Don Genaro delighted me for hours with some preposterous instructions on how to manage my daily world. Don Juan said that I should be very careful and serious-minded about the recommendations made by don Genaro because, although they were funny, they were not a joke.
Around noon don Genaro stood up and without saying a word walked into the bushes. I was also going to get up, but don Juan gently held me down and in a solemn voice announced that don Genaro was going to try one more thing with me.
"What's he up to?" I asked. "What is he going to do to me?"
Don Juan assured me that I did not have to worry.
"You are approaching a crossroad," he said. "A certain crossroad that every warrior comes to."
I had the idea that he was talking about my death. He seemed to anticipate my question and signaled me not to say anything.
"We won't discuss this matter," he said. "Suffice it to say that the crossroad I'm referring to is the sorcerers' explanation. Genaro believes you're ready for it."
"When are you going to tell me about it?"
"I don't know when. You are the recipient, therefore it is up to you. You will have to decide when."
"What's wrong with right now?"
"To decide doesn't mean to choose an arbitrary time," he said. "To decide means that you have trimmed your spirit impeccably, and that you have done everything possible to be worthy of knowledge and power.
"Today, however, you must solve a little riddle for Genaro. He's gone ahead of us and he'll be waiting somewhere in the chaparral. No one knows the spot where he'll he, nor the specific time to go to him. If you're capable of determining the right time to leave the house, you will also be capable of guiding yourself to where he is."
I told don Juan that I could not imagine anyone being able to solve such a riddle.
"How can leaving the house at a specific time guide me to where don Genaro is?" I asked.
Don Juan smiled and began to hum a tune. He seemed to enjoy my agitation.
"That's the problem which Genaro has set up for you," he said. "If you have enough personal power, you will decide with absolute certainty the right time to leave the house. How leaving at the precise time will guide you is something that no one knows. And yet, if you have enough power, you yourself will attest that this is so."
"But how am I going to be guided, don Juan?"
"No one knows that either."
"I think don Genaro is pulling my leg."
"You better watch out then," he said. "If Genaro is pulling your leg he's liable to yank it out."
Don Juan laughed at his own joke. I could not join him. My fear about the inherent danger of don Genaro's manipulations was too real.
"Can you give me some clues?" I asked.
"There are no clues!" he said cuttingly.
"Why does don Genaro want to do this?"
"He wants to test you," he replied. "Let's say that it is very important for him to know whether you can take the sorcerers' explanation. If you solve the riddle, the implication will be that you have stored enough personal power and you're ready. But if you flub it, it'll be because you don't have enough power and in that case the sorcerers' explanation won't make any sense to you.
"I think that we should give you the explanation regardless of whether you understand it or not. That's my idea. Genaro is a more conservative warrior. He wants things in their proper order and he won't give in until he thinks you're ready."
"Why don't you just tell me about the sorcerers' explanation yourself?"
"Because Genaro must be the one who helps you."
"Why is that so, don Juan?"
"Genaro doesn't want me to tell you why," he said. "Not yet."
"Would it hurt me to know the sorcerers' explanation?" I asked.
"I don't think so."
"Please, don Juan, tell me then."
"You must be joking. Genaro has precise ideas on this matter, and we must honor and respect them."
He made an imperative gesture to quiet me.
After a long unnerving pause I ventured a question. "But how can I solve this riddle, don Juan?"
"I really don't know that. Thus I can't advise you what to do," he said. "Genaro is most efficient. He designed the riddle just for you. Since he's doing this for your benefit, he's attuned to you alone. Therefore only you can pick the precise time to leave the house. He will call you himself, and guide you by means of his call."
"What will his call be like?"
"I don't know. His call is for you; not for me. He'll be tapping your will directly. In other words, you must use your will in order to know the call.
"Genaro feels that he must make sure at this point that you have stored sufficient personal power to enable you to turn your will into a functioning unit."
'Will' was another concept which don Juan had delineated [* delineate- describe in vivid detail] with great care, but without making it clear. I had gathered from his explanations that 'will' was a force that emanated from the umbilical region through an unseen opening below the navel; an opening he had called the 'gap'. 'Will' was allegedly cultivated only by sorcerers. It came to the practitioners veiled in mystery, and purportedly [* purportedly- believed, or reputed to be the case] gave them the capacity to perform extraordinary acts.
I remarked to don Juan that there was no chance that anything so vague could ever be a functioning unit in my life.
