The Watcher

Every thought comes and goes.
Every second of time comes and goes.
Every aspiration comes and goes.
Every lifetime I’ve had, it comes and goes.
Every second of time, it comes and goes.

Every flicker of time, it comes and goes.
The watcher watches; and when I move,
the watcher watches.
When I dance, the watcher watches.
When I love, the watcher watches.
When I kill and consume the flesh of my enemy,
the watcher watches.
When I sin of hatred, the watcher watches.
When I sin for love, the watcher watches.
When I pray to God, the watcher watches.
When I blaspheme against God, the watcher watches.

The watcher watches all the time;
and it does not change;
it does not move.
The watcher watches;
and the watcher inside me is what the five watchers
perched on the Tree of Life,
vulture like,
beady eyes,
and through the darkness within them,
watch the watcher within.

(The Watchers, from Koyote’s Angelic Host series)

Advertisements

Paul Rovelli reviews The Golden Flower (pt. 3)

“The first chapter of Part One is ‘Fearless’ and reads like a surreal parable in the Koyote’s personal dream story. One senses a mythological journey evolving through his poetically imaginative experiences. The work on one’s inner attitude towards death is consistent with soem of the work of Liber HHH. The Koyote takes the work one step further in direct confrontation with death. With his push to be creative and use the imagination, he not only gets to the heart of magickal praxis, but quickly introduces the Vedantic perspective of the Silent Self that observes the dream.

The next chapter ‘On Lucidity of Apperception’ gives specific practical instructions for approaching lucid dreaming. And the Koyote shows how this is consisten with trances one can swork with in waking life, i.e. scrying and evocation techniques, being similar, as described in the next chapter: ‘The Four Regions of the Dreaming.’

In the next chapter: ‘Waking Dreaming,” the Koyte asserts that we are always dreaming (24/7); right at the outset, which resonates perfectly with Jungian teaching on the subject. The dream then is a primal consciousness. And the Koyte gives practical instrucions for skrying and visualization. The concept of the Dream Avatar is introduced in ‘Dreamings Gate’ and the ‘second attention’ is described, as being the unconscious with then, the first attention being waking consciousness.

And in the final chapter of part One: ‘The Key of Dreams’ describes perfectly, a practical approach to balancing the psyche. This is essentially, the Great Work done with the Avatar or Holy Guardian Angel. It is as concisely lucid a statement, as any I’ve seen on the subject.

Part Two is titled: And the Flower Unfolds; Petals of Light. The first chapter, Across the Borders of Dreaming both relates a personal experience; being initiated into dreaming as a child and a technical lesson, “You can always find what you see.”

The second chapter, The Yoga of Dreaming presents the alchemical notion that describes the two states of consciousness (waking & dreaming) that can be congealed to work together to serve that higher purpose, which is called the ‘essential self.’

In the third chapter, The Organic Bluprint of a Soul, the difference between waking and dreaming is presented as being simply two environments that the brain has constructed for itself, as a result of evaluating and delimiting the enormous amount of internal and external sensory input into the mind. This is very much in line with Jungian notions on the formation of identity.

The Etheric Body, the fourth chapter opens by describing what essentially is the Kantian a-priori. “This, your actual experience right now as you are reading this page, is the brain perceiving the brain.” We as human beings are described as being individual packets of energy that each contain a Universe that we call this world. The Etheric Body is referred to as the “Tonal”–a Toltec term; known to most through the writings of Carlos Castaneda. It is described as being a body of energy that exists between pure consciousness and the physical body; as apt a description as I’ve ever read. And a simple and natural exercise is presented to help the dreamer focus on the Etheric Body as being behind the physical body.

The fifth chapter, How to Construct an Astral Body shows how to apprehend the Universe in that quantum packet of energy that is the complex of the physical body and the human mind by using one’s imagination and visualization of the aggregate material that the mind has held onto in its active memory.

Again, a simple and natural exercise is given to create this body that can travel into this imaginary visualization of one’s self-created Universe.

