saw a glitter on the ground. We dug a little and found a strange rock that fit
in the palm of my hand; a hole had been neatly drilled into the rock. I wanted to put my finger
through it, but Nestor stopped me. The rock was smooth and made my hand very hot. We didn’t
know what to do with it. Nestor put it inside his hat and we carried it as if it were a live animal.”
All of them started to laugh. There seemed to be a concealed joke in what la Gorda was telling
me.
“Where did you take it?” I asked her.
“We brought it here to this house,” she replied, and that statement elicited uncontainable
laughter from the others. They coughed and choked laughing,
“The joke is on la Gorda,” Nestor said. “You’ve got to understand that she’s muleheaded like
no one else. The Nagual had already told her not to fool around with rocks, or bones, or any other
thing she might find buried in the ground. But she used to sneak behind his back and get all kinds
of crap.
“That day in Oaxaca she insisted on carrying that godawful thing. We got on the bus with it
and brought it all the way to this town and then right into this room.”
“The Nagual and Genaro had gone on a trip,” la Gorda said. “I got daring and put my finger
through the hole and realized that the rock had been cut to be held in the hand. Right away I
could feel the feeling of whoever had held that rock. It was a power rock. My mood changed. I
became frightened. Something awesome began to lurk in the dark, something that had no shape
or color. I couldn’t be alone. I would wake up screaming and after a couple of days I couldn’t
sleep any more. Everybody took turns keeping me company, day and night.”
“When the Nagual and Genaro came back,” Nestor said, “the Nagual sent me with Genaro to
put the rock back in the exact place where it had been buried. Genaro worked for three days to
pinpoint the spot. And he did it.”
“What happened to you, Gorda, after that?” I asked her.
“The Nagual buried me,” she said. “For nine days I was naked inside a dirt coffin.”
There was another explosion of laughter among them.
“The Nagual told her that she couldn’t get out of it,” Nestor explained. “Poor Gorda had to piss
and shit inside her coffin. The Nagual pushed her inside a box that he made with branches and
mud. There was a little door on the side for her food and water. The rest of it was sealed.”
“Why did he bury her?” I asked.
“That’s the only way to protect anyone,” Nestor said. “She had to be placed under the ground so
the earth would heal her. There is no better healer than the earth; besides, the Nagual had to
fend off the feeling of that rock, which was focused on la Gorda. The dirt is a screen, it doesn’t
allow anything to go through, either way. The Nagual knew that she couldn’t get worse by
being buried for nine days; she could only get better. Which she did.”
“How did it feel to be buried like that, Gorda?” I asked.
“I nearly went crazy,” she said. “But that was just my indulging. If the Nagual hadn’t put me in
there, I would have died. The power of that rock was too great for me; its owner had been a very
large man. I could tell that his hand was twice the size of mine. He held on to that rock for dear
life, and in the end someone killed him. His fear terrified me. I could feel something coming at
me to eat my flesh. That was what the man felt. He was a man of power, but someone even more
powerful got him.
“The Nagual said that once you have an object of that kind, it brings disaster because its power
enters into challenges with other objects of its kind, and the owner becomes either a pursuer or a
victim. The Nagual said that it is the nature of such objects to be at war, because the part of our
attention which focuses on them to give them power is a very dangerous, belligerent part.”
“La Gorda is very greedy,” Pablito said. “She figured that if she could find something which
already had a great deal of power in it, she’d be a winner because nowadays no one is interested
in challenging power.”
La Gorda assented with a movement of her head.
“I didn’t know that one could pick up other things besides the power that the objects have,” she
said. “When I first put my finger through the hole and held the rock my hand got hot and my arm
began to vibrate. I felt truly strong and big. I’m sneaky so no one knew that I was holding the
rock in my hand. After a few days of holding it the real horror began. I could feel that somebody
had gone after the owner of the rock. I could feel his fright. He was doubtlessly a very powerful
sorcerer and whoever was after him wanted not only to kill him but to eat his flesh. That really
scared me. I should’ve dropped the rock then, but the feeling I was having was so new that I kept
the rock clutched in my hand like a damn fool. When I finally dropped it, it was too late.
