Hamblecha

Pregnant with your light,
my soul lies in plenitude
crying for a child.

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Without the Swelling of the Heart, No Story Is Worth Telling

In the silence between word and word, between day and day… in the silence between dream and dream, between knowledge and understanding, between thoughts and emotions… in that silence that exists before thought and feeling become one… in that moment of silence before the pushing forth of meaning, the foundations for the making of the world flowers from the depth of the abyss.

It’s in that flowering that the tides of the waters of my heart flow unrestricted; seeking who knows what;moving where they’re being pulled.

Without the swelling of those waters, without the emanation of that light, no story is worth telling.

Click here to listen to this Telling of the Oceanic Tryptic.

I’d Gone to Another Place Again

I was very young. I must have been about seven years of age or five. I can’t remember right now. I had gone to the zoo with some aunts and cousins. After the zoo, we were going to the bus—this was in El Salvador. I was following my sister and cousin. Both were six years older than me. They were walking in front of me. I noticed they had begun to walk in a different way, to swing their hips more. I thought they were doing that because boys like it. I thought it was part of the human game. See, I didn’t realize then that I kept looking at the adults as someone would look at animals in the zoo: “These are their mating habits. These are the things they do when they lie. These are the things they do when they want to be liked.” Then, the girls turned a corner, and I followed them. On the sidewalk, there were two tables used by street vendors to offer such goodies as sweet breads and drinks. They were still setting up. My sister and cousin walked between the two tables, and I followed. I pulled myself up with my hands on the tables, and I swung myself playfully, and I came down. And when I came down, the people were not there. The street seemed the same, but no one was at the tables, and there was no food on them. All was quiet. There was an absence of smell, and everything had a buzz to it. And I turned around. There were very few people, and I ran to the corner to catch up with my cousins and aunt, but they were not there. There were some very old cars, not the type I used to see. And then I returned to the tables and I tried to do the same thing again; and, no, I was stuck there.

Something in me thought, I’m lost. I’ve gone to another place again. I looked at the street, and it went on and on for a while, and I said to myself, this is the way back home; if I walk down this path, I will get home, if don’t deviate from it.

I started walking on that strange street. Then, I saw a police officer; and when you are in those spaces in that world, uniformed personnel give you directions. He was standing in the middle of the street, but it didn’t seem odd. “Excuse me. I’m lost,” I told him.

He said, “You are not lost; if you were lost, you would be panicking and crying.”

“Well, I’m lost because I don’t know how to get back home.”

“Where is home?” he asked.

I said, “I live with the humans in Colonia Zacamil.”

So he smiled and said, “Come with me.” He took me to a bus; the door of the bus was opened. This bus was like in England, on the wrong side of the street, but I still entered through the right side from the street. He said to the driver, “This boy needs to get back home to the humans. Can you tell him when he’s there?”

He said, “Sure.” He didn’t ask where. He just drove. The scenery began to change. Slowly there was more dirt, sun, and more noise. The smells came back.

He asked, “You know how to get home from here?,” stoping the bus in front of the bus stop down the path to my house.

I said, “Yes, I do,” and I did. That was the first time I got lost, and then I started to get lost very often. I shifted the assemblage point by mistake at first.

When I got home, I told my mom what happened, and then I hid when my aunt showed up. My aunt was pale. She was worried. She reported we were all together, we were crossing the street, and then everyone crossed the street and I was not on the other side. She looked everywhere and couldn’t find me. Eventually she went home and told my mom. As she was telling my mom and my mom was calmly telling her, “Well, I don’t know, but you’re going to have to go back and find him,” and my aunt realized by my mother’s calm and dismissive demeanor that I was actually there and not lost, I sprung from behind the couch and pounced at her happily, hearing the bells of her happy laugh and cuddled in the warmth of her embrace under the all touching love of my mother’s smile.

The Plumed Serpent Within The Inner Circle of Humanity.

The Inner Circle of humanity is the true source of knowledge and authority behind every esoteric school, every major religion, and every initiatory spiritual movement. Whenever an esoteric school looses its connection to this true source, the school carries only a carcass, an empty mausoleum of rotting remnants of what once was a living teaching. This sad situation happens more often than not, for every time an esoteric school seeks to have power and influence in the external world, they ground the energy flowing from above and settle in the external world. Once grounded, all they have is political intrigue, power grabbing intents, and petty wars to secure the few bones remaining of what once was a living body of Wisdom.

