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Abelar Taisha
Magical transition (Way of the warrior woman)
Before you is a new, completely “Castaneda” book - “The Magical Transition” by Taisha Abelar, a female stalker from the party of the nagual Carlos Castaneda. This is not only another fascinating journey into the world of don Juan’s magic in relation to the training of a female warrior, but also a most valuable practical guide. The so-called “Magical techniques” exercises are described here in detail, with the help of which you can achieve the discovery of energy resources, health, youth and, in addition Moreover, understanding many amazing things hidden from us in everyday life. In addition to this book, “Sofia” is preparing for publication two books by another female magician from the squad of Carlos Castaneda, already known to you from “The Witch’s Dream” by Florinda Donner. This is "Shabono", - according to the chronology of events, which is a continuation of "Dream" and "Life in a Dream", - a book about the training of the dreaming Florinda from the same magical family that is described by the stalker Taisha Abelar.
Foreword by Carlos Castaneda Introduction Chapter 1. An unexpected acquaintance
Alone in the desert of southern Arizona - Conversation with the mysterious
stranger – Clara invites me to visit – I tell Clara
about myself – Anxiety, resentment and new hope
Chapter 2. The Path to Mexico
Lunch in Guaymas – A man sits down with us and Clara
drives him away - Clara talks about Mexico and the Yaqui Indians
House in the middle of nowhere - Clara shows me the room where I will live
Find out who lives in this house - In the yard
Chapter 3. The Invisible House
Walking around the neighborhood at dusk - Trying to make out the house with
hill – In the kitchen – A dog that should not be called a toad
Completion of the Manfred experiment - Everything in my room
unusual and mysterious
Chapter 4. The road to the cave
Meeting Clara in the kitchen on the second day - View from the hill during the day
A grueling hike to the cave Clara gives me acupressure and
teaches you to give up your fatigue to water - I find out what I will study
abstract flight – Clara talks about the position of man in
the world and art of being free Breathing exercises of the ancients
– What is recollection?
Chapter 5. The Secret Teaching of Energies
Clara continues to talk about remembering - The role of men and
feminine energy – What binds a man to a woman – A way out
energy slavery – Teachers’ mistakes – Clara and I
we conclude an agreement
Chapter 6. The art of being empty
I'm starting to remember - I'm trying to solve the mystery of the house.
– Clara says I have to change – How to communicate with
intention Ability to pass through the dragon's eye – Clara
talks about true impartiality
Chapter 7. Shadow Movement
Clara talks about correct breathing – Clara's shadow moves
regardless of her body – Remembering helps make room
in the warehouse – Exercises for energy recharging – Conversation
about what Clara teaches me
The Mysterious Absence of Clara – Walking into a Cave in the Dark – Clara
explains why I didn't trip in the dark - Exercise for
opening the inner ear – The spirit speaks to me – Exercises
for shifting awareness – Harmony and non-doing
Chapter 9. Gift of the Great Magician
I find magic crystals in a cave, I remember how it used to be
I saw a great magician - Clara tells why we need
crystals – I talk about my failures – Clara explains why
recollection is different from psychoanalysis – What does it mean to open in
seer yourself – Crystals – ancient magical weapons – Energy
in dreams and in reality, awareness of time and going beyond the world
Chapter 10. Magic techniques
The difference between a magical technique and a regular exercise - Clara teaches,
reception Energy of the earth and sun – Exercises for saturation
energy of the sun – Clara shows her double – Like promises
deprive us of freedom - Clara talks about herself
Chapter 11. The World of Shadows
What we do expresses our internal state
The True Meaning of Kung Fu – The Mistake of the Ancient Magicians – Lesson
correct placement of stones - Clara suggests to me
visit the world of shadows - Two indispensable magic tricks
Otherworldliness – Dance beyond the world – “In other worlds there is no
there are shadows!"
Chapter 12. The Nagual
I meet a great magician near a cave - Talk about remembering,
double and ethereal network - I run into the house and find the magician there
Continuation of the conversation - Clara and the nagual are making fun of me
Clara talks about the nagual - the nagual teaches how to recreate in
ethereal connection in the imagination - I’m falling somewhere
Chapter 13. Manfred's Secret
Clara talks about what happened to me - Clara
remembers the nagual Julian - Who's Who in the Magic Group
– Everyone in this house is a magician, even the dog – It awakens in me
self-pity Clara suggests using magic
crystals – “Manfred is an ancient magician!”
Chapter 14. Lesson from the Nagual
Life with Clara and Manfred - I wake up in the courtyard and see the nagual
– The Nagual talks about the double and the energy gates – We
already met in the past - the Nagual explains what happened
five years ago – How I was noted then – Why did I get to
Chapter 15. New teacher
Clara prepares me for the arrival of her guest – How I spied – Story
Clara about her relatives – Farewell to Clara – Nelida’s arrival
– Nelida explains my strangeness – Clara and Manfred left
forever
Chapter 16. Lesson from Nelida
Nelida teaches you to relax and calm down. The energy of her body is Two.
magical techniques for awareness of a double – Attracting attention
double using words – Scream at the entrance to the left wing of the house – I
already met Nelida - Failed meeting with the residents of the left
half
Chapter 17
Waking up in the air – Alone in an empty house – Looking through books
and fall asleep in the living room Meeting with the “caretaker” – Emilito believes
I'm crazy – I'm walking through the central part of the house for the first time
– Night in a tree house
Chapter 18. A sip of intention
I remember an episode from my childhood and fall asleep - The caretaker's buffoonery
Emilito's new role - The story of Manfred's appearance in the house
The caretaker teaches the double to go beyond the body - Explanation
what happened and the conversation before the storm
Chapter 19. Emilito reveals secrets
Why was I so afraid of thunderstorms - Emilito mocks how
The nagual found me - Nelida had been watching me for a long time
Explanation of my failure to perform magic
transition under the leadership of Nelida
Chapter 20. Lesson from Emilito
The role of the caretaker in my training - Magical traditions - Nelida
– fairy of my childhood dreams – Energy Gate – My double
merges with the tree – Emilito talks about the double – Decides
postpone some experiment with my participation
Chapter 21. Abstract flight
Everyday life of a tree dweller – Remembering activities under
by Emilito’s guidance – I’m changing my attitude towards the caretaker
Tree Climbing Techniques – What I Learned from Green Friends
– Furnishings in the caretaker’s room Looking into infinity
Emilito's explanations – Magical transition – Window into the invisible
peace – I see those who are waiting for me – New Nagual*
*Carlos Castaneda, (editor's note)
FOREWORD BY CARLOS CASTANEDA
Taisha Abelar is one of three women who completed a serious training in magic in Mexico with Don Juan Matus.
I described in detail my training under his leadership, but in my books I never mentioned* this special group to which Taisha Abelar belongs. The fact is that among don Juan's wards there was an unwritten agreement not to mention them.
The preface was written before the publication of the ninth book
Carlos Castaneda "The Art of Dreaming"
(K.K. volume V, p. 13, publishing house "Sofia", Kyiv, 1993)
(Editor's note).
For twenty years we have adhered to this agreement. And despite the fact that we lived and worked in close proximity to each other, we never discussed our experiences together. In fact, we never even had the opportunity to exchange opinions about what exactly don Juan and the sorcerers of his squad were doing to us.
This state of affairs was not due to the presence of don Juan. After he and his group left the world, we continued to live in isolation from each other because we did not want to expend energy on revising existing agreements. All the time and energy we had was used by us to improve in what don Juan taught us so diligently.
Don Juan taught us magic as a practice that gave each of us the ability to see energy directly. He argued that in order to see energy in this way, we must first free ourselves from the limitations of ordinary perception. This liberation and learning to see became our first priority.
Sorcerers believe that the qualities of our ordinary perception were forced upon us during the process of education, although not without our participation. One of the integral aspects of ordinary perception is the system of interpretation of sensations, which transforms what we observe through the senses into meaningful units, considered in accordance with the social value system.
Ordinary life in society requires from people a blind and unconditional adherence to normal perception, which excludes the possibility of directly seeing energy. But don Juan argued, in particular, that if one wishes, it is quite possible to learn to see people as energy fields resembling large elongated bubbles ovoid, glowing with a dim white light.
In order to reach a higher level of perception, we need internal energy. Therefore, accumulating the required amount is a key task for those who practice magic.
The current circumstances in the world are favorable for Taisha Abelar to describe her learning process, which was in many ways similar to mine, but at the same time significantly different from it. It took her a long time to write the book because she had to first acquire magical creative tools. Don Juan Matus himself gave me the task of writing about his magic. He gave me instructions on how to do this, saying: “Write like a magician, not like a writer.” This meant that I had to write in a state of more subtle perception, which sorcerers call dreaming. It took Taisha Abelar years to master dreaming to the degree necessary to turn it into a magical creative tool.
In the world of don Juan, magicians, depending on their temperament, were divided into two main categories: dreamers and stalkers. TO
dreamers are those magicians who are endowed with the ability to reach a higher level of perception by controlling the flow of their dreams. They improve this ability through focused practice, turning it into the art of dreaming. On the other hand, stalkers are those magicians who have the innate ability to coordinate their lives with external circumstances and can reach high levels of perception, improving in managing their behavior. Magical practice transforms this natural ability into the art of stalking.
Although all of don Juan's followers are proficient in both of these arts, each magician falls into one category. Taisha Abelar belongs to the stalkers and studied under their guidance. This book tells a fascinating story about her studies in the art of stalking.
INTRODUCTION
I have dedicated my life to the single-minded pursuit of a discipline that, for lack of a better name, we call magic. But I am also an anthropologist and received a PhD in this field. I mentioned these two areas of my activity in this order because my passion for magic came first. Usually a person becomes an anthropologist and then studies some aspects of human culture - in particular, magical cults. But the opposite happened to me: while doing magic, I began to study anthropology.
In the late 1960s, while living in Tucson, Arizona, I met a Mexican woman named Clara Grau, who invited me to stay at her home in the Mexican state of Sonora. Having received me there, she did everything in her power to initiate me into the secrets of her world, because in reality she was a magician - one of sixteen people who formed an integral magical group. Some of them were Yaqui Indians, others were Mexicans of different origins and upbringing, age and gender. The majority were women. All of them persistently pursued one goal: they sought to overcome social prejudices and associated stereotypes of perception that prevent us from going beyond the ordinary everyday world and penetrating into other possible worlds.
For magicians, overcoming these perceptions means being able to cross the line and enter the unimaginable. They call this incredible leap the “magic transition.” Sometimes they say that this is that “flight into the abstract” that takes us from the material, physical world into the sphere of expanded perception and impersonal transcendental entities.
These magicians, on their own initiative, undertook to help me comprehend flight into the abstract so that I could subsequently join them in their activities.
Academic studies became an integral part of my preparation for the magical transition. The leader of the group of sorcerers to which I belong, or the nagual as we call him, is a person who takes a keen interest in formal scientific knowledge. As a result, all his students had to master abstract thinking, which is taught today only in universities.
I also felt the need to get a higher education because I am a woman. After all, women from early childhood are brought up in the spirit of dependence on the initiative of men, who in our society are assigned the role of thinkers and reformers. The magicians I studied with were quite categorical in their opinions on this matter. They believed that a woman must develop her intellect and master the skills of rational analysis in order to feel more confident in the modern world.
Moreover, the development of intelligence is an ingenious magical
trick. By consciously occupying the mind with reflection and analysis, magicians are able to freely explore other spheres of perception. In other words, while the rational side is engaged in formal academic studies, the energetic or irrational side, which magicians call the "double", devotes itself to performing magical actions. At the same time, the distrustful rational mind does not often interfere with processes occurring at the irrational level, and often simply does not notice them.
Therefore, my studies in science went hand in hand with the expansion of consciousness and the acquisition of extraordinary qualities of perception: these two aspects of activity develop our entire being. Having a simultaneous impact on me, these two aspects of my life transported me from the taken-for-granted world in which I was born and raised as a woman into a new area of \u200b\u200bperception for me, where many of the restrictions inherent in the ordinary world are absent.
This is not to say that mere adherence to the magical world would have been enough to overcome all the obstacles that arose in my path. The fact is that the influence of the ordinary world is so strong and persistent that, despite diligence and diligence, practitioners of magic again and again find themselves in situations where they are overcome by the most common fear, where they behave unreasonably and become attached to things as if we learned nothing at all. My teachers warned me that I was no exception in this sense, and that only continuous, persistent efforts aimed at achieving perfection could overcome our natural, but very unconstructive desire to not change anything.
After carefully considering what I have already achieved and what remains to be accomplished, after consulting with my magician friends, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to describe the entire process of my studies so that everyone who seeks to comprehend the unknown could learn about the importance of developing skills of perception that are more subtle than our usual one. These higher levels of perception must become an integral part of a new, sober and pragmatic way of life. But they should not under any circumstances be considered as an extension of our ordinary view of the world.
The events that I describe in the book represent the first steps in the magical practice of a stalker. This stage of training involves the eradication of stereotypes of thinking, behavior and emotional response through traditional magical means, one of which is “remembering” a method of revising one’s life experience, through which all neophytes pass. In addition to the recollection practice, I was also taught a series of exercises called "magic techniques" which are a combination of certain movements and breathing. Finally, in order to make the meaning of these exercises clear, relevant philosophical ideas and explanations were brought to my attention.
The goal of everything I studied was to learn how to accumulate and redistribute energy, which can then be used to perform the most unpredictable manipulations of perception necessary to perform magical actions. At the heart of all the studies was the idea that as soon as obsessive habits, preconceptions, expectations and sensations disappear, a person immediately has the opportunity to accumulate sufficient energy to live, guided by the ideas that exist in the magical tradition - and to be convinced of their correctness by directly comprehending reality on a deeper level.
I chose a secluded place, away from the highway and people. Early in the morning I wanted to sketch shadows on the slopes of the amazing volcanic mountain range that borders the Gran Desierto desert in southern Arizona. The dark brown, sharp-angled rocks sparkled as the first rays of the sun splashed onto their peaks. Huge blocks of porous rocks were scattered around me - solidified lava, reminiscent of the fact that in the distant past there had been a gigantic volcanic eruption here. I made myself comfortable on a large rock and, forgetting about everything in the world, plunged into my work, as often happened in this wild but beautiful place. I had just finished drawing the peaks and valleys of a distant mountain range when I noticed a woman watching me. I felt extremely unpleasant that someone had again invaded my solitude. I tried my best to ignore her, but when she came closer to look at my drawing, I turned to face her angrily.
With her wide cheekbones and black hair falling over her shoulders, she could be mistaken for a Euro-Asian. Her strong, beautifully built body made it impossible to judge her age. He could be anyone from thirty to fifty. She was probably about two inches taller than me—which meant she was five feet nine inches tall—but she seemed twice my size. And at the same time, in her oriental-cut jacket and black silk trousers, she looked very elegant.
I noticed her eyes. They were green and sparkling. It was this friendly sparkle that instantly extinguished all my anger, and I heard myself asking her an absurd question:
– Do you live somewhere nearby?
“No,” she said, taking a few steps in my direction. – I’m heading towards the checkpoint on the US border in the town of Sonoita. I stopped here to stretch my legs, and then I walked into this deserted place. Seeing that there was already someone in this wilderness, I was so surprised that I could not resist being curious. Let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Grau.
She extended her hand to me and I shook it, and then, without any hesitation, I told her that right after I was born, I was given the name Taisha, but later my parents decided that this name was not very suitable for America, and began to call me Martha, same as my mother's name. I didn’t like this name and decided that it would be better if my name was Mary.
- How interesting! – she was amazed. – You have three names, and they are all different. I will call you Taisha, because that is your first name.
I was pleased that she chose this name. It was the closest to me. Although I agreed with my parents that it sounded too unusual, I disliked the name Martha so much that I secretly entertained the idea of reclaiming the name Taisha.
In a harsh tone, which she nevertheless softened with a gentle smile, she uttered a series of statements that were clearly hidden questions.
“You're not an Arizona native,” she began.
I answered her directly, which was very unusual for me due to my habit of not trusting people, especially strangers.
– I came to Arizona a year ago to work.
-You are no more than twenty years old.
“I’ll be twenty-one in a couple of months.”
-You have a barely noticeable accent. Apparently you are not American, but I can't pinpoint your nationality.
“I’m American, but I spent my childhood in Germany,” I said. – My father is American, and my mother is Hungarian. I left my parents' house when I went to college and never returned because I didn't want anything to do with my family.
– I assume you didn’t get along with them?
