The Birth of a Star Consumes the Worlds

At the present time in history, we are facing a singularity. The timelines of parallel universes, separated before, are now intertwining more and more, making us more and more aware that all things seem to be happening all at once.

So, all ideas are here, and all events are here, and all processes are here. The past and the future are just a matter of geography and directionality of consciousness. Parallel lives are becoming more and more accessible whether you realize it or not.

The stronger the center of gravity of your attention, the more access you have to all of them. Which is to say, the greater your personal power is, the more access you have to your own timelines and to past and present lives.

A threshold has been crossed by humanity, and what we are experiencing now is the moment when a star begins to try to either go completely within or to completely explode. We are in the pivot of that balance. We are living in a historical moment critical for humanity.

We are at the point where we either destroy planetary life––and the consciousness that is forming here would then send itself off to another planetary formation––or it can continue to withstand this pressure, this continuous influx of information and continuous desire for liberation.

Those are the two forces at play. One is trying to become more aware and tolerate more, and the other is trying to bring everything back to a familiar place of lower energy. Something in the depth of humanity’s consciousness is seeking to become a cosmic body. Something is being birthed as a star.

This is the fifth Sun.

The real human being is really the Sun as it walks on the Earth illuminating the dark night of the soul.

The birth of humanity as the solar consciousness is an event waiting to happen. But when it happens, it will be happening throughout all the lifetimes. It is already affecting the remote past of our history and the future towards we’re all going.

To witness this moment, the end of history, all the eyes of the masters and the angels, the Gods and the forces of creation, are attentively watching.

This moment is what we have been witnessing and will continue to witness; and unable to withstand so much information, we will continue to feel overwhelmed with too much. Too much of this, too much of that. Too much information. Because all the forms that we have created to contain the infinite eternal radiance of the Sun will no longer hold.

All the religions that you built and all the sciences and all the ideas, and even all the stories that you created since the beginning of humanity, are not going to be able anymore to give us a sense of safety and security, no longer will they be able to make us feel like we already understand the world. Because now, as soon as you accept one form of the world, the tides of reality come crushing in destroying all forms, dissolving all attempts to create a solid understanding of reality.

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The Tiger-Sheep and the Nature of the Teachings

A tiger cub found itself alone in the world as soon as he was born. His mother was killed by a hunter at the exact moment she was giving birth. The hunter took his pictures, with his foot on her body, wide smile holding the phallic crutch he calls his gun. He shares the picture and tales of his conquest and fake bravery, seeking somehow to steal the fierce nobility of the tigress by imbuing her blood on his pictures, trophies, and tales.

In the meantime, the little cub was left behind to die. He survived, though, when a young shepherd girl, passing by with her flock, saw the cub, and filled with compassion for the dying child took it with her to raise.

The cub was raised among the sheep, and since sheep was all the shepherd girl new, she treated the cub as a sheep. All the cub saw around him was sheep. All he heard was bleats. He learned to walk, eat, and bleat like a sheep. He thought himself a sheep, and seeing only sheep around, he never suspected he was anything other than sheep. All the sheep, too, learned to see him as one of their own. He behaved like sheep and bleated, so they responded to him as they did to each other.

So the tiger cub grew up, obviously different from his flock in appearance, but internally he saw himself as just one of them.

One day, a wild tiger approached the camp, hunting. He was about to pounce on his target, when he spotted the young tiger running away scared like the rest of the flock. Puzzled, he let his prey aside and pursued the young tiger until he caught up with him. The young tiger bleated, scared for his life.

The old tiger grabbed the tiger-sheep by the back of the neck and dragged him away. The tiger-sheep bleated in panic and pain, scared for his life. The old tiger brought his prey to the side of a river, and forced him to look at his reflection for the first time.

“Look,” he commanded, “you are like me, not like them!”

The young tiger-sheep was in shock at the revelation, but all he could do was bleat. The old tiger forced some meat on the young tiger-sheep. It was an unpleasant and terrifying experience, and he vomited the meat in horror.

