The Hidden Treasures the Spanish Soldiers Missed

“It is then my aim to attempt to unveil, uncover, and reveal that which has been lost; but not lost as in gone forever, simply misplaced, forgotten.

These are the hidden treasures that the Spanish soldiers missed, the treasures they couldn’t take with them, the treasures that had been buried deep in the rich soil of the American continent.

And now, with the light of the New Sun, it’s time for this buried seed to sprout, to seek the light, and to share its perfume with the world.”

The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor

My Sacred Prayer

One day this bubble of existence will burst into a million pieces, sending fire and light, and spread it all through creation.

Or maybe it will dissolve into the liquid nothingness of the solar waters that flow from that sunset that’s been waiting to come for all eternity.

It will then be so that every experience I ever had, every word I ever said, every pain I ever caused, and every hope I ever gave will turn to be just the vibrant resonance, just the booming ocean, just the happy dance, and dissolve in that ocean of experience and move amongst your shadows as meaningless signs and sights.

May I never live through that!
May the memory of me fade away in time.
May my soul not be important.
May my life not be object of remembrance below or above.
May I not be significant.

May my shadows be forgot and go their way, where the shadows go and the light of Her eyes shine brightly.

(Click here to receive a free ebook on Shamanic Voyaging and Lucid Dreaming)

What Is a Toltec Survivor

The word Survivor in The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor is not just about me. Yes, I have survived war, exile, two massacres, death squads, shots, magical attacks, tuberculosis, and the bubonic plague. But that’s not really why the term appears in the title. It is not because I am still alive; because, while my beloved death can be evaded today, she will one day succeed. Death is the most relentless of hunters.

These teachings are of a Toltec survivor because the Tolteca in me has survived, though the world has tried to bury him with lies and cover him in the illusion of self-involved problems. The Teachings have also survived. They have survived genocide and the night of forgetfulness.

It has been five hundred years since the light of this continent, this American continent, was covered by the European invasion. The conquest and colonization tried to eliminate the cultures, the language, the religions, the way of life; and more than anything, the identity of the inhabitants of this American continent.

For over five hundred years, what we were has been obscured, covered and forgot. And yet, through this long night of five hundred years, I’ve survived. If you are reading this, that same ineffable and unexplainable something may also survive in you.

Check out my book here: The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor

In this Center of Life

In the solitude of the night I stay, and know that all the words and all the stories are lumps of life and meaning; and in the center I find myself trapped in an island, surrounded by life, all rushing at me at the same time.

In this center of life, I can’t distinguish anything at all. There is no name. There is no God. There is no hell. There is no movement of time and space; just the glorious silence; just the breath rushing in and going out; just her touch; the soft fingers of life holding, moving around, dancing around me.

In pain and joy, her hands play with the silent center. It moves. Sometimes I play with her by moving, talking. The light pulls my arm. The wind moves. The face looks and smiles when she looks back, and in the center of this magnificent womb, what can there be if not the warm embrace, the kiss of her ecstasy? How can there be anything but the loving kiss of the angel of death?

(SUBSCRIBE TO MY EMAIL LIST FOR ANNOUNCEMENTS AND GET A FREE BOOK)

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.

(JOIN MY EMAIL LIST AND DOWNLOAD A FREE BOOK ON SHAMANIC VOYAGING)

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.

(SIGN UP FOR MY EMAIL LIST, AND RECEIVE UPDATES ON EVENTS AND BOOKS–AND A FREE BOOK)

The Aim of the Teachings

The aim of the Teachings is to give you the tools, and facilitate the conditions, for a transformation. What kind of transformation is this? Every human being has the potential for changing their perception, their nervous system even, to the point where they become receptors of the divine. You have the potential to attune yourself to the infinite, and become a chariot of divine consciousness.

The Teachings are designed to give you the tools and the know-how to accomplish this lofty goal. This is the meaning behind the name of the Toltec city of Teotihuacan: “the place where gods are born.” The city itself was an artifact designed to create the necessary shocks and adjustments in the initiate’s perceptions, thoughts, and nervous system that connected each one with the cosmic consciousness, producing in effect gods walking the Earth in human form.

My books are such artifacts.

To do the work they are meant to do, we need to take into account the hermetic law of rhythm. Everything in nature moves with rhythm, and no change is possible without it. The reading of these books take rhythm into account. They have been carefully designed using effective esoteric principles of magick and mysticism to produce in you a psychic system capable of connecting to the source of all knowledge and all evolution.

In the end, you will come to realize that what this Teaching, as with any knowledge that comes from outside yourself, is only a reflection of what is already inside yourself.

Nothing new can be taught from the outside; all real teaching emanates from the one true source, and that true source lies within the innermost recesses of your heart. My writing can be a facilitator at best, and if you apply it with sincerity and assiduity you will connect with the eternal, infinite consciousness from which all is created. That is your true teacher, and to that source is that my books are meant to help you connect.

To accomplish this end, therefore, we must proceed in harmony with the law of nature, with science and with art, to produce true and lasting harmonious glory.

CHECK OUT MY BOOKS ON MY AMAZON’S AUTHOR PAGE: amazon.com/author/koyote

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.

(CLICK HERE TO JOIN MY MAIL LIST AND RECEIVE A FREE EBOOK ON SHAMANIC VOYAGING AND LUCID DREAMING)

Where the Witches Go

There’s a place, old and musky…
up on a green hill, where the witches go.

There, under the full moon,
they dance, sing, and take out their brooms.

Their existence was forbidden,
so they had to learn to go to this place in the dreaming,
from the earliest intents of creation,
to unite with God in sexual surrender.

Here, in the true church of the living flesh.

(Sign up here for a free book on shamanic voyaging)

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.

CLICK HERE TO SIGN ON FOR MY MAIL LIST, AND RECEIVE A FREE BOOK ON SHAMANIC VOYAGING AND LUCID DREAMING.