How The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor Was Conceived

It took me seven years to accomplish the task my benefactor gave me in 1998. Once the connection to the Ally was stablished, I found myself inside a hotel room in Chicago, talking with my benefactor as he impressed the next mission on my mind: use this opening to access the sacred book of the Nahuas, the legendary Teomoxtli.

To accomplish this, I needed the assistance of 30 people and the permission of another Nahual: E.J. Gold. After Cachora’s body of light vanished from the room, I saw the light on the night stand signaling it was 3:00 a.m. Filled with the intent of this flash of destiny, I did not hesitate. I grabbed the phone and called E.J. He gave his blessing. He wanted to know if I was also going to teach the teachings from Peyote. “For that, you need Dru’s permission,” he said. Dru Kristel was dead, however. “I will ask him,” assured me E.J.

A few months later, after an adventure in Bardo Town with E.J. and his school, a rescue mission in the hell dimension, and a feat of high magick, Dru gave his consent too. We were ready.

The 30 students were recruited, and the esoteric course took place. We met twice a week for 8 weeks. That was the number necessary to create the conditions to open the door; and once the door was opened, the Teachings flowed. The higher entity was assembled, and we voyaged.

Several treasures were gained. The Aka Dua was presented to the world. The ability to voyage with a group to other worlds and planes of existence was acquired. The technology for the blueprint of intensives was codified. The shifting of timelines was mastered. The esoteric school was established. Finally, after the course had ended and the window sealed, the Book of Divinity was revealed by one of the ancient Toltecas in the pyramids of Teotihuacan, and the manifestation of artifacts containing the Teachings became possible.

(Read more in The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor)

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The Gift of Old Shadow of Bats

These were the times of darkness, before the coming of the sun.

These were the times when the old witch, Shadow of Bats, emerged from the City of Xibalbá. She emerged to see the coming of the dawn.

Shadow of Bats saw the human sacrifices and the slavery of the tribes of men.

She spoke to the tribe of the free humans, the ones who had refused to be enslaved.

“Don’t open your bodies,” she told them. “Do not enslave yourselves, and do not give your hearts to the gods,” she said. “I will give you fire and teach you to use it.”

From the heart of chaos she brought fire, keeping it alive in the abomination of her sensual dance.

Against the slave gods, she danced, and in her act of rebellion old Shadow of Bats imprinted in the free humans the knowledge of fire in their hearts, and the source of fire in their solar plexus.

The human beings awaited, now, the coming of the sun. Some enslaved and afraid of the dark, and a few free in the reveling of the dance of the eternal flame.

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For Lack of Mastery, Humanity Became Enslaved

One day, the gods came together and reflected on the power humans had over creation, and how they were growing in wisdom and knowledge under the light of fire.

These were the times before the first dawn. These were the times before the sun first appeared to light the expanse of heaven.

The fire was the companion of humans in that long, long night before the first dawn.

But the humans did not know the secrets of fire; how to light it, how to keep it, how to control it.

One day, the humans let the cold of the night to kill their fire. They were now powerless and hungry, and the cold of night was slowly erasing the future of the human beings. They were to die like the darkness before the coming of dawn.

The gods of that time knew that the age of humans was coming, and that humans were going to govern the earth as the sun will govern the heavens.

The gods conspired.

They exchanged words.

They became of one mind.

The gods decided to enslave the human race. They send to the humans the fire breather, and eater of fire.

She who forges fire in her womb came to men, with a message from the gods.

She told them to open their bodies, at the solar plexus, and take their hearts out. To offer their hearts to the gods, in exchange for fire.

For as long as they open their bodies, and offer their hearts to the gods, the humans will have fire.

The tribes of men agreed, because they were cold, hungry, and afraid.

This was the beginning of the Slave Gods, and the demand for sacrifice.

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Out of the Dancer Came the Fire

From within the dark abyss came forth the swirling fires of creation.

“Let there be light” was the word heard, reverberating over the entire cosmos; but it was the dancer who captured the divine command, holding the bright light and making it swirl and circle, flame and shine, creating fire and the circles of time.