- No. I felt disgusting at home. I still couldn’t wait to get out of there.
She smiled and nodded understandingly, as if she herself was well acquainted with the desire to run away from home.
- Are you married? – the woman asked.
- No. “I have no one in the whole world,” I answered, feeling sorry for myself, as I always did when I had to talk about myself.
She did not react to my words in any way, but began to calmly and business-likely talk about herself, as if she was trying to win my trust and at the same time tell me as much information as possible in each phrase.
As she spoke, I put the pencils in my bag and did not take my eyes off the stranger, because I did not want to give the impression that I was not listening to her attentively.
“I was an only child in the family, and my parents are no longer alive,” she said. – My father comes from a Mexican family from the city of Oaxaca. But my mother is an American of German descent. Her relatives still live in the eastern states, in Phoenix. I'm just returning from the wedding of one of my friends. cousins.
– Do you live in Phoenix too? – I asked.
“I spent half my life in Arizona and the other half in Mexico,” she answered. – Now I live in the Mexican state of Sonora.
I started zipping up my briefcase. The meeting and conversation with this woman unsettled me somewhat, and I realized that that day I would no longer be able to draw anything.
“I also traveled around the East,” she said, again attracting my attention. “There I studied martial arts, acupuncture and local medicine. For several years I even lived in a Buddhist temple.
- Seriously? “I looked into her eyes in surprise. You could really tell from them that she had been meditating for a long time. There was a sense of strength in them, but their gaze was calm.
“I’m very interested in the East,” I said, “especially Japan.” I also read about Buddhism and studied martial arts.
- Seriously? “She asked me the same question in surprise. “I would love to tell you my Buddhist name, but secret names can only be spoken under certain circumstances.”
“I told you my secret name,” I reproached, fastening the straps of my briefcase.
“Yes, Taisha, it is, and it means a lot to me,” she answered in a genuinely serious tone. Still, now is not the time for this.
– Did you come here by car? – I asked, looking around for her car.
“And I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I left my car a quarter of a mile south of here, on a dirt road. And you?
– Did you come in a white Chevrolet? – she asked cheerfully.
“Well, in that case, my car is parked next to yours,” she replied, giggling as if it was very funny. I was surprised when I noticed that she had such an unpleasant laugh.
“I was about to leave,” I said. – It was very nice to meet you. Goodbye!
I headed towards my car, expecting the woman to stay a little longer to admire the scenery.
“Let’s not say goodbye just yet,” she protested. - I am going with you.
We went together. Next to my hundred and ten pounds she looked like a big boulder. It was not the body that was dense and strong. Looking at her, one could tell that she tended to be overweight, but she was not obese.
“Can I ask you an indiscreet question, Mrs. Grau?” – I said in order to break the awkward silence.
She stopped and turned to face me.
– I’m not someone’s missus! – she said sharply. - I am Clara Grau. You can call me Clara and address me as “you”, and you can also ask me whatever you want without warning.
“I see you don’t have a very flattering opinion about love and marriage,” I noted, noticing her tone.
For a moment she looked at me with a withering gaze, but after a moment she softened.
“I have an unflattering opinion of slavery,” she replied. However, I don't just mean women. So what were you going to ask?
Her behavior was so unexpected for me that I forgot what was on my mind when I addressed her after a pause. I stared at her confusedly.
– Why did you decide to drive so far from the highway? I asked hastily.
“I turned here because this is a place of power,” she answered, pointing to large piles of lava in the distance. “Once upon a time these mountains appeared on the surface of the earth the way blood appears on a body. When driving through Arizona, I always make a detour to stop here. This place radiates a special earthly energy. Now let me ask you the same thing, why did you choose this particular place to paint?
– I come here often. This is one of my favorite places.
I didn't think my words would seem funny to her, but she burst into laughter.
- That says it all! – she exclaimed, and then continued in a calmer voice:
“I’m going to ask you to do something that may seem strange and even stupid to you, but listen to me first. I want to invite you to my house to stay for a few days.
I was about to raise my hand to thank her and refuse, but she asked me not to rush. She assured me that our common interest in the East and martial arts could serve as the basis for a serious exchange of views.
- Where exactly do you live? – I asked.
– Not far from the town of Navojoa.
“But it’s more than four hundred miles from here.”
- Yes, it's quite far. But it's so quiet and Beautiful places I have no doubt that you will be satisfied.
She was silent for a while, as if waiting for my answer.
“Besides, it seems to me that right now you are not busy with anything,” she continued, “and you yourself don’t know what you will do next.” You know, maybe I'm offering you exactly what you've been looking for for a long time.
She was right in that I really had no idea what to do next. I recently quit my job as a secretary to take up painting. However, I did not have the slightest desire to go visit anyone.
I looked around in search of something that could tell me what to do right. I could never explain where I got the idea that a person can draw help and advice from his environment. But I almost always managed to get a clue this way. I had a method that seemed to be born with me and with the help of which I could find out the answers to the questions that interested me. To do this, I usually let my thoughts float away, focusing my gaze on the horizon line to the south, although I had no idea why I chose the south. After several minutes of silence, as a rule, insights came to me that helped me understand what to do or how to act in a given situation.
Walking along the path with Clara, I fixed my gaze on the horizon in a southern direction and suddenly saw life stretching out before me like this barren desert. I could honestly say that I had never noticed before how lonely and abandoned this land was, although I had been to the Sonoran Desert more than once before, which occupies the entire south of Arizona, part of California and half of the Mexican state of Sonora.
It only took a moment for the sight of the barren and deserted desert to translate into concrete thoughts. I broke up with my family, but haven't started my own yet. I didn't even have any plans for the future. I haven't worked anywhere. I lived on the meager savings I inherited from the aunt after whom I took my name, but they were already running out. I was completely alone in this world. The vast space, stretching in all directions, was cruel and indifferent. The sight of him made me feel a surge of self-pity. I felt that I needed a friend who could end my loneliness.
I knew it would be very foolish of me to accept Clara's invitation and to find myself in a situation that I could hardly control, but there was something about her directness and energy that aroused my curiosity and made me respect her. I noticed that I admired her beauty and strength, and maybe even envied her. I thought that this was the most amazing and bright woman I had ever known, independent, self-confident, calm and at the same time uncomplicated and not without a sense of humor. She was endowed with exactly those qualities that I myself would most like to have. But, above all else, her presence seemed to put an end to the aimlessness of my life. The space around her became saturated with energy, full of hope and possibility.
However, I had an unshakable rule not to accept invitations to stay, which in this case It was also reinforced by the fact that I met Clara in the desert by accident. I thought that agreeing to stay with her would mean that I would have to invite her to my place later, and I was completely unprepared for this, because I lived in a small apartment in Tucson. For some time I could not make a decision, not knowing which way to turn.
“Please agree,” Clara insisted. You'll be doing me a big favor.
Before you is a new, completely “Castaneda” book - “The Magical Transition” by Taisha Abelar, a female stalker from the party of the nagual Carlos Castaneda. This is not only another fascinating journey into the world of don Juan’s magic in relation to the training of a female warrior, but also a most valuable practical guide. The so-called “Magical techniques” are described here in detail - exercises with which you can achieve the discovery of energy resources, health, youth and, in addition, understanding many amazing things hidden from us in everyday life.
Magical transition. The path of a warrior woman
Foreword by Carlos Castaneda
Taisha Abelar is one of three women who completed a serious training in magic in Mexico with Don Juan Matus.
I described in detail my training under his leadership, but in my books I never mentioned this special group to which Taisha Abelar belongs. The fact is that among don Juan's wards there was an unwritten agreement not to mention them.
For twenty years we have adhered to this agreement. And despite the fact that we lived and worked in close proximity to each other, we never discussed our experiences together. In fact, we never even had the opportunity to exchange opinions about what exactly don Juan and the sorcerers of his squad were doing to us.
This state of affairs was not due to the presence of don Juan. After he and his group left the world, we continued to live in isolation from each other because we did not want to expend energy on revising existing agreements. All the time and energy we had was used by us to improve in what don Juan taught us so diligently.
Don Juan taught us magic as a practice that gave each of us the ability to see energy directly. He argued that in order to see energy in this way, we must first free ourselves from the limitations of ordinary perception. This liberation and learning to see became our first priority.
Sorcerers believe that the qualities of our ordinary perception were forced upon us during the process of education, although not without our participation. One of the integral aspects of ordinary perception is the system of interpretation of sensations, which transforms what we observe through the senses into meaningful units, considered in accordance with the social value system.
Ordinary life in society requires from people a blind and unconditional adherence to normal perception, which excludes the possibility of directly seeing energy. But don Juan argued, in particular, that if desired, it is quite possible to learn to see people as energy fields, reminiscent of large elongated egg-shaped bubbles, glowing with a dim white light.
In order to reach a higher level of perception, we need internal energy. Therefore, accumulating the required amount is a key task for those who practice magic.
The current circumstances in the world are favorable for Taisha Abelar to describe her learning process, which was in many ways similar to mine, but at the same time significantly different from it. It took her a long time to write the book because she had to first acquire magical creative tools. Don Juan Matus himself gave me the task of writing about his magic. He gave me instructions on how to do this, saying: “Write like a magician, not like a writer.” This meant that I had to write in a state of more subtle perception, which sorcerers call dreaming. It took Taisha Abelar years to master dreaming to the degree necessary to turn it into a magical creative tool.
In the world of don Juan, magicians, depending on their temperament, were divided into two main categories: dreamers and stalkers. Dreamers include those magicians who are endowed with the ability to reach a higher level of perception by controlling the flow of their dreams. They improve this ability through focused practice, turning it into the art of dreaming. On the other hand, stalkers are those magicians who have an innate ability to coordinate their lives with external circumstances and can reach high levels of perception, improving in controlling their behavior. Magical practice transforms this natural ability into the art of stalking.
Although all of don Juan's followers are proficient in both of these arts, each magician falls into one category. Taisha Abelar belongs to the stalkers and studied under their guidance. This book tells a fascinating story about her studies in the art of stalking.
Introduction
I have dedicated my life to the single-minded pursuit of a discipline that, for lack of a better name, we call magic. But I am also an anthropologist and received a PhD in this field. I mentioned these two areas of my activity in this order because my passion for magic came first. Usually a person becomes an anthropologist and then studies some aspects of human culture - in particular, magical cults. But the opposite happened to me: while doing magic, I began to study anthropology.
In the late 1960s, while living in Tucson, Arizona, I met a Mexican woman named Clara Grau, who invited me to stay at her home in the Mexican state of Sonora. Having received me there, she did everything in her power to initiate me into the secrets of her world, because in reality she was a magician - one of sixteen people who formed an integral magical group. Some of them were Yaqui Indians, others were Mexicans of various origins and upbringings, ages and genders. The majority were women. All of them persistently pursued one goal: they sought to overcome social prejudices and associated stereotypes of perception that prevent us from going beyond the ordinary everyday world and penetrating into other possible worlds.
For magicians, overcoming these perceptions means being able to cross the line and enter the unimaginable. They call this incredible leap the “magic transition.” Sometimes they say that this is the “flight into the abstract” that takes us from the material, physical world into the sphere of expanded perception and impersonal transcendental entities.
These magicians, on their own initiative, undertook to help me comprehend flight into the abstract so that I could subsequently join them in their activities.
Academic studies became an integral part of my preparation for the magical transition. The leader of the group of sorcerers to which I belong, or the nagual as we call him, is a person who takes a keen interest in formal scientific knowledge. As a result, all his students had to master abstract thinking, which is taught today only in universities.
I also felt the need to get a higher education because I am a woman. After all, women from early childhood are brought up in the spirit of dependence on the initiative of men, who in our society are assigned the role of thinkers and reformers. The magicians I studied with were quite categorical in their opinions on this matter. They believed that a woman must develop her intellect and master the skills of rational analysis in order to feel more confident in the modern world.
Moreover, the development of intelligence is a clever magic trick. By consciously occupying the mind with reflection and analysis, magicians are able to freely explore other spheres of perception. In other words, while the rational side is engaged in formal academic studies, the energetic or irrational side, which magicians call the “double,” devotes itself to performing magical actions. At the same time, the distrustful rational mind does not often interfere with processes occurring at the irrational level, and often simply does not notice them.
Therefore, my studies in science went hand in hand with the expansion of consciousness and the acquisition of extraordinary qualities of perception: these two aspects of activity develop our entire being. Having a simultaneous impact on me, these two aspects of my life transported me from the taken-for-granted world in which I was born and raised as a woman into a new area of \u200b\u200bperception for me, where many of the restrictions inherent in the ordinary world are absent.
This is not to say that mere adherence to the magical world would have been enough to overcome all the obstacles that arose in my path. The fact is that the influence of the ordinary world is so strong and persistent that, despite diligence and diligence, practitioners of magic again and again find themselves in situations where they are overcome by the most common fear, where they behave unreasonably and become attached to things as if we learned nothing at all. My teachers warned me that I was no exception in this sense, and that only continuous, persistent efforts aimed at achieving perfection could overcome our natural, but very unconstructive desire to not change anything.
After carefully considering what I have already achieved and what remains to be accomplished, after consulting with my magician friends, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to describe the entire process of my studies so that everyone who seeks to comprehend the unknown could learn about the importance of developing skills of perception that are more subtle than our usual one. These higher levels of perception must become an integral part of a new, sober and pragmatic way of life. But they should not under any circumstances be considered as an extension of our ordinary view of the world.
The events that I describe in the book represent the first steps in the magical practice of a stalker. This stage of training involves the eradication of stereotypes of thinking, behavior and emotional response through traditional magical means, one of which is “remembering” - a method of reviewing one’s life experiences that all neophytes go through. In addition to the recollection practice, I was also taught a series of exercises called "magic techniques" which are a combination of certain movements and breathing. Finally, in order to make the meaning of these exercises clear, relevant philosophical ideas and explanations were brought to my attention.
The goal of everything I studied was to learn how to accumulate and redistribute energy, which can then be used to perform the most unpredictable manipulations of perception necessary to perform magical actions. At the heart of all the studies was the idea that as soon as obsessive habits, preconceptions, expectations and sensations disappear, a person immediately has the opportunity to accumulate sufficient energy to live, guided by the ideas that exist in the magical tradition - and to be convinced of their correctness by directly comprehending reality on a deeper level.
Chapter 1
I chose a secluded place, away from the highway and people. Early in the morning I wanted to sketch shadows on the slopes of the amazing mountain range of volcanic origin that borders the Gran Desierto desert in southern Arizona. The dark brown, sharp-angled rocks sparkled as the first rays of the sun splashed onto their peaks. Huge blocks of porous rocks were scattered around me - solidified lava, reminiscent of the fact that in the distant past there had been a gigantic volcanic eruption here. I made myself comfortable on a large rock and, forgetting about everything in the world, plunged into my work, as often happened in this wild but beautiful place. I had just finished drawing the peaks and valleys of a distant mountain range when I noticed a woman watching me. I felt extremely unpleasant that someone had again invaded my solitude. I tried my best to ignore her, but when she came closer to look at my drawing, I turned to face her angrily.
With her wide cheekbones and black hair falling over her shoulders, she could be mistaken for a Euro-Asian. Her strong, beautifully built body made it impossible to judge her age. He could be anyone from thirty to fifty. She was probably about two inches taller than me—which meant she was five feet nine inches tall—but she seemed twice my size. And at the same time, in her oriental-cut jacket and black silk trousers, she looked very elegant.
I noticed her eyes. They were green and sparkling. It was this friendly sparkle that instantly extinguished all my anger, and I heard myself asking her an absurd question:
– Do you live somewhere nearby?
“No,” she said, taking a few steps in my direction. – I’m heading towards the checkpoint on the US border in the town of Sonoita. I stopped here to stretch my legs, and then I walked into this deserted place. Seeing that there was already someone in this wilderness, I was so surprised that I could not resist being curious. Let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Grau.
She extended her hand to me and I shook it, and then, without any hesitation, I told her that right after I was born, I was given the name Taisha, but later my parents decided that this name was not very suitable for America, and began to call me Martha, same as my mother's name. I didn’t like this name and decided that it would be better if my name was Mary.
- How interesting! – she was amazed. – You have three names, and they are all different. I will call you Taisha, because that is your first name.
I was pleased that she chose this name. It was the closest to me. Although I agreed with my parents that it sounded too unusual, I disliked the name Martha so much that I secretly entertained the idea of reclaiming the name Taisha.
In a harsh tone, which she nevertheless softened with a gentle smile, she uttered a series of statements that were clearly hidden questions.