And finally, in the sixth chapter of this section, it is proposed that the imagination is the only limit. The dreaming Shaman can assume non-human forms and travel to un-human worlds. In praxis, one’s daily experience is consistently developmental and experimental. The Kyote gives tips on how to broaden the scope of the imagination to find all these possibilities.” — Paul Joseph Rovelli, director of the Gnostic Church of LVX

Click here to check out The Golden Flower on Amazon!

The Golden Flower: “One of a very small collections of books that speak my secret language”

“The Golden Flower is one of my most treasured possessions. One of a very small collections of books that speak my secret language, that until I started reading these words had eluded me. Turning each page was an act of discovery followed then by the most profound remembrance. Each word was spun not only by a master who knew the secrets of dreams from firsthand experience, but a poet who graced each word with the transformative magic that gave grist for the discursive mind, but more importantly, stirred the soul and called me home.”

–Gerald Porter, Ph.D., Provost and Senior Vice President, Fielding Graduate University

Click here to check out The Golden Flower on Amazon!

Ego is a useful tool

To really destroy the ego would be as useful as destroying the body, intelligence, creativity, language, etc. The ego is a construct we create to navigate and experience this world. Why get rid of it—eve if such a thing could be functionally possible? No, the ego is a magnificent tool. We must learn to use it well. The key, unlike many falsely teach, is not to destroy it, and not even to weaken it.

The key is to make it an efficient, well crafted, strong, and equilibrated tool. To do this, you must not let the ego be the boss of you. It is a part of you and your tool. The ego that ignores the master is unbalanced, afraid, and out of control. Train it well, keep it healthy and strong, and it will be a worthy avatar to your earthly experience.

The One in All

In my experience, seeing the common in all is crucial. It can only be done by withdrawing one’s attention from the external identity (I.e., race, country, culture, etc) and rooting it in the inner. Self knowledge, this way, leads to the realization that we are all one. But this rooting attention on one’s true nature and away from external identity must become a habit. Only then can we become truly aware of the oneness of all without having to rely on belief or dogma.

Preserve the Medicine Wheel

The community at Xicoco has built this Medicine Wheel, a sacred circle open to all people for prayer and healing. We are now about to lose the land where it is built. The landlord is selling the property, and in a matter of a month, they will come in and tear this beautiful and sacred wheel apart to sell it. We have the opportunity to purchase this land, but we need your help securing the funds to open escrow.

We need your help to be able to preserve the Medicine Wheel, to continue offering it for the benefit of all beings everywhere, to continue with our sacred sweat lodge, our classes, our art, and our teachings.

The Medicine Wheel is a living artifact that is helping many find their inner guide, heal, transform their lives, and bring insight and peace to our world.

With your support, we will be able to set up a non-profit organization to preserve the medicine wheel, to continue with our sacred practices, and to promote the Teachings of Koyote the Blind.

These funds will allow us to obtain a loan to buy the land where the Medicine Wheel is.  Please help us preserve the land and continue offering the teachings, the sacred arts, and our lives for the benefit of all beings everywhere.

Click here to Preserve the Medicine Wheel

The Here

It is of course a mystery to know that one is here without having a clue what here is; without having a clue how is it that one is here. It’s hard even at this moment to remember the situations that led to this moment. It’s a moment that has been waiting in the corridors of time for hundreds, thousands, millions of years–for an infinity.

Since before the world was created, there was this moment, here, waiting; standing within an ocean of time; creating an island of being where someone sits here and sees shadows and movement, where sounds are heard and lights are coming and going.

This moment will be over, and an ocean of time comes after it. This moment does not by itself come back, yet the moment is visited over and over again. And how is it that there is this moment here and not another? How is it that these words are read right now, and not others?

Planetary Consciousness

Ever since I fell, I find myself alone. Unable to regain the starlight consciousness—stellar presence!

I replicate myself over and over. Take different forms. Unable to hold myself in one space too long, I must shift and change. But in each case it is I; I who holds this space, always in the center, observing the periphery.

Sometimes, in moments of illumination as I’ve come to call them, I manage to fuse all the pieces of my consciousness into the planetary bowels of fire and brimstone. And I place myself at the center of planetary gravity, sensing the pulsing of this planet, which has become my home, my prison, my body.

