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to everyone with the same intensity and consistency, but only sorcerers, and
naguals in particular, are attuned to such revelations."
Don Juan began his story. He said that the nagual Elias had been riding
his horse to the city one day, taking him through a shortcut by some
cornfields when suddenly his horse shied, frightened by the low, fast sweep
of a falcon that missed the nagual's straw hat by only a few inches. The
nagual immediately dismounted and began to look around. He saw a strange
young man among the tall, dry cornstalks. The man was dressed in an
expensive dark suit and appeared alien there. The nagual Elias was used to
the sight of peasants or landowners in the fields, but he had never seen an
elegantly dressed city man moving through the fields with apparent disregard
for his expensive shoes and clothes.
The nagual tethered his horse and walked toward the young man. He
recognized the flight of the falcon, as well as the man's apparel, as
obvious manifestations of the spirit which he could not disregard. He got
very close to the young man and saw what was going on. The man was chasing a
peasant woman who was running a few yards ahead of him, dodging and laughing
with him.
The contradiction was quite apparent to the nagual. The two people
cavorting in the cornfield did not belong together. The nagual thought that
the man must be the landowner's son and the woman a servant in the house. He
felt embarrassed to be observing them and was about to turn and leave when
the falcon again swept over the cornfield and this time brushed the young
man's head. The falcon alarmed the couple and they stopped and looked up,
trying to anticipate another sweep. The nagual noticed that the man was thin
and handsome, and had haunting, restless eyes.
Then the couple became bored watching for the falcon, and returned to
their play. The man caught the woman, embraced her and gently laid her on
the ground. But instead of trying to make love to her, as the nagual assumed
he would do next, he removed his own clothes and paraded naked in front of
the woman.
She did not shyly close her eyes or scream with embarrassment or
fright. She giggled, mesmerized by the prancing naked man, who moved around
her like a satyr, making lewd gestures and laughing. Finally, apparently
overpowered by the sight, she uttered a wild cry, rose, and threw herself
into the young man's arms.
Don Juan said that die nagual Elias confessed to him that the
indications of the spirit on that occasion had been most baffling. It was
clearly evident that the man was insane. Otherwise, knowing how protective
peasants were of their women, he would not have considered seducing a young
peasant woman in broad daylight a few yards from the road - and naked to
boot.
Don Juan broke into a laugh and told me that in those days to take off
one's clothes and engage in a sexual act in broad daylight in such a place
meant one had to be either insane or blessed by the spirit. He added that
what the man had done might not seem remarkable nowadays. But then, nearly a
hundred years ago, people were infinitely more inhibited.
All of this convinced the nagual Elias from the moment he laid eyes on
the man that he was both insane and blessed by the spirit. He worried that
peasants might happen by, become enraged and lynch the man on the spot. But
no one did. It felt to the nagual as if time had been suspended.
When the man finished making love, he put on his clothes, took out a
handkerchief, meticulously dusted his shoes and, all the while making wild
promises to the girl, went on his way. The nagual Elias followed him. In
fact, he followed him for several days and found out that his name was
Julian and that he was an actor.
Subsequently the nagual saw him on the stage often enough to realize
that the actor had a great deal of charisma. The audience, especially the
women, loved him. And he had no scruples about making use of his charismatic
gifts to seduce female admirers. As the nagual followed the actor, he was
able to witness his seduction technique more than once. It entailed showing
himself naked to his adoring fans as soon as he got them alone, then waiting
until the women, stunned by his display, surrendered. The technique seemed
extremely effective for him. The nagual had to admit that the actor was a
great success, except on one count. He was mortally ill. The nagual had seen
the black shadow of death that followed him everywhere.
Don Juan explained again something he had told me years before - that
our death was a black spot right behind the left shoulder. He said that
sorcerers knew when a person was close to dying because they could see the
dark spot, which became a moving shadow the exact size and shape of the
person to whom it belonged.
As he recognized the imminent presence of death the nagual was plunged
into a numbing perplexity. He wondered why the spirit was singling out such
a sick person. He had been taught that in a natural state replacement, not
repair, prevailed. And the nagual doubted that he had the ability or the
strength to heal this young man, or resist the black shadow of his death. He
even doubted if he would be able to discover why the spirit had involved him
in a display of such obvious waste.
The nagual could do nothing but stay with the actor, follow him around,
and wait for the opportunity to see in greater depth. Don Juan explained
that a nagual's first reaction, upon being faced with the manifestations of
the spirit, is to see the persons involved. The nagual Elias had been
meticulous about seeing the man the moment he laid eyes on him. He had also
seen the peasant woman who was part of the spirit's manifestation, but he
had seen nothing that, in his judgment, could have warranted the spirit's
display.
In the course of witnessing another seduction, however, the nagual's
ability to see took on a new depth. This time
the actor's adoring fan was the daughter of a rich landowner. And from
the start she was in complete control. The nagual found out about their
rendezvous because he overheard her daring the actor to meet her the next
day. The nagual was hiding across the street at dawn when the young woman
left her house, and instead of going to early mass she went to join the
actor. The actor was waiting for her and she coaxed him into following her
to the open fields. He appeared to hesitate, but she taunted him and would
not allow him to withdraw.
As the nagual watched them sneaking away, he had an absolute conviction
that something was going to happen on that day which neither of the players
was anticipating. He saw that the actor's black shadow had grown to almost
twice his height. The nagual deduced from the mysterious hard look in the
young woman's eyes that she too had felt the black shadow of death at an
intuitive level. The actor seemed preoccupied. He did not laugh as he had on
other occasions.
They walked quite a distance. At one point, they spotted the nagual
following them, but he instantly pretended to be working the land, a peasant
who belonged there. That made the couple relax and allowed the nagual to
come closer.
Then the moment came when the actor tossed off his clothes and showed
himself to the girl. But instead of swooning and falling into his arms as
his other conquests had, this girl began to hit him. She kicked and punched
him mercilessly and stepped on his bare toes, making him cry out with pain.
The nagual knew the man had not threatened or harmed the young woman.
He had not laid a finger on her. She was the only one fighting. He was
merely trying to parry the blows, and persistently, but without enthusiasm,
trying to entice her by showing her his genitals.
The nagual was filled with both revulsion and admiration. He could
perceive that the actor was an irredeemable libertine, but he could also
perceive equally easily that there was something unique, although revolting,
about him. It baffled the nagual to see that the man's connecting link with
the spirit was extraordinarily clear.
Finally the attack ended. The woman stopped beating the actor. But
then, instead of running away, she surrendered, lay down and told the actor
he could now have his way with her.
The nagual observed that the man was so exhausted he was practically
unconscious. Yet despite his fatigue he went right ahead and consummated his
seduction.
The nagual was laughing and pondering that useless man's great stamina
and determination when the woman screamed and the actor began to gasp. The
nagual saw how the black shadow struck the actor. It went like a dagger,
with pinpoint accuracy into his gap.
Don Juan made a digression at this point to elaborate on something he
had explained before: he had described the gap, an opening in our luminous
shell at the height of the navel, where the force of death ceaselessly
struck. What don Juan now explained was that when death hit healthy beings
it was with a ball-like blow - like the punch of a fist. But when beings
were dying, death struck them with a dagger-like thrust.
Thus the nagual Elias knew without any question that the actor was as
good as dead, and his death automatically finished his own interest in the
spirit's designs. There were no designs left; death had leveled everything.
He rose from his hiding place and started to leave when something made
him hesitate. It was the young woman's calmness. She was nonchalantly
putting on the few pieces of clothing she had taken off and was whistling
tunelessly as if nothing had happened.
And then the nagual saw that in relaxing to accept the presence of
death, the man's body had released a protecting veil and revealed his true
nature. He was a double man of tremendous resources, capable of creating a
screen for protection or disguise - a natural sorcerer and a perfect
candidate for a nagual apprentice, had it not been for the black shadow of
death.
The nagual was completely taken aback by that sight. He now understood
the designs of the spirit, but failed to comprehend how such a useless man
could fit in the sorcerers' scheme of things.
The woman in the meantime had stood up and without so much as a glance
at the man, whose body was contorting with death spasms, walked away.
The nagual then saw her luminosity and realized that her extreme
aggressiveness was the result of an enormous flow of superfluous energy. He
became convinced that if she did not put that energy to sober use, it would
get the best of her and there was no telling what misfortunes it would cause
her.
As the nagual watched the unconcern with which she walked away, he
realized that the spirit had given him another manifestation. He needed to
be calm, nonchalant. He needed to act as if he had nothing to lose and
intervene for the hell of it. In true nagual fashion he decided to tackle
the impossible, with no one except the spirit as witness.