“You're not an Arizona native,” she began.
I answered her directly, which was very unusual for me due to my habit of not trusting people, especially strangers.
– I came to Arizona a year ago to work.
-You are no more than twenty years old.
“I’ll be twenty-one in a couple of months.”
-You have a barely noticeable accent. Apparently you are not American, but I can't pinpoint your nationality.
“I’m American, but I spent my childhood in Germany,” I said. – My father is American, and my mother is Hungarian. I left my parents' house when I went to college and never returned because I didn't want anything to do with my family.
– I assume you didn’t get along with them?
- No. I felt disgusting at home. I still couldn’t wait to get out of there.
She smiled and nodded understandingly, as if she herself was well acquainted with the desire to run away from home.
- Are you married? – the woman asked.
- No. “I have no one in the whole world,” I answered, feeling sorry for myself, as I always did when I had to talk about myself.
She did not react to my words in any way, but began to calmly and business-likely talk about herself, as if she was trying to win my trust and at the same time tell me as much information as possible in each phrase.
As she spoke, I put the pencils in my bag and did not take my eyes off the stranger, because I did not want to give the impression that I was not listening to her attentively.
“I was an only child in the family, and my parents are no longer alive,” she said. – My father comes from a Mexican family from the city of Oaxaca. But my mother is an American of German descent. Her relatives still live in the eastern states, in Phoenix. I'm just returning from the wedding of one of my cousins.
– Do you live in Phoenix too? – I asked.
“I spent half my life in Arizona and the other half in Mexico,” she answered. – Now I live in the Mexican state of Sonora.
I started zipping up my briefcase. The meeting and conversation with this woman unsettled me somewhat, and I realized that that day I would no longer be able to draw anything.
“I also traveled around the East,” she said, again attracting my attention. “There I studied martial arts, acupuncture and local medicine. For several years I even lived in a Buddhist temple.
- Seriously? “I looked into her eyes in surprise. You could really tell from them that she had been meditating for a long time. There was a sense of strength in them, but their gaze was calm.
“I’m very interested in the East,” I said, “especially Japan.” I also read about Buddhism and studied martial arts.
- Seriously? “She asked me the same question in surprise. “I would love to tell you my Buddhist name, but secret names can only be spoken under certain circumstances.”
“I told you my secret name,” I reproached, fastening the straps of my briefcase.
“Yes, Taisha, it is, and it means a lot to me,” she answered in a genuinely serious tone. Still, now is not the time for this.
– Did you come here by car? – I asked, looking around for her car.
“And I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I left my car a quarter of a mile south of here, on a dirt road. And you?
– Did you come in a white Chevrolet? – she asked cheerfully.
“Well, in that case, my car is parked next to yours,” she replied, giggling as if it was very funny. I was surprised when I noticed that she had such an unpleasant laugh.
“I was about to leave,” I said. – It was very nice to meet you. Goodbye!
I headed towards my car, expecting the woman to stay a little longer to admire the scenery.
“Let’s not say goodbye just yet,” she protested. - I am going with you.
We went together. Next to my hundred and ten pounds she looked like a big boulder. It was not the body that was dense and strong. Looking at her, one could tell that she tended to be overweight, but she was not obese.
“Can I ask you an indiscreet question, Mrs. Grau?” – I said in order to break the awkward silence.
She stopped and turned to face me.
– I’m not someone’s missus! – she said sharply. - I am Clara Grau. You can call me Clara and address me as “you,” and you can also ask me whatever you want without warning.
“I see you don’t have a very flattering opinion about love and marriage,” I noted, noticing her tone.
For a moment she looked at me with a withering gaze, but after a moment she softened.
“I have an unflattering opinion of slavery,” she replied. However, I don't just mean women. So what were you going to ask?
Her behavior was so unexpected for me that I forgot what was on my mind when I addressed her after a pause. I stared at her confusedly.
– Why did you decide to drive so far from the highway? I asked hastily.
“I turned here because this is a place of power,” she answered, pointing to large piles of lava in the distance. “Once upon a time these mountains appeared on the surface of the earth the way blood appears on a body. When driving through Arizona, I always make a detour to stop here. This place radiates a special earthly energy. Now let me ask you the same thing, why did you choose this particular place to paint?
– I come here often. This is one of my favorite places.
I didn't think my words would seem funny to her, but she burst into laughter.
- That says it all! – she exclaimed, and then continued in a calmer voice:
“I’m going to ask you to do something that may seem strange and even stupid to you, but listen to me first. I want to invite you to my house to stay for a few days.
I was about to raise my hand to thank her and refuse, but she asked me not to rush. She assured me that our common interest in the East and martial arts could serve as the basis for a serious exchange of views.
- Where exactly do you live? – I asked.
– Not far from the town of Navojoa.
“But it’s more than four hundred miles from here.”
- Yes, it's quite far. But there are such quiet and beautiful places there that I have no doubt: you will be pleased.
She was silent for a while, as if waiting for my answer.
“Besides, it seems to me that right now you are not busy with anything,” she continued, “and you yourself don’t know what you will do next.” You know, maybe I'm offering you exactly what you've been looking for for a long time.
She was right in that I really had no idea what to do next. I recently quit my job as a secretary to take up painting. However, I did not have the slightest desire to go visit anyone.
I looked around in search of something that could tell me what to do right. I could never explain where I got the idea that a person can draw help and advice from his environment. But I almost always managed to get a clue this way. I had a method that seemed to be born with me and with the help of which I could find out the answers to the questions that interested me. To do this, I usually let my thoughts float away, focusing my gaze on the horizon line to the south, although I had no idea why I chose the south. After several minutes of silence, as a rule, insights came to me that helped me understand what to do or how to act in a given situation.
Walking along the path with Clara, I fixed my gaze on the horizon in a southern direction and suddenly saw life stretching out before me like this barren desert. I could honestly say that I had never noticed before how lonely and abandoned this land was, although I had been to the Sonoran Desert more than once before, which occupies the entire south of Arizona, part of California and half of the Mexican state of Sonora.
It only took a moment for the sight of the barren and deserted desert to translate into concrete thoughts. I broke up with my family, but haven't started my own yet. I didn't even have any plans for the future. I haven't worked anywhere. I lived on the meager savings I inherited from the aunt after whom I took my name, but they were already running out. I was completely alone in this world. The vast space, stretching in all directions, was cruel and indifferent. The sight of him made me feel a surge of self-pity. I felt that I needed a friend who could end my loneliness.
I knew it would be very foolish of me to accept Clara's invitation and to find myself in a situation that I could hardly control, but there was something about her directness and energy that aroused my curiosity and made me respect her. I noticed that I admired her beauty and strength, and maybe even envied her. I thought that this was the most amazing and bright woman I had ever known - independent, self-confident, calm and at the same time uncomplicated and not without a sense of humor. She was endowed with exactly those qualities that I myself would most like to have. But, above all else, her presence seemed to put an end to the aimlessness of my life. The space around her became saturated with energy, full of hope and possibility.
However, I had an unshakable rule not to accept invitations to stay, which in this case was also reinforced by the fact that I met Clara in the desert by chance. I thought that agreeing to stay with her would mean that I would have to invite her to my place later, and I was completely unprepared for this, because I lived in a small apartment in Tucson. For some time I could not make a decision, not knowing which way to turn.
“Please agree,” Clara insisted. You'll be doing me a big favor.
“Okay, it seems to me that I can go with you,” I said sluggishly, wanting to actually say the opposite.
She looked at me joyfully and I had to hide my panic with a deliberately perky phrase, although I was not at all happy.
“A change of scenery will do me good,” I said. – New adventure!
She nodded approvingly.
“You won’t regret this,” she said in a tone that conveyed such confidence that all my doubts immediately disappeared.
“We can practice martial arts together.”
She made several quick movements with her hands that were both graceful and energetic. It seemed incredible to me that this tightly built woman could be so active.
– What specific styles of martial arts have you studied? – I asked, noticing that she casually took a wrestler’s stance with a long pole.
“In the East, I studied all the styles, but I didn’t dwell on any of them for long,” she said, as if about to smile. – When we come to me, I will be happy to show them to you.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. Arriving at the place where the cars were parked, I sat behind the wheel and waited for what Clara would say.
“Well, let’s get going,” she responded. - I will ride ahead and show you the way. How do you like to drive, fast or slow, Taisha?
- Like a turtle.
- And me too. Life in China has taught me not to rush.
– Can I ask you a question about China, Clara?
- Certainly. I already said that you can ask me whatever you want without permission.
– You were probably in China before World War II, right?
- Oh yeah. I was there in a past life. I assume you've never been to China itself?
- Yes, I haven’t. I've only been to Taiwan and Japan.
“Of course, after the war, a lot has changed there,” Clara said meaningfully. – The connection with the past has been broken. Now it is a completely different country.
I don’t know why, but I was afraid to ask her what she meant, and so I asked a question about how long it would take to get to her house. Clara spoke very vaguely, and this worried me. She just warned me to be prepared for a long trip. Then her voice softened, and she noted that my courage definitely pleased her.
– If someone behaves so carelessly with stranger“, she said, “this indicates either extreme stupidity or great daring.”
“I’m usually very careful,” I explained, “but today I’m not at all like myself.”
It was true, and the more I thought about my inexplicable behavior, the more uneasy I became.
“Please tell me more about yourself,” she asked in a gentle voice, and then came and stood next to the door of my car, as if to instill confidence in me.
And again, to my surprise, I found that I began to tell the whole truth about myself.
“My mother is Hungarian, but from an old Austrian family,” I said.
“She met her father during World War II, when they worked together in a field hospital. After the war they moved to the United States and then went to South Africa.
– What are they doing in South Africa?
– My mother always wanted to be with her relatives who live there.
- Do you have borthers and sisters?
– I have two brothers, whose ages differ by one year. The eldest is now twenty-six.
Her eyes were fixed on me. And with unexpected ease I told her about all my sad experiences that had been locked in my memory throughout my life. I told her that I grew up alone. My brothers never paid attention to me because I was a girl. When I was little, they often tied me to a pole like a dog, while they ran around the yard or played football. All I could do was walk back and forth, pulling on the rope, and watch them have fun. Then, when I grew up, I started running after them. But by that time they both already had bicycles, and I could not keep up with them. When I began to complain to my mother, which happened quite often, she replied that boys are boys, and I am a girl and therefore should play with dolls and help around the house.
“Your mother raised you in the traditional European spirit,” she said.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.”
As soon as I started, I couldn’t stop and continued to tell this woman everything I remembered about my childhood. I said that every year more and more often I remained the only child in the house, because my brothers often traveled and later went to residential college. I wanted my life to be full of adventure, but my mother taught me that girls should make beds and iron clothes. Taking care of a family is already an adventure, my mother liked to say. Women are born to obey. I was already on the verge of tears when I told Clara that, for as long as I can remember, I had to serve three male masters: my father and two brothers.
“That sounds impressive,” Clara said.
- It was terrible. “I ran out of the house and decided to stay as far away from him as possible,” I said. – And of course, live with adventures. But up until now I have not been able to get what I was striving for. Probably, I was simply raised in such a way that I cannot be happy and carefree.
Describing my life to a stranger, I felt very uncomfortable. I stopped talking and looked at Clara, expecting a reaction from her that would either eliminate my anxiety or increase it to such an extent that I would decide not to go anywhere with her.
“Well, it seems you only know how to do one thing well, and so you indulge in this activity as much as you want,” she said.
I thought that she meant my passion for painting and graphics, and I was completely annoyed when she added:
- All you know how to do is complain about YOUR LIFE.
I tightly squeezed the handle of the cabin door with my fingers.
- Not true! – I protested. – Who are you to me to say that?!
She laughed and shook her head knowingly.
“You and I are alike in many ways,” she said. We were taught to be passive and obedient, to adapt to the situation, but inside we are all boiling. We are like a volcano about to erupt, and our situation is made even worse by the fact that we have no other hope than the dream that one day we will meet a good man, which will pull us out of this swamp.
From surprise I could not say anything.
- Well? Am I not right? Isn't that right? - she insisted. – Tell me, hand on heart, am I not right?
I clenched my fingers into fists, intending to send her away. But Clara smiled warmly, radiating both strength and well-being, and I immediately felt that I could not lie to her or hide what I was thinking from her.
“You read my mind,” I agreed.
I had to admit that the only thing that gave meaning to my terrible existence, besides drawing, was the hope that someday I would still meet a man who would understand me and appreciate all the unique qualities of my personality.
“It may be that your life will change for the better in the near future,” she said with a hint of hope in her voice.
She got into her car and motioned for me to follow her. And only then did I realize that she never asked me if I had a passport, clothes, money or any urgent matters. But this did not frighten or discourage me. Without knowing why, I felt like I had made the right decision as soon as I released the handbrake and started driving. My life was bound to change someday.
Chapter 2
After more than three hours of continuous driving, we stopped for lunch in the city of Guaymas. While we were waiting for our food to be served, I looked out the window onto the narrow street adjacent to the bay. A crowd of shirtless boys were kicking around a ball. Nearby workers were building brick house. Some of them had already started their lunch break and were sipping from bottles of soda while leaning against stacks of sealed bags of cement. I thought that Mexico is a very noisy and dirty place everywhere.
“This restaurant always serves delicious turtle soup,” Clara said, attracting my attention.
A moment later, a smiling waitress with a silver front tooth placed two bowls of soup on the table in front of us. Clara politely exchanged a few words in Spanish with her before the waitress hurriedly began serving other customers.
“I’ve never eaten turtle soup before,” I said, picking up the spoon and carefully examining how clean it was.
“You're going to have a lot of fun,” Clara said, watching me wipe the spoon with a paper napkin.
I reluctantly tried the soup. The pieces of white meat that were swimming in a rich tomato sauce were actually very tasty.
I ate a few spoons of soup and then asked:
-Where do they get turtles?
Clara pointed to the window.
- Straight from the bay.
A handsome middle-aged man sitting at the next table turned to me and winked. This gesture of his, it seemed to me, was more reminiscent of the behavior of a merry fellow than of flirting. He turned to me and, as if continuing the conversation he had begun, said in heavily accented English:
– The turtle you are eating was very big.
Clara looked at me and raised her eyebrows, as if she couldn’t believe that the stranger was so impudent.
“This turtle was so big that it would have been enough to feed a dozen hungry people,” he continued. - They catch turtles in the sea. In order to pull one such creature ashore, several people are needed.
“They probably hit them with harpoons, like whales,” I noted.
The man quickly moved his chair to our table.
“No, I know they use large networks,” he said. “Then they club the turtles to make them unconscious before cutting open their stomachs. If you do this, the meat does not become tough.
My appetite went out the window. At that moment, the last thing I wanted was for this simple-minded, intrusive stranger to amuse us with his stories while sitting at our table - but I didn’t know how to behave.
“Since we are already talking about food, it should be noted that Guaymas is famous for its shrimp dishes,” the man continued with a disarming smile on his face. If you allow me, I will order one such dish for both of you.
“I’ve already done it,” Clara said sharply.
Just then the waitress came again and brought out plates of the largest shrimp I had ever seen. This one shrimp would be enough for a whole banquet, and it was obvious that the two of us simply could not eat it all, no matter how hungry we were.
Our uninvited companion looked at me as if he expected me to invite him to join our meal. If I were alone, he would obviously manage to become attached to me against my will. But Clara had other plans, and she acted decisively. She jumped to her feet with catlike grace and, turning to the man, looked straight into his eyes.
- Get out of here, idiot! she screamed in Spanish. – How dare you sit at our table?! This is my niece, not some whore!
There was such strength in her, and her voice sounded so powerful that everyone in the room froze. Eyes from all sides stared at our table. The man cowered so helplessly that I felt sorry for him. He slid sideways out of his chair and, one might say, crawled out of the restaurant.
“I know that you have been taught to yield to men just because they are men,” Clara told me, sitting down again. “You are always nice to them, and they squeeze all your juices out of you.” Don't you know that men feed on feminine energy?!
I was too uncomfortable to argue with her. I felt that all eyes in the hall were fixed on me.
“You indulge them because you feel pity for them,” Clara continued. “Deep down in your soul, you are desperate to take care of a man, any of them.” If this idiot had been a woman, you would never have allowed him to sit at our table.
My appetite was lost forever. I thought gloomily.
“I see that I touched a sore spot,” said Clara, smiling wryly.
“You started this whole scene.” “You were rude,” I said reproachfully.