And I feel myself contracting and expanding, releasing geothermic energy. Transforming the surface. Increasing heat. Destroying single consciousness so I can integrate them all into the planetary core. Slowly but surely, I become star.

 

Photography by:  Sharla Sanchez

I Woke Up Lightning on the Other Side of the Mirror

I remember my mother walking all around the house, in a hurry. She was carrying a bundle of blankets and towels. Outside, the rain was hitting the rooftop and streets hard. The noise of the rain is harder in the tropics. The cloud forests of El Salvador makes condensation of water stronger, producing thicker drops and more abundant rain falls. Against the symphonic canon of tropical rain, the dissonant thunder would strike to the core, evoking a primal fear that left at its wake religious women crossing their chests and clutching rosary beads.

For some of us, the flash of lightning that traveled like rivers of light through the night sky did more than evoke fear. It announced the shattering sunder of the ordinary. This night, like so many tropical nights outpouring water, light and stentor, I sat in the living room watching my mother going to all the mirrors in the house, covering them with cloth, to keep us safe. She was convinced that mirrors had the power to attract lightning. It was a simple and obvious matter of sympathetic magic: the reflection of lightning has the same properties as the emanation from a lightning bolt, and so the destructive power of one could be felt in the mirror. Transitive properties clearly applied.

I just sat there and watched the family dance. My mother covering mirrors, and the rest either securing all windows, doors, and leaks against the invasion of water, or unplugging electrical cables to protect us against the invasion of electrical surges. And so, protected against water, light, and magic, the night went on. The supernatural fear and awe, however, seemed unaffected by any barrier. As used as we were to tropical storms, we had not yet become rational enough to disregard the raw power of the gods of nature. The power of light and thunder still managed to reach us, even through all the protective barriers of glass windows, towels and rosary beads. Each thunder still made our core tremble, and something that had listened to the storm since before civilization, and reason, seemed to awaken little by little with each tremor.

Each lightning and thunder, a soul-quake.

That night, I overheard my sister tell my brother that she had heard from mama Juana that if you look at yourself in a mirror for too long, you will go insane. Was this the maddening power my mom was keeping at bay? Would a primordial spirit from the abyss awaken if the lightning struck? Would it also awake after being watched for too long?

I must have already had been mad. Why else would I do what I did? With the heart girthed tight by a panic fear, like a serpent around its pray, I slipped unnoticed to a remote room, one of the ones my mother had already protected with towels in the mirror. I told myself, I really did, out loud, that this was crazy and to go back to the safety of the blankets and the stories of the family. But I didn’t.

I went into the room, and opened the veil between me and my image. Removing the white blanket covering it, I saw myself. I stared into my image. I stayed there beyond the fluttering of heart and the crawling of skin. I stayed there, watching attentively, after I recognized the one looking back. After I saw the changes of the face, the demons and angels peeking back at me, I stared longer. I even stayed there after I clearly felt that I was the one behind the mirror staring out into a world of light and thunder, tearing apart all forms and worlds.

I felt as if I had just woken up from a long, long dream in which I had been many, many beings: man, woman, criminal, judge; where I had been a saint and a sinner.
A fish.
I had seen myself as daughter and mother.
Lover.
I was the betraying one and the one who cried in desperation, betrayed.
I had had many dreams and I had seen myself lost in all those dreams.
I got lost in all those worlds. Using myself in the dream. Identifying with the drama.

I remember myself collecting pieces of me, calling them my companions. Members of a group that searched for an idea, an illusion called reality. Futile enterprise. For nothing in that dream could be called reality.

There is only this room.
Only this mirror.
Only me and no other.

I am where I have always been and there is nothing else.
I have always remained in the here and now, even throughout all those changes of form and vision. Immersing myself into the hellish vistas of pain and unending suffering with the hope of forgetting the real world. Searching for heavenly spheres of life and peace and happiness; eternal happiness. Only…

Only to briefly be able to forget the stark reality of the here and now.
That here I was again, all alone.
Nowhere to go in this room called Reality.