Don Juan commented that it took incidents like this to test whether a
nagual is the real thing or a fake. Naguals make decisions. With no regard
for the consequences they take action or choose not to. Imposters ponder and
become paralyzed. The nagual Elias* having made his decision, walked calmly
to the side of the dying man and did the first thing his body, not his mind,
compelled him to do: he struck the man's assemblage point to cause him to
enter into heightened awareness. He struck him frantically again and again
until his assemblage point moved. Aided by the force of death itself, the
nagual's blows sent the man's assemblage point to a place where death no
longer mattered, and there he stopped dying.
By the time the actor was breathing again, the nagual had become aware
of the magnitude of his responsibility. If the man was to fend off the force
of his death, it would be necessary for him to remain in deep heightened
awareness until death had been repelled. The man's advanced physical
deterioration meant he could not be moved from the spot or he would
instantly die. The nagual did the only thing possible under the
circumstances: he built a shack around the body. There, for three months he
nursed the totally immobilized man.
My rational thoughts took over, and instead of just listening, I wanted
to know how the nagual Elias could build a shack on someone else's land. I
was aware of the rural peoples' passion about land ownership and its
accompanying feelings of territoriality.
Don Juan admitted that he had asked the same question himself. And the
nagual Elias had said that the spirit itself had made it possible. This was
the case with everything a nagual undertook, providing he followed the
spirit's manifestations.
The first thing the nagual Elias did, when the actor was breathing
again, was to run after the young woman. She was an important part of the
spirit's manifestation. He caught up with her not too far from the spot
where the actor lay barely alive. Rather than talking to her about the man's
plight and trying to convince her to help him, he again assumed total
responsibility for his actions and jumped on her like a lion, striking her
assemblage point a mighty blow. Both she and the actor were capable of
sustaining life or death blows. Her assemblage point moved, but began to
shift erratically once it was loose.
The nagual carried the young woman to where the actor lay. Then he
spent the entire day trying to keep her from losing her mind and the man
from losing his life. . When he was fairly certain he had a degree of
control he went to the woman's father and told him that lightning must have
struck his daughter and made her temporarily mad. He took the father to
where she lay and said that the young man, whoever he was, had taken the
whole charge of the lightning with his body, thus saving the girl from
certain death, but injuring himself to the point that he could not be moved.
The grateful father helped the nagual build the shack for the man who
had saved his daughter. And in three months the nagual accomplished the
impossible. He healed the young man.
When the time came for the nagual to leave, his sense of responsibility
and his duty required him both to warn the young woman about her excess
energy and the injurious consequences it would have on her life and well
being, and to ask her to join the sorcerers' world, as that would be the
only defense against her self-destructive strength.
The woman did not respond. And the nagual Elias was obliged to tell her
what every nagual has said to a prospective apprentice throughout the ages:
that sorcerers speak of sorcery as a magical, mysterious bird which has
paused in its flight for a moment in order to give man hope and purpose;
that sorcerers live under the wing of that bird, which they call the bird of
wisdom, the bird of freedom; that they nourish it with their dedication and
impeccability. He told her that sorcerers knew the flight of the bird of
freedom was always a straight line, since it had no way of making a loop, no
way of circling back and returning; and that the bird of freedom could do
only two things, take sorcerers along, or leave them behind.
The nagual Elias could not talk to the young actor, who was still
mortally ill, in the same way. The young man did not have much of a choice.
Still, the nagual told him that if he wanted to be cured, he would have to
follow the nagual unconditionally. The actor accepted the terms instantly.
The day the nagual Elias and the actor started back home, the young
woman was waiting silently at the edge of town. She carried no suitcases,
not even a basket. She seemed to have come merely to see them off. The
nagual kept walking without looking at her, but the actor, being carried on
a stretcher, strained to say goodbye to her. She laughed and wordlessly
merged into the nagual's party. She had no doubts and no problem about
leaving everything behind. She had understood perfectly that there was no
second chance for her, that the bird of freedom either took sorcerers along
or left them behind.
Don Juan commented that that was not surprising. The force of the
nagual's personality was always so overwhelming that he was practically
irresistible, and the nagual Elias had affected those two people deeply. He
had had three months of daily interaction to accustom them to his
consistency, his detachment, his objectivity. They had become enchanted by
his sobriety and, above all, by his total dedication to them. Through his
example and his actions, the nagual Elfas had given them a sustained view of
the sorcerers' world: supportive and nurturing, yet utterly demanding. It
was a world that admitted very few mistakes.
Don Juan reminded me then of something he had repeated to me often but
which I had always managed not to think about. He said that I should not
forget, even for an instant, that the bird of freedom had very little
patience with indecision, and when it flew away, it never returned.
The chilling resonance of his voice made the surroundings, which only a
second before had been peacefully dark, burst with immediacy. Don Juan
summoned the peaceful darkness back as fast as he had summoned urgency. He
punched me lightly on the arm. "That woman was so powerful that she could
dance circles around anyone," he said. "Her name was Talia."
THE KNOCK OF THE SPIRIT
The Abstract
We returned to don Juan's house in the early hours of the morning. It
took us a long time to climb down the mountain, mainly because I was afraid
of stumbling into a precipice in the dark, and don Juan had to keep stopping
to catch the breath he lost laughing at me.
I was dead tired, but I could not fall asleep. Before noon, it began to
rain. The sound of the heavy downpour on the tile roof, instead of making me
feel drowsy, removed every trace of sleepiness.
I got up and went to look for don Juan. I found him dozing in a chair.
The moment I approached him he was wide-awake. I said good morning.
"You seem to be having no trouble falling asleep," I commented.
"When you have been afraid or upset, don't lie down to sleep," he said
without looking at me. "Sleep sitting up on a soft chair as I'm doing."
He had suggested once that if I wanted to give my body healing rest I
should take long naps, lying on my stomach with my face turned to the left
and my feet over the foot of the bed. In order to avoid being cold, he
recommended I
put a soft pillow over my shoulders, away from my neck, and wear heavy
socks, or just leave my shoes on.
When I first heard his suggestion, I thought he was being funny, but
later changed my mind. Sleeping in that position helped me rest
extraordinarily well. When I commented on the surprising results, he advised
that I follow his suggestions to the letter without bothering to believe or
disbelieve him.
I suggested to don Juan that he might have told me the night before
about the sleeping in a sitting position. I explained to him that the cause
of my sleeplessness, besides my extreme fatigue, was a strange concern about
what he had told me in the sorcerer's cave.
"Cut it out!" he exclaimed. "You've seen and heard infinitely more
distressing things without losing a moment's sleep. Something else is
bothering you."
For a moment I thought he meant I was not being truthful with him about
my real preoccupation. I began to explain, but he kept talking as if I had
not spoken.
"You stated categorically last night that the cave didn't make you feel
ill at ease," he said. "Well, it obviously did. Last night I didn't pursue
the subject of the cave any further because I was waiting to observe your
reaction."
Don Juan explained that the cave had been designed by sorcerers in
ancient times to serve as a catalyst. Its shape had been carefully
constructed to accommodate two people as two fields of energy. The theory of
the sorcerers was that the nature of the rock and the manner in which it had
been carved allowed the two bodies, the two luminous balls, to intertwine
their energy.
"I took you to that cave on purpose," he continued, "not because I like
the place - I don't - but because it was created as an instrument to push
the apprentice deep into heightened awareness. But unfortunately, as it
helps, it also obscures issues. The ancient sorcerers were not given to
thought. They leaned toward action."
"You always say that your benefactor was like that," I said.
"That's my own exaggeration," he answered, "very much like when I say
you're a fool. My benefactor was a modern nagual, involved in the pursuit of
freedom, but he leaned toward action instead of thoughts. You're a modern
nagual, involved in the same quest, but you lean heavily toward the
aberrations of reason."
He must have thought his comparison was very funny; his laughter echoed
in the empty room.
When I brought the conversation back to the subject of the cave, he
pretended not to hear me. I knew he was pretending because of the glint in
his eyes and the way he smiled.
"Last night, I deliberately told you the first abstract core," he said,
"in the hope that by reflecting on the way I have acted with you over the
years you'll get an idea about the other cores. You've been with me for a
long time so you know me very well. During every minute of our association I
have tried to adjust my actions and thoughts to the patterns of the abstract
cores.
"The nagual Elias's story is another matter. Although it seems to be a
story about people, it is really a story about intent. Intent creates
edifices before us and invites us to enter them. This is the way sorcerers
understand what is happening around them."
Don Juan reminded me that I had always insisted on trying to discover
the underlying order in everything he said to me. I thought he was
criticizing me for my attempt to turn whatever he was teaching me into a
social science problem. I began to tell him that my outlook had changed
under his influence. He stopped me and smiled.
"You really don't think too well," he said and sighed. "I want you to
understand the underlying order of what I teach you. My objection is to what
you think is the underlying order. To you, it means secret procedures or a
hidden consistency. To me, it means two things: both the edifice that intent
manufactures in the blink of an eye and places in front of us to enter, and
the signs it gives us so we won't get lost once we are inside.
