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,
and through the darkness within them,
watch the watcher within.
What I can observe is that in the distant depth of the night, there in the profundity of the nocturnal sky where the night and the silence are perennial and identical, the stars shiver silent and distant, allowing me to perceive through the immense void the vibrations of silence.
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.
As a child, sitting at the beach of El Espino in El Salvador, I would look ahead of me and I would see a horizon where the blue water kissed the blue sky. And I would wonder about that line that divided the heaven and the ocean. It was thin—maybe not really there.
It was there just so I could see it and imagine a separation between the two. And as I tried to penetrate that almost visible barrier, I would notice that the periphery of my eyes would widen, almost as wide as the ocean. And I sat there with my small eyes, with my small mind, in this small world, almost able to hold the immensity of the ocean.
It was vast. Huge. I could not hold it in my thoughts. Any thought I begun to have about it would be washed away with that roar, with that sound, deafening all over—a busy silence. Before every thought formulated in my mind: silence. After every thought: silence. And all around the thought, that loud roaring silence of the ocean.
If I say “I am hungry,” the “I” which is hungry is a product of that language which differentiates between you and me. Isn’t it the case that when I say “I am hungry” that “I” in that context is different from the one that says “I am koyote” and from “I did not hear what you said”? Each I is a different entity, new each time it is uttered. Only the illusion of language supposes this I exists somewhere inside me and is saying and hearing things. The one that listens is also just a product of what is being said; what is being grasped. As the I who utters ceases, the I who listens ceases. Yet something remains. And what remains makes no distinction between the utterance and the listening and the reality, perhaps the difference exists only in the language which was discarded like a snakeskin.
We are God’s chosen people, the superior race, the greatest country on Earth, the true religion, and the moral majority…
Has been used to support Torquemada’s inquisition, burning women of knowledge, the systematic killing of 100-150 million natives of the Americas, the destruction of entire civilizations, the torture and death of 5 million Jews in Hitler’s concentration camps, World War II, human sacrifice, slavery, the cruelty of empires, the Tea Party, and a century of American atrocities all over the world.
Immigrants are destroying our economy, an otherwise underprivileged minority is plotting to rule the world, and the poor and downtrodden have it good…
Has been used to justify the expulsion of Jews from many countries throughout the centuries, Hitler’s “ultimate solution,” the killing and hunting of Latins around the border, the Tea Party, Donald Trump, the imprisonment and harassment of minorities all over the world, massacres, concentration camps, economic warfare against racial minorities, military intervention.
Someone hates the freedoms of the USA, Christianity is under attack, the white race is been unfairly treated…
Has been used to bomb, torture, rape, and kill millions in Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Panama, Colombia, Guatemala, Chile, Nicaragua, Korea, Laos, Cambodia, Granada, El Salvador, and the United States of America.
The Earth is flat…
Has been used to burn people alive for heresy, torture, invasions, keep the poor uneducated, stop scientific funding, and identify people online who would be all too easy targets for one or more of the absurdities above.
Gays, satanist, feminists, liberals, atheists, masons, gender non-conformists, communists, and witches are plotting to rule the world, destroy civilization, sacrifice children, or attack the long abused white man…
Has been used to spread fear, deny human rights, discriminate, incarcerate, suppress, and attack minorities.
Let us learn to think.
And from silence to silence,
let thought meet its end.
In those long silences of my exile, I learned nuances of silence: silences that were vast and deep like oceans, and stormy silences; silences that were short, like lightning; silences that were ominous; and silences that were threatening.
I learned nuances of silence that later I would learn to carry through speech. So that when I talk, I would pay little to no attention to the words I was saying, for I was not interested in communicating words. I was more interested in communicating spaces, pauses, silences—create perhaps rhythms and arrhythmias of stops and pauses.
This brain of yours is, right now, creating the world. It is, at the same time, forming scientific hypotheses about the universe. It is doing this not only at the social level, but also at the natural and even the spiritual level.
The process of awakening has to do with taking these processes of the brain and bring them to a conscious level. It is about becoming conscious of the assumptions that you are making when you are defining yourself, and the assumptions that you are making when you are face to face with the infinite.
The brain is doing all this in a mater that is unconscious to you. Automatic. Make them conscious, and voluntary.
Your family, your tribe, takes care of giving you the assumptions, the foundations, and principles that let you navigate the world.
