Tag: story telling

I Am a Figment of Your Imagination

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

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.

A Seed Carried and Nourished by a Lineage Willed to Germinate (a book review by Viento de Octubre)

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

“The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor is like an ancient recording of Koyote on some level, one one may play and pause at will and even share with others nearby. Like everything ancient, it resurfaces through what it survives.

A seed carried and nourished by a lineage willed to germinate. For a Nahual, it was his call. The clever genius of this book is that it isn’t just a book. It carries a call. The Teller masterfully instals filters into the consciousness of the reader, awakening something. The reader becomes a voyager. There is a playing field that only few will enter. Koyote will continue to speak to every reader, and he will be specifically sending instructions to an intelligence that is beyond what is being experienced while engaging with the book. It is in this playing field that The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor opens as the seed; and there, in that moment, the call is transmitted.

His canvas is the Tonal. Koyote placed detailed attention into being heard by the reader. The voice of the Teller is present. Throughout the writing you will find ways and alleys, methods and formulas, doors, hacks and triggers into an inner journey the ancients call a voyage. Open the book to any page, any chapter, and the writing in any phrase will invite you in. The writing is a key to the reading. His teachings allow you to follow, daring you to know and be guided to turn on. Ancient, deeply buried mechanisms of transformation and evolution are contained within the organic human host as you read and allow yourself to follow. Alchemical furnaces internalize a heating of change-causing agents within an alchemical laboratory known as a temple by simply following along. The act of reading itself becomes the conduit through which Koyote reaches the voyager essential navigational instruction.

He Tells in magick the story teller within, the one writing your story, in a way that allows for the awakening of something deep. Contact is essentially maintained with attention. Guided through by an inner voice that sometimes becomes Koyote, sometimes your higher self, sometimes something else speaking in tones devastating to the ordinary field of thought and meaning. All that remains then is whatever you muster to gather about yourself for a quick reality check, and the book again holds your self gravitationally attracted and electromagnetically attached to whichever reality Koyote is presently presenting your presence as you read. The words proceed again to guide you into an inner world where the voice resonates, and you engage deeper and deeper with the Teachings until, again, you come to realize, as if materializing into something sacred he has already constructed elsewhere in a time long ago forgotten, that Koyote just took you there again. As you read so you voyage.

His art is the Telling, and The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor is an expression of that. It isn’t the Telling itself—not an invocation as such. It is, instead, a sculpture of the artist using elements of his artistry. On his palette one sees magick, lineage, School, Teachings, Toltec, the Telling, Tantra, Yoga, shamanism, comedy, intent, philosophy, story-telling, gaming and more. Will, Nahual, and The Great Work are impressions now left inside your eternal coding as a way to manifest just that. This is his masterpiece.”

By Viento de Octubre

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In this Center of Life

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

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?

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How The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor Was Conceived

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

It took me seven years to accomplish the task my benefactor gave me in 1998. Once the connection to the Ally was stablished, I found myself inside a hotel room in Chicago, talking with my benefactor as he impressed the next mission on my mind: use this opening to access the sacred book of the Nahuas, the legendary Teomoxtli.

To accomplish this, I needed the assistance of 30 people and the permission of another Nahual: E.J. Gold. After Cachora’s body of light vanished from the room, I saw the light on the night stand signaling it was 3:00 a.m. Filled with the intent of this flash of destiny, I did not hesitate. I grabbed the phone and called E.J. He gave his blessing. He wanted to know if I was also going to teach the teachings from Peyote. “For that, you need Dru’s permission,” he said. Dru Kristel was dead, however. “I will ask him,” assured me E.J.

A few months later, after an adventure in Bardo Town with E.J. and his school, a rescue mission in the hell dimension, and a feat of high magick, Dru gave his consent too. We were ready.

The 30 students were recruited, and the esoteric course took place. We met twice a week for 8 weeks. That was the number necessary to create the conditions to open the door; and once the door was opened, the Teachings flowed. The higher entity was assembled, and we voyaged.

Several treasures were gained. The Aka Dua was presented to the world. The ability to voyage with a group to other worlds and planes of existence was acquired. The technology for the blueprint of intensives was codified. The shifting of timelines was mastered. The esoteric school was established. Finally, after the course had ended and the window sealed, the Book of Divinity was revealed by one of the ancient Toltecas in the pyramids of Teotihuacan, and the manifestation of artifacts containing the Teachings became possible.

(Read more in The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor)

The Gift of Old Shadow of Bats

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

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.

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For Lack of Mastery, Humanity Became Enslaved

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

One day, the gods came together and reflected on the power humans had over creation, and how they were growing in wisdom and knowledge under the light of fire.

These were the times before the first dawn. These were the times before the sun first appeared to light the expanse of heaven.

The fire was the companion of humans in that long, long night before the first dawn.

But the humans did not know the secrets of fire; how to light it, how to keep it, how to control it.

One day, the humans let the cold of the night to kill their fire. They were now powerless and hungry, and the cold of night was slowly erasing the future of the human beings. They were to die like the darkness before the coming of dawn.

The gods of that time knew that the age of humans was coming, and that humans were going to govern the earth as the sun will govern the heavens.

The gods conspired.

They exchanged words.

They became of one mind.

The gods decided to enslave the human race. They send to the humans the fire breather, and eater of fire.

She who forges fire in her womb came to men, with a message from the gods.

She told them to open their bodies, at the solar plexus, and take their hearts out. To offer their hearts to the gods, in exchange for fire.

For as long as they open their bodies, and offer their hearts to the gods, the humans will have fire.

The tribes of men agreed, because they were cold, hungry, and afraid.

This was the beginning of the Slave Gods, and the demand for sacrifice.

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Out of the Dancer Came the Fire

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

From within the dark abyss came forth the swirling fires of creation.

“Let there be light” was the word heard, reverberating over the entire cosmos; but it was the dancer who captured the divine command, holding the bright light and making it swirl and circle, flame and shine, creating fire and the circles of time.

Fire was born such, as the beauty of creation, the heat of love, and the joy of existence.

The Dancer of Light created in her dance the cosmic circles, called time and pace.

Out of the Voice came the Light.

Out of the Dancer came the Fire.

From fire, the creatures got experience and life.

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow were born in the swirling patterns of the dance; the cosmic cycles of the seasons and the days, the cycles of life, and the measure of things.

To the human being, fire was life. Fire was light. Fire was warmth. Fire was the power over the darkness of night.

 

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Letters from a Thief

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

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.

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Be the Author of your Story

~ Koyote the Blind ~ 1 Comment

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.

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The Observer is the Observed

~ Koyote the Blind ~ Leave a comment

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.

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