Kaira

Era tan solo un destello de luz estelar, la más frágil criatura en existencia.

Bueno, llamarla criatura quizá sea tomarse una latitud irresponsable con el lenguaje. No tenía ni siquiera un cuerpo, no pertenecía a especie o género alguno. Por eso es difícil llamarla criatura. Lo que pasa es que también resulta difícil pretender que no era un ser vivo. Aquí es donde la lengua española nos falla. Es un ente, claro está, pues podríamos decir que estaba dotada de conciencia. Pero bueno, tampoco podemos pretender que esta conclusión resuelve la cuestión, puesto que decir que este destello de luz está dotado de conciencia es como pretender que su simplicidad se ve complicada al añadir cualidades externas. Más bien, tendríamos que tener una palabra en nuestro idioma que a la vez nos dijera que al mismo tiempo ella era luz, destello de luz, consciente, durmiente, sin órganos sensoriales, completa, simple, frágil, e indestructible.

Retomemos el asunto paso a paso. Era tan solo un destello de luz estelar. Estaba consciente, sí, pero no tenía órganos de la percepción. No tenía ojos para ver. No poseía oídos que detectaran sonido, ni un sistema nervioso con que sentir. De echo, no poseía un cerebro con el cual pudiese formar pensamientos ni memorias. Quizás podamos decir que tenía una conciencia dormida, como un estado de auto-reflejo profundo––un dormir sin sueños, sin memorias, sin eventos.

Era a la vez frágil e indestructible. Era tan frágil como un instante. Existía porque viajaba de un momento al otro, sin defensas ni estructuras. Viajaba en el espacio oscuro. Viajaba desde el principio de los tiempos, deslizándose por el vacío infinito. Era invisible porque nadie nunca la había visto. ¿Qué es la luz cuando no es vista? ¿Es acaso oscuridad? Quizás. ¿O será más bien posibilidad y espera? ¿Será un grano de la nada en espera del momento en que dejando de ser se vuelva una visión de su origen?

Vino de una estrella. Y por ser luz de estrella tiene en sí la esencia estelar. Si alguien la ve, verá la estrella.

En el momento en que sea vista, dejará de viajar invisible y se convertirá en estrella en la mente del vidente que la reciba. Se convertirá en poema, compañera del canto de grillos y el palpitar del corazón de amantes. Se convertirá en el conocimiento de sabios astrónomos y profundidades filosóficas.

Tal es su fragilidad que dejará de ser destello de luz en el momento que alguien se vuelva consciente de ella. Y tan indestructible es, que después de eternidades en el infinito, se volverá estrella en el momento de su muerte. Es destello de luz estelar, semilla poética, y esencia de la noche.

O quizás no sea percibida por ser humano alguno. Puede ser que venga a reposar en la hoja del árbol de acacia, y así de luz se vuelva oxígeno. Puede ser que como oxigeno sea partícula vital de innumerables seres, que se convierta en molécula de agua y aire. Que viva en el fulgor del fuego, y en aroma del perfume; que viaje en aliento del cantor; que alimente los cuentos de una soñadora.

Era tan solo destello de luz estelar, la más frágil criatura en existencia, eterna y perenne. Se volvió parte de todas las cosas. Se convirtió en todos los seres. Formó parte de todas las mentes y percibió todas las cosas. Pasó a ser aire y luz, agua y fuego. Se cubrió de todos los cuerpos y presenció todos los pesares––y las alegrías también.

Y así vino esta estrella, proyectándose como luz oculta, a ser parte de todos los seres, partícipe de todos los actos, presente en todos los recuerdos. Dejó su viaje por el infinito para vivir en todas las cosas, hasta que un día se encontró en cuerpo humano––frágil como la vida y eterno como el arte––y por tan solo un momento dejó de ser invisible cuando alguien la vio en su esencia natural de destello estelar, y componiendo el idioma la nombró con su nombre verdadero y oculto, con su nombre de destello de luz estelar. Al escuchar el sonido de su nombre verdadero, el destello se convirtió en momento fugaz, materia prima de la consciencia, y la amiga oculta de todas las cosas.