"As you can see, the story of the nagual Elias was more than merely an
account of the sequential details that made up the event," he went on.
"Underneath all that was the edifice of intent. And the story was meant to
give you an idea of what the naguals of the past were like, so that you
would recognize how they acted in order to adjust their thoughts and actions
to the edifices of intent"
There was a prolonged silence. I did not have anything to say. Rather
than let the conversation die, I said the first thing that came into my
mind. I said that from the stories I had heard about the nagual Elfas I had
formed a very positive opinion of him. I liked the nagual Elfas, but for
unknown reasons, everything don Juan had told me about the nagual Julian
bothered me.
The mere mention of my discomfort delighted don Juan beyond measure. He
had to stand up from his chair lest he choke on his laughter. He put his arm
on my shoulder and said that we either loved or hated those who were
reflections of ourselves.
Again a silly self-consciousness prevented me from asking him what he
meant. Don Juan kept on laughing, obviously aware of my mood. He finally
commented that the nagual Julian was like a child whose sobriety and
moderation came always from without. He had no inner discipline beyond his
training as an apprentice in sorcery.
I had an irrational urge to defend myself. I told don Juan that my
discipline came from within me.
"Of course," he said patronizingly. "You just can't expect to be
exactly like him." And began to laugh again.
Sometimes don Juan exasperated me so that I was ready to yell. But my
mood did not last. It dissipated so rapidly that another concern began to
loom. I asked don Juan if it Was possible that I had entered into heightened
awareness Without being conscious of it? Or maybe I had remained in it for
days?
"At this stage you enter into heightened awareness all by yourself," he
said. "Heightened awareness is a mystery Only for our reason. In practice,
it's very simple. As with everything else, we complicate matters by trying
to make the immensity that surrounds us reasonable."
He remarked that I should be thinking about the abstract core he had
given me instead of arguing uselessly about my person.
I told him that I had been thinking about it all morning and had come
to realize that the metaphorical theme of the story was the manifestations
of the spirit. What I could not discern, however, was the abstract core he
was talking
about. It had to be something unstated.
"I repeat," he said, as if he were a schoolteacher drilling his
students, "the Manifestations of the Spirit is the name for the first
abstract core in the sorcery stories. Obviously, what sorcerers recognize as
an abstract core is something that bypasses you at this moment. That part
Which escapes you sorcerers know as the edifice of intent, or the silent
voice of the spirit, or the ulterior arrangement of the abstract."
I said I understood ulterior to mean something not Overtly revealed, as
in "ulterior motive." And he replied that in this case ulterior meant more;
it meant knowledge without words, outside our immediate comprehension -
especially mine. He allowed that the comprehension he was referring to was
merely beyond my aptitudes of the moment, not beyond my ultimate
possibilities for understanding.
"If the abstract cores are beyond my comprehension what's the point of
talking about them?" I asked.
"The rule says that the abstract cores and the sorcery stories must be
told at this point," he replied. "And some day the ulterior arrangement of
the abstract, which is knowledge without words or the edifice of intent
inherent in the stories, will be revealed to you by the stories themselves."
I still did not understand.
"The ulterior arrangement of the abstract is not merely the order in
which the abstract cores were presented to you," he explained, "or what they
have in common either, nor even the web that joins them. Rather it's to know
the abstract directly, without the intervention of language."
He scrutinized me in silence from head to toe with the obvious purpose
of seeing me.
"It's not evident to you yet," he declared.
He made a gesture of impatience, even short temper, as though he were
annoyed at my slowness. And that worried me. Don Juan was not given to
expressions of psychological displeasure.
"It has nothing to do with you or your actions," he said when I asked
if he was angry or disappointed with me. "It was a thought that crossed my
mind the moment I saw you. There is a feature in your luminous being that
the old sorcerers would have given anything to have."
"Tell me what it is," I demanded.
"I'll remind you of this some other time," he said.
"Meanwhile, let's continue with the element that propels us: the
abstract. The element without which there could be no warrior's path, nor
any warriors in search of knowledge."
He said that the difficulties I was experiencing were nothing new to
him. He himself had gone through agonies in order to understand the ulterior
order of the abstract. And had it not been for the helping hand of the
nagual Elias, he would have wound up just like his benefactor, all action
and very little understanding.
"What was the nagual Elias like?" I asked, to change the subject.
"He was not like his disciple at all," don Juan said. "He was an
Indian. Very dark and massive. He had rough features, big mouth, strong
nose, small black eyes, thick black hair with no gray in it. He was shorter
than the nagual Julian and had big hands and feet. He was very humble and
very wise, but he had no flare. Compared with my benefactor, he was dull.
Always all by himself, pondering questions. The nagual Julian used to joke
that his teacher imparted wisdom by the ton. Behind his back he used to call
him the nagual Tonnage.
"I never saw the reason for his jokes," don Juan went on. "To me the
nagual Elias was like a breath of fresh air. He would patiently explain
everything to me. Very much as I explain things to you, but perhaps with a
bit more of something. I wouldn't call it compassion, but rather, empathy.
Warriors are incapable of feeling compassion because they no longer feel
sorry for themselves. Without the driving force of self-pity, compassion is
meaningless."
"Are you saying, don Juan, that a warrior is all for himself?"
"In a way, yes. For a warrior everything begins and ends with himself.
However, his contact with the abstract causes him to overcome his feeling of
self-importance. Then the self becomes abstract and impersonal.
"The nagual Elias felt that our lives and our personalities were quite
similar," don Juan continued. "For this reason, he felt obliged to help me.
I don't feel that similarity with you, so I suppose I regard you very much
the way the nagual Julian used to regard me."
Don Juan said that the nagual Elias took him under his wing from the
very first day he arrived at his benefactor's house to start his
apprenticeship and began to explain what was taking place in his training,
regardless of whether don Juan was capable of understanding. His urge to
help don Juan was so intense that he practically held him prisoner. He
protected him in this manner from the nagual Julian's harsh onslaughts.
"At the beginning, I used to stay at the nagual Elfas's house all the
time," don Juan continued. "And I loved it. In my benefactor's house I was
always on the lookout, on guard, afraid of what he was going to do to me
next. But in the Nagual Elias's home I felt confident, at ease.
"My benefactor used to press me mercilessly. And I couldn't figure out
why he was pressuring me so hard. I thought that the man was plain crazy."
Don Juan said that the nagual Elias was an Indian from the state of
Oaxaca, who had been taught by another nagual named Rosendo, who came from
the same area. Don Juan described the nagual Elias as being a very
conservative man who cherished his privacy. And yet he was a famous healer
and sorcerer, not only in Oaxaca, but in all of southern Mexico.
Nonetheless, in spite of his occupation and notoriety, he lived in complete
isolation at the opposite end of the country, in northern Mexico.
Don Juan stopped talking. Raising his eyebrows, he fixed me with a
questioning look. But all I wanted was for him to continue his story.
"Every single time I think you should ask questions, you don't," he
said. "I'm sure you heard me say that the nagual Elias was a famous sorcerer
who dealt with people daily in southern Mexico, and at the same time he was
a hermit in northern Mexico. Doesn't that arouse your curiosity?"
I felt abysmally stupid. I told him that the thought had crossed my
mind, as he was telling me those facts, that the man must have had terrible
difficulty commuting.
Don Juan laughed, and, since he had made me aware of the question, I
asked how it had been possible for the nagual Elias to be in two places at
once.
"Dreaming is a sorcerer's jet plane," he said. The nagual Elias was a
dreamer as my benefactor was a stalker. He was able to create and project
what sorcerers know as the dreaming body, or the Other, and to be in two
distant places at the same time. With his dreaming body, he could carry on
his business as a sorcerer, and with his natural self be a recluse."
I remarked that it amazed me that I could accept so easily the premise
that the nagual Elias had the ability to project a solid three-dimensional
image of himself, and yet could not for the life of me understand the
explanations about the abstract cores.
Don Juan said that I could accept the idea of the nagual Elfas's dual
life because the spirit was making final adjustments in my capacity for
awareness. And I exploded into a barrage of protests at the obscurity of his
statement.
"It isn't obscure," he said. "It's a statement of fact. You could say
that it's an incomprehensible fact for the moment, but the moment will
change."
Before I could reply, he began to talk again about the nagual Elias. He
said that the nagual Elias had a very inquisitive mind and could work well
with his hands. In his journeys as a dreamer he saw many objects, which he
copied in wood and forged iron. Don Juan assured me that some of those
models were of a haunting, exquisite beauty.
"What kind of objects were the originals?" I asked.
"There's no way of knowing," don Juan said. "You've got to consider
that because he was an Indian the nagual Elias went into his dreaming
journeys the way a wild animal prowls for food. An animal never shows up at
a site when there are signs of activity. He comes only when no one is
around. The nagual Elias, as a solitary dreamer, visited, let's say, the
junkyard of infinity, when no one was around - and copied whatever he saw,
but never knew what those things were used for, or their source."
