Don’t Let the Driver of your Vehicle Fall Asleep

The main reason your instrument, your carriage, your human biological machine does not get into the waking state is because it is deathly afraid of it. When everything is working properly, the Master expresses his wishes, the driver knows the direction and controls the horses, the horses have the strength to go wherever the Master indicates, and the carriage simply follows. When everything is working in harmony, the Master gets to where he wills to go. If something goes wrong, then he might not get to where he wants to go. If the wheels are not attached correctly, the carriage will go nowhere. If the horses are not well trained, the carriage could go anywhere. If the horses are going crazy, berserk, they will not go anywhere. If the driver is drunk or asleep, it can’t get anywhere either. The nature of our sleep refers a lot to the driver falling asleep. The driver falls asleep and the horses go to where they want to go according to their preferences, their instincts.

Who are the horses, the driver, the cart? The horses represent your desires and your fears; or more properly said, your seductions and your aversions. When the driver is asleep, you are on autopilot and you move in accordance to your instincts. You are driven by the winds of karma. Some of the words I use here, you might be familiar with, but I will be using them in different ways. Here, I’m not using karma to mean “you do something good, you get something good.” That’s the soap-opera version of karma. Think of karma as a wind that moves the leaves of the tree sometimes here, sometimes there. We are like those leaves, and we’re moved by our desires and the circumstances around us.

Rarely do we have a driver that can direct our vehicle wherever we want to go. The driver is our conscious self, the thinking part of us that can plan, strategize, and make thoughtful decisions. A driver that is pulled and repelled by sensual or emotional attractions, is a driver that has given control of the vehicle to the horses. The driver is asleep, or otherwise merely witnessing the car being pulled by the horses of emotional identification. The driver might know where the master wishes to go, but he is incapable of directing the carriage.

The influence of the Master is very subtle. He has no direct influence over the cart. All he can do is talk and send a voice to the driver. But if the driver is drunk and asleep, he won’t listen. If there is a racket going on outside, he might get a distorted notion. All he has is that voice coming from somewhere behind him: “Take me to the park.” But the driver has to interpret, apply the command, and go. You have to listen to the voice while awake. If you are asleep, who knows what you’re listening to.

From The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor


My Precious Double

Think of a dream you are having. You project yourself into that dream. That projection is a double of you, an avatar that is native to the dream environment. You are creating both the dream and the dream self that inhabit that realm.

If you identify with that double, you act and feel as if that is your only reality.

To be aware of both the dream and the one who is outside the dream allows you to loose your form, and to exist beyond the limits of your dream.

To withdraw your identification from the dream double is to wake up, and to find yourself in the wake world–which itself as a dream to the eternal void beyond all dreaming and experience.

The Elusive I Am

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

If I look within the source of attention, trying to find the I Am, the I Am retreats even further. When I think I’ve grappled it, when I think I have surrounded the I Am in a web craftily and carefully constructed with meaning and concerns, when I say “Ah! Here I Am!,” the I Am becomes smaller, more remote, more in shadow.

I look for the I Am, realizing that the one who searches is also the I Am, forever retreating yet always at the center of the experience.

I Am a Figment of Your Imagination

The one who speaks and the one listens, that is the “I” and the “you” implied in a sentence, are theoretical entities. That is, they may be actual beings as, for example, the person who wrote this and the person who is reading it, but the sentence itself exists even when no one is reading it and when no one is saying it any more.

This writing stays there somewhere without any real being saying it and no one reading it. It reads as if there is an author and an audience, even if no one witnesses it, but the author and the audience become actual only when someone reads it. It is the reader, then, that gives life to the writing, making the author and the reader actual, real.

And even then, the one who writes when this paragraph is being read is not the person who wrote it, but the theoretical entity implied in the mind of the person who reads it. I, the writer, am only an entity implied by these words you read. I am a figment of your imagination, only part of you created by you through the mechanism of this language, by the magick of these words you read. “I” am only implied by these words.

Your mind creates me in your mind, yet I could not exist in your mind as the author of these words without the existence of these words, these words that never really existed until someone read them, these words that were not real until now, when you are.

Meet My Benefactor

It was the Spring Equinox of 2007 when a door opened, illuminated by the sun directly above the equator. It was a doorway to the ancient teachings the Toltecs held for millennia, before the conquest and before the empires of blood and sacrifice.

My benefactor, Cachora, had appeared before me exactly on the Fall Equinox the year before, and told me about this opening and the opportunity to access this doorway to find the Book of Divinity hidden in protection by Hueman, ancestor of our lineage and keeper of the knowledge of the people of Nahuas. Cachora came to me in his body of light after I had accomplished the charge he gave me at the end of my training with him in 1998. It was at the end of my apprenticeship that he gave me the Ring of Power, after he told me to go on my own and finish my training by my own means and intent. “This is the ring a Nahual gives to his student, to give the student the power to do what his teacher can do,” he explained. I asked him what I was supposed to do with it, and he told me that to complete my training, I had to call an Ally, a master of praeter-human consciousness who could help me, teach me all magick, and through him I could serve humanity in its quest for evolution. “With the Ring of Power you will have the power to call on the Ally, and if you are strong and true you will survive the ordeal and receive the Teachings.”