"That's where you're wrong," he said. "The will develops in a warrior in spite of every opposition of the reason."
"Can't don Genaro, being a sorcerer, know whether I'm ready or not without testing me?" I asked.
"He certainly can," he said. "But that knowledge won't be of any value or consequence because it has nothing to do with you. You are the one who's learning. Therefore you yourself must claim knowledge as power; not Genaro. Genaro is not concerned with his knowing as much as with your knowing.
You must find out whether or not your will works. This is a very difficult point to make. In spite of what Genaro or I know about you, you must prove to yourself that you are in the position to claim knowledge as power.
In other words, you yourself have to be convinced that you can exercise your 'will'. If you're not, then you must become convinced today. If you cannot perform this task, then Genaro's conclusion will be that regardless of what he might see about you, you're not ready yet."
I experienced an overwhelming apprehension.
"Is all this necessary?" I asked.
"It's Genaro's request and must be obeyed," he said in a firm but friendly tone.
"But what does don Genaro have to do with me?"
"You may find that out today," he said and smiled.
I pleaded with don Juan to get me out of that intolerable situation and explain all the mysterious talk. He laughed and patted my chest, and made a joke about a Mexican weight lifter who had enormous pectoral [* pectoral- either of two large muscles of the chest] muscles but could not do heavy physical labor because his back was weak.
"Watch those muscles," he said. "They shouldn't be just for show."
"My muscles have nothing to do with what you're talking about," I said in a belligerent mood.
"They do," he replied. "The body must be perfection before the will is a functioning unit."
Don Juan had again deviated the direction of my probing. I felt restless and frustrated.
I stood up and went to the kitchen and drank some water. Don Juan followed me, and suggested that I should practice the animal cry that don Genaro had taught me. We walked to the side of the house. I sat on a pile of wood and involved myself in reproducing it. Don Juan made some corrections and gave me some pointers about my breathing. The end result was a state of complete physical relaxation.
We returned to the ramada and sat down again. I told him that sometimes I felt irked with myself because I was so helpless.
"There is nothing wrong with the feeling of being helpless," he said. "All of us are most familiar with it. Remember that we have spent an eternity as helpless infants. I have already told you that at this very moment you are like an infant who can't get out of the crib by himself; much less act on his own. Genaro gets you out of your crib, let's say, by picking you up. But an infant wants to act, and since he can't he complains. There is nothing wrong with that, but to indulge in protesting and complaining is another matter."
He demanded that I keep myself relaxed. He suggested that I ask him questions for a while until I was in a better frame of mind.
For a moment I was at a loss and could not decide what to ask.
Don Juan unrolled a straw mat and told me to sit on it. Then he filled a large gourd with water and put it in a carrying net. He seemed to be preparing for a journey. He sat down again and urged me with a movement of his eyebrows to begin my questions.
I asked him to tell me more about the moth.
He gave me a long scrutinizing look and chuckled.
"That was an ally," he said. "You know that."
"But what actually is an ally, don Juan?"
"There is no way of saying what exactly an ally is; just as there is no way of saying what exactly a tree is."
"A tree is a living organism," I said.
"That doesn't tell me much," he said. "I can also say that an ally is a force; a tension. I've told you that already, but that doesn't say much about an ally.
"Just like in the case of a tree, the only way to know 'what an ally is' is by experiencing it. Over the years I have struggled to prepare you for the momentous encounter with an ally. You may not realize this, but it took you years of preparation to meet tree. To meet ally is no different. A teacher must acquaint his disciple with ally little by little; piece by piece. You have over the course of the years stored a great amount of knowledge about it, and now you are capable of putting that knowledge together to experience ally the way you experience tree."
"I have no idea that I'm doing that, don Juan."
"Your reason is not aware of it because it cannot accept the possibility of ally to begin with. Fortunately it is not the reason which puts ally together. It is the body. You have perceived ally in many degrees and on many occasions. Each of those perceptions was stored in your body. The sum of those pieces is the ally. I don't know any other way of describing it."
I said that I could not conceive that my body was acting by itself as if it were an entity separate from my reason.
"It isn't, but we have made it so," he said. "Our reason is petty and it is always at odds with our body. This of course is only a way of talking, but the triumph of a man of knowledge is that he has joined the two together. Since you're not a man of knowledge, your body does things now that your reason cannot comprehend. The ally is one of those things. You were not mad, and neither were you dreaming when you perceived the ally that night- right here."