Again, I had no trouble accepting what he was saying. The idea did not
appear to me farfetched in any way. I was about to comment when he
interrupted me with a gesture of his eyebrows. He then continued his account
about the nagual Elias.
"Visiting him was for me the ultimate treat," he said, "and
simultaneously, a source of strange guilt. I used to get bored to death
there. Not because die nagual Elfas was boring, but because the nagual
Julian had no peers and he spoiled anyone for life."
"But I thought you were confident and at ease in the nagual Elias's
house," I said.
"I was, and that was the source of my guilt and my imagined problem.
Like you, I loved to torment myself. I think at the very beginning I found
peace in the nagual Elias's company, but later on, when I understood the
nagual Julian better, I went his way."
He told me that the nagual Elias's house had an open, roofed section in
the front, where he had a forge and a
carpentry bench and tools. The tiled-roof adobe house consisted of a
huge room with a dirt floor where he lived with five women seers, who were
actually his wives. There were also four men, sorcerer-seers of his party
who lived in small houses around the nagual's house. They were all Indians
from different parts of the country who had migrated to northern Mexico.
"The nagual Elias had great respect for sexual energy," don Juan said.
"He believed it has been given to us so we can use it in dreaming. He
believed dreaming had fallen into disuse because it can upset the precarious
mental balance of susceptible people.
"I've taught you dreaming the same way he taught me," he continued. "He
taught me that while we dream the assemblage point moves very gently and
naturally. Mental balance is nothing but the fixing of the assemblage point
on one spot we're accustomed to. If dreams make that point move, and
dreaming is used to control that natural movement, and sexual energy is
needed for dreaming, the result is sometimes disastrous when sexual energy
is dissipated in sex instead of dreaming. Then dreamers move their
assemblage point erratically and lose their minds."
"What are you trying to tell me, don Juan?" I asked because I felt that
the subject of dreaming had not been a natural drift in the conversation.
"You are a dreamer" he said. "If you're not careful with your sexual
energy, you might as well get used to the idea of erratic shifts of your
assemblage point. A moment ago you were bewildered by your reactions. Well,
your assemblage point moves almost erratically, because your sexual energy
is not in balance." I made a stupid and inappropriate comment about the sex
life of adult males.
"Our sexual energy is what governs dreaming," he explained. "The nagual
Elfas taught me - and I taught you - that you either make love with your
sexual energy or you dream with it. There is no other way. The reason I
mention it at all is because you are having great difficulty shifting your
assemblage point to grasp our last topic: the abstract.
"The same thing happened to me," don Juan went on. "It was only when my
sexual energy was freed from the world that everything fit into place. That
is the rule for dreamers. Stalkers are the opposite. My benefactor was, you
could say, a sexual libertine both as an average man and as a nagual."
Don Juan seemed to be on the verge of revealing his benefactor's
doings, but he obviously changed his mind. He shook his head and said that I
was way too stiff for such revelations. I did not insist.
He said that the nagual Elfas had the sobriety that only dreamers
acquired after inconceivable battles with themselves. He used his sobriety
to plunge himself into the task of answering don Juan's questions.
"The nagual Elfas explained that my difficulty in understanding the
spirit was the same as his own," don Juan continued. "He thought there were
two different issues. One, the need to understand indirectly what the spirit
is, and the other, to understand the spirit directly.
"You're having problems with the first. Once you understand what the
spirit is, the second issue will be resolved automatically, and vice versa.
If the spirit speaks to you, using its silent words, you will certainly know
immediately what the spirit is."
He said that the nagual Elfas believed that the difficulty was our
reluctance to accept the idea that knowledge could exist without words to
explain it.
"But I have no difficulty accepting that," I said.
"Accepting this proposition is not as easy as saying you accept it,"
don Juan said. "The nagual Elfas used to tell me that the whole of humanity
has moved away from the abstract, although at one time we must have been
close to it. It must have been our sustaining force. And then something
happened and pulled us away from the abstract. Now we can't get back to it.
He used to say that it takes years for an apprentice to be able to go back
to the abstract, that is, to know that knowledge and language can exist
independent of each other."
Don Juan repeated that the crux of our difficulty in going back to the
abstract was our refusal to accept that we could know without words or even
without thoughts.
I was going to argue that he was talking nonsense when I got the strong
feeling I was missing something and that his point was of crucial importance
to me. He was really trying to tell me something, something I either could
not grasp or which could not be told completely.
"Knowledge and language are separate," he repeated softly.
And I was just about to say, "I know it," as if indeed I knew it, when
I caught myself.
"I told you there is no way to talk about the spirit," he continued,
"because the spirit can only be experienced. Sorcerers try to explain this
condition when they say that the spirit is nothing you can see or feel. But
it's there looming over us always. Sometimes it comes to some of us. Most of
the time it seems indifferent."
I kept quiet. And he continued to explain. He said that the spirit in
many ways was a sort of wild animal. It kept its distance from us until a
moment when something enticed it forward. It was then that the spirit
manifested itself.
I raised the point that if the spirit wasn't an entity, or a presence,
and had no essence, how could anyone entice it?
"Your problem," he said, "is that you consider only your own idea of
what's abstract. For instance, the inner essence of man, or the fundamental
principle, are abstracts for you. Or perhaps something a bit less vague,
such as character, volition, courage, dignity, honor. The spirit, of course,
can be described in terms of all of these. And that's what's so confusing -
that it's all these and none of them."
He added that what I considered abstractions were either the opposites
of all the practicalities I could think of or things I had decided did not
have concrete existence.
"Whereas for a sorcerer an abstract is something with no parallel in
the human condition," he said.
"But they're the same thing," I shouted. "Don't you see that we're both
talking about the same thing?"
"We are not," he insisted. "For a sorcerer, the spirit is an abstract
simply because he knows it without words or even thoughts. It's an abstract
because he can't conceive what the spirit is. Yet without the slightest
chance or desire to understand it, a sorcerer handles the spirit. He
recognizes it, beckons it, entices it, becomes familiar with it, and
expresses it with his acts."
I shook my head in despair. I could not see the difference.
"The root of your misconception is that I have used the term 'abstract'
to describe the spirit," he said. "For you, abstracts are words which
describe states of intuition. An example is the word 'spirit,' which doesn't
describe reason or pragmatic experience, and which, of course, is of no use
to you other than to tickle your fancy."
I was furious with don Juan. I called him obstinate and he laughed at
me. He suggested that if I would think about the proposition that knowledge
might be independent of language, without bothering to understand it,
perhaps I could see the light.
"Consider this," he said. "It was not the act of meeting me that
mattered to you. The day I met you, you met the abstract. But since you
couldn't talk about it, you didn't notice it. Sorcerers meet the abstract
without thinking about it or seeing it or touching it or feeling its
presence."
I remained quiet because I did not enjoy arguing with him. At times I
considered him to be quite willfully abstruse. But don Juan seemed to be
enjoying himself immensely.
The Last Seduction Of Nagual Julian
It was as cool and quiet in the patio of don Juan's house as in the
cloister of a convent. There were a number of large fruit trees planted
extremely close together, which seemed to regulate the temperature and
absorb all noises. When I first came to his house, I had made critical
remarks about the illogical way the fruit trees had been planted. I would
have given them more space. His answer was that those trees were not his
property, they were free and independent warrior trees that had joined his
party of warriors, and that my comments - which applied to regular trees -
were not relevant. His reply sounded metaphorical to me. What I didn't know
then was that don Juan meant everything he said literally.
Don Juan and I were sitting in cane armchairs facing the fruit trees
now. The trees were all bearing fruit. I commented that it was not only a
beautiful sight but an extremely intriguing one, for it was not the fruit
season.
"There is an interesting story about it," he admitted. "As you know,
these trees are warriors of my party. They are bearing now because all the
members of my party have been talking and expressing feelings about our
definitive journey, here in front of them. And the trees know now that when
we embark on our definitive journey, they will accompany us."
I looked at him, astonished.
"I can't leave them behind," he explained. "They are warriors too. They
have thrown their lot in with the nagual's party. And they know how I feel
about them. The assemblage point of trees is located very low in their
enormous luminous shell, and that permits them to know our feelings, for
instance, the feelings we are having now as we discuss my definitive
journey."
I remained quiet, for I did not want to dwell on the subject. Don Juan
spoke and dispelled my mood.
"The second abstract core of the sorcery stories is called the Knock of
the Spirit," he said. "The first core, the Manifestations of the Spirit, is
the edifice that intent builds and places before a sorcerer, then invites
him to enter. It is the edifice of intent seen by a sorcerer. The Knock of
the Spirit is the same edifice seen by the beginner who is invited - or
rather forced - to enter.