Something in me was hooked. I had visions of men coming at me, men dressed in strange
clothes. I felt they were biting me, tearing the flesh of my legs with sharp little knives and with
their teeth. I went berserk!”
“How did don Juan explain those visions?” I asked her.
“He said that she no longer had defenses,” Nestor said. “And because of that she could pick up
that man’s fixation, his second attention, which had been poured into that rock. When he was
being killed he held on to the rock in order to gather all his concentration. The Nagual said that
the man’s power went out of his body into his rock; he knew what he was doing, he didn’t want
his enemies to benefit by devouring his flesh. The Nagual also said that the ones who killed him
knew this, that’s why they were eating him alive, to get whatever power was left. They must have
buried the rock to avoid trouble. And la Gorda and I, like two idiots, found it and dug it up.”
La Gorda shook her head affirmatively three or four times. She had a very serious expression.
“The Nagual told me that the second attention is the most fierce thing there is,” she said. “If it
is focused on objects, there is nothing more horrendous.”
“What’s horrible is that we cling,” Nestor said. “The man who owned the rock was clinging to
his life and to his power; that’s why he was horrified at feeling his flesh eaten away. The Nagual
said that if the man would’ve let go of his possessiveness and abandoned himself to his death,
whatever it may have been, there wouldn’t have been any fear in him.”
The conversation faded. I asked the others if they had anything to say. The little sisters glared
at me. Benigno giggled and hid his face with his hat.
“Pablito and I have been in the pyramids of Tula,” he finally said. “We’ve been in all the
pyramids there are in Mexico. We like them.”
“Why did you go to all the pyramids?” I asked him.
“I really don’t know why we went to them,” he said. “Perhaps it was because the Nagual Juan
Mat us told us not to.”
“How about you, Pablito?” I asked.
“I went there to learn,” he replied huffily, and laughed. “I used to live in the city of Tula. I
know those pyramids like the back of my hand. The Nagual told me that he also used to live
there. He knew everything about the pyramids. He was a Toltec himself.”
I realized then that it had been more than curiosity that made me go to the archaeological site
in Tula. The main reason I had accepted my friend’s invitation was because at the time of my first
visit to la Gorda and the others, they had told me something which don Juan had never even
mentioned to me, that he considered himself a cultural descendant of the Toltecs. Tula had been
the ancient epicenter of the Toltec empire.
“What do you think about the Atlanteans walking around at night?” I asked Pablito.
“Sure, they walk at night,” he said. “Those things have been there for ages. No one knows who
built the pyramids, the Nagual Juan Matus himself told me that the Spaniards were not the first to
discover them. The Nagual said there were others before them. God knows how many.”
“What do you think those four figures of stone represent?” I asked.
“They are not men, but women,” he said. “That pyramid is the center of order and stability.
Those figures are its four corners; they are the four winds, the four directions. They are the
foundation, the basis of the pyramid. They have to be women, mannish women, if you want to
call them that. As you yourself know, we men are not that hot. We are a good binding, a glue to
hold things together, but that’s all. The Nagual Juan Matus said that the mystery of the pyramid is
its structure. The four corners have been elevated to the top. The pyramid itself is the man,
supported by his female warriors; a male who has elevated his supporters to the highest place.
See what I mean?”
I must have had a look of perplexity on my face. Pablito laughed. It was a polite laughter.
“No. I don’t see what you mean, Pablito,” I said. “But that’s because don Juan never told me
anything about it. The topic is completely new to me. Please tell me everything you know.”
“The Atlanteans are the nagual; they are dreamers. They represent the order of the second
attention brought forward, that’s why they’re so fearsome and mysterious. They are creatures of
war but not of destruction.
“The other row of columns, the rectangular ones, represent the order of the first attention, the
tonal. They are stalkers, that’s why they are covered with inscriptions. They are very peaceful
and wise, the opposite of the front row.”