“Of course,” she answered, chuckling. “And besides, she scared him almost to death.” “Her face was so open, and she spoke so carefreely that I, too, had no choice but to laugh, remembering what this guy looked like.
“I’m doing exactly like my mother,” I grumbled. “I must admit that she managed to make a real mouse out of me in everything that concerns men.”
As soon as I expressed this thought out loud, my bad mood disappeared and I felt hungry again. Little by little I ate almost all the shrimp.
“Nothing beats the pleasure of continuing a trip with a full stomach,” Clara said.
The shrimp almost moved in my stomach when I suddenly became horrified. Our acquaintance took place so unexpectedly that I didn’t even ask Clara about her house. Maybe it's a crumbling shack, like the ones I've seen when we used to drive through Mexican cities. And what will I eat there? This may have just been the last time I ate normal food. What kind of water will I drink? I imagined myself with severe indigestion. I had no idea how to ask Clara about where I would have to live without offending her or seeming ungrateful. Clara looked at me critically. She seemed to sense my anxiety.
“Mexico is a tough place,” she said. You have to be on your guard constantly. But soon you will get used to it.
The northern part of the country is even more unsightly than the rest. People come here from all over, either in search of work or as a transit point before crossing the border into the States. People arrive here in trainloads. Some remain on the coast, while others travel inland in the back of trucks to find work on the vast farmland owned by private companies.
There simply isn't enough food and work for everyone, so most leave for the United States as seasonal workers.
Meanwhile, I finished the rest of the soup, since I usually felt guilty if I left something in the bowl.
– Tell me more about these places, Clara.
– All local Indians belong to the Yaqui tribe, which was once resettled in the Sonoran Desert by government decree.
“Are you saying that they didn’t live here before?”
“These are indeed their ancestral lands,” answered Clara, “but in the twenties or thirties they were torn from the land and tens of thousands were sent to live in the center of the country.” Then in the late forties they were moved back to the Sonoran Desert.
Clara filled her glass with mineral water, and then mine.
“Living in the Sonoran Desert is not easy,” she said. “You probably saw when we drove through it that the lands here are barren and inhospitable. However, the Yaqui Indians have no other choice. They have to settle in shacks where the Yaqui River once was. In the distant past, the ancestors of today's Yaquis built their sacred cities near the river and lived in them for hundreds of years until the Spaniards arrived.
– Will we pass by these cities? – I asked.
- No, we don’t have time for this now. I want to get to Navojoa before dark. Perhaps someday we will make a special trip there to see these sacred cities.
– Why are they sacred?
“Because for the Indians, the location of each city along the river corresponds to a certain aspect of their mythological world. Like the volcanic mountains in Arizona, these are places of power. Indians have a very rich mythology. They believe that they can enter and exit the dream world in an instant. You see, their idea of reality is completely different from ours.
According to Yaqui myths, these cities also exist in another world, Clara continued, and it is from this subtle sphere that the Indians draw their strength. They call themselves people without reason in order to distinguish themselves from us people with reason.
– What is the power that they get from there? I asked.
- This is magic, sorcery, knowledge. All this comes to them directly from the world of dreams. This world is described in their legends and traditions. The Yaqui Indians have a rich, varied tradition of oral traditions.
Looking around me at the crowded restaurant, I asked myself which of the tables, if any, were Indians, and which were Mexicans. Some people were tall and wiry, while others were short and stocky. They all seemed strangers to me, and I secretly felt superior to them. So I felt like I was definitely out of place.
Clara finished her shrimp and her beans and rice. I knew I had eaten too much, but despite my protest, she insisted on ordering more caramel custard as dessert.
“Have a good meal,” she said, winking at me. – Who knows when the next time we can eat, and what it will be. Here in Mexico we always eat to our heart's content.
I knew she was making fun of me, but I still felt the truth in her words. Earlier that day I saw a dead donkey lying on the side of the highway. He was hit by a car. I knew that in rural areas there are no refrigerators, and therefore people eat whatever meat is available. I couldn't help but worry about what I'd have to eat next. I silently decided to limit my stay with Clara to a few days.
“But it’s not getting any easier, and the Indians have new difficulties,” she said. “When the government built a dam to build a hydroelectric dam, the course of the Yaqui River changed so much that people had to pack up their things and move to another place.
The harshness of this country contrasted with my usual surroundings, where there was always enough food and comfort. I asked myself whether it might be that my coming to Mexico was a manifestation of my deep-seated desire for a complete change of scenery. All my life I had been looking for adventure, but now that my dream could come true, I was paralyzed by the fear of the unknown.
I tried the caramel cream and put out of my mind all the fears that had haunted me since meeting Clara in the Arizona desert. I enjoyed her company. And although now that I was full after shrimp and turtle soup, Clara warned that this might be my last proper meal, I decided to trust her and let the adventure unfold.
Clara insisted on paying the bill. We filled the tanks with fuel and headed out onto the highway again. After driving a few more hours, we arrived in Navojoa. Without stopping in the town itself, we drove through it and then turned off the Pan Am Highway onto a gravel road heading east. It was late afternoon, but I was not tired at all and even enjoyed the rest of the journey. The further we moved north, the greater joy and peace replaced my usual depressed state.
After an hour of driving through potholes, Clara turned off the road and invited me to follow her. After some time, a dirt road led us to a high wall along which a flowering bougainvillea. We left the cars in a clearing at the end of the wall, where the grass was heavily trampled.
“This is where I live,” Clara told me, getting out of the cab.
I walked up to her car. Clara looked tired and as if even fuller.
“You look so good that you might think you haven’t been driving for so long,” she remarked. - Oh the wonders of youth!
On the other side of the wall, between the trees and thick bushes, a tiled house with barred windows and several balconies could be seen here and there. As if in a dream, I followed Clara through the gate of figured iron bars, past the brick-paved courtyard, to the heavy wooden door, which was clearly a back door. The terracotta tiled floor in the cool, empty hall emphasized the sobriety of the whitewashed walls and the dark beams of the ceiling, made from solid, unpainted logs. We walked through the hall into a spacious living room.
The white walls here were edged with tastefully painted tiles. Two spotlessly clean beige sofas and four armchairs were arranged around a heavy wooden coffee table. On the table lay several open Spanish and English magazines. It seemed to me that someone had just been reading them while sitting in one of the chairs, but he quickly left as we entered through the back door.
– What can you say about my house? – Clara asked with a proud smile.
“This is fantastic,” I said. “Who would have thought that there could be such a house here in the desert?”
Then my envious self came out and I felt uneasy. This house looked like my dream home, but I knew I could never own anything like it.
“You can’t even imagine how far from the truth you are when you talk about fiction,” she replied. All I can tell you about this house now is that it, like the volcanic mountains we saw this morning, contains power. Refined energy silently circulates through it, just as electric current flows through wires.
When I heard this, an inexplicable thing happened: all my envy disappeared. She disappeared completely as soon as Clara finished her last sentence.
“Now I’ll show you the way to your bedroom,” she announced. “I will also introduce you to some basic rules that you must follow while you are in this house as a guest.”
All those parts of the house that are located to the right and behind the living room are at your disposal in the same way as the entire yard. Here you can walk and look at everything you want. But you must not go into any of the bedrooms, except, of course, your own. In your bedroom you can use everything you see. You can even break something into pieces in a fit of anger or admire something for a long time with an influx of tenderness. However, you are not allowed to stay on the left side of the house at any time and under any pretext. So don't go there.
I was shocked by the strange requirement, but assured her that I understood her correctly and would certainly do what she asked. In reality, I thought that this demand was tactless and a pure whim on her part. In fact, the more she warned me against going into these parts of the house, the more my curiosity became aroused.
Clara seemed to be thinking about something else because she added:
- Of course, you can sit in the living room. You can even sleep on the sofa there if you are tired or too lazy to go to the bedroom. Another place where you are forbidden to go is that part of the estate that is located in front of the main entrance to the house. This entrance is now locked, so enter the house through the back door.
Clara didn't give me time to answer. She pulled me along with her long corridor, and we walked past several closed doors, which she said were entrances to other bedrooms, which I was not allowed to enter. Finally we entered the large bedroom. The first thing I noticed when I got here was the carved wooden double bed. She was covered with a beautiful snow-white bedspread embroidered with a vestibule. Next to the window that looked out onto the backyard of the house was a handmade mahogany bookcase, fully stocked with antiques, porcelain vases and figurines, enamel boxes and tiny cups. On the opposite wall there was a cabinet made in the same style, which Clara opened. In it hung a variety of women's clothing and accessories: capes, hats, shoes, umbrellas, canes - all this seemed to have been selected with extraordinary taste.
Before I could ask Clara where she got all these things, she closed the cabinet door.
“Use everything you might need,” she said. “All these clothes are yours, and the room will be at your disposal, no matter how long you stay in this house.”
Then she looked over her shoulder as if there was someone else in the room and added:
– Who can say how long this will last!
It seemed that she was saying that my stay in her house might be long. I felt sweat forming on my palms and hesitantly told her that, at best, I could only stay with her for a few days. Clara assured me that I was completely safe living in her house. Here, according to her, I will be even much safer than in other places. She added that it would be stupid of me to miss such good opportunity gain new knowledge.
“But I need to look for a job,” I said, justifying myself. – I have almost no money left.
“Don’t worry about money,” she replied. “I will provide you with everything you need and give you as much money as you need.” It's not a problem.
I thanked her for this offer and said that since childhood I had become accustomed to the idea that taking money from strangers is extremely tactless, no matter how good wishes they offered it to me.
She stopped me with the words:
“I think it’s this, Taisha.” You are angry with me because I told you not to go to the left side of the house and not to approach the main entrance. I know that you thought that I was too capricious and too secretive. And now you don’t want to agree to spend more than a day or two with me, as required by the rules of good manners. Perhaps you even consider me an abnormal old woman who doesn’t have everything at home.
- No, no, Clara, that’s not the point. I'll soon have to pay for my apartment in the States, and if I don't find a job by then, I won't have the money to do it. And the possibility of taking them from another person is excluded for me.
“Are you saying that you weren’t at all offended by my request not to go into certain parts of the house?”
- Of course no.
And you weren't at all interested in why I asked you about this?
– Very interested.
– The fact is that other people live in that part of the house.
– Your relatives, Clara.
- Yes, we have big family. There are actually even two families living in this house.
- And both are big?
- Yes. Each of them has eight people, and there are sixteen of us in total.
– And they all live in the left wing of the house, Clara?
In my entire life I have never heard of such a strange arrangement of residents.
- No, only eight people live there. The other eight make up my immediate family and live in the right wing of the house. You are my guest and therefore must stay at right sides e. It is very important that you understand this. This is probably unusual, but still not incomprehensible.
I was amazed at the power she gained over me. Her words calmed my emotions, but not my mind. Then I realized that in order to act decisively, I must reconcile both of these manifestations - mental anxiety and emotional anxiety. Otherwise, I remain passive, waiting for the next external impulse to start doing something. Getting to know Clara led me to realize that despite my best efforts to be myself and act independently, I was unable to think clearly or make my own decisions.
Clara looked at me with great interest, as if she had been watching my unspoken thoughts all this time. I tried to hide the awkwardness of my situation by turning to her:
– Your house is beautiful, Clara. Is he very old?
“Of course,” she said, without specifying what she meant: that the house was beautiful or that it was old. With a smile she added:
– Now that you have already visited the house – that is, in its hall – we still have one more small matter on the agenda.
From one of the cabinets she took out a lantern, and from the clothes closet she took out an insulated Chinese jacket and a pair of hiking boots. She told me that after we had a snack, I would get dressed, put on my shoes, and we would go for a walk.
“But we haven’t had a rest from the road yet,” I protested. “And besides, isn’t it still getting dark outside?”
– It’s getting dark. But I want to take you to one place on the hill, from where you can see the house and yard at a glance. It will be better if you see the house for the first time at this time of day. We all began our acquaintance with him at dusk.
– Who do you mean when you say “we”? I asked.
– Sixteen people who live here naturally. We are all doing exactly the same thing.
– Do you all have the same profession? – I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
- No, what are you talking about! – she exclaimed, laughing and raising her hand to her face.
“I wanted to say that whatever one of us should do, the others should do the same.” Each of us first looked at this house and the surrounding area at dusk, so you too should begin your stay here with this.
– Why do you compare me to you, Clara?
“For now, let’s limit ourselves to saying: I’m doing this because you are my guest.”
– Will I meet your relatives later?
“You will meet everyone,” she assured me. “And now there is no one in the house except you and me and the guard dog.”
-Have they gone somewhere?
- Exactly. They all went on a long journey, and I and the dog stayed to guard the house.
– When do you expect them to return?
– In a few weeks, maybe even months.
– Where do they travel?
– We are always on the road. Sometimes I am absent for months, and someone else remains on the farm.
Just as I was about to repeat my question about where they went, she answered it.
“They went to India,” she said.
- All fifteen people?
– But isn’t that wonderful? After all, this is a gift of fate! - she exclaimed in a voice that so caricatured my secret envy that I had to laugh in spite of myself.
Then the thought occurred to me that it would not be safe for me to be alone in this empty house, remote from other settlements, living in it only with Clara.
“We are alone here, but in this house you have nothing to fear,” she said with strange conviction. “Except maybe the dog.” When we return from our walk, I will introduce you to him. When meeting him you must be very calm. He sees right through people and will attack you if he senses that you are hostile or afraid of him.
“But I’m already scared,” I blurted out.
I started to shake.
I've hated dogs since I was a child, when one of my father's Doberman Pinschers jumped on me and knocked me down. He didn’t bite me then, but only growled and showed his sharp teeth. I called for help because I was so scared I couldn't move. I remember that out of fear I wet my pants, and my brothers made fun of me for a long time when they saw this, calling me a baby who should be in diapers.
“I myself don’t like dogs either,” said Clara, “but our dog is really not a dog at all.” This is something different.
She intrigued me, but this did not dispel my misgivings.
“If you want, I’ll take you to the toilet in the yard for the first time.” After all, it may turn out that the dog is prowling somewhere nearby,” she said.
I agreed, feeling tired and irritated - the long trip had finally taken its toll. I wanted to wash the dust off my face and comb my tousled hair.
Clara led me down another hallway, which also opened into the backyard. At some distance from the house there were two small buildings.
“This is my gym,” she pointed to one of them. - Don't go there yet. Someday I will take you there myself.
– Do you practice martial arts there?
“Yes,” Clara answered dryly. – And the other building is a restroom. I'll wait for you in the living room and make you a couple of sandwiches. But don’t expect that you can show off in front of the mirror while combing your hair,” she said, as if she knew what I was thinking. - There are no mirrors in this house. After all, they, like clocks, indicate the passage of time. And it’s important to learn how to stop it.
I wanted to ask her how to understand her words about stopping time, but she pushed me in the direction of the restroom. Entering the building, I noticed several doors. Since Clara didn't give me any instructions about where I could and couldn't go, and since I didn't know which one was the toilet door, I looked around all the rooms. On one side of the small dressing room there were six closets, each of which housed a low wooden toilet. The only unusual thing here was that I didn’t notice any stench or even the smell of bleach from the cleaned holes. I could hear the water running under the toilets, but I had no idea how or where it was supplied from.
On the other side of the dressing room there were three identical rooms, lined with beautiful tiles. Each of them contained an antique mobile bathtub and an oblong table on which stood a bucket of water and a porcelain basin corresponding in size. There really were no mirrors or any chrome surfaces in the rooms in which you could see your reflection. In fact, there was not even running water here.
I poured water into a basin, washed my face, and then ran my wet fingers through my tangled hair. Instead of using one of the white terry towels, for fear of staining it, I wiped my hands on some pieces of fabric that lay in a drawer on the table. I took several deep breaths and rubbed my tired neck before walking out to Clara.
I found her in the living room, where she was making up flower arrangements in white and blue Chinese vases. The magazines that had previously been scattered across the table were now in a neat pile, and next to them was a plate of food. She smiled when she saw me.
“You're as fresh as a daisy,” she said. - Take a sandwich. It will be completely dark soon. It is time.
Chapter 3
Having swallowed half of the ham sandwich, I hastily put on the jacket and boots that Clara had given me, and we left the house. We had powerful electric flashlights in our hands. The boots turned out to be tight, and the left one immediately began to rub my heel. I was sure I would have a blister. But it was nice that there was a jacket for me, because the evening promised to be cold. I pulled up my collar and buttoned the top button.
“We’ll go around this place and go up the hill,” Clara said. – I want to show you the house at dusk from some distance. I will show you something you need to remember, so pay attention.