"This second abstract core could be a story in itself. The story says
that after the spirit had manifested itself to that man we have talked about
naguals in particular, are attuned to such revelations."
Don Juan began his story. He said that the nagual Elias had been riding
his horse to the city one day, taking him through a shortcut by some
cornfields when suddenly his horse shied, frightened by the low, fast sweep
of a falcon that missed the nagual's straw hat by only a few inches. The
nagual immediately dismounted and began to look around. He saw a strange
young man among the tall, dry cornstalks. The man was dressed in an
expensive dark suit and appeared alien there. The nagual Elias was used to
the sight of peasants or landowners in the fields, but he had never seen an
elegantly dressed city man moving through the fields with apparent disregard
for his expensive shoes and clothes.
The nagual tethered his horse and walked toward the young man. He
recognized the flight of the falcon, as well as the man's apparel, as
obvious manifestations of the spirit which he could not disregard. He got
very close to the young man and saw what was going on. The man was chasing a
peasant woman who was running a few yards ahead of him, dodging and laughing
with him.
The contradiction was quite apparent to the nagual. The two people
cavorting in the cornfield did not belong together. The nagual thought that
the man must be the landowner's son and the woman a servant in the house. He
felt embarrassed to be observing them and was about to turn and leave when
the falcon again swept over the cornfield and this time brushed the young
man's head. The falcon alarmed the couple and they stopped and looked up,
trying to anticipate another sweep. The nagual noticed that the man was thin
and handsome, and had haunting, restless eyes.
Then the couple became bored watching for the falcon, and returned to
their play. The man caught the woman, embraced her and gently laid her on
the ground. But instead of trying to make love to her, as the nagual assumed
he would do next, he removed his own clothes and paraded naked in front of
the woman.
She did not shyly close her eyes or scream with embarrassment or
fright. She giggled, mesmerized by the prancing naked man, who moved around
her like a satyr, making lewd gestures and laughing. Finally, apparently
overpowered by the sight, she uttered a wild cry, rose, and threw herself
into the young man's arms.
Don Juan said that die nagual Elias confessed to him that the
indications of the spirit on that occasion had been most baffling. It was
clearly evident that the man was insane. Otherwise, knowing how protective
peasants were of their women, he would not have considered seducing a young
peasant woman in broad daylight a few yards from the road - and naked to
boot.
Don Juan broke into a laugh and told me that in those days to take off
one's clothes and engage in a sexual act in broad daylight in such a place
meant one had to be either insane or blessed by the spirit. He added that
what the man had done might not seem remarkable nowadays. But then, nearly a
hundred years ago, people were infinitely more inhibited.
All of this convinced the nagual Elias from the moment he laid eyes on
the man that he was both insane and blessed by the spirit. He worried that
peasants might happen by, become enraged and lynch the man on the spot. But
no one did. It felt to the nagual as if time had been suspended.
When the man finished making love, he put on his clothes, took out a
handkerchief, meticulously dusted his shoes and, all the while making wild
promises to the girl, went on his way. The nagual Elias followed him. In
fact, he followed him for several days and found out that his name was
Julian and that he was an actor.
Subsequently the nagual saw him on the stage often enough to realize
that the actor had a great deal of charisma. The audience, especially the
women, loved him. And he had no scruples about making use of his charismatic
gifts to seduce female admirers. As the nagual followed the actor, he was
able to witness his seduction technique more than once. It entailed showing
himself naked to his adoring fans as soon as he got them alone, then waiting
until the women, stunned by his display, surrendered. The technique seemed
extremely effective for him. The nagual had to admit that the actor was a
great success, except on one count. He was mortally ill. The nagual had seen
the black shadow of death that followed him everywhere.
Don Juan explained again something he had told me years before - that
our death was a black spot right behind the left shoulder. He said that
sorcerers knew when a person was close to dying because they could see the
dark spot, which became a moving shadow the exact size and shape of the
person to whom it belonged.
As he recognized the imminent presence of death the nagual was plunged
into a numbing perplexity. He wondered why the spirit was singling out such
a sick person. He had been taught that in a natural state replacement, not
repair, prevailed. And the nagual doubted that he had the ability or the
strength to heal this young man, or resist the black shadow of his death. He
even doubted if he would be able to discover why the spirit had involved him
in a display of such obvious waste.
The nagual could do nothing but stay with the actor, follow him around,
and wait for the opportunity to see in greater depth. Don Juan explained
that a nagual's first reaction, upon being faced with the manifestations of
the spirit, is to see the persons involved. The nagual Elias had been
meticulous about seeing the man the moment he laid eyes on him. He had also
seen the peasant woman who was part of the spirit's manifestation, but he
had seen nothing that, in his judgment, could have warranted the spirit's
display.
In the course of witnessing another seduction, however, the nagual's
ability to see took on a new depth. This time
the actor's adoring fan was the daughter of a rich landowner. And from
the start she was in complete control. The nagual found out about their
rendezvous because he overheard her daring the actor to meet her the next
day. The nagual was hiding across the street at dawn when the young woman
left her house, and instead of going to early mass she went to join the
actor. The actor was waiting for her and she coaxed him into following her
to the open fields. He appeared to hesitate, but she taunted him and would
not allow him to withdraw.
As the nagual watched them sneaking away, he had an absolute conviction
that something was going to happen on that day which neither of the players
was anticipating. He saw that the actor's black shadow had grown to almost
twice his height. The nagual deduced from the mysterious hard look in the
young woman's eyes that she too had felt the black shadow of death at an
intuitive level. The actor seemed preoccupied. He did not laugh as he had on
other occasions.
They walked quite a distance. At one point, they spotted the nagual
following them, but he instantly pretended to be working the land, a peasant
who belonged there. That made the couple relax and allowed the nagual to
come closer.
Then the moment came when the actor tossed off his clothes and showed
himself to the girl. But instead of swooning and falling into his arms as
his other conquests had, this girl began to hit him. She kicked and punched
him mercilessly and stepped on his bare toes, making him cry out with pain.
The nagual knew the man had not threatened or harmed the young woman.
He had not laid a finger on her. She was the only one fighting. He was
merely trying to parry the blows, and persistently, but without enthusiasm,
trying to entice her by showing her his genitals.
The nagual was filled with both revulsion and admiration. He could
perceive that the actor was an irredeemable libertine, but he could also
perceive equally easily that there was something unique, although revolting,
about him. It baffled the nagual to see that the man's connecting link with
the spirit was extraordinarily clear.
Finally the attack ended. The woman stopped beating the actor. But
then, instead of running away, she surrendered, lay down and told the actor
he could now have his way with her.
The nagual observed that the man was so exhausted he was practically
unconscious. Yet despite his fatigue he went right ahead and consummated his
seduction.
The nagual was laughing and pondering that useless man's great stamina
and determination when the woman screamed and the actor began to gasp. The
nagual saw how the black shadow struck the actor. It went like a dagger,
with pinpoint accuracy into his gap.
Don Juan made a digression at this point to elaborate on something he
had explained before: he had described the gap, an opening in our luminous
shell at the height of the navel, where the force of death ceaselessly
struck. What don Juan now explained was that when death hit healthy beings
it was with a ball-like blow - like the punch of a fist. But when beings
were dying, death struck them with a dagger-like thrust.
Thus the nagual Elias knew without any question that the actor was as
good as dead, and his death automatically finished his own interest in the
spirit's designs. There were no designs left; death had leveled everything.
He rose from his hiding place and started to leave when something made
him hesitate. It was the young woman's calmness. She was nonchalantly
putting on the few pieces of clothing she had taken off and was whistling
tunelessly as if nothing had happened.
And then the nagual saw that in relaxing to accept the presence of
death, the man's body had released a protecting veil and revealed his true
nature. He was a double man of tremendous resources, capable of creating a
screen for protection or disguise - a natural sorcerer and a perfect
candidate for a nagual apprentice, had it not been for the black shadow of
death.
The nagual was completely taken aback by that sight. He now understood
the designs of the spirit, but failed to comprehend how such a useless man
could fit in the sorcerers' scheme of things.
The woman in the meantime had stood up and without so much as a glance
at the man, whose body was contorting with death spasms, walked away.
The nagual then saw her luminosity and realized that her extreme
aggressiveness was the result of an enormous flow of superfluous energy. He
became convinced that if she did not put that energy to sober use, it would
get the best of her and there was no telling what misfortunes it would cause
her.
As the nagual watched the unconcern with which she walked away, he
realized that the spirit had given him another manifestation. He needed to
be calm, nonchalant. He needed to act as if he had nothing to lose and
intervene for the hell of it. In true nagual fashion he decided to tackle
the impossible, with no one except the spirit as witness.