Pablito stopped talking and looked at me almost defiantly, then he Woke into a smile.
I thought he was going to go on to explain what he had said, but he remained silent as if
waiting for my comments.
I told him how mystified I was and urged him to continue talking. He seemed undecided,
stared at me for a moment, and took a deep breath. He had hardly begun to speak when the
voices of the rest of them were raised in a clamor of protest.
“The Nagual already explained that to all of us,” la Gorda said impatiently. “What’s the point
of making him repeat it?”
I tried to make them understand that I really had no conception of what Pablito was talking
about. I prevailed on him go on with his explanation. There was another wave of voices speaking
at the same time. Judging by the way the little sisters glared at me, they were getting very angry,
especially Lydia.
“We don’t like to talk about those women,” la Gorda said to me in a conciliatory tone. “Just
the thought of the women of the pyramid makes us very nervous.”
“What’s the matter with you people?” I asked. “Why are you acting like this?”
“We don’t know,” la Gorda replied. “It’s just a feeling that all of us have, a very disturbing
feeling. We were fine until a moment ago when you started to ask questions about those women.”
La Gorda’s statements were like an alarm signal. All of them stood up and advanced
menacingly toward me, talking in loud voices.
It took me a long time to calm them and make them sit down. The little sisters were very upset
and their mood seemed to influence la Gorda’s. The three men showed more restraint. I faced
Nestor and asked him bluntly to explain to me why the women were so agitated. Obviously I was
unwittingly doing something to aggravate them.
“I really don’t know what it is,” he said. “I’m sure none of us here knows what is the matter
with us, except that we all feel very sad and nervous.”
“Is it because we’re talking about the pyramids?” I asked him.
“It must be,” he replied somberly. “I myself didn’t know that those figures were women.”
“Of course you did, you idiot,” Lydia snapped.
Nestor seemed to be intimidated by her outburst. He recoiled and smiled sheepishly at me.
“Maybe I did,” he conceded. “We’re going through a very strange period in our lives. None of
us knows anything for sure any more. Since you came into our lives we are unknown to
ourselves.”
A very oppressive mood set in. I insisted that the only way to dispel it was to talk about those
mysterious columns on the pyramids.
The women protested heatedly. The men remained silent. I had the feeling that they were
affiliated in principle with the women but secretly wanted to discuss the topic, just as I did.
“Did don Juan tell you anything else about the pyramids, Pablito?” I asked.
My intention was to steer the conversation away from the specific topic of the Atlanteans, and
yet stay near it.
“He said one specific pyramid there in Tula was a guide,” Pablito replied eagerly.
From the tone of his voice I deduced that he really wanted to talk. And the attentiveness of the
other apprentices convinced me that covertly all of them wanted to exchange opinions.
“The Nagual said that it was a guide to the second attention,” Pablito went on, “but that it was
ransacked and everything destroyed. He told me that some of the pyramids were gigantic notdoings.
They were not lodgings but places for warriors to do their dreaming and exercise their
second attention. Whatever they did was recorded in drawings and figures that were put on the
walls.
“Then another kind of warrior must’ve come along, a kind who didn’t approve of what the
sorcerers of the pyramid had done with their second attention, and destroyed the pyramid and all
that was in it.
“The Nagual believed that the new warriors must’ve been warriors of the third attention, just as
he himself was; warriors who were appalled by the evilness of the fixation of the second
attention. The sorcerers of the pyramids were too busy with their fixation to realize what was
going on. When they did, it was too late.”
Pablito had an audience. Everyone in the room, myself included, was fascinated with what he
was saying. I understood the ideas he was presenting because don Juan had explained them to
me. Don Juan had said that our total being consists of two perceivable segments. The first is the
familiar physical body, which all of us can perceive; the second is the luminous body, which is a
cocoon that only seers can perceive, a cocoon that gives us the appearance of giant luminous
eggs. He had also said that one of the most important goals of sorcery is to reach the luminous
cocoon; a goal which is fulfilled through the sophisticated use of dreaming and through a
rigorous, systematic exertion he called not-doing. He defined not-doing as an unfamiliar act
which engages our total being by forcing it to become conscious of its luminous segment.