The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor is one of the artifacts created from the esoteric course. It can activate a transformational process, and the flow of gnosis will be experienced. Do not be fooled by the form it has taken. It is a book in appearance, but its effects are truly beyond form and reason.

Meet my benefactor.

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.


The End of Thought

The endeavor of philosophy is to come to the end of thought, to be able to burst through the fogginess of mind into the silence–the nothingness. If you understand this, you would know that out of this silence no question comes. The question is the result of a confrontation with the silence, with death. The question can be the result of fear, the mind attempting to cover the silence with chatter, or it can be an attempt to become awake in the silence. And if one knows this difference, truly, one can perhaps come to a liberation from the trap of the mind.

The way most of us ask questions comes from the emptiness of not having an answer. The way the Philosophus asks questions comes from the answer. The way the uninitiated speaks comes from division. Yet, the question of the Philosophus comes from the unity of opposites. The answer is contained in the question as the speech in the silence.

It is there. At one point, if we manage to continue this Philosophical Inquiry, one will come to understand not only the end of thought and not only the use of language, one would also perhaps come to understand and know that the Philosophus is to utilize language as the mathematician utilizes numerical formulas–in that a mathematical problem contains its own solution. In that same manner a philosophical question contains its own answer.

To engage in a true philosophical question is to extract from it its own resolution, which means its own death. For in engaging with the question there is the death of the question. In that sense, philosophy becomes magick. Because inevitably we come to see ourselves as the most important question that this mind is posing. Out of this question, its solution emerges–solution in the mathematical sense and in the chemical sense.

This process puts false ego to the side and in the center something truer. It implies a more mature engagement of language. For the language of the Philosophus is not about validating oneself, about fears or identity. The game became wider. Now you’re dealing with the archetypal language of the human race.


The Observer is the Observed

Is there something before this thought? The body and its evolutionary strategies exists before culture, but not before archetypal thought. Archetypes are the symbols the intelligence of the body uses to communicate with itself. Mind itself is built from these archetypes. Language is inherent to mind. There is no mind without a language. Philosophy is done with language. But Philosophy is not engaged to find a truth that can be defined with language. It is to pitch language against language. Yet inevitably we must ask, who is conducting this inquiry? Who is asking? Who is observing? You need to ask that question. Who is the observer? Can there be an observer that is detached from language? Or is the observer also thought? Is the observer the product of thought and therefore a function of language? But does it exist as an entity apart from thought? Does the speaker exist apart from speech? Does the thinker exist apart from thought? Does the observer exist apart from the observed? Or is the observer and the observed the same? Is the speaker and the spoken the same? Is the author and the story separate? Or is the voice in the story the author? It’s an important question. To understand this question is to understand the essence of magick.


Philosophical Inquiry and the Aikido of Thought

Society, civilization, is the product of thought. All the forms we have created: government, money, religion, civility, fairness, etc., are the product of thought. Language is a product of civilization. Therefore the mind that we have, this mind that thinks in English, in Russian, in Spanish, is the product of that civilization. Civilization is nothing but the provider of form for egos and personalities.

We adopt those forms to be able to have a place in this society and to be recognized, to be named. What would we be without it? Not of this world, that’s for sure. Yet can we use this thought to break free from it? That’s the question of a philosopher. I use thought to break free from it. But if we’re seeking to form a theory, to prove an idea, to promote a religion we’re not doing this thing that I’m calling philosophy. On the other hand, if we are taking this thought, this mind that created the I and turn this thought to dissolve itself—can I pitch this thought against itself so that nothing remains? If so, can I step away from the fascination with the game of civilization? Which wouldn’t necessarily mean thought is not existent. We can still use thought as a tool; as a scientist, as an artist.


Does I exist?

When we engage with a philosophical inquiry, What is that which wants to know? Is it not the mind? Who asks the question? Who is asking this question? Is there an expectation for an answer when this question is asked? What would satisfy this question?

The mind who is thinking creates the I who thinks. I think.

This I who says “I think” wants to be a real entity. A real thing. But the I who says “I think”, “I want to know”, “I wonder”, “I want”, is the result of thought. “I am Mexican”, “I am Peruvian”, “I am Argentinian”, “I am American”, “I am White”, “I am Black”, “I am male, female”. This I who speaks, this I who asks questions, the I who wants to know, is that I not the result of thought? Is that I not the one that keeps talking and asking?

The mind is aware of itself. And the mind continues to negotiate its existence. It wants validation from others. It wants confirmation of its own existence. It creates anything to feel that it exists. It creates depression. It creates confusion. It creates anger. Just to prove that it exists. But it is the product of thought. And this mind which creates thought, which creates ego, wants to argue. It wants to prove itself. It wants to be heard. It wants to be validated. It wants to ask questions. It wants to understand the answers. But is this ego, this I, not the result of thought? Does it exist beyond thought? Does it exist without thoughts?