Don Juan commented that it took incidents like this to test whether a
nagual is the real thing or a fake. Naguals make decisions. With no regard
for the consequences they take action or choose not to. Imposters ponder and
become paralyzed. The nagual Elias* having made his decision, walked calmly
to the side of the dying man and did the first thing his body, not his mind,
compelled him to do: he struck the man's assemblage point to cause him to
enter into heightened awareness. He struck him frantically again and again
until his assemblage point moved. Aided by the force of death itself, the
nagual's blows sent the man's assemblage point to a place where death no
longer mattered, and there he stopped dying.
By the time the actor was breathing again, the nagual had become aware
of the magnitude of his responsibility. If the man was to fend off the force
of his death, it would be necessary for him to remain in deep heightened
awareness until death had been repelled. The man's advanced physical
deterioration meant he could not be moved from the spot or he would
instantly die. The nagual did the only thing possible under the
circumstances: he built a shack around the body. There, for three months he
nursed the totally immobilized man.
My rational thoughts took over, and instead of just listening, I wanted
to know how the nagual Elias could build a shack on someone else's land. I
was aware of the rural peoples' passion about land ownership and its
accompanying feelings of territoriality.
Don Juan admitted that he had asked the same question himself. And the
nagual Elias had said that the spirit itself had made it possible. This was
the case with everything a nagual undertook, providing he followed the
spirit's manifestations.
The first thing the nagual Elias did, when the actor was breathing
again, was to run after the young woman. She was an important part of the
spirit's manifestation. He caught up with her not too far from the spot
where the actor lay barely alive. Rather than talking to her about the man's
plight and trying to convince her to help him, he again assumed total
responsibility for his actions and jumped on her like a lion, striking her
assemblage point a mighty blow. Both she and the actor were capable of
sustaining life or death blows. Her assemblage point moved, but began to
shift erratically once it was loose.
The nagual carried the young woman to where the actor lay. Then he
spent the entire day trying to keep her from losing her mind and the man
from losing his life. . When he was fairly certain he had a degree of
control he went to the woman's father and told him that lightning must have
struck his daughter and made her temporarily mad. He took the father to
where she lay and said that the young man, whoever he was, had taken the
whole charge of the lightning with his body, thus saving the girl from
certain death, but injuring himself to the point that he could not be moved.
The grateful father helped the nagual build the shack for the man who
had saved his daughter. And in three months the nagual accomplished the
impossible. He healed the young man.
When the time came for the nagual to leave, his sense of responsibility
and his duty required him both to warn the young woman about her excess
energy and the injurious consequences it would have on her life and well
being, and to ask her to join the sorcerers' world, as that would be the
only defense against her self-destructive strength.
The woman did not respond. And the nagual Elias was obliged to tell her
what every nagual has said to a prospective apprentice throughout the ages:
that sorcerers speak of sorcery as a magical, mysterious bird which has
paused in its flight for a moment in order to give man hope and purpose;
that sorcerers live under the wing of that bird, which they call the bird of
wisdom, the bird of freedom; that they nourish it with their dedication and
impeccability. He told her that sorcerers knew the flight of the bird of
freedom was always a straight line, since it had no way of making a loop, no
way of circling back and returning; and that the bird of freedom could do
only two things, take sorcerers along, or leave them behind.
The nagual Elias could not talk to the young actor, who was still
mortally ill, in the same way. The young man did not have much of a choice.
Still, the nagual told him that if he wanted to be cured, he would have to
follow the nagual unconditionally. The actor accepted the terms instantly.
The day the nagual Elias and the actor started back home, the young
woman was waiting silently at the edge of town. She carried no suitcases,
not even a basket. She seemed to have come merely to see them off. The
nagual kept walking without looking at her, but the actor, being carried on
a stretcher, strained to say goodbye to her. She laughed and wordlessly
merged into the nagual's party. She had no doubts and no problem about
leaving everything behind. She had understood perfectly that there was no
second chance for her, that the bird of freedom either took sorcerers along
or left them behind.
Don Juan commented that that was not surprising. The force of the
nagual's personality was always so overwhelming that he was practically
irresistible, and the nagual Elias had affected those two people deeply. He
had had three months of daily interaction to accustom them to his
consistency, his detachment, his objectivity. They had become enchanted by
his sobriety and, above all, by his total dedication to them. Through his
example and his actions, the nagual Elfas had given them a sustained view of
the sorcerers' world: supportive and nurturing, yet utterly demanding. It
was a world that admitted very few mistakes.
Don Juan reminded me then of something he had repeated to me often but
which I had always managed not to think about. He said that I should not
forget, even for an instant, that the bird of freedom had very little
patience with indecision, and when it flew away, it never returned.
The chilling resonance of his voice made the surroundings, which only a
second before had been peacefully dark, burst with immediacy. Don Juan
summoned the peaceful darkness back as fast as he had summoned urgency. He
punched me lightly on the arm. "That woman was so powerful that she could
dance circles around anyone," he said. "Her name was Talia."
THE KNOCK OF THE SPIRIT
The Abstract
We returned to don Juan's house in the early hours of the morning. It
took us a long time to climb down the mountain, mainly because I was afraid
of stumbling into a precipice in the dark, and don Juan had to keep stopping
to catch the breath he lost laughing at me.
I was dead tired, but I could not fall asleep. Before noon, it began to
rain. The sound of the heavy downpour on the tile roof, instead of making me
feel drowsy, removed every trace of sleepiness.
I got up and went to look for don Juan. I found him dozing in a chair.
The moment I approached him he was wide-awake. I said good morning.
"You seem to be having no trouble falling asleep," I commented.
"When you have been afraid or upset, don't lie down to sleep," he said
without looking at me. "Sleep sitting up on a soft chair as I'm doing."
He had suggested once that if I wanted to give my body healing rest I
should take long naps, lying on my stomach with my face turned to the left
and my feet over the foot of the bed. In order to avoid being cold, he
recommended I
put a soft pillow over my shoulders, away from my neck, and wear heavy
socks, or just leave my shoes on.
When I first heard his suggestion, I thought he was being funny, but
later changed my mind. Sleeping in that position helped me rest
extraordinarily well. When I commented on the surprising results, he advised
that I follow his suggestions to the letter without bothering to believe or
disbelieve him.
I suggested to don Juan that he might have told me the night before
about the sleeping in a sitting position. I explained to him that the cause
of my sleeplessness, besides my extreme fatigue, was a strange concern about
what he had told me in the sorcerer's cave.
"Cut it out!" he exclaimed. "You've seen and heard infinitely more
distressing things without losing a moment's sleep. Something else is
bothering you."
For a moment I thought he meant I was not being truthful with him about
my real preoccupation. I began to explain, but he kept talking as if I had
not spoken.
"You stated categorically last night that the cave didn't make you feel
ill at ease," he said. "Well, it obviously did. Last night I didn't pursue
the subject of the cave any further because I was waiting to observe your
reaction."
Don Juan explained that the cave had been designed by sorcerers in
ancient times to serve as a catalyst. Its shape had been carefully
constructed to accommodate two people as two fields of energy. The theory of
the sorcerers was that the nature of the rock and the manner in which it had
been carved allowed the two bodies, the two luminous balls, to intertwine
their energy.
"I took you to that cave on purpose," he continued, "not because I like
the place - I don't - but because it was created as an instrument to push
the apprentice deep into heightened awareness. But unfortunately, as it
helps, it also obscures issues. The ancient sorcerers were not given to
thought. They leaned toward action."
"You always say that your benefactor was like that," I said.
"That's my own exaggeration," he answered, "very much like when I say
you're a fool. My benefactor was a modern nagual, involved in the pursuit of
freedom, but he leaned toward action instead of thoughts. You're a modern
nagual, involved in the same quest, but you lean heavily toward the
aberrations of reason."
He must have thought his comparison was very funny; his laughter echoed
in the empty room.
When I brought the conversation back to the subject of the cave, he
pretended not to hear me. I knew he was pretending because of the glint in
his eyes and the way he smiled.
"Last night, I deliberately told you the first abstract core," he said,
"in the hope that by reflecting on the way I have acted with you over the
years you'll get an idea about the other cores. You've been with me for a
long time so you know me very well. During every minute of our association I
have tried to adjust my actions and thoughts to the patterns of the abstract
cores.
"The nagual Elias's story is another matter. Although it seems to be a
story about people, it is really a story about intent. Intent creates
edifices before us and invites us to enter them. This is the way sorcerers
understand what is happening around them."
Don Juan reminded me that I had always insisted on trying to discover
the underlying order in everything he said to me. I thought he was
criticizing me for my attempt to turn whatever he was teaching me into a
social science problem. I began to tell him that my outlook had changed
under his influence. He stopped me and smiled.
"You really don't think too well," he said and sighed. "I want you to
understand the underlying order of what I teach you. My objection is to what
you think is the underlying order. To you, it means secret procedures or a
hidden consistency. To me, it means two things: both the edifice that intent
manufactures in the blink of an eye and places in front of us to enter, and
the signs it gives us so we won't get lost once we are inside.