In order to explain these concepts, don Juan made a three part, uneven division of our
consciousness. He called the smallest the first attention, and said that it is the consciousness that
every normal person has developed in order to deal with the daily world; it encompasses the
awareness of the physical body. Another larger portion he called the second attention, and
described it as the awareness we need in order to perceive our luminous cocoon and to act as
luminous beings. He said that the second attention remains in the background for the duration of
our lives, unless it is brought forth through deliberate training or by an accidental trauma, and
that it encompasses the awareness of the luminous body. He called the last portion, which was
the largest, the third attention – an immeasurable consciousness which engages undefinable
aspects of the awareness of the physical and the luminous bodies.
I asked him if he himself had experienced the third attention. He said that he was on the
periphery of it, and that if he ever entered it completely I would know it instantly, because all of
him would become what he really was, an outburst of energy. He added that the battlefield of
warriors was the second attention, which was something like a training ground for reaching the
third attention. It was a state rather difficult to arrive at, but very fruitful once it was attained.
“The pyramids are harmful,” Pablito went on. “Especially to unprotected sorcerers like
ourselves. They are worse yet to formless warriors like la Gorda. The Nagual said that there is
nothing more dangerous than the evil fixation of the second attention. When warriors learn to
focus on the weak side of the second attention nothing can stand in their way. They become
hunters of men, ghouls. Even if they are no longer alive, they can reach for their prey through
time as if they were present here and now; because prey is what we become if we walk into one
of those pyramids. The Nagual called them traps of the second attention.”
“What exactly did he say would happen?” la Gorda asked.
“The Nagual said that we could stand perhaps one visit to the pyramids,” Pablito explained.
“On the second visit we would feel a strange sadness. It would be like a cold breeze that would
make us listless and fatigued; a fatigue that soon turns into bad luck. In no time at all we’ll be
jinxed; everything will happen to us. In fact, the Nagual said that our own streaks of bad luck
were due to our willfulness in visiting those ruins against his recommendations.
“Eligio, for instance, never disobeyed the Nagual. You wouldn’t catch him dead in there;
neither did this Nagual here, and they were always lucky, while the rest of us were jinxed,
especially la Gorda and myself. Weren’t we even bitten by the same dog? And didn’t the same
beams of the kitchen roof get rotten twice and fall on us?”
“The Nagual never explained this to me,” la Gorda said.
“Of course he did,” Pablito insisted,
“If I had known how bad it was, I wouldn’t have set foot in those damned places,” la Gorda
protested.
‘The Nagual told every one of us the same things,” Nestor said. “The problem is that every one
of us was not listening attentively, or rather every one of us listened to him in his own way, and
heard what he wanted to hear. The Nagual said that the fixation of the second attention has two
faces. The first and easiest face is the evil one. It happens when dreamers use their dreaming to
focus their second attention on the items of the world, like money and power over people. The
other face is the most difficult to reach and it happens when dreamers focus their second
attention on items that are not in or from this world, such as the journey into the unknown.
Warriors need endless impeccability in order to reach this face.”
I said to them that I was sure that don Juan had selectively revealed certain things to some of
us and other things to others. I could not, for instance, recall don Juan ever discussing the evil
face of the second attention with me. I told them then what don Juan said to me in reference to
the fixation of attention in general.
He stressed to me that all archaeological ruins in Mexico, especially the pyramids, were
harmful to modern man. He depicted the pyramids as foreign expressions of thought and action.
He said that every item, every design in them, was a calculated effort to record aspects of
attention which were thoroughly alien to us. For don Juan it was not only ruins of past cultures
that held a dangerous element in them; anything which was the object of an obsessive concern
had a harmful potential.