I asked him about the frightening idea which he and don Genaro had implanted in me; that the ally was an entity waiting for me at the edge of a small valley in the mountains of northern Mexico. They had told me that sooner or later I had to keep my appointment with the ally and wrestle with it.
"Those are ways of talking about mysteries for which there are no words," he said. "Genaro and I said that at the edge of that plain the ally was waiting for you. That statement was true, but it doesn't have the meaning that you want to give it.
"The ally is waiting for you. That's for sure, but it is not at the edge of any plain. It is right here, or there, or in any other place. The ally is waiting for you just like death is waiting for you; everywhere and nowhere."
"Why is the ally waiting for me?"
"For the same reason that death waits for you," he said, "because you were born. There is no possibility of explaining at this point what is meant by that. You must first experience the ally. You must perceive it in its full force. Then the sorcerers' explanation may throw light upon it. So far you've had enough power to clarify at least one point; that the ally is a moth.
"Some years ago you and I went to the mountains, and you had a bout with something. I had no way of telling you then what was taking place. You saw a strange shadow flying back and forth in front of the fire. You yourself said that it looked like a moth. Although you didn't know what you were talking about, you were absolutely correct. The shadow was a moth.
Then on another occasion something frightened you out of your wits after you had fallen asleep; again, in front of a fire. I had warned you not to fall asleep, but you disregarded my warning. That act left you at the mercy of the ally and the moth stepped on your neck. Why you survived will always be a mystery to me. You didn't know then, but I had given you up for dead. Your blunder was that serious.
"From then on, every time we've been in the mountains or in the desert, even if you didn't notice it, the moth always followed us. All in all then, we can say that for you the ally is a moth. But I cannot say that it is really a moth the way we know moths. Calling the ally a moth is again only a way of talking; a way of making that immensity out there understandable."
"Is the ally a moth for you too?" I asked.
"No. The way one understands the ally is a personal matter," he said.
I mentioned that we were back where we had started. He had not told me what an ally really was.
"There's no need to be confused," he said. "Confusion is a mood one enters into, but one can also get out of it. At this point there is no way of clarifying anything. Perhaps later on today we'll be able to consider these matters in detail. It's up to you, or rather, it's up to your personal power."
He refused to say one more word. I became quite upset with the fear that I was going to fail the test. Don Juan took me to the back of his house and made me sit on a straw mat at the edge of an irrigation ditch. The water moved so slowly that it almost seemed stagnant. He commanded me to sit quietly, shut off my internal dialogue, and look at the water.
He said that years before he had discovered that I had a certain affinity for bodies of water; a feeling that was most convenient for the endeavors I was involved in. I remarked that I was not particularly fond of bodies of water, but neither did I dislike them. He said that that was precisely why water was beneficial for me. I was indifferent towards it. Under conditions of stress water could not trap me, and neither could it reject me.
He sat slightly behind me to my right, and admonished me to let go and not be afraid because he was there to help me if there was any need.
I had a moment of fear. I looked at him, waiting for further instructions. He forcibly turned my head towards the water and ordered me to proceed. I had no idea what he wanted me to do, so I simply relaxed.
As I looked at the water, I caught sight of the reeds on the opposite side. Unconsciously I rested my unfocused eyes on them. The slow current made them quiver. The water had the color of the desert dirt. I noticed that the ripples around the reeds looked like furrows or crevices on a smooth surface. At one instant the reeds became gigantic. The water was a smooth flat ocher surface.
Then in a matter of seconds I was sound asleep; or perhaps I entered into a perceptual state for which I had no parallel. The closest way of describing it would be to say that I went to sleep and had a portentous [* portentous- of momentous or ominous significance] dream.
I felt that I could have gone on with it indefinitely if I had wanted to, but I deliberately ended it by engaging myself in a conscious self-dialogue. I opened my eyes. I was lying on the straw mat. Don Juan was a few feet away. My dream had been so magnificent that I began to recount it to him. He signaled me to be quiet.
With a long twig he pointed to two long shadows that some dry branches of desert chaparral cast on the ground. The tip of his twig followed the outline of one of the shadows as if it were drawing it. Then it jumped to the other and did the same with it. The shadows were about a foot long and over an inch wide. They were from five to six inches apart from each other.