"As you can see, the story of the nagual Elias was more than merely an
account of the sequential details that made up the event," he went on.
"Underneath all that was the edifice of intent. And the story was meant to
give you an idea of what the naguals of the past were like, so that you
would recognize how they acted in order to adjust their thoughts and actions
to the edifices of intent"
There was a prolonged silence. I did not have anything to say. Rather
than let the conversation die, I said the first thing that came into my
mind. I said that from the stories I had heard about the nagual Elfas I had
formed a very positive opinion of him. I liked the nagual Elfas, but for
unknown reasons, everything don Juan had told me about the nagual Julian
bothered me.
The mere mention of my discomfort delighted don Juan beyond measure. He
had to stand up from his chair lest he choke on his laughter. He put his arm
on my shoulder and said that we either loved or hated those who were
reflections of ourselves.
Again a silly self-consciousness prevented me from asking him what he
meant. Don Juan kept on laughing, obviously aware of my mood. He finally
commented that the nagual Julian was like a child whose sobriety and
moderation came always from without. He had no inner discipline beyond his
training as an apprentice in sorcery.
I had an irrational urge to defend myself. I told don Juan that my
discipline came from within me.
"Of course," he said patronizingly. "You just can't expect to be
exactly like him." And began to laugh again.
Sometimes don Juan exasperated me so that I was ready to yell. But my
mood did not last. It dissipated so rapidly that another concern began to
loom. I asked don Juan if it Was possible that I had entered into heightened
awareness Without being conscious of it? Or maybe I had remained in it for
days?
"At this stage you enter into heightened awareness all by yourself," he
said. "Heightened awareness is a mystery Only for our reason. In practice,
it's very simple. As with everything else, we complicate matters by trying
to make the immensity that surrounds us reasonable."
He remarked that I should be thinking about the abstract core he had
given me instead of arguing uselessly about my person.
I told him that I had been thinking about it all morning and had come
to realize that the metaphorical theme of the story was the manifestations
of the spirit. What I could not discern, however, was the abstract core he
was talking
about. It had to be something unstated.
"I repeat," he said, as if he were a schoolteacher drilling his
students, "the Manifestations of the Spirit is the name for the first
abstract core in the sorcery stories. Obviously, what sorcerers recognize as
an abstract core is something that bypasses you at this moment. That part
Which escapes you sorcerers know as the edifice of intent, or the silent
voice of the spirit, or the ulterior arrangement of the abstract."
I said I understood ulterior to mean something not Overtly revealed, as
in "ulterior motive." And he replied that in this case ulterior meant more;
it meant knowledge without words, outside our immediate comprehension -
especially mine. He allowed that the comprehension he was referring to was
merely beyond my aptitudes of the moment, not beyond my ultimate
possibilities for understanding.
"If the abstract cores are beyond my comprehension what's the point of
talking about them?" I asked.
"The rule says that the abstract cores and the sorcery stories must be
told at this point," he replied. "And some day the ulterior arrangement of
the abstract, which is knowledge without words or the edifice of intent
inherent in the stories, will be revealed to you by the stories themselves."
I still did not understand.
"The ulterior arrangement of the abstract is not merely the order in
which the abstract cores were presented to you," he explained, "or what they
have in common either, nor even the web that joins them. Rather it's to know
the abstract directly, without the intervention of language."
He scrutinized me in silence from head to toe with the obvious purpose
of seeing me.
"It's not evident to you yet," he declared.
He made a gesture of impatience, even short temper, as though he were
annoyed at my slowness. And that worried me. Don Juan was not given to
expressions of psychological displeasure.
"It has nothing to do with you or your actions," he said when I asked
if he was angry or disappointed with me. "It was a thought that crossed my
mind the moment I saw you. There is a feature in your luminous being that
the old sorcerers would have given anything to have."
"Tell me what it is," I demanded.
"I'll remind you of this some other time," he said.
"Meanwhile, let's continue with the element that propels us: the
abstract. The element without which there could be no warrior's path, nor
any warriors in search of knowledge."
He said that the difficulties I was experiencing were nothing new to
him. He himself had gone through agonies in order to understand the ulterior
order of the abstract. And had it not been for the helping hand of the
nagual Elias, he would have wound up just like his benefactor, all action
and very little understanding.
"What was the nagual Elias like?" I asked, to change the subject.
"He was not like his disciple at all," don Juan said. "He was an
Indian. Very dark and massive. He had rough features, big mouth, strong
nose, small black eyes, thick black hair with no gray in it. He was shorter
than the nagual Julian and had big hands and feet. He was very humble and
very wise, but he had no flare. Compared with my benefactor, he was dull.
Always all by himself, pondering questions. The nagual Julian used to joke
that his teacher imparted wisdom by the ton. Behind his back he used to call
him the nagual Tonnage.
"I never saw the reason for his jokes," don Juan went on. "To me the
nagual Elias was like a breath of fresh air. He would patiently explain
everything to me. Very much as I explain things to you, but perhaps with a
bit more of something. I wouldn't call it compassion, but rather, empathy.
Warriors are incapable of feeling compassion because they no longer feel
sorry for themselves. Without the driving force of self-pity, compassion is
meaningless."
"Are you saying, don Juan, that a warrior is all for himself?"
"In a way, yes. For a warrior everything begins and ends with himself.
However, his contact with the abstract causes him to overcome his feeling of
self-importance. Then the self becomes abstract and impersonal.
"The nagual Elias felt that our lives and our personalities were quite
similar," don Juan continued. "For this reason, he felt obliged to help me.
I don't feel that similarity with you, so I suppose I regard you very much
the way the nagual Julian used to regard me."
Don Juan said that the nagual Elias took him under his wing from the
very first day he arrived at his benefactor's house to start his
apprenticeship and began to explain what was taking place in his training,
regardless of whether don Juan was capable of understanding. His urge to
help don Juan was so intense that he practically held him prisoner. He
protected him in this manner from the nagual Julian's harsh onslaughts.
"At the beginning, I used to stay at the nagual Elfas's house all the
time," don Juan continued. "And I loved it. In my benefactor's house I was
always on the lookout, on guard, afraid of what he was going to do to me
next. But in the Nagual Elias's home I felt confident, at ease.
"My benefactor used to press me mercilessly. And I couldn't figure out
why he was pressuring me so hard. I thought that the man was plain crazy."
Don Juan said that the nagual Elias was an Indian from the state of
Oaxaca, who had been taught by another nagual named Rosendo, who came from
the same area. Don Juan described the nagual Elias as being a very
conservative man who cherished his privacy. And yet he was a famous healer
and sorcerer, not only in Oaxaca, but in all of southern Mexico.
Nonetheless, in spite of his occupation and notoriety, he lived in complete
isolation at the opposite end of the country, in northern Mexico.
Don Juan stopped talking. Raising his eyebrows, he fixed me with a
questioning look. But all I wanted was for him to continue his story.
"Every single time I think you should ask questions, you don't," he
said. "I'm sure you heard me say that the nagual Elias was a famous sorcerer
who dealt with people daily in southern Mexico, and at the same time he was
a hermit in northern Mexico. Doesn't that arouse your curiosity?"
I felt abysmally stupid. I told him that the thought had crossed my
mind, as he was telling me those facts, that the man must have had terrible
difficulty commuting.
Don Juan laughed, and, since he had made me aware of the question, I
asked how it had been possible for the nagual Elias to be in two places at
once.
"Dreaming is a sorcerer's jet plane," he said. The nagual Elias was a
dreamer as my benefactor was a stalker. He was able to create and project
what sorcerers know as the dreaming body, or the Other, and to be in two
distant places at the same time. With his dreaming body, he could carry on
his business as a sorcerer, and with his natural self be a recluse."
I remarked that it amazed me that I could accept so easily the premise
that the nagual Elias had the ability to project a solid three-dimensional
image of himself, and yet could not for the life of me understand the
explanations about the abstract cores.
Don Juan said that I could accept the idea of the nagual Elfas's dual
life because the spirit was making final adjustments in my capacity for
awareness. And I exploded into a barrage of protests at the obscurity of his
statement.
"It isn't obscure," he said. "It's a statement of fact. You could say
that it's an incomprehensible fact for the moment, but the moment will
change."
Before I could reply, he began to talk again about the nagual Elias. He
said that the nagual Elias had a very inquisitive mind and could work well
with his hands. In his journeys as a dreamer he saw many objects, which he
copied in wood and forged iron. Don Juan assured me that some of those
models were of a haunting, exquisite beauty.
"What kind of objects were the originals?" I asked.
"There's no way of knowing," don Juan said. "You've got to consider
that because he was an Indian the nagual Elias went into his dreaming
journeys the way a wild animal prowls for food. An animal never shows up at
a site when there are signs of activity. He comes only when no one is
around. The nagual Elias, as a solitary dreamer, visited, let's say, the
junkyard of infinity, when no one was around - and copied whatever he saw,
but never knew what those things were used for, or their source."