We had discussed this in detail once. It was a reaction he had to some comments I had made
about my being at a loss as to where to store my field notes safely. I regarded them in a most
possessive manner and was obsessed with their security.
“What should I do?” I asked him.
“Genaro once gave you the solution,” he replied. “You thought, as you always do, that he was
joking, He never jokes. He told you that you should write with the tip of your finger instead of a
pencil. You didn’t take him up on that, because you can’t imagine that this is the not-doing of
taking notes.”
I argued that what he was proposing had to be a joke. My self-image was that of a social
scientist who needed to record everything that was said and done in order to draw verifiable
conclusions. For don Juan one thing had nothing to do with the other. To be a serious student had
nothing to do with taking notes. I personally could not see a solution; don Genaro’s suggestion
seemed to me humorous, not a real possibility.
Don Juan argued his point further. He said that taking
notes was a way of engaging the first attention in the task of remembering, that I took notes in
order to remember what was said and done. Don Genaro’s recommendation was not a joke
because writing with the tip of my finger on a piece of paper, as the not-doing of taking notes,
would force my second attention to focus on remembering, and I would not accumulate sheets of
paper. Don Juan thought that the end result would be more accurate and more powerful than
taking notes. It had never been done as far as he knew, but the principle was sound.
He pressed me to do it for a while. I became disturbed. Taking notes acted not only as a
mnemonic device, but soothed me as well. It was my most serviceable crutch. To accumulate
sheets of paper gave me a sense of purpose and balance.
“When you worry about what to do with your sheets,” don Juan explained, “you are focusing a
very dangerous part of yourself on them. All of us have that dangerous side, that fixation. The
stronger we become, the more deadly that side is. The recommendation for warriors is not to have
any material things on which to focus their power, but to focus it on the spirit, on the true flight
into the unknown, not on trivial shields. In your case, your notes are your shield. They won’t let
you live in peace.”
I seriously felt that I had no way on earth to disassociate myself from my notes. Don Juan then
conceived of a task for me in lieu of a not-doing proper. He said that for someone who was as
possessive as I was, the most appropriate way of freeing myself from my notebooks would be to
disclose them, to throw them in the open, to write a book. I thought at the time that that was a
bigger joke than taking notes with the tip of my finger.
“Your compulsion to possess and hold on to things is not unique,” he said. “Everyone who
wants to follow the warrior’s path, the sorcerer’s way, has to rid himself of this fixation.
“My benefactor told me that there was a time when warriors did have material objects on
which they placed their obsession. And that gave rise to the question of whose object would be
more powerful, or the most powerful of them all. Remnants of those objects still remain in the
world, the leftovers of that race for power. No one can tell what kind of fixation those objects
must have received. Men infinitely more powerful than you poured all the facets of their
attention on them. You have merely begun to pour your puny worry on your notes. You haven’t
gotten yet to other levels of attention. Think how horrible it would be if you would find yourself
at the end of your trail as a warrior, still carrying your bundles of notes on your back. By that
time the notes will be alive, especially if you learn to write with your fingertip and still have to
pile up sheets. Under those conditions it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if someone found your
bundles walking around.”
“It is easy for me to understand why the Nagual Juan Matus didn’t want us to have
possessions,” Nestor said after I had finished talking. “We are all dreamers. He didn’t want us to
focus our dreaming body on the weak face of the second attention.
“I didn’t understand his maneuvers at the time. I resented the fact that he made me get rid of
everything I had. I thought he was being unfair. My belief was that he was trying to keep Pablito
and Benigno from envying me, because they had nothing themselves. I was well-off in
comparison. At the time, I had no idea that he was protecting my dreaming body.”
Don Juan had described dreaming to me in various ways. The most obscure of them all now
appears to me as being the one that defines it best. He said that dreaming is intrinsically the notdoing
of sleep. And as such, dreaming affords practitioners the use of that portion of their lives
spent in slumber. It is as if the dreamers no longer sleep. Yet no illness results from it. The
dreamers do not lack sleep, but the effect of dreaming seems to be an increase of waking time,
owing to the use of an alleged extra body, the dreaming body.