The movement of the twig forced my eyes out of focus and I found myself looking with crossed eyes at four long shadows. Suddenly the two shadows in the middle merged into one and created an extraordinary perception of depth. There was some inexplicable roundness and volume in the shadow thus formed. It was almost like a transparent tube; a round bar of some unknown substance. I knew that my eyes were crossed and yet they seemed to be focused on one spot. The view there was crystal clear. I could move my eyes without dispelling the image.
I continued watching but without letting my guard down. I experienced a curious compulsion to let go and immerse myself in the scene. Something in what I was observing seemed to pull me, but something in myself surfaced and I began a semiconscious dialogue. Almost instantly I became aware of my surroundings in the world of everyday life.
Don Juan was watching me. He appeared to be puzzled. I asked him if there was something wrong. He did not answer. He helped me to sit up. It was only then that I realized that I had been lying on my back looking at the sky, and don Juan had been leaning over my face.
My first impulse was to tell him that I had actually seen the shadows on the ground while I had been looking at the sky, but he put his hand over my mouth. We sat in silence for a while. I had no thoughts. I experienced an exquisite sense of peace, and then quite abruptly I had an unyielding urge to get up and go into the chaparral to look for don Genaro.
I made an attempt to speak to don Juan. He jutted his chin and twisted his lips as a silent command not to talk. I tried to assess my predicament in a rational manner. I was enjoying my silence so much, however, that I did not want to bother with logical considerations.
After a moment's pause, I again felt the imperious need to walk into the bushes. I followed a trail. Don Juan tagged along behind me as if I were the leader.
We walked for about an hour. I succeeded in remaining without any thoughts. Then we came to a hillside. Don Genaro was there sitting near the top of a rock wall. He greeted me effusively and had to yell his words. He was about fifty feet above the ground. Don Juan made me sit down and then sat next to me.
Don Genaro explained that I had found the place where he had been waiting because he had guided me with a sound he had been making. As he voiced his words I realized that I had indeed been hearing a peculiar sound I thought to be a buzzing in my ears. It had seemed to be more of an internal affair; a bodily condition; a feeling of sound so undetermined that it was beyond the realm of conscious assessment and interpretation.
I believed that don Genaro had a small instrument in his left hand. From where I sat I could not distinguish it clearly. It looked like a jew's-harp. With it he produced a soft eerie sound which was practically indiscernible. [* indiscernible- barely able to be perceived] He kept on playing it for a moment, as if allowing me time to fully realize what he had just said.
Then he showed me his left hand. There was nothing in it. He was not holding any instrument. It had appeared to me that he was playing some instrument because of the manner in which he had put his hand to his mouth. Actually the sound was being produced with his lips and the edge of his left hand between the thumb and index finger.
I turned to don Juan to explain to him that I had been fooled by don Genaro's movements. He made a quick gesture, told me not to talk, and told me to pay close attention to what don Genaro was doing. I turned back to look at don Genaro, but he was no longer there. I thought that he must have climbed down. I waited a few moments for him to emerge from behind the bushes.
The rock he had been standing on was a peculiar formation. It was more like a huge ledge on the side of a larger rock wall. I must have taken my eyes away from him for only a couple of seconds. If he had climbed up, I would have caught sight of him before he had reached the top of the rock wall; and if he had climbed down, he would also have been visible from where I was sitting.
I asked don Juan about don Genaro's whereabouts. He replied that he still was standing on the rock ledge. As far as I could judge there was no one there, but don Juan maintained over and over again that don Genaro was still standing on the rock.
He did not seem to be joking. His eyes were steady and fierce. He said in a cutting tone that my senses were not the proper avenue to appraise what don Genaro was doing. He ordered me to shut off my internal dialogue. I struggled for a moment and began to close my eyes. Don Juan lurched at me and shook me by the shoulders. He whispered that I had to keep my view on the rock ledge.
I had a sensation of drowsiness and heard don Juan's words as if they were coming from far away. I automatically looked at the ledge. Don Genaro was there again. That did not interest me. I noticed semiconsciously that it was very difficult for me to breathe, but before I could have a thought about it don Genaro jumped to the ground.
That act did not catch my interest either. He came over to me and helped me stand up; holding me by the arm. Don Juan held my other arm. They propped me up between the two of them. Then it was only don Genaro who was helping me walk. He whispered something in my ear that I could not understand, and suddenly I felt that he pulled my body in some strange way. He grabbed me, in a manner of speaking, by the skin of my stomach and pulled me up to the ledge; or perhaps onto another rock.