[Kaira es una escritora española de mucho talento. El libro en la foto es uno de sus libros para niños. Está historia es dedicada a ella]

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She Comes To Me Naked

She comes to me naked in the purity of her presence, without the garments of light, sounds, life, and thought.

I’ve known her longer than myself. I’ve known her before I, before time, before the memory of her.

I have seemed to forget her, and in the dark dungeons of forgetfulness, in that mindless chaos of existence, I looked for her.

She was there, always, hidden in every desire and every which pain.

Behind every corner of thought, peeking or waiting at the periphery of the horizon of time and experience, she shines eternally in relentless and unwavering wait.

She weaves and undoes the endless tapestry of existence phenomenal, waiting for the beloved to come to her as vagabond, worthless suitor, with his only claim in the secret chamber of his heart––an arrow certain and true.

She comes to me naked, silent, and I am blinded and deafened by her all consuming touch.

Triad Experiment #3

The participants of the Astral Mastery Workshop were sitting in a circle. This was the first experiential moment of the weekend, where each participant is guided into becoming aware of their etheric bodies and instructed on how to detach it from the physical so that it may serve as a vehicle to travel on this earth at will. As any practiced voyager knows, one of the main barriers at this stage is the psychological barrier that stops you from transferring your consciousness from the physical to the etheric. I have deviced many effective methods to bypass this internal objection. This day, I put one to the test, and it involved E.J. Gold’s Triad.

I opened a portal in the center of the room, and activated a second artifact: a piece derived from the Philosopher’s Stone activated as a magnetic center, attuned to emanate a close range magnetic field. It was just enough to excert a very subtle pull around it without becoming overwhelming. I placed the stone next to the portal and every participant was able to feel the pull and to allow the etheric body to follow the pull out of the bounds of the physical body. With this newfound freedom, the workshop took off.

The next day, the voyagers had already become intimately familiar with the feel and movements of their etheric bodies, and had no trouble moving out at will and without help. Now, the portal opened with the help of the Triad could be used by the voyagers to move through and into higher planes, to safe designated areas to explore and become acquainted with these new environments and their developing bodies of light. Having acquired these skills, we could now proceed to open another portal which each voyager could use to move and come back each in accordance to their own work need, while at the same time allowing me to keep track and map their whereabouts, maintaining communication throughout.

Each one reported a wonderful and easy deployment, and clearly maintained awareness and volition throughout their journeys, successfully bringing back knowledge, maps, and magical tools from their sojourn in order to apply to their Work.

The use of the Triad to open portals is a very natural and useful technology, but the real art and beauty of this instrument shines when you apply it in combination with other magical and shamanic tools, and when you activate inner abilities that work synergistically to aide you in your work.

In this experiment, I used the Stone, the Triad, a Staff, and a meteorite charged with the Aka Dua as a continuous Healing Beacon. With these, along with the activation of skills that would be useless to name here, I was able to provide a safe space, guiding instruments, and the experience necessary for each voyagers to learn the art and science of astral projection from beginning to end–easily, naturally, and effortlessly.

Triad Experiment #2

The second time E.J. Gold’s Triad was used was when I put together a small party to rescue a friend and relative who had been tortured and killed in Central America, and had subsequently been stuck in a bad place in the underworld.

My brother and I scried his location and situation. He had been killed by a gang in El Salvador, and buried alive next to a river by the border with Honduras. My brother and I put together a band of warriors and set up a rescue.

We gathered our tools and entered the bardos, headed to the underworld and travelled down to the place where he was. As we got closer, the atmosphere was of course getting heavier and heavier, and replete with the ambushes and pitfalls typical of the hell dimension.

At the right moment, I used the Triad to open a portal to the higher dimensions, and once rescued, our cousin could safely pass through with us, facilitating a quick exit and restoring his voyager’s memory. There was a sublime pause as he stopped to thank us and his gratitude touched everyone’s hearts.