In time, however, he learned to like the smell and taste of blood, and the meat was strength and force in his body.

So it’s shown the truth of the teachings, that its strength seeks to be stolen by the hunter and never realized, thwarted and hidden by congregations and good intentions, and revealed only by the clear example of He who is a mirror of the deepest Self.

The Formation of a Soul in The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor

What is the message of The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor? The Gnostic Church of L.V.X. offers a clear perspective on this question. The alchemical formation of a soul as a central point of the esoteric teachings, much neglected by most modern currents, begins to be addressed in chapter 4. This point is further elucidated in the next chapter, which we will address on Thursday, August 15, 2019 during our live class discussion.

Here is the analysis from the Gnostic Church of L.V.X.:

The central teaching of this chapter is as much the central teaching of this book. And if I dare be critical, this is covered in subtext throughout the book, but really needs to be brought out; not just in the future writings of the Koyote, but in the ideas of the spiritual community, as a whole. And in the latter, it is almost completely non-existent.

The Theosophists once spoke of it and the GD and Thelemic/Rosicrucian communities have all but completely ignored it. And that idea is simply that immortality is conditional and not an integral part of your being by right of birth.

The most marvelous quote for the central teaching in this book is: “You came in as an essence. I do not call it a soul because one of the great lies that was told is that you already have a soul. Religions run by the Great Magician, do not want you to make any efforts to make a soul. They want you to be a prisoner. If you believe you already have a soul, you will note make the necessary efforts to create one.”

Indeed modern Christianity has stopped recognizing any difference between your spirit and your soul. And Aleister Crowley, who seems to recognize the importance of creating this soul, merely pays a passing homage to it, by saying in his main theoretical book on Magick that one has to create the ‘body of light.’

Even worse, these New Age groups; themselves, descendants of the foul betrayal that came to Blavatsky’s Theosophical movement, constantly preach that you have to give up your ego (soul…ego sitting at the center of the Ruach) in order to get to that essence, where they correctly assert you are already immortal. But it’s not the immortality of the created soul and the evolved individual. For any evolved individual, these pseudo-Theosophical teachings are the teachings of death; fully condoned by the Great Magician––Gnostic Church of L.V.X.

Watch the class discussion of Chapter 4 here: https://youtu.be/7Wy4oCBHv9M

To purchase The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor, click here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RMK9D4C/

The Heart of Nagualismo Intensive.

I am holding an intensive training for those seriously interested in Nagualismo at the end of this month.
This is a five day intensive immersion into the training of Nagualismo, the method of attainment used by the ancient civilizations of the Nahuas and taught by the Toltecs before the European invasion.

This training is for serious warriors only. Only those who can step fearlessly beyond the known may come.

This training is transformative and radical. You will change, and the world you knew will also change with you.

You will be in the training day and night, and there will be no communication with the outside, no leaving the property, and no tending to external business. These will be five days spent somewhere else, away from this world.

Please understand that, along with having to spend the nights and all your meal with us, you may not have the comforts of smoking, using the internet, alcohol, or drugs.

Please, apply only if you are willing to abide by these requirements.

Cost: $2,500. However, if you reserve your post before August 15, your tuition will be only $1500.

To reserve your spot, send a non-refundable registration fee of $500 to: www.paypal.me/xicoco

Once we receive your reservation, we will send you more information. You may send more than the registration fee.

Please, take into account that the registration fee of $500 are non-refundable. You can get a refund for the rest of the money any time before the start of the event.

Write to me with any questions.

Koyote

Island of Solace

This island of solace will one day vanish away. It will be washed away. For the more I feel the reality of the illusion, the more I touch the hard reality, the more the events of my life prove to me that whatever happens to me is important, that my children are special, that my life is unique.

The more I entrench myself in this illusion of life, the harder the weight of the illusion, and the harder, stronger, and heavier becomes the self. The less flexible I am, the more mechanical and robotic my move, my thought, my emotion.