I knew that for an instant I was on a rock. I could have sworn that it was the rock ledge. The image was so fleeting, however, that I could not evaluate it in detail. Then I felt that something in me faltered and I fell backwards. I had a faint feeling of anguish or perhaps physical discomfort.
The next thing I knew don Juan was talking to me. I could not understand him. I concentrated my attention on his lips. The sensation I had was dreamlike. I was trying to rip from the inside an enveloping film-like sheet that encased me while don Juan tried to rip it from the outside. Finally it actually popped, and don Juan's words became audible and their meaning crystal clear. He was commanding me to surface by myself. I struggled desperately to gain my sobriety. I had no success. I quite consciously wondered why I was having so much trouble. I fought to talk to myself.
Don Juan seemed to be aware of my difficulty. He urged me to try harder. Something out there was preventing me from engaging myself in my familiar internal dialogue. It was as if a strange force were making me drowsy and indifferent.
I fought against it until I began to lose my breath. I heard don Juan talking to me. My body contorted involuntarily with the tension. I felt as if I were embraced and locked in mortal combat with something that was keeping me from breathing. I did not have fear, but rather some uncontrollable fury possessed me. My wrath mounted to such heights that I growled and screamed like an animal. Then my body was taken by a seizure. I had a jolt that stopped me instantly. I could again breathe normally, and then I realized that don Juan had poured his gourd of water over my stomach and neck; soaking me.
He helped me sit up. Don Genaro was standing on the ledge. He called my name and then jumped to the ground. I saw him plummeting down from a height of fifty feet or so, and I experienced an unbearable sensation around my umbilical region. I had had the same sensation in dreams of falling.
Don Genaro came to me and asked me, smiling, if I had liked his leap. I tried unsuccessfully to say something. Don Genaro called my name again.
"Carlitos! Watch me!" he said.
He swung his arms at his sides four or five times as if to get momentum, and then jumped out of sight; or I thought he did; or perhaps he did something else for which I had no description. He had been five or six feet away from me, and then he vanished as if he had been sucked away by an uncontrollable force.
I felt aloof and tired. I had a sense of indifference and did not want to think or talk to myself. I was not afraid; but inexplicably sad. I wanted to weep. Don Juan hit me repeatedly with his knuckles on the top of my head and laughed as if everything that had happened were a joke. He then demanded that I talk to myself because that was the time when the internal dialogue was desperately needed. I heard him ordering me, "Talk! Talk."
I had an involuntary spasm in the muscles of my lips. My mouth moved without sounds. I remembered don Genaro moving his mouth in a similar way when he was clowning and I wished I could have said, as he had, "My mouth doesn't want to talk." I tried to voice the words and my lips contorted in a painful way. Don Juan seemed to be on the verge of collapsing with laughter. His enjoyment was contagious and I also laughed. Finally he helped me to stand up. I asked him if don Genaro was coming back. He said that don Genaro had had enough of me for the day.
Later, don Juan and I were sitting near the fire in his earth stove. He had insisted that I eat. I was not hungry, or tired. An unusual melancholy had overtaken me. I felt removed from all the events of the day.
"You almost made it," don Juan said.
Don Juan handed me my writing pad. I made a supreme effort to recapture my usual state. I jotted down some comments. Little by little I brought myself back into my old pattern. It was as if a veil were being lifted. Suddenly I was again involved in my familiar attitude of interest and bewilderment.
"Good, good," don Juan said, patting my head. "I've told you that the true art of a warrior is to balance terror and wonder."
Don Juan's mood was unusual. He seemed almost nervous; anxious. He appeared to be willing to speak on his own accord. I believed that he was preparing me for the sorcerers' explanation, and I became quite anxious myself. His eyes had a strange glimmer that I had seen only a few times before.
After I told him what I thought of his unusual attitude, he said that he was happy for me; that as a warrior he could rejoice in the triumphs of his fellow men if they were triumphs of the spirit. He added that, unfortunately, I was not yet ready for the sorcerers' explanation in spite of the fact that I had successfully solved don Genaro's riddle. His contention was that when he had poured water over my body, I had actually been dying; and my whole achievement had been canceled out by my incapacity to fend off the last of don Genaro's onslaughts.
"Genaro's power was like a tide that engulfed you," he said.