Mission fulfilled. Liberation was attained by a tortured soul. The gate was closed and the Triad put away.

Triad Experiment #1

I received this Triad from my good friend E.J. Gold in 2015. When he told me he was sending it he said simply: “You’re a shaman. You’ll know what to do with it.”

I opened the package with great delight; E.J. never ceases to amaze me with the useful technologies he tirelessly provides. This time, I was not to be disappointed. Far from it. As soon as I opened it I could tell I was holding a sacred artifact. I saw in the center of the triangle a shimmering membrane, and with just the focus of attention effortlessly available to me in my Santo Sanctorum, my temple, I immediately noticed a strong and vibrant circle––or rather, a sphere––all around me protecting and sealing the temple along the lines of the edge of the protective circle I had earlier established. I noted this effect, and safely put the Triad away inside my altar for later experimentation.

Within a week, I proceeded to the first experiment. With two friends, I used the Triad as a focus amplifier to open a portal. Any reader with good knowledge of practical magick can deduce the function of a triangle. A portal immediately opened up behind us, and while my two capable assistants guarded the circle, I went through the portal and found myself traveling to different parts of the past of this incarnation.

I’ve been here before. This is the retorno, the ability to go back and forth in time at any point in time during the life of the body, to relieve and examine any moment of the life time. The portal gave me immediate access and propelled me to the different points I wished to visit. It boosted the effect, making it immediate, fast as the speed of intent, and quite tangible. I relieved key points of my life.

I went through my lifetime about six times all together, at times changing a few things but mostly coming back to this time line where I am doing this work. I ended up not so much changing anything, but polishing some rough edges of my experience and planting a few habits early one, a couple of shocks so I could remember at other key times.

Eventually, after many years of exploration and work on the life stream, I came back to my assistants and closed the gate. We went outside to assess the effects of the voyage, notated the results and again put the Triad away.

This was the first experiment. Tomorrow, I will share with you the second experiment.

These Teachings Are Not for the Personality

These teachings are not concerned with the development of your personality. They are not designed to make you more popular or likable. They are not designed to make you richer, to give you better relations.

They are not designed to boost your self esteem, to give you a better memory, to be calmer, happier, or more successful. They are designed to benefit the essence so that the essence can be transformed into a soul. It will be transformed into a soul the way a worm goes into a chrysalis and is transformed into a butterfly.

Most people do not concern themselves with growing a soul because every institution has told them that they already got one. Therefore, they do not make any efforts to grow one. Once they do, they nourish the seed dormant in every body, the seed that descended as pure awareness from the vastness of sentience of the dreamer of the universe.

These teachings, then, are not for the personality. They are meant to show the essence how to allow the personality to break apart, decompose, and absorb it as the seed absorbs the fruit that holds it.

——————–

Read more in chapter 4 of The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor.

Or listen to the chapter here: Toltec Survivor Podcast: The Personality and the Essence of Sheep

The Heart of Nagualismo Intensive.

I am holding an intensive training for those seriously interested in Nagualismo at the end of this month.
This is a five day intensive immersion into the training of Nagualismo, the method of attainment used by the ancient civilizations of the Nahuas and taught by the Toltecs before the European invasion.

This training is for serious warriors only. Only those who can step fearlessly beyond the known may come.

This training is transformative and radical. You will change, and the world you knew will also change with you.

You will be in the training day and night, and there will be no communication with the outside, no leaving the property, and no tending to external business. These will be five days spent somewhere else, away from this world.

Please understand that, along with having to spend the nights and all your meal with us, you may not have the comforts of smoking, using the internet, alcohol, or drugs.

Please, apply only if you are willing to abide by these requirements.

Cost: $2,500. However, if you reserve your post before August 15, your tuition will be only $1500.

To reserve your spot, send a non-refundable registration fee of $500 to: www.paypal.me/xicoco

Once we receive your reservation, we will send you more information. You may send more than the registration fee.