We walked along a narrow path. In the distance to the east, I could make out the dark, jagged silhouettes of mountains against the violet sky. When I noticed that they looked very ominous, Clara said that these mountains inspire awe because they have a very ancient subtle essence. She told me that everything visible and invisible has a subtle essence, and that in order to understand what is happening, a person must learn to feel it.
What she said reminded me of my method of getting answers to difficult questions by looking at the horizon in a southerly direction. Before I had time to ask her about this, she continued the story about Mountains, trees and the subtle essence of stones. It seemed to me that Clara had penetrated so deeply into the secrets of Chinese culture that she could speak in riddles reminiscent of those that Eastern literature attributes to enlightened people. I realized then that deep down I had been mocking her all day. It was a strange feeling, because Clara was hardly one of the people who deserved my condescending attitude. Usually, at work and school, I made fun of the weak or those who put on airs, but Clara was neither one nor the other.
“That’s the place,” Clara said, pointing to a small, flat clearing at the top of one of the hills. - From there you can see the house.
We turned off the path and went up to where she was pointing. Here we had a stunning view of the entire valley below. I could see large groups of dark green trees surrounded by even darker, brown areas, but the house itself was not visible because the trees and bushes completely obscured it.
“The house is ideally oriented in accordance with the four cardinal directions,” said Clara, pointing to the green thickets. “Your bedroom is on the north side, and the forbidden part of the house is on the south.” Backdoor and the patio are located on the west.
Clara pointed out where all these parts of the house were located, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not see them. Everything that was accessible to my eyes in the semi-darkness was a dark green outline.
“To see the house, I’ll have to x-ray the area,” I complained. – It is completely hidden behind the trees.
And very important trees, by the way,” Clara said friendly, not paying attention to my distressed tone. – Each of them is an independent living being that pursues a specific goal in life.
“Isn’t it true that every living thing on this planet has a purpose?” – I asked irritably.
I didn't like something about the enthusiasm with which Clara showed me her possessions. The fact that I couldn't see what she was showing me made me even more unsettled. A strong gust of wind blew my jacket, and the thought occurred to me that my irritation could be a manifestation of ordinary envy.
“I didn’t mean this banal judgment,” Clara explained. – I wanted to say that in my house every thing and every person appears for a reason. This applies to the trees, to me, and, of course, to you.
I wanted to move the conversation to another topic, and since I couldn’t think of anything better, I asked:
– Did you buy this house, Clara?
- No, we inherited it. It has been in our family for many generations, although considering all the turmoil Mexico has gone through, it is easy to guess that it has been destroyed and rebuilt many times.
I realized that I felt best when asking the simplest questions because Clara gave straight answers. Her discussions about “subtle essences” seemed to me such lofty matters that I wanted to take a break by talking about something ordinary. But to my chagrin, Clara interrupted our normal dialogue and began talking about her abstractions again.
This house is a reflection of all the actions of the people living in it,” she said in an almost reverent tone. – Its main feature is that it is hidden. It is located in a very visible place, but no one sees it. Remember this. It is very important!
I wonder how I could not remember this, I thought. For the previous twenty minutes I had been straining my eyes to see the house in the semi-darkness. I wish there were binoculars here now, with which I could finally satisfy my curiosity. Before I could tell Clara this, she started walking down the hill. I would not mind staying on the hill by myself for a while longer to breathe in the cool night air, but I was afraid that I would not be able to find my way back in the darkness alone. I decided to myself that I would come back here in the afternoon and find out if it was really possible to see the house from here the way Clara said.
Returning back, we came to the back door of her person; yak surprisingly fast. There was impenetrable darkness all around. I could only see small sections of the path, illuminated by the light of lanterns. Entering the house, Clara illuminated a wooden bench and told me to sit on it, take off my jacket and boots, and then hang them on the hanger next to the door.
I felt unusually hungry. I don’t remember when in my life I wanted to eat so badly, but I still didn’t dare to ask Clara directly if we were going to have dinner. Perhaps she felt that the sumptuous lunch in Guaymas was enough to last her the whole day. However, judging by Clara's build, she was not one of those who like to skimp on food.
“Let’s go to the kitchen and see what we can find to eat there,” she suggested. “But first I’ll show you where our generator is and how to turn it on.”
Lighting the way with a lantern, she led me along a path along the fence to a brick shed covered with corrugated tin. It contained a small diesel generator. I knew how to turn it on because I had lived in a rural home that had a similar generator in case of a power outage. Pulling the switch lever, I saw through the window in the shed that only one part of the house and the hall was illuminated with electricity: the light came on in them, while the rest of the house remained in darkness.
– Why isn’t your entire house supplied with electricity? – I asked Clara. – What’s the point of leaving half the house in the dark? “Then, on an unexpected impulse, I delivered.” “If you want, I can do the wiring there.”
She looked at me in surprise.
- This is true? Are you sure the house won't burn down after this?
- Certainly. My family told me that I am a sorceress in everything related to electricity. For some time I worked as an electrician’s assistant - until I tired of him with my advice.
– What did you advise him? – Clara asked.
– I told him where to connect what. Then I had to say goodbye to him.
Clara laughed out loud. But I couldn’t understand what she found funny in my words that I was once an electrician and then gave it up.
“Thank you for your offer,” Clara said, returning her serious tone to her voice. – The fact is that the house is equipped with electricity just the way we want it. We use it only when necessary.
I concluded that electricity was needed primarily in the kitchen, and therefore the lights came on only in this part of the house. Without thinking, I headed in the direction where the light was on, but Clara tugged at my sleeve to stop me.
- Where are you going? – she asked.
- To the kitchen.
“You're going in the wrong direction,” she said. – In Mexican country houses, neither the kitchen nor the bathroom are located in the main house. What do you think is in our kitchen? Electric refrigerators and gas stoves?
She led me along the house, past her gym, to a small house that I had not noticed before. It was almost completely covered by lush flowering trees. What she called the kitchen was one large room with a terracotta tile floor, recently whitewashed walls, and several rows of light bulbs overhead. Someone must have worked hard to arrange everything here so well. But all the utensils here were old - every item looked like a museum exhibit. On one side of the room there was a huge iron stove, which was heated with wood and, to my surprise, looked as if it had just been heated. The stove was on a massive stand, and chimney came out through a hole in the ceiling. On the other side of the room were two long kitchen tables, with benches on both sides. Next to them was the cook's workbench, on which lay a three-inch thick cutting board. Its surface looked far from smooth: the knife left many marks on it.
There were hooks in convenient places on the walls on which hung baskets, cast iron pots and pans, and many other kitchen utensils. The whole room gave the impression of a rustic, but nevertheless well-equipped kitchen of the kind one sometimes sees in illustrated magazines.
There were three on the stove clay pot with lids. Clara invited me to sit at one of the tables. She walked up to the stove and, turning her back to me, began stirring pots and putting them in plates. A few minutes later she placed in front of me pilaf made from stew, rice and beans.
– When did you have time to prepare this food? – I asked, sincerely surprised, because during the entire time we were in her house, she clearly had not left anywhere.
“I cooked all this up before we went for a walk and put it on the stove,” she said half-jokingly.
Who does she take me for? – I thought. This food takes several hours to prepare. She laughed mysteriously in response to my surprised look.
“You’re right,” she said in the tone of someone who is stopping a prank. “There is a caretaker here who sometimes cooks food for us.”
– Is this caretaker here now?
- No, what are you talking about? He must have been here in the morning, but then he left. Eat and don't bother yourself with such insignificant questions as where he came from.
Clara and her house were full of surprises, I thought. But fatigue and hunger made themselves felt, and I could no longer ask or think about anything not directly related to the present. The shrimp that had seemed so big at dinner was now so far gone that I could barely remember it. To someone who likes to eat slowly, it might seem that I attacked the pilaf like a hungry wolf. As a child, I could never relax at the table and simply enjoy food. I always imagined the mountain of dishes that I would have to wash later. Every time one of my brothers took another plate or spoon, my insides sank. I was sure that they deliberately dirty as many dishes as possible so that I would have something to wash later. In addition, every time during meals, my father would argue with my mother. He knew that she would not be able to leave the table until everyone had finished eating, so he used this opportunity to pour out all his complaints and comments to her.
Clara said I didn't need to wash the dishes, even though I offered to help her. We went into the living room, apparently one of those rooms that, in her opinion, did not need electric lighting, because it was completely dark. Clara lit the kerosene lamp. It lit up brightly, giving everything a mysterious, but at the same time calm and cozy look. Shadows swayed everywhere. It seemed to me as if I was in a dream, far from reality, which was illuminated by electric light. Clara, her house, this room - everything seemed to belong to some other time, to be in some other world.
“I promised that I would introduce you to our dog,” Clara began, sitting down on the sofa. – This dog is an integral part of the local environment. And you must be very careful with what you think or say about her.
I sat down next to her.
What, is this a sensitive, nervous dog? I asked, imagining an unpleasant meeting with her.
– Sensitive – yes, nervous – no. I believe that this dog is a very evolved being, but being a dog, it is very difficult, if not impossible, for him to go beyond his self-image.
I laughed out loud when I heard that a dog can have a self-image. I told Clara that her statement didn't make sense to me.
“You’re right,” Clara agreed, “in this case there’s no need to talk about performance.” It is better to say that the dog is deluded, feeling its importance.
I knew she was joking with me, but my laughter was more cautious this time.
“You may laugh, but I’m speaking quite seriously,” Clara said in a quiet voice. - I will give you the opportunity to verify this. “She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice to a whisper. “In her absence, we call her zaro, which means “toad” in Spanish, because this dog looks like a big frog. But just dare to call her that in front of her, and she will tear you to pieces. Now, if you don't believe me, or if you're brave enough to try calling it that, know that when a dog gets mad, there's only one way out.
- And what is it? – I asked mockingly, although this time I felt some shadow of fear.
– You need to say very quickly: “Clara also looks like a white toad.” The dog is pleased to hear this.
But you won’t fool me with this. I was sure that I was wise enough from experience to understand that this was nonsense.
“You probably taught your dog to react negatively to the word zaro,” I suggested. “I have some idea about raising dogs and I know that they are not intelligent enough to understand what people say, let alone become enraged by it.”
“Then let’s do the following,” Clara suggested. - Let me introduce you to her, and then we will look through a book on zoology with pictures of frogs, and exchange opinions about them. Then one day you'll say, "He really does look like a toad," and we'll see what happens.
Before I could accept or reject the offer, Clara walked out the side door, leaving me alone. I assured myself that I fully understood what was going on, and would not allow myself to be led by the nose by a woman who claimed that dogs have the highest manifestations of conscious activity.
I was chatting cheerfully to myself in my imagination to regain my confidence when Clara came in through the side door, leading the largest dog I had ever seen. It was a huge dog, whose thick paws reached the size of coffee saucers. His fur was black and shiny. In the yellow eyes of the dog one could read the look of a man mortally tired of life. Her ears were rounded, and her muzzle was uneven and covered with wrinkles on all sides. Clara was right, the dog definitely looked like a gigantic frog. The dog came straight to me and stopped, and then looked at Clara, as if waiting for what she would say.
– Taisha, I want to introduce you to my friend Manfred. Manfred, this is Taisha.
I was ready to reach out and shake his paw, but Clara, shaking her head, signaled to me not to do this.
“Nice to meet you, Manfred,” I said, trying not to laugh and at the same time not to look scared.
The dog came even closer and started sniffing my groin. I jumped back in disgust. In an instant, the dog jumped up to me, turned with the back of its body and hit me under the knees so that I lost my balance. I came to my senses, standing on the floor, first on my knees, then on all fours. The dog licked my cheek, and before I could get to my feet or turn away, she released farts right in front of my nose.
I jumped up screaming. Clara laughed so much that she could not say a word. I could have sworn Manfred was laughing too. He hid behind Clara with a jubilant look and looked at me questioningly, shifting his big paws on the floor.
I was so furious that I screamed:
– You are not a dog, but a damned stinking toad!
In an instant, the dog rushed towards me and hit me with his head. I fell back to the floor and he was on top. His jaws were inches from my face. I saw rage sparkling in his yellow eyes. The foul breath of that mouth alone was enough to make me nauseous, and I felt like I was going to vomit. The louder I screamed for Clara to get her damned dog away, the more fiercely the dog growled at me. I felt that I was on the verge of losing consciousness from fear when I heard Clara shouting through the noise and my own screams:
- Tell him what I told you! Hurry up, tell him!
I was too scared to say anything. In desperation, Clara tried to pull the dog aside by the ears, but this only enraged her more.
- Tell him! Tell him what I told you! screamed Clara.
In the terrible situation in which I was, I could not remember what I should say to him. But when I realized that consciousness was already beginning to leave me, I heard myself scream:
– Clara also looks like a white toad! I'm sorry!
The dog immediately stopped growling and moved away from me. Clara helped me get up and sit on the sofa. The dog walked next to us, as if helping her. Clara gave me warm water to drink, which made me even more nauseous. I barely had time to jump out into the street when I vomited violently.
Later, when I was relaxing in the living room, Clara once again suggested that I look at the book about frogs in the presence of Manfred so that I could repeat in front of him again that it looks like a white toad. She said that I should clear away any misunderstandings that might have arisen in his mind.
“He is very unhappy because he has to be a dog,” she explained. - Poor thing! He really doesn't like it, but he can't help it. That's why he gets angry when someone makes fun of him.
I said that in the state I was in, further experiments on canine psychology were hardly advisable. But Clara insisted that I play this game to the end. As soon as she opened the book, Manfred came over to look at the pictures. Clara kept admiring and joking about how weird frogs were, and that there were even some that looked pretty disgusting. I also entered the game from my side. I said the word “toad” and the Spanish word for dawn as often and as loudly as possible throughout our mock conversation. But Manfred did not react to this. He looked just as bored as the first time my eyes laid eyes on him.
But when, as agreed, I loudly remarked that Clara definitely looked like a white toad, Manfred immediately began wagging his tail, visibly perking up. I repeated the key phrase several times, and the more I repeated it, the more excited the dog became. Then I suddenly decided to take the initiative and said that I myself looked like an unsightly toad who was trying to become the same as Clara. Hearing this, the dog was so happy that he jumped up on the spot as if he had been stung. Clara said:
– Well, here you went too far in your concern for him, Taisha.
I noticed that Manfred became so excited that he could no longer bear it. He ran out of the room. I leaned back on the sofa in amazement. Despite all the evidence that confirmed that a dog could react this way to an offensive nickname, I still, deep down, could not believe it.
“Tell me, Clara,” I said, “what’s the trick here?” How did you teach him to behave this way?
“What you witnessed is not a trick,” she replied. – Manfred is a mysterious, unknown creature. There is only one person in the whole world who can call him zaro or zario, little toad, without making him mad. You will meet this person soon. He is responsible for Manfred's secret. Only he can explain to you what it all means.
Suddenly Clara stood up.
“Today was not an easy day for you,” she said, handing me a kerosene lamp. “I think it’s time to go to bed now.”
She led me to the room assigned to me.
“Everything you could ever need can be found inside,” she said. – The chamber pot is under the bed if you are afraid to go out into the yard. I hope you find it comfortable.
Touching my hand, she walked down the corridor until she disappeared into the darkness. I still didn’t understand where her bedroom was. Perhaps, I thought, her bedroom was in the wing of the house that I was not allowed to enter. Clara wished me good night so mysteriously that for a while I just stood there holding the doorknob, at a loss.
Then I finally entered the room. A kerosene lamp illuminated things that cast strange shadows. On the floor there was a pattern of reflections given by a vase of flowers standing on the table. Clara must have brought these flowers from the living room and left them here. The large carved wooden chest seemed to emit a silvery glow, and the headboards cast shadows like snakes on the walls. Suddenly I understood why in my room there was a mahogany shelf on which there were figurines and other enameled objects. The light of the lamp completely transformed them, creating a fantastic world around them. Porcelain figurines are not intended for rooms illuminated by electric light, I thought at that moment.
I wanted to look around the room, but I felt mortally tired. I put the lamp on the small bedside table and undressed. On the back of the chair lay a muslin nightgown, which I put on. It seemed to fit me, at least it didn’t drag on the ground.
I climbed onto the soft bed and lay down on the pillow. The shadows in the room fascinated me so much that I did not turn off the lamp right away. I remembered that as a child I played this game before falling asleep: how many different objects could I recognize by their shadows on the walls.