"Did don Genaro want to hurt me?" I asked.
"No," he said. "Genaro wants to help you. But power can be met only with power. He was testing you and you failed."
"But I solved his riddle, didn't I?"
"You did fine," he said. "So fine that Genaro had to believe that you were capable of a complete warrior's feat. You almost made it. What floored you this time was not indulging, though."
"What was it then?"
"You're too impatient and violent. Instead of relaxing and going with Genaro, you began to fight him. You can't win against him. He's stronger than you."
Don Juan then volunteered some advice and suggestions about my personal relations with people. His remarks were a serious sequel to what don Genaro had jokingly said to me earlier. He was in a talkative mood, and without any coaxing on my part, he began to explain what had taken place during the last two times I had been there.
"As you know," he said, "the crux of sorcery is the internal dialogue. That is the key to everything. When a warrior learns to stop it, everything becomes possible. The most farfetched schemes become attainable. The passageway to all the weird and eerie experiences that you have had recently was the fact that you could stop talking to yourself.
"You have in complete sobriety witnessed the ally, Genaro's double, and 'the dreamer and the dreamed'; and today you almost learned about the totality of yourself. That was the warrior's feat that Genaro expected you to perform.
"All this has been possible because of the amount of personal power that you have stored. It started the last time you were here when I caught sight of a very auspicious [*auspicious -favourable circumstances predictable from an omen] omen. As you arrived, I heard the ally prowling around. First I heard its soft steps, and then I saw the moth looking at you as you got out of your car. The ally was motionless watching you.
"That to me was the best omen. Had the ally been agitated and moving around as if it was displeased with your presence- the way it always had been- the course of the events would have been different. Many times I have caught sight of the ally in an unfriendly state towards you.
"But this time the omen was right, and I knew that the ally had a piece of knowledge for you. That was the reason why I said that you had an appointment with knowledge; an appointment with a moth that had been pending for a long time. For reasons inconceivable to us, the ally selected the form of a moth to manifest itself to you."
"But you said that the ally was formless and that one could only judge its effects," I said.
"That is right," he said. "But the ally is a moth for the onlookers who are associated with you; Genaro and myself. For you the ally is only an effect: a sensation in your body, or a sound, or the golden specks of knowledge. It remains as a fact, nonetheless, that by choosing the form of a moth the ally is telling Genaro and me something of great importance. Moths are the givers of knowledge, and the friends and helpers of sorcerers. It is because the ally chose to be a moth around you that Genaro places such a great emphasis on you.
"That night that you met the moth, as I had anticipated, was a true appointment with knowledge for you. You learned the moth's call, felt the gold dust of its wings, but above all, that night for the first time you were aware that you saw.
"And your body learned that we are luminous beings. You have not yet assessed correctly that monumental event in your life. Genaro demonstrated for you with tremendous force and clarity that we are a feeling, and that what we call our body is a cluster of luminous fibers that have awareness.
"Last night you were back again under the good auspices [* auspices- kindly endorsement and guidance] of the ally. I came to look at you as you arrived, and I knew that I had to call Genaro so he could explain to you the mystery of the dreamer and the dreamed. You believed then, just as you always have, that I was tricking you.
"But Genaro was not hiding in the bushes as you thought. He came over for you even if your reason refuses to believe it."
That part of don Juan's elucidation was indeed the hardest to take at its face value. I could not admit it. I said that don Genaro had been real and of this world.
"Everything that you've witnessed so far has been real and of this world," he said. "There is no other world. Your stumbling block is a peculiar insistence on your part, and that peculiarity of yours is not going to be cured by explanations.
"So today Genaro addressed himself directly to your body. A careful examination of what you did today will reveal to you that your body put things together in a most praiseworthy manner. Somehow you refrained from indulging in your visions at the irrigation ditch. You kept a rare control and aloofness as warriors should. You didn't believe anything, but you still acted efficiently and thus you were capable of following Genaro's call. You actually found him without any aid from me.
"When we arrived at the rock ledge, you were imbued with power and you saw Genaro standing where other sorcerers have stood for similar reasons. He walked over to you after jumping from the ledge. He himself was all power. Had you proceeded as you did earlier by the irrigation ditch, you would've seen him as he really is; a luminous being.