Eventually, society takes over and provides you with the stories, the narratives, that allow you to know what group to identify with, what beliefs to hold, how to behave with other people, and how to behave when you are alone.
Then, religion takes over to tell you how to think about god, and how to behave in the face of the infinite
The Great Work is, in a way, a work of heresy where you begin to discard what religion tells you.
You begin to set aside all the identities and assumptions that the social group has given you: all the identifications with a race, a nation, a religion. All identifications with a human group being to be set aside as programs that have invaded your system. A lot of these programs have kept you trapped in a form that is limited, and are not your real self.
Even the way that we perceive nature has to be questioned, analyzed, and reformed in a conscious manner, so that what we are, what the world is, and what the universe is can be approached as a great mystery—as a unique path that will lead us to a lifelong adventure of discovery. To know thyself, as the oracle of Delphi commanded, and as socrates told his students, is not only to know your identity—with all its preferences and histories—but to know that you are not that at all. It is to know the limits you have imposed on yourself. To know that manner in which you were educated by family, culture, country, and religion; and how they have provided limits for yourself, because they has created an avatar that functions on behalf of those religions, countries, and artificial human groups.
This great work is an ultimate act of rebellion where you dare to stand alone, to disrobe yourself of all your programs and all your identities, and to face the empty void only as a silent presence. Then you can look at everything again, from this perspective, and pick and choose your experiences, your hypothesis, your assumptions. Pick them consciously, and they’ll go from being unconscious assumptions to being tools for you to use; as a carpenter uses and chooses a hammer, a saw, a nail.
Ultimately, there is beyond the center of centers, there, at the origin of your attention, beyond the sense of self, the origin of all you are. This is the God that creates the world that you perceive. This is the God that sustains the life of the one that says ”I Am”. This god within has been considered the greatest of heresies of all the religions that have made a world of worship, the have created a culture that sees them, and only them, as the true intermediaries between you and god. Their success, strength and wealth has depended on you believing that you are not god; that you are only a limited ego that is a suffering fool whose only possibility of happiness depends on the graces of an external, remote god, and whose only intermediary is the church.
In this unholy trinity, a tyranny of a remote father and a tyrannical mother, are placed the only source of redemption for a child that never grows. But the truth is that the Holy Father is you, not your ego, not your identity, not even your memories, but you—the one behind the curtains of perception. You are the true God, and this vessel of flesh and mind that contains the history of humanity, that contains all knowledge and experiences, that contains the good and the bad, that contains all the teachings, and all the words of all the masters is the true church.
The marriage between God and the church produces, outside of you, the kingdom of heaven—always new, always created, always reflecting the will of god. In this Kingdom outside, the world created anew, is a true reflection of the inner marriage between the true God and the true church. This union is the true wine of ecstasy that brings the satiation of our deepest aspirations. Those who would keep humanity enslaved will tell you that it is a great heresy to believe in this God within. And I tell you that you have nothing to believe. No belief is necessary. You have to approach this as a true scientist, a true explorer of the inner spaces, and seek for yourself the knowledge of your true essence, of that which is silence and infinite, of that which is true beyond all forms, beyond all time—the center of yourself.
Seek within your heart, not the emotional or physical heart, but the center of yourself. There, you will find it. Silent. Vastly infinitesimal. All knower. Creator. Maintainer. Destroyer of all worlds. Look for the god within. Commit the ultimate heresy, and make contact with your true self.
Is it that these empty shells that sit and stare and make noises of laughter and breathing—could it be that they think I’m talking to them?
Don’t they know that I see no one?
That I hear no thing?
Don’t they know I am blind?
Don’t they know?
I can only talk to you when I am not here.
And all I can say is what I hear;
spilling out words here and there with no sequence and no cadence;
no metric and no rhyme.
Don’t they know this would be much more clear if they were not here not listening, and I was not here not saying?
And only the emptiness behind the emptiness
would create layers and layers of pauses of silences,
until between the not me and the not you,
it would create this space
and play a game of unending eternities.
A game of heat and cold, of sweat, of fire.
What can I say if it’s all endless?
What can I see if it’s all horizon?
What can I know if it’s all darkness of an endless night?
What can I do?
How can I move if it’s all forgot and gone and lost?
Like the pains of man.
Like the suffering of existence.
Like the hope in the eyes of a dead child.