A draft from the half-open window set the shadows on the walls into motion. Despite my fatigue, I imagined that I saw in front of me the outlines of animals, trees and flying birds. Then, in the blur of gray light, I saw the vague outline of a dog's muzzle. She had rounded ears and a blunt, wrinkled nose. She seemed to blink at me. I knew it was Manfred.
Strange feelings and thoughts filled my mind. What can I even say about the events of this day? I could not explain any of them satisfactorily. But the most wonderful thing was that I understood beyond any doubt that my last remark - that I looked like an unsightly toad trying to become like Clara - marked the beginning of my mutual sympathy with Manfred. I was also clear that I could not think of him as an ordinary dog and that I am no longer afraid of him. Despite the fact that it was very difficult for me to believe it, I felt that he was endowed with some kind of special intelligence and could understand what Clara and I were talking about.
Suddenly, a gust of wind opened the window completely, and shadows flickered across the walls in a multitude of bizarrely flickering shapes. The dog's face merged with the other drawings on the wall, and I thought that a spell had come into effect that would give me strength when meeting the night.
How amazing it is, I thought, that the mind can fill formless drawings on the wall with meaningful content, as if it were a projection device loaded with a cassette with an endless film.
The shadows began to tremble as I lowered the wick of the kerosene lamp. When the last glimmer of light faded, I was left in pitch darkness. But I wasn't afraid of her. The fact that I was in a strange house, lying in an unfamiliar bed, did not bother me at all. Clara had said earlier that this was my room, and after being in it for such a short time, I felt at home. I had a strange feeling that I was being protected.
Looking into the emptiness in front of me, I noticed that the air in the room was beginning to glow. I remembered Clara’s words that this whole house is charged with invisible energy that flows through it like current through a wire. I didn't feel it before because my attention was occupied with other things. But now, in absolute silence, I clearly heard its quiet buzzing sound. Then it seemed to me that I saw barely noticeable bubbles flying around the room at high speed. They often collided with each other and hummed like a swarm of thousands of bees. The room and the whole house seemed to be permeated with a subtle electrical energy that filled my entire being.
Chapter 4
How did you sleep? – Clara asked me when I entered the kitchen.
She was just about to sit down at the table to start eating. I noticed that the table was set for two, although she had not told me the day before what time breakfast would be.
“I slept like a bear,” I said, and my words were not far from the truth.
Clara invited me to join her and put some aromatic dish of sliced meat on my plate. I told her that waking up in a strange place has always been an unpleasant moment for me. My father changed jobs very often, and the family had to change their place of residence when he left for another city to take up a vacant position there. Suddenly waking up in the morning in a new place, when at first I could not understand where I was, was unbearable for me. But this morning I did not experience any unpleasant experiences. I woke up feeling like the room and the bed I was lying on had always been mine.
Clara listened to me carefully and nodded her head.
“This happened because your character matches the character of the person who owns this room,” she said.
– Who owns this room? – I asked with curiosity.
Someday you will find out,” she replied, placing a huge portion of rice on my plate next to the meat. Then she handed me a fork. - Eat, don’t be shy. Today you will need all your strength.
She didn't continue the conversation until I had eaten everything on my plate.
- So what are we going to do? – I asked as she cleared the dirty dishes from the table.
“Not us,” she corrected me. “You yourself will go to the cave to begin your recollection exercises.”
- What are you doing, Clara?
– Last night I told you that every thing and every person in this house appears for a reason. This applies to you too.
– Why then did I end up here?
“The reason for your appearance here can only be explained to you in several stages,” she answered. “At the simplest level, you can say that you are here because you like it, no matter what you think about it. The second, and less obvious, reason is that you came here to engage in a fascinating practice called recollection.
– What kind of practice is this? What does she require from me?
“I’ll tell you about this when we get to the cave.”
– Why can’t you tell me about it here?
– Don’t contradict me, Taisha. Now I cannot answer all your questions because you do not have enough energy to understand my answers. Later you will see for yourself that some things can be very difficult to explain.
Put on your hiking boots, it's time for us to leave.
We left the house and climbed the low hills east of the valley, following the same path that we had followed the previous evening. Shortly after we started our hike, I noticed a small clearing on the hill where we had been the night before and which I had planned to visit that afternoon. Without waiting for Clara to suggest that I do so, I headed there because I was eager to find out whether the house was visible from there during the day.
A bowl-shaped valley between the hills, covered with thickets of trees, opened up to my eyes. However, despite the fact that the morning was sunny and clear, I could not discern any traces of residential buildings. What became clear to me was that there were many more trees growing in the valley than I could have guessed, judging by yesterday's observations at dusk.
“You can, of course, notice a small house in the yard from here,” said Clara. “See that reddish dot over there not far from the mesquite trees?”
I jumped in surprise because I was so absorbed in contemplating the valley that I did not hear Clara approach me.
To help me get my bearings, Clara pointed to a group of green trees in the valley. I thought I might be polite and tell her that I could see everything she was pointing at, but I didn't want to start the day by being dishonest with her. I was silent. Moreover, there was something so exquisite about this hidden valley that it took my breath away. I looked at her so captivated that I thought I was falling asleep. Leaning against the stone, I allowed the thing that made such a strong impression on me to carry me away. And I really got carried away. I saw myself among the people who had gathered for a picnic. Everyone around was having fun, and I heard laughter...
My vision faded as Clara lifted me to my feet, cupping me by my armpits.
- There you go, Taisha! - she exclaimed. – I didn’t expect this from you. For a moment I thought I had lost you.
I wanted to tell her what I had dreamed, because I was sure that I had passed out just for a moment. But Clara seemed to show no interest in this and began to walk down the hill.
She walked with a confident and purposeful gait, as if she knew exactly where she was going. As for me, I trudged aimlessly after her, trying to keep up and not stumble. We walked in complete silence. More than half an hour had passed since we again came to a pile of rocks, which I could say with confidence that we had already been here.
– Have we already passed here today? – I asked, breaking the silence.
She nodded affirmatively.
“We’re walking in circles,” she remarked. “Something is following you, and if we don’t get rid of it, it will come with us to the cave.”
I looked back to see if anyone was following us. But I only noticed bushes and intertwined tree branches. I hurried after Clara to catch up with her, but tripped over a tree stump. As I fell forward, I suddenly screamed. With incredible speed, Clara caught my hand and prevented me from falling by placing her foot in front of me.
“Yes, you’re not the best walker,” she noted.
I told her that I had never spent much time outside the house and since childhood I believed that long walks and hikes were the lot of rural residents, and not educated city dwellers, because the latter were not accustomed to living in the wilderness. Walking through the foothills is not my most pleasant experience, and except for the view of the valley in which her house is located, I find nothing interesting about our walk, although someone else might call it exciting.
“I agree with you,” answered Clara. “But you’re not here to look around.” Look at your feet. There are snakes here.
Whether there really were snakes there remained a mystery to me, but her advice certainly kept my eyes glued to the ground. As we walked, I began to feel out of breath. The boots that Clara gave me hung on my feet like heavy weights. It became increasingly difficult for me to lift my leg in order to place it in front of the other.
– Is this walk in the mountains really necessary? I finally asked.
Clara stopped and turned to me.
“Before we can talk about anything meaningful, it would be nice if you could at least get a little sense of your surroundings,” she said. “I’m doing everything in my power to help you with this.”
- What are you talking about? – I insisted. – What kind of environment?
My usual suspicion came over me again.
“I mean the accumulation of your ordinary feelings and thoughts, your personal history,” Clara explained. – Everything that makes you who you consider yourself to be, the one and only person.
– What’s wrong with my usual feelings and thoughts? I asked.
Her incomprehensible statements were definitely starting to irritate me.
“These ordinary feelings and thoughts are the source of all your problems,” she said.
The more she spoke in riddles, the more disappointment grew in me. At that moment I wanted to kick myself for agreeing to accept this woman’s offer to visit her home. But my reaction was late. The fears that had been simmering in me all along now flared up in full force. I thought she looked a lot like a psychopath who could pull out a knife and kill me at any moment. Then I thought that, judging by the fact that she is good at martial arts, she would not need a knife. One good kick from her strong leg will be my last. I won't be able to resist her. She was older than me and obviously much stronger. I imagined that my death would be another case of missing persons, as they write about it in statistical reports.
“Get all your unhealthy thoughts out of your head,” Clara said, clearly having an idea of what I was thinking. “I only brought you here to prepare you to look at life a little more soberly.” But it seems that instead I only succeeded in causing an avalanche of stupid suspicions and fears in you.
I felt embarrassed for having such ugly thoughts. I could not imagine how she could so accurately determine when I was overcome by suspicions and fears, and how she could put an end to my inner restlessness with one phrase.
I wanted to apologize to her and calmly tell her everything, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. I thought this might create further complications for me.
“You have an extraordinary gift for calming my nerves, Clara,” I said instead. – Did you learn this in the East?
“It’s not that hard to learn,” she replied. “It’s easy not because you’re the one who’s easy to calm down, but because we’re all alike.” In order to know in detail what you are thinking about, I only need to know myself. About this, you can be sure, I have some idea. Now let's continue moving forward. I want to get to the cave before you completely collapse.
“Tell me again, Clara, what are we going to do in the cave?” – I asked, wanting to delay the need to move on.
“I'm going to teach you amazing things.”
– What kind of amazing things?
“You’ll find out soon,” she answered, looking me straight in the eyes.
I wanted to ask something, but before I could open my mouth, she was already walking ahead of me, halfway up the next slope. Dragging my feet with difficulty, I followed her for about a quarter of a mile until she stopped at the stream. Here the foliage on the trees was so thick that I couldn't even see the sky. I took off my shoes. I had a blister on my heel.
Clara found a sharpened stick and pressed it on my foot between my big and second toes. Something like a weak electric current struck my ankles and flowed into my thighs. Then she asked me to get on all fours and, raising each leg in turn with the foot up, she pricked me with a stick in the place that is located immediately under the bulge thumb. I screamed in pain.
“It’s not so bad,” she said in the tone of someone who was treating the sick more than once. Traditional Chinese doctors often used this technique to restore strength to the weak or to bring a person into a state of heightened awareness. But these days, this ancient knowledge is dying out.
- Why is this happening, Clara?
– Because admiration for materialism led man away from esoteric sciences.
“Is this what you meant when you told me in the desert that the connection with the past had been destroyed?”
- Yes. Great changes always entail dramatic changes in the energetic nature of things. And these changes are not always for the better.
She told me to put my feet in the stream and walk them along the smooth stones that lay at the bottom. The water was cold as ice, and I shivered involuntarily.
“Rotate your ankles clockwise,” she suggested. – Give the flowing water the opportunity to carry away all your fatigue.
After spinning my ankles for a few minutes, I felt refreshed, but my legs were numb from the cold.
“Now try to feel how all your tension is concentrated in your legs, and then throw it away with a sharp movement of your ankles to the sides,” Clara advised. - This way you can get rid of the feeling of cold.
I continued to muddy the waters until my legs were completely numb.
“I don’t think what you’re talking about is working, Clara,” I said, taking my feet out of the water.
“That’s because you don’t let the tension go away,” she replied. – Flowing water carries away fatigue, numbness, illness and all other unwanted things, but in order for this to happen, you must express your intention. Otherwise, you can dangle the water with your feet until the stream dries up, and everything will be in vain.
– What do you mean when you say that I should express my intention? – I asked, wiping my feet with the sleeves of my jacket. After vigorous rubbing, they finally warmed up.
“Intention is the force that moves the universe,” she said. – This is the force that gives birth to everything. Thanks to her, peace happens.
I couldn't believe that I was listening so intently to her every word. Something clearly happened to me, because my usual bored indifference was replaced by simply incredible attentiveness. And it wasn’t just that I understood what Clara was telling me, I actually didn’t understand it. I was amazed by the fact that I listened to her without getting distracted or irritated.
– Can you describe this power to me in more detail? I asked.
“In fact, nothing can be said about her except allegories,” answered Clara. She scraped the sole of her shoe along the ground, brushing dry leaves aside. Beneath the dry leaves is the soil, the surface of a huge planet. Intention is what underlies everything.
Clara took a handful of water and splashed it on her face. I was again surprised that there were no wrinkles on her skin. This time I told her what she looked like.
“The way a person looks depends on how he coordinates his life with the world around him,” she said, shaking water from her hands. “Everything we do affects this consistency in one way or another. We can be young and vibrant, or we can be old and sick, like the frozen lava in the mountains of Arizona. Everything depends on ourselves.
Unexpectedly for myself, I asked her if it was possible to restore this harmony if it had been lost. You would have thought that I believed her words.
She nodded affirmatively and said:
- Of course, you can. And you will do this with the help of this unique exercise that I am going to torture you with. It's called remembering.
“I can’t wait for you to teach me,” I said excitedly, putting on my shoes.
Then, for no apparent reason, I became so animated that I jumped up and down several times and asked:
“We’ve already arrived,” Clara announced, pointing to a small cave on the hillside. When I looked there, my enthusiasm disappeared somewhere. There was something sinister and unkind about this gaping hole, but at the same time tempting. I immediately had the urge to explore it, but I was afraid of discovering something unexpected inside.
I suspected that we were somewhere near her house, and this thought comforted me. Clara told me that this is a place of power, that is, a place that the ancient Chinese magicians who mastered the art of Feng Shui would undoubtedly have chosen to build a temple.
“Here the elements of water, forest and air are in perfect balance,” she said. – Energy circulates here in abundance. You'll see what I mean when you enter the cave. You must take advantage of the energy of this unique place in order to cleanse yourself.
“Are you saying that I will have to stay here?”
– Don’t you know that in the East in ancient times, monks and scientists often went into caves to live in solitude for a while? – she asked. – When you are surrounded by earth on all sides, it is easier to meditate.
She invited me to climb into the cave. Plucking up my courage, I squeezed inside, suppressing all thoughts of bats and spiders. It was dark and cool inside, and there was only enough room for one person. Clara told me to sit cross-legged and lean my back against the wall. I hesitated, not wanting to get my jacket dirty, but as soon as I leaned against the wall, I felt relieved. Even though the ceiling was immediately above my head, and the ground was pressing hard on my tailbone, the compressed space did not oppress me. A light, almost imperceptible flow of air moved through the cave. I felt energized, which Clara said was to be expected. I was about to take off my jacket and put it underneath me when Clara, who was squatting at the entrance to the cave, spoke.
“The pinnacle of the art that I want to teach you,” she began, “is what is called abstract flight, and the means of mastering it is remembering.” “She extended her hand into the cave and touched the left and right sides of my forehead. “Awareness has to move from here to here,” she said. – In childhood, we could do this easily, but when the harmony of our body was disrupted due to bad habits, only special work with awareness, a correct lifestyle and abstinence can restore lost energy. The energy required to change the level of perception.
I clearly understood everything she said and could even feel that awareness was like a stream of energy that could flow from one part of the head to another. I imagined the distance between these two parts as a huge space - an emptiness that prevents the transition.
I listened carefully to what she was saying.
“The body must be unusually strong,” she said. – Only then can awareness become penetrating and fluid enough to overcome the abyss that separates us from abstract flight in an instant.
While she was telling me all this, something extraordinary happened. I felt absolutely confident that I would stay with Clara in Mexico. I wanted to imagine myself returning to Arizona in a few days, but I knew that in reality I would not be returning there any time soon. I also realized that my decision to stay here was not simply an acceptance of what Clara had been pushing me to do from the beginning. The point was that I simply could not resist her intentions, because I was influenced by something that did not only relate to her.
“From now on, you will live a life in which nothing is more important than awareness,” she said in such a tone, as if I had given tacit consent to stay with her. – You must avoid everything that can harm or weaken the body or mind. In addition, at this time it is very important for you to break all physical and emotional ties with the world.
– Why is this so important?
– Because first of all you must become whole.
Clara explained that people tend to believe that their nature is dualistic: that the mind is their spiritual part and the body is the material part. This division leads to the fact that our energy is constantly in a chaotic state, and this interferes with its concentration.
“Separation is the condition in which a person exists,” she noted. “But in reality it is not between the mind and the body, but between the body, which contains the mind, or “I,” and the double, which is the container of our basic energy.
She said that before birth this separation does not exist, but from the time a person appears in this world, these two components are separated due to the influence of the intention of all mankind. One part turns into a physical body, while the other, internal, becomes a double. After death, the heavier physical component returns back to the earth, and the lighter one, the double, becomes free. But, unfortunately, the double cannot enjoy freedom for more than a moment, because due to its underdevelopment it immediately dissolves in the universe.