Don Juan had explained to me that the dreaming body is sometimes called the “double” or the
“other,” because it is a perfect replica of the dreamer’s body. It is inherently the energy of a
luminous being, a whitish, phantomlike emanation, which is projected by the fixation of the
second attention into a three-dimensional image of the body. Don Juan explained that the
dreaming body is not a ghost, but as real as anything we deal with in the world. He said that the
second attention is unavoidably drawn to focus on our total being as a field of energy, and
transforms that energy into anything suitable. The easiest thing is of course the image of the
physical body, with-which we are already thoroughly familiar from our daily lives and the use of
our first attention. What channels the energy of our total being to produce anything that might be
within the boundaries of possibility is known as will. Don Juan could not say what those
boundaries were, except that at the level of luminous beings the range is so broad that it is futile
to try to establish limits – thus, the energy of a luminous being can be transformed through will
into anything.
“The Nagual said that the dreaming body gets involved and attaches itself to anything,”
Benigno said. “It doesn’t have sense. He told me that men are weaker than women because a
man’s dreaming body is more possessive.”
The little sisters agreed in unison with a movement of their heads. La Gorda looked at me and
smiled.
“The Nagual told me that you’re the king of possessiveness,” she said to me. “Genaro said that
you even say goodbye to your turds before you flush them down.”
The little sisters rolled down on their sides laughing. The Genaros made obvious efforts to
contain themselves. Nestor, w ho was sitting by my side, patted my knee.
The Nagual and Genaro used to tell great stories about you,” he said. “They entertained us for
years with tales about a weird guy they knew. We know now that it was you.”
I felt a wave of embarrassment. It was as if don Juan and don Genaro had betrayed me,
laughing at me in front of the apprentices. Self-pity took over. I began to complain. I said out
loud that they had been predisposed to be against me, to think that I was a fool.
“That’s not true,” Benigno said. “We are delighted that you are with us.”
“Are we?” Lydia snapped.
All of them became involved in a heated argument. The men and the women were divided.
La Gorda did not join either group. She stayed sitting by my side, while the others had stood up
and were shouting.
“We’re going through a difficult time,” la Gorda said to me in a low voice. “We’ve done a lot
of dreaming and yet it isn’t enough for what we need.”
“What do you need, Gorda?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” she said. “We were hoping that you would tell us that.”
The little sisters and the Genaros sat down again in order to listen to what la Gorda was
saying to me.
“We need a leader,” she went on. “You are the Nagual, but you’re not a leader.”
“It takes time to make a perfect Nagual,” Pablito said. “The Nagual Juan Matus told me that
he himself was crappy in his youth, until something shook him out of his complacency.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lydia shouted. “He never told me
that.”
“He said that he was very crummy,” la Gorda added in a low voice.
“The Nagual told me that in his youth he was a jinx, just like me,” Pablito said. “He was also
told by his benefactor not to set foot in those pyramids and because of that he practically lived
there, until he was driven away by a horde of phantoms.”
APParently no one else knew the story. They perked up.
“I had completely forgotten about that,” Pablito explained. “I’ve only just remembered it now.
It was just like what happened to la Gorda. One day after the Nagual had finally become a
formless warrior, the evil fixations of those warriors who had done their dreaming and other notdoings
in the pyramids came after him. They found him while he was working in the field. He
told me that he saw a hand coming out of the loose dirt in a fresh furrow to grab the leg of his
pants. He thought that it was a fellow worker who had been accidentally buried. He tried to dig
him out. Then he realized that he was digging into a dirt coffin: a man was buried there. The
Nagual said that the man was very thin and dark and had no hair. The Nagual tried frantically to
patch up the dirt coffin. He didn’t want his fellow workers to see it and he didn’t want to injure the
man by digging him out against his will. He was working so hard that he didn’t even notice that
the other workers had gathered around him. By then the Nagual said that the dirt coffin had
collapsed and the dark man was sprawled on the ground, naked. The Nagual tried to help him up
and asked the men to give him a hand. They laughed at him. They thought he was drunk, having
the d.t.’s, because there was no man, or dirt coffin or anything like that in the field.