Fire was born such, as the beauty of creation, the heat of love, and the joy of existence.

The Dancer of Light created in her dance the cosmic circles, called time and pace.

Out of the Voice came the Light.

Out of the Dancer came the Fire.

From fire, the creatures got experience and life.

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow were born in the swirling patterns of the dance; the cosmic cycles of the seasons and the days, the cycles of life, and the measure of things.

To the human being, fire was life. Fire was light. Fire was warmth. Fire was the power over the darkness of night.

 

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Letters from a Thief

Eduardo Galeano, the famous South American journalist who wrote The Open Veins of Latin America, was rumored to have a treasure hidden in his home. Inevitably, a thief came to his house one day and, finding an ancient looking chest, took it with him. Hoping to find gold or jewels, the thief opened the trunk once he took it to a safe place, only to find it filled with personal letters. They were all the love letters Eduardo Galeano had received during his long life.

Galeano, of course, was sad. They were vignettes of a life lived with passion and love. The thief, recognizing the value the letters had, a value worthy only to Galeano and to no one else, decided to return them. However, he did not return them all at once. He sent one each week.

Each Thursday, Eduardo Galeano waited with a heart full of anticipation for the mailman, who knowing the story would have the letter of the week in his hand already, waiving it happily for Galeano who ran to receive this missive of love.

Of course, nothing was being returned to Galeano that he did not already have, but the fact that he was getting what he thought lost, and that it was coming to him in such a fashion led him to receive the letters and read them again with such love and enthusiasm that they created in him something beyond what he had lived.

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Be the Author of your Story

What you consider to be your personal history is, in reality, an artistic creation. It is the story you are making up in this dream. It is possible to put the plot, narrative, and message of your life the way a scientist designs a blueprint, or you can design your life as an artist puts things together.

You may systematically, and using data, design your manifestation in this world. You can also be an artist and not only design it for a utility standpoint, but grab a seed from the vast unconscious and create a work of art.

When you think of your lifeline, you are not only remembering what happened. You are connecting events, impressions, intents, and doings. You are making decisions of what to leave out, what to emphasize, and how to see what happened.

More importantly, when you look at your life story, you thread these events with an invisible, hidden thread. This thread that unifies and arrange the memories in patterns create a story full of meaning and significance, an artistic array made of life.

Tell your story. Use it to discover the hidden threads of destiny. Tell it, even, to uncover that most elusive of beings: the author of your story. The narrative of your story implies the story teller, the narrator, the artist who creates patterns of meaning and sense and, in so doing, emerges as the unifying force in this work of art called life.

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We Are the Prehistory of the Human Being

Having a human body and a human nervous system, we share on the collective karma of humanity. All humanity shares one mind, and this mind has done all the things humanity has done. Sometimes, we can remember having inhabited the beings performing all things. We have been killers and have been killed. And that’s such a minute part of what is possible.

We are babes in a cosmic womb. We haven’t been born yet. We are not real yet. We are here in this egg we call planetary existence and one day we will hatch, grow wings, and take the cosmic flight in wings of cosmic radiance. One day, we will become true human beings, sharing on the cosmic awareness of the eternal.

Right now, we are not done with your evolution. Right now, we are not yet complete human beings. This is still the sixth day of biblical creation. The human being is being created in the image of Ometeotl, the supreme entity. We are not real human beings yet. We are the prehistory of the Human Being.

We are the remote past of Hueman, the Nahual in human mold, Old Grandfather, the Avatar of the Absolute.

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Lucía Through the Shell

When I was in the fifth grade, I had a good friend named Lucía. I called her that because she was born when I was shinning a light behind her shell. It looked like the glow of life came from her as she was stirring alive and broke through this side of life.

My abuelita gave her to me to raise. I carried her warm fuzzy frailty in my hands for the 100 kilometers trip back to the city. She took residence in the small cement square we called a patio, where the water basin was.

I came to visit and speak with her every day after school. She didn’t like to play, but she enjoyed listening. She liked it when I’d tell the cats not to approach, and when I trained the dog to see her as my friend. I failed to train my aunt, who served Lucía to me one afternoon. My older brother laughed at the surprise on my face when I came to the patio after lunch and didn’t find my friend. “You just ate her!,” he mocked.