The more mechanical and fiercely solid my movement of consciousness, the deeper the suffering is and the more entrenched, harsh, solid, heavy the illusion of I am becomes––forgetting the womb of that mother that lies in the emptiness of the eternal presence of the void.

In Samsara Caught

I become entangled in the dramas of my dream. I worry that I don’t know what is going on. I worry that I’m wasting my time. I worry that perhaps I have not accomplished enough. I worry that I will be alone. That I will not be what I should be. I worry about what they would think of me. The more I worry what they think of me the more I forget the solitude of the empty space.

I play this game so well that I forget for a moment that I truly believe for a moment that I am here sitting, surrounded by an ocean of minds, of people moving–each one in their own way; that they look at me and that it matters; that whatever happens to me is somehow important. I worry that I might not know what’s going on. And what then? What will then happen to me? Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

Each enunciation of me, of “I am,” becomes like a pebble, a rock, a concentration of tiny impressions that I put in my pocket, filling myself with the weight of time. Self importance. Solid, I become––hard shelled, immovable will––until everything is so heavy, so hard, that I no longer see beyond myself; that I no longer move outside this box. No longer these hands touch anything but themselves. No longer my heart feels. No longer my ears hear other than the crazy tumultuous thoughts, unconnected impressions that flow. No longer can I touch anything outside other than the mere sensations generated by a physical network of nervous systems sending impressions of light––chemical reactions flowing inside, an entire lifetime, an ocean of illusory time moving within this empty shell, heavy with false concerns.

The stage feels more solid. A spark flows from somewhere, somehow. It comes as a delicate smell. It pulls a tiny part of my attention. A very small light that I can’t quite see vanishes the moment I fix my eyes on her, leaving behind only the most subtle trail of mystery as a tiny moment of life outside the mesh of self concern. It comes and goes. Comes and goes, like the tides of an ocean.

When it’s gone, it seems like just the faint trails of a forgotten dream, something not real enough, not truly tangible, just a hint of a something indescribable. And when it’s here it has such an undeniable presence that for a brief moment seems able to dissolve all my suffering, all my concern.

It’s just at that moment when I’m about to surrender to the joy that seems to come from that gentle touch, just at that  moment, I fear that if I give in to that voice I might lose all the weight I’ve accumulated throughout my organic existence. I hold on to my suffering, for the fear of dissolution into the kiss of that beloved star. It comes and goes in an odd rhythm with odd sounds.

From Where I Pretend this Game

I let myself sink.

As I sink into the cold embrace of sand and earth, I feel I’m being pulled by the call of the stars above. I move up and down, in and out, both at the same time. I panic for a moment. I grab on to the earth, trying to hold on––no longer to a vestige of humanity, of memory, of purpose. I just try to hang on to any remnant of sensation–even if just of my fingers trying to crack.

Even what used to be strength of hands have become simple waves of electrical pathways, electrical storm all around; the pathway of lightning strike flowing through an empty body, no longer resisting sound or light; a pure vessel no longer existing, no longer present.

I pretend now for the sake of argument that I remember being some thing, some one, perhaps. I pretend for the sake of the game that I sit on a chair, that a body contains me, that the ocean before me does not inundate the space a mind used to occupy.

I pretend for the sake of the semblance of sanity that it is my voice that I hear, that the ocean I observe is an ocean like any other, that one day I will no longer fight the eternal presence of the naked reality.

I pretend that I forgot the empty space without. I pretend that I move in a world round, made of mud and fire; that I walk upon its surface in a body created from the ocean’s salty waters that contains life, movement, purpose.

I pretend that I have a life. I immerse myself no longer in the memory of the beloved but in the dreaming, in the flow of illusions. I realize that I do not need to lose myself in a completely created constructed reality. It is perhaps enough to grab a tiny piece of a memory… a sound… a word; maybe her eyes; maybe a fight; maybe the pretension that I cared about what was happening to me at some point or another in a lifetime that no longer concerns me, or you, or anyone else.