“The Nagual said that he was shaken, but he didn’t dare tell his benefactor about it. It didn’t
matter because at night a whole flock of phantoms came after him. He went to open the front
door after someone knocked and a horde of naked men with glaring yellow eyes burst in. They
threw him to the floor and piled on top of him. They would have crushed every bone in his body
had it not been for the swift actions of his benefactor. He saw the phantoms and pulled the
Nagual to safety, to a hole in the ground, which he always kept conveniently at the back of his
house. He buried the Nagual there while the ghosts squatted around waiting for their chance.
The Nagual told me that he had become so frightened that he would voluntarily go back into
his dirt coffin every night to sleep, long after the phantoms had vanished.”
Pablito stopped talking. Everyone seemed to be getting ready to leave. They fretted and
changed position as if to show that they were tired of sitting.
I then told them that I had had a very disturbing reaction upon hearing my friend’s statements
about the Atlanteans walking at night in the pyramids of Tula. I had not recognized the depth at
which I had accepted what don Juan and don Genaro had taught me until that day. I realized that
I had completely suspended judgment, even though it was clear in my mind that the possibility
these colossal figures of stone could walk did not enter into the realm of serious speculation. My
reaction was a total surprise to me.
I explained to them at great length that the idea of the Atlanteans walking at night was a clear
example of the fixation of the second attention. I had arrived at that conclusion using the
following set of premises: First, that we are not merely whatever our common sense requires us to
believe we are. We are in actuality luminous beings, capable of becoming aware of our
luminosity. Second, that as luminous beings aware of our luminosity, we are capable of
unraveling different facets of our awareness, or our attention, as don Juan called it. Third, that the
unraveling could be brought about by a deliberate effort, as we were trying to do ourselves, or
accidentally, through a bodily trauma. Fourth, that there had been a time when sorcerers
deliberately placed different facets of their attention on material objects. Fifth, that the
Atlanteans, judging by their awe-inspiring setting, must have been objects of fixation for
sorcerers of another time.
I said that the custodian who had given my friend the information had undoubtedly unraveled
another facet of his attention; he might have unwittingly become, if only for a moment, a receptor
for the projections of ancient sorcerers’ second attention. It was not so farfetched to me then that
the man may have visualized the fixation of those sorcerers.
If those sorcerers were members of don Juan’s and don Genaro’s tradition, they must have
been impeccable practitioners, in which case there would have been no limit to what they could
accomplish with the fixation of their second attention. If they intended that the Atlanteans should
walk at night, then the Atlanteans would walk at night.
As I talked, the three little sisters became very angry and agitated with me. When I finished,
Lydia accused me of doing nothing else but talking. Then they got up and left without even
saying goodbye. The men followed them, but stopped at the door and shook hands with me. La
Gorda and I remained in the room.
“There is something very wrong with those women,” I said.
“No. They’re just tired of talking,” la Gorda said. “They expect some action from you.”
“How come the Genaros are not tired of talking?” I asked.
“They are more stupid than the women,” she replied dryly.
“How about you, Gorda?” I asked. “Are you also tired of talking?”
“I don’t know what I am,” she said solemnly. “When I am with you I’m not tired, but when I
am with the little sisters I’m dead tired, just like them.”
During the following uneventful days I stayed with them, it was obvious that the little sisters
were thoroughly hostile to me. The Genaros tolerated me in an offhand way. Only la Gorda
seemed to be aligned with me. I began to wonder why. I asked her about it before I left for Los
Angeles.
“I don’t know how it is possible, but I’m used to you,” she said. “It’s as if you and I are
together, while the little sisters the Genaros are in a different world.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymylx-nrldc