"Instead, you got frightened, especially when Genaro made you leap. That leap in itself should have been sufficient to transport you beyond your boundaries; but you didn't have the strength, and you fell back into the world of your reason. Then of course, you entered into mortal combat with yourself. Something in you- your will- wanted to go with Genaro, while your reason opposed him. Had I not helped you, you now would be lying dead and buried in that power place. But even with my help the outcome was dubious [* dubious- filled with with uncertainty or doubt] for a moment."
We were silent for a few minutes. I waited for him to speak. Finally I asked, "Did don Genaro make me leap up to the rock ledge?"
"Don't take that leap in the sense that you understand a leap," he said. "Once again this is only a way of speaking. As long as you think that you are a solid body, you cannot conceive what I am talking about."
He then spilled some ashes on the ground by the lantern covering an area about two feet square, and drew a diagram with his fingers; a diagram that had eight points interconnected with lines. It was a geometrical figure.
He had drawn a similar one years before when he tried to explain to me that it was not an illusion that I had observed the same leaf falling four times from the same tree.
The diagram in the ashes had two epicenters. One he called 'reason', and the other 'will'.
'Reason' was interconnected directly with a point he called 'talking'. Through 'talking', 'reason' was indirectly connected to three other points: 'feeling', 'dreaming' and 'seeing'. The other epicenter, 'will', was directly connected to 'feeling', 'dreaming' and 'seeing'; but only indirectly connected to 'reason' and 'talking'.
I remarked that the diagram was different from the one I had recorded years before.
"The outer form is of no importance," he said. "These points represent a human being, and can be drawn in any way you want."
"Do they represent the body of a human being?" I asked.
"Don't call it the body," he said. "These are eight points on the fibers of a luminous being.
"A sorcerer says, as you can see in the diagram, that a human being is first of all 'will'; because 'will' is directly connected to three points: 'feeling', 'dreaming' and 'seeing'.
"Then next, a human being is 'reason'. This is properly a center that is smaller than 'will'. It is connected only with 'talking'."
"What are the other two points, don Juan?"
He looked at me and smiled.
"You're a lot stronger now than you were the first time we talked about this diagram," he said. "But you're not yet strong enough to know all the eight points. Genaro will someday show you the other two."
"Does everybody have those eight points or only sorcerers?"
"We may say that every one of us brings to the world eight points. Two of them- 'reason' and 'talking'- are known by everyone. 'Feeling' is always vague but somehow familiar. But only in the world of sorcerers does one get fully acquainted with 'dreaming', 'seeing', and 'will'.
"And finally, at the outer edge of that world one encounters the other two. The eight points make the totality of oneself."
He showed me in the diagram that in essence all the points could be made to connect with one another indirectly.
I asked him again about the two mysterious remaining points. He showed me that they were connected only to 'will' and that they were removed from 'feeling', 'dreaming' and 'seeing'; and much more distant from 'talking' and 'reason'. He pointed with his finger to show that they were isolated from the rest and from each other.
"Those two points will never yield to 'talking' or to 'reason'," he said. "Only 'will' can handle them. 'Reason' is so removed from them that it is utterly useless to try figuring them out. This is one of the hardest things to realize. After all, the forte of 'reason' is to reason out everything."
I asked him if the eight points corresponded to areas or to certain organs in a human being.
"They do," he replied dryly and erased the diagram.
He touched my head and said that that was the center of 'reason' and 'talking'. The tip of my sternum [* sternum- the flat bone that articulates with the clavicles and the first seven pairs of ribs] was the center of 'feeling'. The area below the navel was 'will'. 'Dreaming' was on the right side against the ribs. 'Seeing' on the left. He said that sometimes in some warriors 'seeing' and 'dreaming' were on the right side.
"Where are the other two points?" I asked.
He gave me a most obscene answer and broke into a belly laugh.
"You're so sneaky," he said. "You think I'm a sleepy old goat, don't you?"
I explained to him that my questions created their own momentum.
"Don't try to hurry," he said. "You'll know in due time, and then you will be on your own by yourself."
"Do you mean that I won't see you any more, don Juan?"
"Not ever again," he said. "Genaro and I will be then what we always have been; dust on the road."
I had a jolt in the pit of my stomach.
"What are you saying, don Juan?"
"I'm saying that we all are unfathomable beings; luminous and boundless. You, Genaro, and I are stuck together by a purpose that is not our decision."
"What purpose are you talking about?"