Please, take into account that the registration fee of $500 are non-refundable. You can get a refund for the rest of the money any time before the start of the event.

Write to me with any questions.

Koyote

Island of Solace

This island of solace will one day vanish away. It will be washed away. For the more I feel the reality of the illusion, the more I touch the hard reality, the more the events of my life prove to me that whatever happens to me is important, that my children are special, that my life is unique.

The more I entrench myself in this illusion of life, the harder the weight of the illusion, and the harder, stronger, and heavier becomes the self. The less flexible I am, the more mechanical and robotic my move, my thought, my emotion.

The more mechanical and fiercely solid my movement of consciousness, the deeper the suffering is and the more entrenched, harsh, solid, heavy the illusion of I am becomes––forgetting the womb of that mother that lies in the emptiness of the eternal presence of the void.

In this Space I sit

In this space I sit, surrounded by a mystery that penetrates every particle and creek of my being.

This mystery moves. If I look inside I see nothing. If I sense the space before my eyes, I find darkness. If I place my attention behind, I see nothing, a dark shadow. I feel the cold presence of the empty void behind me, pushing me, supporting me.

I notice the emptiness moving through my fingers. I hear the emptiness surrounding my words––words that pretend to have meaning but are carried away from me by this emptiness, the echoes of something unknown.

Even the being who says “I am”, implied in every sentence, the being that observes, that hears, that sees shadow and light, the being that says “I am” sits in the shadows between the worlds.

If I look within the source of attention, trying to find the I am, it retreats even further. When I think I’ve grappled the self, surrounding it in a craftily and carefully constructed web of meaning and concerns, saying “here I am,” the I am becomes smaller, more remote, more in shadow. I look for the I am not realizing that the one who searches is also the I am, forever retreating yet always at the center of every experience.

In Samsara Caught

I become entangled in the dramas of my dream. I worry that I don’t know what is going on. I worry that I’m wasting my time. I worry that perhaps I have not accomplished enough. I worry that I will be alone. That I will not be what I should be. I worry about what they would think of me. The more I worry what they think of me the more I forget the solitude of the empty space.

I play this game so well that I forget for a moment that I truly believe for a moment that I am here sitting, surrounded by an ocean of minds, of people moving–each one in their own way; that they look at me and that it matters; that whatever happens to me is somehow important. I worry that I might not know what’s going on. And what then? What will then happen to me? Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

Each enunciation of me, of “I am,” becomes like a pebble, a rock, a concentration of tiny impressions that I put in my pocket, filling myself with the weight of time. Self importance. Solid, I become––hard shelled, immovable will––until everything is so heavy, so hard, that I no longer see beyond myself; that I no longer move outside this box. No longer these hands touch anything but themselves. No longer my heart feels. No longer my ears hear other than the crazy tumultuous thoughts, unconnected impressions that flow. No longer can I touch anything outside other than the mere sensations generated by a physical network of nervous systems sending impressions of light––chemical reactions flowing inside, an entire lifetime, an ocean of illusory time moving within this empty shell, heavy with false concerns.

The stage feels more solid. A spark flows from somewhere, somehow. It comes as a delicate smell. It pulls a tiny part of my attention. A very small light that I can’t quite see vanishes the moment I fix my eyes on her, leaving behind only the most subtle trail of mystery as a tiny moment of life outside the mesh of self concern. It comes and goes. Comes and goes, like the tides of an ocean.

When it’s gone, it seems like just the faint trails of a forgotten dream, something not real enough, not truly tangible, just a hint of a something indescribable. And when it’s here it has such an undeniable presence that for a brief moment seems able to dissolve all my suffering, all my concern.

It’s just at that moment when I’m about to surrender to the joy that seems to come from that gentle touch, just at that  moment, I fear that if I give in to that voice I might lose all the weight I’ve accumulated throughout my organic existence. I hold on to my suffering, for the fear of dissolution into the kiss of that beloved star. It comes and goes in an odd rhythm with odd sounds.