Again, I had no trouble accepting what he was saying. The idea did not
appear to me farfetched in any way. I was about to comment when he
interrupted me with a gesture of his eyebrows. He then continued his account
about the nagual Elias.
"Visiting him was for me the ultimate treat," he said, "and
simultaneously, a source of strange guilt. I used to get bored to death
there. Not because die nagual Elfas was boring, but because the nagual
Julian had no peers and he spoiled anyone for life."
"But I thought you were confident and at ease in the nagual Elias's
house," I said.
"I was, and that was the source of my guilt and my imagined problem.
Like you, I loved to torment myself. I think at the very beginning I found
peace in the nagual Elias's company, but later on, when I understood the
nagual Julian better, I went his way."
He told me that the nagual Elias's house had an open, roofed section in
the front, where he had a forge and a
carpentry bench and tools. The tiled-roof adobe house consisted of a
huge room with a dirt floor where he lived with five women seers, who were
actually his wives. There were also four men, sorcerer-seers of his party
who lived in small houses around the nagual's house. They were all Indians
from different parts of the country who had migrated to northern Mexico.
"The nagual Elias had great respect for sexual energy," don Juan said.
"He believed it has been given to us so we can use it in dreaming. He
believed dreaming had fallen into disuse because it can upset the precarious
mental balance of susceptible people.
"I've taught you dreaming the same way he taught me," he continued. "He
taught me that while we dream the assemblage point moves very gently and
naturally. Mental balance is nothing but the fixing of the assemblage point
on one spot we're accustomed to. If dreams make that point move, and
dreaming is used to control that natural movement, and sexual energy is
needed for dreaming, the result is sometimes disastrous when sexual energy
is dissipated in sex instead of dreaming. Then dreamers move their
assemblage point erratically and lose their minds."
"What are you trying to tell me, don Juan?" I asked because I felt that
the subject of dreaming had not been a natural drift in the conversation.
"You are a dreamer" he said. "If you're not careful with your sexual
energy, you might as well get used to the idea of erratic shifts of your
assemblage point. A moment ago you were bewildered by your reactions. Well,
your assemblage point moves almost erratically, because your sexual energy
is not in balance." I made a stupid and inappropriate comment about the sex
life of adult males.
"Our sexual energy is what governs dreaming," he explained. "The nagual
Elfas taught me - and I taught you - that you either make love with your
sexual energy or you dream with it. There is no other way. The reason I
mention it at all is because you are having great difficulty shifting your
assemblage point to grasp our last topic: the abstract.
"The same thing happened to me," don Juan went on. "It was only when my
sexual energy was freed from the world that everything fit into place. That
is the rule for dreamers. Stalkers are the opposite. My benefactor was, you
could say, a sexual libertine both as an average man and as a nagual."
Don Juan seemed to be on the verge of revealing his benefactor's
doings, but he obviously changed his mind. He shook his head and said that I
was way too stiff for such revelations. I did not insist.
He said that the nagual Elfas had the sobriety that only dreamers
acquired after inconceivable battles with themselves. He used his sobriety
to plunge himself into the task of answering don Juan's questions.
"The nagual Elfas explained that my difficulty in understanding the
spirit was the same as his own," don Juan continued. "He thought there were
two different issues. One, the need to understand indirectly what the spirit
is, and the other, to understand the spirit directly.
"You're having problems with the first. Once you understand what the
spirit is, the second issue will be resolved automatically, and vice versa.
If the spirit speaks to you, using its silent words, you will certainly know
immediately what the spirit is."
He said that the nagual Elfas believed that the difficulty was our
reluctance to accept the idea that knowledge could exist without words to
explain it.
"But I have no difficulty accepting that," I said.
"Accepting this proposition is not as easy as saying you accept it,"
don Juan said. "The nagual Elfas used to tell me that the whole of humanity
has moved away from the abstract, although at one time we must have been
close to it. It must have been our sustaining force. And then something
happened and pulled us away from the abstract. Now we can't get back to it.
He used to say that it takes years for an apprentice to be able to go back
to the abstract, that is, to know that knowledge and language can exist
independent of each other."
Don Juan repeated that the crux of our difficulty in going back to the
abstract was our refusal to accept that we could know without words or even
without thoughts.
I was going to argue that he was talking nonsense when I got the strong
feeling I was missing something and that his point was of crucial importance
to me. He was really trying to tell me something, something I either could
not grasp or which could not be told completely.
"Knowledge and language are separate," he repeated softly.
And I was just about to say, "I know it," as if indeed I knew it, when
I caught myself.
"I told you there is no way to talk about the spirit," he continued,
"because the spirit can only be experienced. Sorcerers try to explain this
condition when they say that the spirit is nothing you can see or feel. But
it's there looming over us always. Sometimes it comes to some of us. Most of
the time it seems indifferent."
I kept quiet. And he continued to explain. He said that the spirit in
many ways was a sort of wild animal. It kept its distance from us until a
moment when something enticed it forward. It was then that the spirit
manifested itself.
I raised the point that if the spirit wasn't an entity, or a presence,
and had no essence, how could anyone entice it?
"Your problem," he said, "is that you consider only your own idea of
what's abstract. For instance, the inner essence of man, or the fundamental
principle, are abstracts for you. Or perhaps something a bit less vague,
such as character, volition, courage, dignity, honor. The spirit, of course,
can be described in terms of all of these. And that's what's so confusing -
that it's all these and none of them."
He added that what I considered abstractions were either the opposites
of all the practicalities I could think of or things I had decided did not
have concrete existence.
"Whereas for a sorcerer an abstract is something with no parallel in
the human condition," he said.
"But they're the same thing," I shouted. "Don't you see that we're both
talking about the same thing?"
"We are not," he insisted. "For a sorcerer, the spirit is an abstract
simply because he knows it without words or even thoughts. It's an abstract
because he can't conceive what the spirit is. Yet without the slightest
chance or desire to understand it, a sorcerer handles the spirit. He
recognizes it, beckons it, entices it, becomes familiar with it, and
expresses it with his acts."
I shook my head in despair. I could not see the difference.
"The root of your misconception is that I have used the term 'abstract'
to describe the spirit," he said. "For you, abstracts are words which
describe states of intuition. An example is the word 'spirit,' which doesn't
describe reason or pragmatic experience, and which, of course, is of no use
to you other than to tickle your fancy."
I was furious with don Juan. I called him obstinate and he laughed at
me. He suggested that if I would think about the proposition that knowledge
might be independent of language, without bothering to understand it,
perhaps I could see the light.
"Consider this," he said. "It was not the act of meeting me that
mattered to you. The day I met you, you met the abstract. But since you
couldn't talk about it, you didn't notice it. Sorcerers meet the abstract
without thinking about it or seeing it or touching it or feeling its
presence."
I remained quiet because I did not enjoy arguing with him. At times I
considered him to be quite willfully abstruse. But don Juan seemed to be
enjoying himself immensely.
The Last Seduction Of Nagual Julian
It was as cool and quiet in the patio of don Juan's house as in the
cloister of a convent. There were a number of large fruit trees planted
extremely close together, which seemed to regulate the temperature and
absorb all noises. When I first came to his house, I had made critical
remarks about the illogical way the fruit trees had been planted. I would
have given them more space. His answer was that those trees were not his
property, they were free and independent warrior trees that had joined his
party of warriors, and that my comments - which applied to regular trees -
were not relevant. His reply sounded metaphorical to me. What I didn't know
then was that don Juan meant everything he said literally.
Don Juan and I were sitting in cane armchairs facing the fruit trees
now. The trees were all bearing fruit. I commented that it was not only a
beautiful sight but an extremely intriguing one, for it was not the fruit
season.
"There is an interesting story about it," he admitted. "As you know,
these trees are warriors of my party. They are bearing now because all the
members of my party have been talking and expressing feelings about our
definitive journey, here in front of them. And the trees know now that when
we embark on our definitive journey, they will accompany us."
I looked at him, astonished.
"I can't leave them behind," he explained. "They are warriors too. They
have thrown their lot in with the nagual's party. And they know how I feel
about them. The assemblage point of trees is located very low in their
enormous luminous shell, and that permits them to know our feelings, for
instance, the feelings we are having now as we discuss my definitive
journey."
I remained quiet, for I did not want to dwell on the subject. Don Juan
spoke and dispelled my mood.
"The second abstract core of the sorcery stories is called the Knock of
the Spirit," he said. "The first core, the Manifestations of the Spirit, is
the edifice that intent builds and places before a sorcerer, then invites
him to enter. It is the edifice of intent seen by a sorcerer. The Knock of
the Spirit is the same edifice seen by the beginner who is invited - or
rather forced - to enter.
"This second abstract core could be a story in itself. The story says
that after the spirit had manifested itself to that man we have talked about
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