"Learning the warrior's way. You can't get out of it, but neither can we. As long as our achievement is pending you will find me or Genaro. But once it is accomplished you will fly freely, and no one knows where the force of your life will take you."
"What is don Genaro doing in this?"
"That subject is not in your realm yet," he said. "Today I have to pound the nail that Genaro put in; the fact that we are luminous beings. We are perceivers. We are an awareness. We are not objects. We have no solidity. We are boundless.
"The world of objects and solidity is a way of making our passage on earth convenient. It is only a description that was created to help us. Each of us, or rather our reason, forgets that the description is only a description, and thus we entrap the totality of ourselves in a vicious circle from which we rarely emerge in our lifetime.
"At this moment for instance, you are involved in extricating yourself from the snarls of reason. It is preposterous and unthinkable for you that Genaro just appeared at the edge of the chaparral, and yet you cannot deny that you witnessed it. You perceived it as such."
Don Juan chuckled. He carefully drew another diagram in the ashes and covered it with his hat before I could copy it.
"We are perceivers," he proceeded. "The world that we perceive, though, is an illusion. It was created by a description that was told to us since the moment we were born.
"We the luminous beings are born with two rings of power, but we use only one to create the world. That ring which is hooked very soon after we are born is 'reason', and its companion is 'talking'. Between the two they concoct and maintain the world.
"So, in essence, the world that your 'reason' wants to sustain is the world created by a description, and its dogmatic and inviolable rules; a description which 'reason' learns to accept and defend.
"The secret of the luminous beings is that they have another ring of power which is never used; the 'will'. The trick of the sorcerer is the same trick of the average man. Both have a description.
"One- the average man- upholds it with his 'reason'. The other- the sorcerer- upholds it with his 'will'. Both descriptions have their rules, and the rules are perceivable. But the advantage of the sorcerer is that 'will' is more engulfing than 'reason'.
"The suggestion that I want to make at this point is that from now on you should let yourself perceive whether the description is upheld by your 'reason' or by your 'will'. I feel that is the only way for you to use your daily world as a challenge and a vehicle to accumulate enough personal power in order to get to the totality of yourself.
"Perhaps the next time that you come you'll have enough of it. At any rate, wait until you feel like you felt today at the irrigation ditch; that an inner voice is telling you to do so. If you come in any other spirit it'll be a waste of time and a danger to you."
I remarked that if I had to wait for that inner voice I would never see them again.
"You'd be surprised how well one can perform if one is against the wall," he said.
He stood up and picked up a bundle of firewood. He placed some dry sticks on the earth stove. The flames cast a yellowish glow on the ground. He then turned off the lantern, and squatted in front of his hat which was covering the drawing he had made in the ashes.
He commanded me to sit calmly, shut off my internal dialogue, and keep my eyes on his hat. I struggled for a few moments and then I felt a sensation of floating; of falling off a cliff. It was as if nothing were supporting me; as if I were not sitting or did not have a body.
Don Juan lifted his hat. Underneath there were spirals of ashes. I watched them without thinking. I felt the spirals moving. I felt them in my stomach. The ashes seemed to pile up. Then they were stirred and fluffed, and suddenly don Genaro was sitting in front of me.
The sight forced me instantly into my internal dialogue. I thought that I must have fallen asleep. I began to breathe in short gasps and tried to open my eyes, but my eyes were open.
I heard don Juan telling me to get up and move around. I jumped up and ran to the ramada. Don Juan and don Genaro ran after me. Don Juan brought his lantern. I could not catch my breath. I tried to calm myself as I had done before by jogging in place while I faced the west. I lifted my arms and began breathing. Don Juan came to my side and said that those movements were done only in the twilight.
Don Genaro yelled that it was twilight for me and both of them began to laugh. Don Genaro ran to the edge of the bushes, and then bounced back to the ramada as if he had been attached to a giant rubber band that made him snap back. He repeated the same movement three or four times, and then came to my side. Don Juan had been looking at me fixedly; giggling like a child.
They exchanged a furtive glance. Don Juan said to don Genaro in a loud voice that my reason was dangerous, and that it could kill me if it was not placated.
"For heaven's sake!" don Genaro exclaimed in a roaring voice. "Placate his reason!"
They jumped up and down, and laughed like two children.
Don Juan made me sit down underneath the lantern, and handed me my notebook.
"Tonight we're really pulling your leg," he said in a conciliatory tone. "Don't be afraid. Genaro was hiding under my hat."