Tag: death

The Teacher is a Spider

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

Here’s a note I found from a dear friend after a performance of The Telling:

“It occurs to me this morning that the teacher is a physical manifestation of the Great Spider who endlessly is eaten by her children, only to willingly come back again and again and again.

This sacrifice is for the Great Work. Likewise, the student is a developing spider who is learning the practice of death, rebirth and service through observing her Mother while simultaneously partaking of her, often greedily.” Katheline Dreier

Lucía Through the Shell

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 3 Comments

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.

I Am Not Here

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

If you destroy my body right now, it would be an inconvenience, but that’s it. I am not here. My consciousness, my sense of self, is somewhere outside this Tonal. I project myself from someplace else, and I move my hands and speak and allow something to come forth from a remote distance. This body receives impressions and I sense them; and sometimes, when the connection is turned off, what remains is a human body with a personality, with the same concerns and fears as anyone else’s; with a little more information, training, and abilities that I wouldn’t have otherwise; but nothing beyond this realm.

Just like with a video game, the player is outside the game and moving that character about. I am not in the service of the person you see. This body of mine is being created, maintained, and directed in the service of something else, something that to this realm is like the player is to the computer. And I can be here or I can move away. I am the screen upon which the story of the works is projected.

Koyote was a name given at some point, and then it became active, and it began to eat my heart and penetrate every nervous fiber on my body, like a root canal. It was that painful, an it burrowed into every nerve and gland until it ate the body all up. Now, my essence looks like my vehicle.

The Tonal is the Screen We Place To Withstand the Visage of God

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

At the moment, you are staring eye to eye into the face of God, and your body is configured in the same way that the Absolute is configured, in a one-to-one relation to it; and the elements that compose your physical body, your emotional body, and your energy body are made up of the substances that were forged in the stars, active and going from the beginning of this universe.

You have all that already. How to access that and how to make that into something that’s useful to you, is a teaching that should not be a secret. The vision of the objective reality is kept away from you, primarily, by this illusion that you have programmed into your system—the illusion that we call the ordinary. We create this program of the ordinary, and we do this in order to be able to go on autopilot. It allows us to operate in this realm asleep, lazy, laid back and relaxed. If you eliminate that program, you find yourself in a jungle of light and information overload, where you don’t know who you are or what’s going on around you.

I have no idea who I am. Even when I talk about my personal history, that’s just something I plugged myself into; it’s not me. It happens to have a connection to the Toltecs, and for some reason, that seemed to be exotic or sexy for some, or maybe it’s meaningless to you. It doesn’t matter to me. I just happen to be plugged into this lifetime. This body that was born will one day die, and between birth and death it seems to be doing things and have a life. When I put all my lifetime together, I see a four-dimensional worm with a point of origin, an extension through time, and an end. It is just something I have plugged myself into right now. The program that allows you to function without having to feel lost in this jungle of light and information is the Tonal. It allows you to relax, to say, “Hello, I am so and so.” This world is created because of a feature of your body that we call the assemblage point.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE IN TEACHINGS OF A TOLTEC SURVIVOR

Slavery has not ended, and we are being fleeced.

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 4 Comments

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)

Double-Headed Eagle

https://www.amazon.com/Teachings-Toltec-Survivor-Koyote-Blind-ebook/dp/B07RMK9D4C/
~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

At the highest realm of existence, what the Egyptians called the Sun Absolute and the Toltecs called the Double-Headed Eagle—because when it spreads its wings, all these rays come out to form multiple universes—will ultimately devour you and all that exists. It is the origin of all, and the ultimate destiny of all.

When you die, you are food for that supreme entity. Your body and all its substances are eaten by Mother Earth. If we have managed to form any sort of higher bodies, astral, etheric, Buddhic, angelic, etc., most of them are eaten by other forces at death. What remains of your essence is eaten by the eagle or taken by the Sun Absolute.

One of the tricks of the Man and Woman of Knowledge is to develop in themselves a very attractive package made of personal power, of whatever abilities they can muster, and at the moment of death, have the eagle eat that, but not him. Offer up a human sacrifice.

So, don’t waste those abilities in petty pursuits: give them up for God

(Read more in my upcoming book: Teachings of a Toltec Survivor)

El dulce flotar de Consuelo

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

Recuerdo el día cuando mi abuelita Consuelo se desmayó y la sostuve en mis brazos.

Me preguntó al despertar si acaso la muerte sería como ese dulce flotar hacia el vacío que acababa de experimentar.

“Porque si así es,” me dijo con su inteligente y alegre sonrisa, “ya no le tengo miedo a la muerte.”

A ese dulce vacío voló hace un año mi abuelita.

Ahí estaremos un día, como siempre lo estamos…

Como está la casa de tejas y rayos de sol con humo de leña.

Como está su cuarto con risas de niños y paredes de santos.

Ahí, en ese vacío detrás de las memorias

donde se resuelven vivencias

donde la historia se vuelve viento

donde lo antiguo reverdece entre pájaro y grillo…

Ahí nos espera el consuelo eterno de su vela perpetua.

La quiero por siempre, Abuelita.

The death of the Nahual

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

Death is only perceived as an end by the fractured consciousness of the separated point of view of the assemblage point (or its steward, the ego).

In truth, death and creation are as much part of the same eternal consciousness as the light and the burning are part of the flame. The flame is only possible if it is ending and starting in the same movement. There is no separation between the beginning and the end in the continuous self-consuming dance of the flame.

So it is for the Nahual resolved the dichotomy of life and death. They have both become simply part of the eternal moment.

The Nahual has already died, and exists beyond life and death.

Gentle is the breath of death

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 5 Comments

The little twelve-year-old boy is kneeling, looking at his future: that calm, restful corpse who used to be his playmate. Who used to laugh like a train whistles. Who used to play pranks. Who used to sing and dance. Who used to like to climb trees and fall.

Now, he emits no heat, no laughter, no sound, no play.

Yet, he emits something: an extremely subtle, light, almost cold, touch. It’s almost like the spray of mist an orange emits when cut by the knife. It’s the sensation of that spray on the face, touching as a caress that almost did not happen. This breath, emanating from the body of the corpse is so subtle that it’s almost imperceptible to the senses.

Yet, perceived it is. With the impression of this emanation, the last breath of that corpse touching the heart of this little twelve year old boy about to be executed.