“We will die without eradicating the false dualism that we believe exists between body and mind - we die an ordinary death,” she said.
How can you die differently?
Clara stared at me with her eyebrows raised high. Instead of answering my question, she told me in a confidential tone that we die because the thought of changing ourselves never occurs to us. She emphasized that this transformation must be accomplished during life, and that the successful completion of this task is the only true goal that can be achieved. human life. All our other achievements are temporary, because death turns their owner into nothing.
– What is this transformation? – I asked.
“It involves a radical change,” she said. “And this change can be achieved through remembering, this cornerstone of freedom. The art that I am going to teach you is the art of being free. It is very difficult to do it, but it is even more difficult to explain its essence to others.
Clara said that every method she would teach me and every task she would give me, no matter how unusual it might seem to me, was actually a step towards achieving ultimate goal the art of being free - the comprehension of abstract flight.
“First, I will show you simple movements that you will have to perform every day,” she continued. – Consider them an integral part of your life. First of all, let's look at the technique of proper breathing, which has been kept secret for many centuries. This technique reflects the dual essence of arising and disappearing, light and darkness, being and non-being.
She asked me to leave the cave, and then with gentle movements she showed me how to sit down, leaning forward and bringing my knees as close to my chest as possible. Without lifting my feet from the ground, I had to hug my calves, wrap them tightly with my hands in front of me and place my palms on my elbows, if it was more convenient for me. With a gentle press, she lowered my head so that my chin touched my chest.
I had to really tense my arm muscles to keep my knees in front of me. My chest and stomach felt compressed, and something crunched in my neck; when I lowered my chin down.
“It’s a very active method,” she said. It may even happen that you will soon lose consciousness or fall asleep. In any case, when you come to your senses, return to the house. The cave, by the way, is located immediately behind the house. Follow the path and you'll come straight to it in two minutes.
Clara told me to take short, shallow breaths. I replied that her instructions did not change anything, because in this position I could only breathe this way and not otherwise. She said that if I Relaxed my arms even partially, my breathing would become normal again. But this shouldn't have happened. She wanted me to breathe shallowly for at least ten minutes.
I remained in this position for probably about half an hour, all the while breathing in short breaths, as she instructed me. After the cramps in my stomach went away and my legs stopped aching, my breathing seemed to soften my insides and dissolve them. Then, after an agonizingly long time, Clara pushed me so that I rolled onto my back and continued to lie on the ground, but she did not allow me to relieve the tension in my arms. When my back touched the ground, I felt some relief, but complete release came only when Clara allowed me to open my arms and stretch my legs. The only thing I can say about my sensations is that with the help of such breathing, something inside me was released, and then began to dissolve and eventually disappeared completely. As Clara had warned me, I felt so sleepy that I fell asleep as soon as I reached the cave.
I must have slept in the cave for at least two hours. Judging by the position in which I woke up, it could be said that during the entire time I slept, I did not move a single muscle. I thought that this must have happened because there was no room for movement and turning in the cave. But it could also be that I slept motionless because I was completely relaxed and did not need to move in order to find a more comfortable position.
I walked in the direction of the house, as Clara told me. She was sitting in a wicker chair on the patio near the house. I got the impression that another woman was sitting next to her, but when they heard me coming, she quickly got to her feet and left.
“Oh yes, you look rested,” Clara said. – This breathing method and posture simply works wonders for us.
Clara said that if this exercise is done regularly in a calm and focused mood, it helps to gradually bring our internal energy into balance.
Before I could tell her how good I felt, she asked me to sit down and learn another way of breathing that plays an important role in eradicating false dualism. She asked me to sit with my spine straight and close my eyes slightly so that I could see the tip of my nose.
“This breathing exercise should be done while taking off your clothes,” she began. “But in order not to undress you here in the yard, this time we will make an exception.” First of all, you begin to take a deep breath, drawing air into your lungs as if you were breathing through your vagina. Pull your stomach in and inhale as if the air is rising up along the spine, past the kidneys, to the place between the shoulder blades. Hold the air here for a while, and then continue to lift it further, to the back of the head, then over the top of the head to the point between the eyebrows.
She said that after holding it there for a moment, I should begin to exhale through my nose and at the same time, in my imagination, draw the air down along the body to a place that is just below the navel, and then further, to the vagina, where the whole cycle began.
I started doing this breathing exercise.
Clara placed her hand at the base of my spine and then drew a line along my back, above my head and to the point between my eyebrows, which she pressed lightly.
“Try to bring the air here,” she said. And you need to keep your eyes squinted so that it is easier for you to concentrate on the bridge of your nose. This way you can rotate the air in a line along your spine and above your head to this point. You can also, if you want, follow the air with your gaze as it descends down along the body and returns to the genitals.
Clara said that air circulation in this way creates an impenetrable barrier to external hostile influences that seek to influence the body's energy field. This exercise also helps prevent vital internal energy from leaking out into the outer space. She emphasized that the inhalations and exhalations should be silent and that this exercise can be done standing, sitting or lying down, although it is best to do it while sitting on a cushion or chair at first.
“Now,” she said, moving her chair closer to mine, “let’s talk about what we already started discussing this morning, about remembering.”
I shuddered internally. I then told her that although I had no idea what she was going to tell me, and I knew it would be something monumental, I wasn't sure I was ready to take it in right now. She said that I was nervous because some part of my being may have felt that one of the most important methods of self-renewal was about to be revealed to it. She patiently explained to me that recollection is an action aimed at returning energy that we have already used up sometime in the past. Remembrance implies remembering everything that has been lived. We must recreate in our imagination all the places we have ever been, all the people we have ever met, and all the feelings we have ever experienced. So you need to go through your entire life, starting from the present and reaching the earliest memories and clearing them one by one with the help of a special sweeping breath.
I listened to her with rapt attention, but I was more than sure that all her words meant absolutely nothing to me. Before I could say anything back, she took my chin firmly in her hands and ordered me to inhale through my nose, turning my head to the left, and then exhale, turning it to the right. Then I had to turn my head from left to right again without breathing. She said that such breathing is a wonderful way of cleansing, which is also the key to successful remembering, because inhalation allows us to return lost energy, and exhalation allows us to expel hostile, unnecessary energy that has accumulated in us for many years communication with other people.
“In order to live and act, we need energy,” Clara continued. – As a rule, the energy that we have expended leaves us forever. Therefore, if it were not for remembering, we would not be able to regain what we once lost. Remembering our lives and sweeping away our past through cleansing breath work together.
Remembering everyone I knew and everything I had ever felt seemed like an absurd and pointless task.
“This could take the rest of my life,” I said, hoping that this practical remark would help Clara see things more clearly.
“Maybe he’ll leave,” she agreed. “But I assure you, Taisha, that by practicing remembering, you will not lose anything, but you can gain something beyond all your expectations.”
I took a few deep breaths, shaking my head from side to side, trying to do it the way she showed me. With this I wanted to reassure her and let her know that I was listening to her carefully.
Smiling sideways, she warned me that remembering is not a random idle activity.
When practicing recollection, try to feel the long, taut fibers coming out of the solar plexus,” she explained. “Then coordinate the movement of your head with the movements of these subtle fibers. They are conductors through which once-lost energy returns to you again. In order to become strong and regain your integrity, you must release all your energy that was captured by the world during your life and re-absorb it into yourself.
She assured me that when we remember, we spread these long filaments of energy throughout space-time, connecting them with those people, places and events with which we dealt in the past. As a result, we are able to return to every past moment of our life and act in it as if we were really living it again.
This prospect made me shudder. Although I was intellectually intrigued by what Clara had told me, I had no desire to return to my sordid past, even if it was just a trip in the imagination. After all, I was even proud of the fact that I was able to somehow extricate myself from the unbearable situation in which I was forced to live from early childhood. I had no intention of revisiting my past and reliving all the moments that I most wanted to forget. However, Clara seemed so serious and focused as she explained the recall technique to me that I decided to put my doubts aside for a while and listen to what she was telling me.
I asked her if the order in which a person remembers his past matters. She replied that the most important thing is to learn to vividly relive past events in your imagination, recalling as many details associated with them as possible, and at the same time clearing them with the help of sweeping breath, which releases the energy trapped in them.
– Does this exercise belong to the Buddhist tradition? – I asked.
“No, that’s not true,” she said sublimely. – It belongs to a different tradition. You will soon find out what tradition we are talking about now.
Chapter 5
I saw Clara again the next day at breakfast. Our conversation in the courtyard the day before suddenly stopped when Clara’s gaze suddenly became absent and directed into the distance, as if she had noticed someone or something there. She quickly stood up, apologized, and left me to ponder the significance of what I had heard.
When we ate fried meat and rice in the morning, I told Clara that, returning from the cave yesterday, I was convinced of the truth of her words that it was located very close to home.
“Why then did we wander through the hills for so long yesterday before we got there?” – I asked.
Clara burst out laughing.
“I was trying to get you to take off your shoes, so we had to walk a little before we got to the stream,” she replied.
– Why did I need to take off my shoes? Because of the blister I rubbed?
“No, that’s not why,” said Clara with a special expression. “I needed to do acupressure on very important places on your soles in order to awaken you from the lethargic sleep that has lasted your entire life. Otherwise you would never have listened to me.
“Aren’t you exaggerating, Clara?” I would listen to you.
She shook her head and smiled knowingly.
“We were all raised to live in a sort of prison where nothing matters except petty, petty pleasures,” she said. “And it’s especially difficult for women in this prison.” Until we engage in remembering, we cannot overcome our childhood complexes. And speaking of remembering...
She noticed my dejected appearance and laughed.
- What, I have to go to the cave again? – I interrupted her, sensing that she was going to tell me about this.
I'd rather stay in the house with you. If you pose for me, I'll make a few sketches and then draw your portrait.
“Thank you, no need for that,” she said without any interest. “I'm just going to give you some preliminary instructions on how best to practice remembering.”
When we finished eating, Clara handed me a notepad and pencil. I thought that she had decided to accept my offer to paint her portrait. But when the writing materials were in my hands, she said that I would have to start writing down the names of all the people I had ever met, starting from that day and going back into the distant past.
- This is impossible! – I exclaimed. – How can I really remember everyone I saw in my life, starting from its first day?
Clara pushed the plates aside to make room for me to write.
“It’s true, it’s not easy, but nevertheless it’s possible,” she said. “It’s an integral part of remembering.” This list will become a matrix for your mind to hold on to when working with memories.
She explained that initial stage remembering implies two things. Firstly, you need to use the list, and secondly, try to visualize as clearly as possible all the details of events in memory as they appear before the mind of the rememberer.
– As soon as you have restored all the elements in your memory, begin cleansing breathing. The movements of the head in this case resemble a fan that blows air around the entire picture,” she said. – If you remember a room, for example, cleanse the walls, ceiling, furniture and people you see in it with your breath. Do not stop doing this until you have absorbed all the energy that you then left there, to the last drop.
– How do I know that there is no more energy left? – I asked.
“Your body will tell you when to stop and move on to the next event,” she assured me. “But do not forget that you must have the clear intention of absorbing all the energy that you left in the past, and exhaling all the hostile energy that others imposed on you then.
I was so overwhelmed by having to make a list of everyone I knew and start remembering that I couldn't think about anything at all. The negative involuntary reaction of my mind was that all thoughts and feelings completely left it. Then I was flooded with memories and I didn't know where to start. Clara explained that we should begin remembering by focusing first on our past sexual experiences.
– Why do we have to start with these memories? – I asked with suspicion.
“Because they contain the most of our energy,” Clara explained. “That’s why we have to free her first!”
“I don’t think my love affairs were that significant.”
- It doesn't matter what you think about them. You could look at the ceiling, die of boredom, or see falling stars and distant lights - but then someone left their energy in you and took a lot of yours with them.
After listening to her words, I completely lost heart. Reliving my sexual experiences seemed unbearable to me.
“It’s not such a pleasant thing,” I said, to relive all these events again. Moreover, I don't want to delve into everything related to men.
Clara looked at me with her eyebrows raised high.
“Besides, you probably expect me to tell you all this,” I continued. – But in fact, Clara, it seems to me that everything that I did with men should not concern anyone.
I thought I expressed myself quite clearly. However, Clara shook her head decisively, disagreeing with me, and said:
– Do you want all the men you date to continue to feed off your energy? Do you want them to get stronger as you get weaker? Do you want to remain a source of energy for them until the end of your days?! Do not want? It seems to me that you do not fully understand the importance of sexual intercourse and everything that a person does when remembering.
- You're right, Clara. I don't quite understand why all these strange things you ask me to do are necessary. And how can it be that men become stronger due to my energy? I do not feed or supply anyone. I'm telling you this seriously.
She smiled and said that she had made a mistake in imposing her ideas on me.
“Listen to what I tell you,” she asked. – In my life, I have become convinced of the correctness of what I am talking about. As you become more successful in remembering, you will learn how my beliefs came to me. For now, it is enough just to note that everything I am telling you is an integral part of the art that I am going to teach you.
“If it’s as important as you say, Clara, then it’s probably best if you tell me all about it now,” I said. “Before I start remembering, I want to know what it entails.”
“Okay, if you insist,” she nodded to me.
She poured chamomile tea into our cups and added a spoonful of honey to hers.
In the unchallenged voice of a teacher enlightening a neophyte, she explained that women actually contribute more energetically to the support of humanity than men, and that in order for them to fulfill this function, they are raised throughout the world to be submissive to men.
And it doesn’t matter whether they are bought on the slave market or surrounded with love and made an object of veneration,” she emphasized. – The main meaning of their existence and fate are the same: to nourish and protect men, to serve them.
Clara looked at me, as it seemed to me, in order to make sure that I was listening to her carefully. I listened, but my deep reaction was negative; it seemed to me that her position was wrong.
“Sometimes that can really be true,” I said. “But I don’t think you have the right to make such sweeping generalizations and apply this to all women.”
Clara strongly disagreed with me.
“The hard truth is that the subordination of women is not just a social convention,” she said, “but a fundamental biological pattern.
“Wait, Clara,” I protested. – How did you come to this?
She explained that biological patterns provide every species of living things with the maximum chance of survival. And for this purpose, nature has created means that enable male and female energies to interact in the most effective way. She said that although in the human world it is generally accepted that sexual intercourse is primarily for the purpose of procreation, it also has another, implicit function, which is that it maintains a continuous flow of energy from women to men.
Clara pronounced the words “to men” with such an accent that I was forced to ask:
– Why do you talk about humanity as if it were a one-way street? Isn't sexual intercourse an equal exchange of energy between a man and a woman?
“No,” she replied emphatically. – Men leave special energy fibers in women’s bodies. They are like glow worms that live in the womb and absorb energy.
“That sounds kind of sinister,” I said, chuckling at her.
But she continued to speak completely seriously.
“These energy fibers have one even more sinister quality,” she said, ignoring my nervous chuckle, “which is that they provide a constant outflow of energy to the man who sowed them. These fibers, which a woman becomes infected with during sexual intercourse, absorb and steal the energy of her body, which goes to those men who left them.
Clara was so adamant about what she said that I could no longer joke and had to think about it seriously. As I listened further, my nervous smile began to turn into a grimace.
“I can’t agree with a single word you say, Clara,” I said.
“But I’m very interested to know where you even acquired such a ridiculous idea?” Did someone tell you about this?
– Yes, my teacher told me about it. At first, I didn’t believe him either,” she noted. “But he also taught me the art of being free, which means I learned to see energy. Now I know that he was right when he said this, because I myself can see worm-like threads in the bodies of women. For example, you also have several such threads, and they all still work.
“Okay, Clara, let’s assume that this is so,” I said embarrassedly. - But tell me, please tell me, why is this so? Isn't this one-way drain of energy unfair to women?
The whole world is unfair to women! she exclaimed. “But that’s not what we’re talking about now.”
- What about it? Clara, I want to know this.
“Nature strives to ensure that our species reproduces,” she explained. – In order for this to happen, women must bear the excess burden of energy losses, and this implies a constant outflow of energy to men.
“But you still haven’t explained why it should be so,” I said, already beginning to yield to her conviction.
“Women have a major role in the reproduction of humans as a species,” Clara answered. “They devote a lot of energy not only to giving birth, feeding and raising children, but also to attract men to participate in this whole process.
Clara explained that ideally this process enables a woman who energetically nourishes a man who has left his energy fibers in her body to make him mysteriously dependent on herself at the level of subtle entities. This is confirmed by the fact that the man does everything in his power to return to this woman again and again for energy replenishment. In this way, Clara said, nature achieves the point that a man not only sometimes feels a fleeting desire to enjoy physical intimacy with a woman, but also receives a basis for establishing a more stable relationship with her.