But the Inner Circle continues its work: initiating temples, schools, and even civilizations to achieve their evolutionary aims. To each region of the world, to each race, and to each historical period they gave seemingly different techniques and precepts; but in truth, all their teachings had the same aim and the same results: illumination, evolution, and the ability to become a receiver of gnosis.

Here in the Americas, we developed our own tradition, and the same situation is encountered again where a semi-mythical, semi-historical character appears to impart principles of knowledge, civilization, and science. He was known as Quetzalcoatl–the Plumed Serpent–in his first incarnation of a little over 5,200 years ago. He is said to be the one to teach the people of this region the principles of initiation, the techniques for contacting higher intelligence, the formulas for building civilizations and esoteric schools. He was the principal manifestation of the Inner Circle of humanity in these lands.

The Treasures the Invaders Missed

“…Lend me your attention for a moment, and I’ll go on a journey to a different place with you. 

In this place of power, something deep in you will stir awake and stand up in attention. 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.”

from The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor

My Precious Double

Think of a dream you are having. You project yourself into that dream. That projection is a double of you, an avatar that is native to the dream environment. You are creating both the dream and the dream self that inhabit that realm.

If you identify with that double, you act and feel as if that is your only reality.

To be aware of both the dream and the one who is outside the dream allows you to loose your form, and to exist beyond the limits of your dream.

To withdraw your identification from the dream double is to wake up, and to find yourself in the wake world–which itself as a dream to the eternal void beyond all dreaming and experience.

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

A View from the World of the Nahual

If successful, this book will be more than entertainment and much more than a source of information and ideas hard to find elsewhere. You have in your hands more than a collection of theories and entertaining stories. You have an artifact, a container of a very old wisdom that is still alive. If you lend me your attention, I promise you that something of a seed will stir—something imbued in the pages of this tome.

This book will be a transformational factor in your hands. Don’t expect a linear narrative, nor attempts to convey unidimensional perspectives of the world. It is not an academic book full of discussions and references to other writings. It’s not a manual with exercises for you. This book has encounters of power, strange points of view, practical advice, effective techniques, and historical data; but it is more than that.

This book is a view from the world of the Nahual—the Toltec Survivor who shares his being with you as you read. If you place your attention on the narrative, you will know that I am talking to you directly, a heart to heart conversation.

You will know that in reading this narrative, you are altering the world in you and around you, as a dreamer alters a dream when she begins to wake up to her personal power. Lend me your attention for a moment, and I’ll go on a journey to a different place with you. In this place of power, something deep in you will stir awake and stand up in attention.

Get your copy of The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor here.

The Toltecs Were Not a Race Nor a Nation.

The word Toltec was the name given in this continent to a group, otherwise unnamed, of seekers that decided to live and work in conscious communities throughout the Mesoamerican region between what we call now North America and Central America.

They were not an empire; they were not a religion; they were not a system. They were simply a grouping of different hives that had something in common. What they had in common is that they were all working to master themselves, to master the way they acted, to master the way they perceived the world.

These Toltecs truly became masters of perception. As such, the term Toltec became synonymous with artists, with builders, with temple makers, and bringers of civilizations. Many people have confused the Toltecs with a race, with a tribe, with a country, even with a civilization. In truth, they were none of these things. They were independent, revolutionary thinkers who explored the limits and the laws of consciousness; who learned to live by their own rules; and who learned to master, first and foremost, their own perception.

Their technologies, developed over millennia, allowed the Nahuas to achieve great heights of technological and spiritual development. The Nahuas was the name the people of Mesoamerica called themselves, the people the Toltecs served and guided. The Nahuas developed many civilizations: Olmec, Mayan, Aztec, and Quiché. They witnessed the unfolding of an alchemical technology that gave them the city of gold, El Dorado, a fountain of youth, and the ability to create pyramids and sacred cities designed to transform ordinary human consciousness into god consciousness.

From The Teachings of a Toltec Survivor.


If you want to learn more about the history and achievements of the Toltecs, check out the periodical Tolteca (3 out of 9 issues currently available).

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