I pretend that I’ve forgotten, that I care about what happens to this illusion of self and memory.

I pretend that I become fascinated with the shiny lights below, reflecting those other stars lost in the immensity of darkness. I look at the grains of sand. I make them important. I turn them into light, into fire, into sensation. The sensation gives way to a form of hand, of arm, of movement, of once space following the other.

Logic, flowing. Language, forming. Yes, no. Dark, light. Good, bad. Male, female. Up and down. Nice and pain. I make it into a game, pretending that the shadows do follow the movement of the body.

There is an Ocean…

There is an ocean I see with eyes of ancient memories, an ocean of a deep blue. The depth of the ocean feels exactly like the depth of my soul. The sound of the ocean comes hesitant at first, as if wanting to become present, real.

The gentle reverberations in the surface of the ocean are seen with the eyes and felt with the skin. It moves in soft rhythmic jumps. I sit at its shore feeling sand and pebbles under my feet, and every minuscule portion of sand appears to be complete unto itself; as if every particle of sand creates a unique sensation that travels through my body; as if I could get lost in every single sensation, and all of them are felt at once.

There is an ocean of deep blue. Its depth can be touched by the proximity of my hands. The closer I move my hands to my sightless eyes, the deeper I touch the profound stillness of this ocean. I sit as if waiting, but I don’t know what I wait for. I sit at the shores of this ocean. I hear the crashing of the waves, and each reverberation of the waves sounds as if it is my voice talking and moving and reverberating through the skin of my back.

I sit. For a moment, I do not know if I see the dark waters at the edge of time and creation or if, perhaps, I simply stand at the face of the abyss at the end of a life that I can no longer remember as being mine.

For a brief moment, the terrible thought begins to form that perhaps I do not know where I sit; that there is no ocean blue, no peaceful movement of waves; that perhaps all that is happening is the projection of my illusion of safety onto the immense, incomprehensible chaos––a non-existing nightmare that moves and reverberates, a darkness darker than black, a void, an emptiness that moves, an immensity such that the more I stare at it the more it looks towards me.

That look comes at me as a stream of sound, of words being thought by something flowing through me. I no longer know if these thoughts, these words, are flowing out of me or into me.

Watch Discussion of Chapter One of The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor.

This is the first class based on The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor.

We discuss chapter 1: Something Was Changed. We discuss the role of the esoteric school, the temple prostitutes, ancient history, and the formation of the architecture of the mind that is being prepared to receive the transformational effect of the Teachings. Also, the role of sexual alchemy and the inner circle of humanity are covered.

Click on the link below to watch this class. A new chapter will be covered each Thursday at 7:30 p.m. PST (starting on 7/18/2019).

You can attend any class live. There is no charge for the course, but donations are welcome and will be given to Xicoco Shamanic Arts. The proceeds from this class will help Xicoco maintain the Medicine Wheel and keep its operations going.

https://youtu.be/ADQ_jknwxm4

Do You Want to Attend a Class on The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor?

Would you be interested in a class based on The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor?

Beginning this Thursday, July 18th, 2019, I will be conducting a weekly class based on the teachings of this book. We will cover a chapter per week. You will have to read the chapter before class, or listen to it.

You can get the book on Amazon or through my store. It is available on paperback and kindle, and soon it will also be available as an audiobook.

This Thursday, we will talk about Chapter 1: Something Was Changed.

Again, you can attend in person if you live near Moreno Valley, or online. The class will start at 7:30 pm PST each Thursday. We will be broadcasting live in the usual channels:

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/koyotetheblind

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/koyotetheblind

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/koyotetheblind

There is no set price for the class, but a donation would be very much appreciated and donated to Xicoco Shamanic Arts. Pay what you feel the class is worth, but do come in even if you cannot give anything. Your presence and attention is all the coin I truly require.

You can purchase the book on Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/koyote

See you then!