I covered the real feeling pulsating above my belly, under my heart. I didn’t want him to see. I masked my inner reality with rage, as if the mockery was the only thing I minded. The real feeling, I carried with me safely through life, holding its fuzzy fragility in a tiny square of my solar plexus where a glow of light forever listens and waits.

Slavery has not ended, and we are being fleeced.

The institution of slavery has not ended yet. It has always been part of our civilization. The institution of slavery as it existed at a particular time here in America is not legal anymore, but that’s an instantiation. Slavery, the forceful use of people for labor, continues. It’s just changed from physical chains to psychological chains. It affects almost everyone. In order to participate in this society, you are forced to conform to certain things. By labor, I don’t just mean that you have to find a job and go to work. I mean that you have to produce, in your body, certain substances that are created by negative emotions and secreted from the pores and glands. In addition, your body is made to transmit signals to each other to create these substances. These signals are communicated through the masses by facial expressions, speech, and lately through memes and short thoughts and phrases. We are made to mass produce a limited number of reactions of anger, frustration, and mockery—all for the benefit, not of you, but of the Great Magician. I’m not just talking about socially negative emotions; what you would call “hope,” “love,” and anything else that is automatically produced in you—adrenaline, anxiety, fear—all these are called negative emotions.

If you begin to look at your education, and how we went from a moment from high anxiety before tests to the relief of anxiety after the test, only to come back to more anxiety, then you will notice that the higher you go up in your profession, the more you continue with that, fear–anxiety release–fear, over and over until your whole being is a machine to manufacture that state. What does the Great Magician get from that? Power, energy, control over the masses. At this point, the Great Magician is not interested in controlling the individual. If you set up a small shop selling vacuum cleaners, you will want to go door to door. But if you have a product like Coca Cola, you don’t sell to a person—you sell to demographics. “We have young, African American males.” “We have old second- and third-generation Latinos. How do we get new ones?” The Magician is thinking bigger than that, and not of countries anymore, but of corporations.

The fleece of the sheep the Great Magician is whatever makes up your identity, your emotions, and the output of your machines: the adrenaline, fear, and paranoia prevalent in society. A few can escape, because the Great Magician doesn’t even want to control small groups. He is not interested in the few black sheep. If you create a liberating movement with several million people trying to be free, he will crush it down. Either he will introduce something seemingly innocuous that will end up diluting the essence of the movement, or he will give you drugs or sex or something to weaken you; and if that doesn’t work, he will come down on you with strength.

What are the consequences of liberation? You are free from the support of the Great Magician as well, so when you free yourself, you find yourself in the jungle, and there are other dangers out there. Therefore, you have to become a warrior, and you have to become a hunter of power, and you have to know that death can come at any moment.

(Excerpt from Teachings of a Toltec Survivor)

Ancient Esoteric Schools Hiding in Plain View

Now, esoteric schools were not places where you went to receive teachings. They meant school as in school of fish. A common image for them was a beehive. They were a community of workers. Everywhere they went, they would hide in plain view, so that externally they seemed like everyone else; but internally, the esoteric knowledge was being transmitted. They no longer had a city. After Ce Acatl, the Toltecs became perennial strangers in a strange land. When the Christians came, the Toltecs were already adepts at hiding. Why? Maybe it started from trying to hide from Tezcatlipoca. Maybe they were following an ancient law that says the esoteric can only come up for a portion of time and then must go back into hiding. Maybe the format of the sacred temple of antiquity had to do with the sacred architecture that is capable of bringing in higher consciousness, much like the scent of a flower brings the beehive; and this architecture was used in the building of a city, the formation of an esoteric school, the training of a body and a mind, and even the mandate of a culture to blend in order to survive a long night of centuries of darkness. In all cases, an esoteric inner circle had to be maintained and hidden behind the layers of an internal culture and an outward layer that can survive in the culture they reside. In this way, the Toltecs passed the sacred knowledge on.

Read more on my upcoming book: Teachings of a Toltec Survivor