The energy fibers left in a woman’s uterus, in the event of conception, partially merge with the energy shell of the fetus,” Clara continued. – They can be called a rudimentary form of family ties, because the father's energy merges with the energy of the embryo, and this will enable the father to subsequently feel that this is her child. But mothers never tell their daughters these simple facts. Girls are brought up to be easily seduced, without giving them the slightest idea of the consequences of sexual intercourse in terms of the future outflow of energy associated with it. This is what seems unfair to me first of all.
As I listened to Clara, I came to the conclusion that some of what she was saying corresponded to my bodily sensations on a deep level. She asked me not just to agree or disagree, but to think carefully about everything she said and evaluate it from a position of reason with courage and an open mind.
“It’s not even good if at least one man leaves energy fibers in a woman’s body,” Clara continued, “although this may be necessary so that they have descendants who can live after them.” But to have the energy fibers of ten or twenty men in her means for a woman to deplete her energy shell so much that it becomes extremely difficult for her to live. It's no wonder that women find it so difficult to stand up for themselves.
– Can a woman get rid of these fibers? I asked, becoming more and more convinced that there was a certain amount of truth in Clara’s words.
“A woman carries these threads within herself for seven years,” said Clara, “after which they disappear or fade.” But the most unpleasant thing is that when these seven years are over, the entire army of worms, starting with those left by the first man and ending with those belonging to the last, suddenly comes to life and forces the woman to engage in sexual intercourse again. After it, all the worms become stronger again due to the woman’s new loss of luminous energy and exist in this state for another seven years. In fact, it's an endless cycle.
What if a woman abstains from dating a man? – I asked. – What, the “worms” just die then?
“Yes, but only if she doesn’t make love for seven years.” However, in our days, in our age, a woman cannot abstain for so long unless she becomes a nun or has enough means to live. And even in this case, it will not be easy for her to do this.
- Why is this so, Clara?
– The fact is that a woman’s participation in sexual intercourse is not just a biological necessity, but also a social requirement.
Clara gave an example of a very moving and sad fact. She said that because we cannot see the flow of energy, we often unnecessarily expose ourselves to dangerous emotional influences and engage in behaviors that can lead to energy depletion. So, for example, society is completely in vain in demanding that women get married or at least offer themselves to men. Associated with this is a completely unjustified prejudice, characteristic of most women, as a result of which they feel their life is unfulfilled if they have not accepted the male seed into themselves. It is true that a man's energy fibers give their lives meaning, enable them to fulfill their biological function: to nourish men and produce offspring. But a human being is intelligent enough to demand from himself something more than ordinary procreation. She said that self-development, in particular, is an equal, if not more human, purpose in life, and that this orientation involves exposing women to their true role in the life of humanity.
Then she spoke about me personally and said that I was raised, like every other girl, by my mother, who believed that the main thing in my life was to marry well and not carry the stigma of an old maid. And indeed, I was raised like an animal in order to enter into sexual relations, whatever my mother called them.
“Like all women, you were tricked and forced into submitting to this demand,” Clara said. “And the most unpleasant thing here is that you are caught in the trap of social stereotypes, although you are not going to get married and have children.
Her statement was so embarrassing that I chuckled nervously again.
But this did not discourage Clara at all.
“Perhaps this is all really true, Clara,” I said, trying not to offend her. - But how can it help me if I remember everything that happened to me? Hasn't it flowed away like water under a bridge?
“All I can say is that in order to wake up, you need to break the vicious circle,” she answered, looking searchingly at me with her green eyes.
I repeated that I did not believe in her theories about dark biological necessities and the vampirism of men who suck the energy out of women, and noted that simply sitting in a cave and remembering everything that had happened to me would not help me in this case.
“There are some things that I never want to think about again,” I declared decisively and slammed my fist on the table. I stood up from the table with the firm intention of telling her that I did not want to hear anything more about remembering, a list of everyone I had met, or biological needs, and I was ready to leave.
“Let’s make a deal,” Clara said with the air of a salesman who has decided to trick his buyer. You are an honest person and respect integrity. Therefore, I suggest you enter into an agreement with me.
- What kind of agreement is this? – I asked with increasing concern.
She tore a piece of paper from the notebook and handed it to me.
“I want you to write a receipt that you agree to practice remembering for just one month.” If after a month you do not notice that you have more energy or an improvement in your well-being and opinion about life in general, you can freely go home, wherever your home is. If this really happens, you will then talk about it as a strange request from an abnormal woman.
I sat down again to calm down. After a few sips of tea, the thought occurred to me that I should do this out of sheer respect for Clara, who showed so much attention to me. Besides, it was clear that I wouldn't be able to get off her hook so easily. And besides, it won’t be difficult for me to look through everything that is in my memory. In the end, who will know what I am doing in the cave - visualization and breathing, or just dreaming and dozing.
“Only for one month,” she said with captivating sincerity. “You’re not being sold into slavery for life.” Trust me, I'm really trying to help you. – looking inquisitively at me with his green eyes.
“I know,” I answered. - But why are you taking all this care of me? And why did you choose me, Clara?
– There is one reason, but it is so non-trivial that I cannot tell you it now. - she answered. The only thing I can tell you now is that by helping you, I am pursuing a worthy goal: repaying a debt. Is paying off a debt an acceptable reason for you?
Clara looked at me with such hope in her eyes that I took a pencil and wrote a receipt, deliberately choosing the name so that later there could be no misunderstanding that we were talking about exactly one month. She persuaded me not to include in this month the time it would take me to make a list of the names of all the people I have met in my life. I agreed and added the appropriate note at the end. And then, against my better judgment, I put my signature on the piece of paper.
Chapter 6
It took weeks of intense mental work to compile the list. I despised myself for allowing Clara to persuade me not to include this time in the one month allotted for my stay with her by agreement. All these long days I worked alone and in silence. I only met Clara at breakfast and lunch in the kitchen, but each time we exchanged only a few words. She categorically refused to start a serious conversation with me, claiming that we would talk after I finished compiling the list. When I had done this, she immediately put aside her sewing and walked with me into the cave. It was just four o'clock in the afternoon, and early morning and late afternoon, as Clara said, are the best times to begin large-scale work.
At the entrance to the cave, she gave me some instructions.
“Stop at the first person on your list and remember everything connected with him,” said Clara, “from the day you met to the day you last saw him.” Or, if you want, you can work backwards - from the moment you last met to the day you met.
Armed with the list, I came to the cave every day. In the beginning, remembering was not an easy job. I couldn't concentrate because I was afraid to bring up the past. My mind wandered from one, in my opinion, painful memory to another, or I simply rested, indulging in daydreams. But as time passed, I began to be impressed by the clarity and detail of my memories. I even began to be more objective about those that had always been taboo for me.
To my surprise, I actually began to feel stronger and more optimistic. Sometimes, as I inhaled, I felt the energy flowing back into my body, warming and filling my muscles with strength. I was so fascinated by the process of remembering that it took me less than a month to become convinced of its importance. After two weeks of reminiscing during lunch, I asked Clara to find someone to take my things from the apartment where I used to live and put them in storage. Clara suggested that I do this several times already, but each time I refused because I was still not ready to dare to do it. Now Clara was very pleased with my request.
“I’ll ask one of my nieces to do it,” she suggested. “She'll take care of everything.” I don't want to distract you from your work with these worries.
End of introductory fragment.
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Abelar Taisha
Magical transition (Way of the warrior woman)
Before you is a new, completely “Castaneda” book - “The Magical Transition” by Taisha Abelar, a female stalker from the party of the nagual Carlos Castaneda. This is not only another fascinating journey into the world of don Juan’s magic in relation to the training of a female warrior, but also a most valuable practical guide. The so-called “Magical techniques” exercises are described here in detail, with the help of which you can achieve the discovery of energy resources, health, youth and, in addition Moreover, understanding many amazing things hidden from us in everyday life. In addition to this book, “Sofia” is preparing for publication two books by another female magician from the squad of Carlos Castaneda, already known to you from “The Witch’s Dream” by Florinda Donner. This is "Shabono", - according to the chronology of events, which is a continuation of "Dream" and "Life in a Dream", - a book about the training of the dreaming Florinda from the same magical family that is described by the stalker Taisha Abelar.
CONTENT
Foreword by Carlos Castaneda Introduction Chapter 1. An unexpected acquaintance
Alone in the desert of southern Arizona - Conversation with the mysterious
stranger - Clara invites me to visit - I tell Clara
about myself - Anxiety, resentment and new hope
Chapter 2. The Path to Mexico
Lunch in Guaymas - A man sits down with us and Clara
drives him away - Clara talks about Mexico and the Yaqui Indians
House in the middle of nowhere - Clara shows me the room where I will live
Find out who lives in this house - In the yard
Chapter 3. The Invisible House
Walking around the neighborhood at dusk - Trying to make out the house with
hill - In the kitchen - A dog that should not be called a toad
Completion of the Manfred experiment - Everything in my room
unusual and mysterious
Chapter 4. The road to the cave
Meeting Clara in the kitchen on the second day - View from the hill during the day
A grueling hike to the cave Clara gives me acupressure and
teaches you to give up fatigue to water - I find out what I will study
abstract flight - Clara talks about the human position in
the world and art of being free Breathing exercises of the ancients
- What is recollection?
Chapter 5. The Secret Teaching of Energies
Clara continues to talk about remembering - The role of men and
feminine energy - What binds a man to a woman - The way out
energy slavery - Teachers' mistakes - Clara and I
we conclude an agreement
Chapter 6. The art of being empty
I'm starting to remember - I'm trying to solve the mystery of the house
- Clara says I have to change - How to communicate with
intention Ability to pass through the dragon's eye - Clara
talks about true impartiality
Chapter 7. Shadow Movement
Clara talks about correct breathing - Clara's shadow moves
regardless of her body - Remembering helps make room
in the warehouse - Exercises for energy recharging - Conversation
about what Clara teaches me
Chapter 8. Voice of the Spirit
Clara's Mysterious Absence - Walking into a Cave in the Dark - Clara
explains why I didn't trip in the dark - Exercise for
opening the inner ear - The spirit speaks to me - Exercises
for shifting awareness - Harmony and non-doing
Chapter 9. Gift of the Great Magician
I find magic crystals in a cave, I remember how it used to be
I saw a great magician - Clara tells why we need
crystals - I talk about my failures - Clara explains why
recollection is different from psychoanalysis - What does it mean to open in
seer - Crystals - ancient magical weapons - Energy
in dreams and in reality, awareness of time and going beyond the world
Chapter 10. Magic techniques
The difference between a magical technique and a regular exercise - Clara teaches,
how to stay young - Working in the garden is like magic
reception Energy of the earth and sun - Exercises for saturation
energy of the sun - Clara shows her double - Like promises
deprive us of freedom - Clara talks about herself
Chapter 11. The World of Shadows
What we do expresses our inner state
The True Meaning of Kung Fu - The Mistake of the Ancient Magicians - Lesson
correct placement of stones - Clara offers me
visit the world of shadows - Two indispensable magic tricks
Otherworldliness - Dance beyond the world - "In other worlds there is no
there are shadows!"
Chapter 12. The Nagual
I meet a great magician near a cave - Talk about remembering,
double and ethereal network - I run into the house and find the magician there
Continuation of the conversation - Clara and the nagual are making fun of me
Clara talks about the nagual - the nagual teaches how to recreate in
ethereal connection in the imagination - I'm falling somewhere
Chapter 13. Manfred's Secret
Clara talks about what happened to me - Clara
remembers the nagual Julian - Who's Who in the Magic Group
- Everyone in this house is a magician, even the dog - It awakens in me
self-pity Clara suggests using magic
crystals - "Manfred is an ancient magician!"
Chapter 14. Lesson from the Nagual
Life with Clara and Manfred - I wake up in the courtyard and see the nagual
- The Nagual talks about the double and the energy gates - We
already met in the past - the Nagual explains what happened
five years ago - How I was noted then - Why did I get to
magicians
Chapter 15. New teacher
Clara prepares me for the arrival of her guest - How I spied - Story
Clara about her relatives - Farewell to Clara - Nelida's arrival
- Nelida explains my strangeness - Clara and Manfred left
forever
Chapter 16. Lesson from Nelida
Nelida teaches you to relax and calm down. The energy of her body is Two.
magical techniques for awareness of a double - Attracting attention
double using words - Scream at the entrance to the left wing of the house - I
already met Nelida - Failed meeting with the residents of the left
half
Chapter 17
Waking up in the air - Alone in an empty house - Looking through books
and fall asleep in the living room Meeting with the “caretaker” - Emilito thinks
I'm crazy - I'm walking through the central part of the house for the first time
- Night in a tree house
Chapter 18. A sip of intention
I remember an episode from my childhood and fall asleep - The caretaker's buffoonery
Emilito's new role - The story of Manfred's appearance in the house
The caretaker teaches the double to go beyond the body - Explanation
what happened and the conversation before the storm
Chapter 19. Emilito reveals secrets
Why was I so afraid of thunderstorms - Emilito mocks how
The nagual found me - Nelida had been watching me for a long time
Explanation of my failure to perform magic
transition under the leadership of Nelida
Chapter 20. Lesson from Emilito
The role of the caretaker in my training - Magical traditions - Nelida
- fairy of my childhood dreams - Energy Gate - My double
merges with the tree - Emilito talks about the double - Decides
postpone some experiment with my participation
Chapter 21. Abstract flight
Everyday life of a tree dweller - Remembering activities under
by Emilito's guidance - I am changing my attitude towards the caretaker
Tree climbing technique - What I learned from green friends
- Furnishings in the caretaker's room Looking into infinity
Emilito's explanations - Magical transition - Window into the invisible
peace - I see those who are waiting for me - New Nagual*
*Carlos Castaneda, (editor's note)
FOREWORD BY CARLOS CASTANEDA
Taisha Abelar is one of three women who completed a serious training course in magic in Mexico with Don Juan Matus.
I described in detail my training under his leadership, but in my books I never mentioned* this special group to which Taisha Abelar belongs. The fact is that among don Juan's wards there was an unwritten agreement not to mention them.
*
The preface was written before the publication of the ninth book
Carlos Castaneda "The Art of Dreaming"
(K.K. volume V, p. 13, publishing house "Sofia", Kyiv, 1993)
(Editor's note).
For twenty years we have adhered to this agreement. And despite the fact that we lived and worked in close proximity to each other, we never discussed our experiences together. In fact, we never even had the opportunity to exchange opinions about what exactly don Juan and the sorcerers of his squad were doing to us.
This state of affairs was not due to the presence of don Juan. After he and his group left the world, we continued to live in isolation from each other because we did not want to expend energy on revising existing agreements. All the time and energy we had was used by us to improve in what don Juan taught us so diligently.
Don Juan taught us magic as a practice that gave each of us the ability to see energy directly. He argued that in order to see energy in this way, we must first free ourselves from the limitations of ordinary perception. This liberation and learning to see became our first priority.
Sorcerers believe that the qualities of our ordinary perception were forced upon us during the process of education, although not without our participation. One of the integral aspects of ordinary perception is the system of interpretation of sensations, which transforms what we observe through the senses into meaningful units, considered in accordance with the social value system.
Ordinary life in society requires from people a blind and unconditional adherence to normal perception, which excludes the possibility of directly seeing energy. But don Juan argued, in particular, that if desired, it is quite possible to learn to see people as energy fields, reminiscent of large elongated egg-shaped bubbles, glowing with a dim white light.
In order to reach a higher level of perception, we need internal energy. Therefore, accumulating the required amount is a key task for those who practice magic.
The current circumstances in the world are favorable for Taisha Abelar to describe her learning process, which was in many ways similar to mine, but at the same time significantly different from it. It took her a long time to write the book because she had to first acquire magical creative tools. Don Juan Matus himself gave me the task of writing about his magic. He gave me instructions on how to do this, saying: “Write like a magician, not like a writer.” This meant that I had to write in a state of more subtle perception, which sorcerers call dreaming. It took Taisha Abelar years to master dreaming to the degree necessary to turn it into a magical creative tool.
In the world of don Juan, magicians, depending on their temperament, were divided into two main categories: dreamers and stalkers. TO
dreamers are those magicians who are endowed with the ability to reach a higher level of perception by controlling the flow of their dreams. They improve this ability through focused practice, turning it into the art of dreaming. On the other hand, stalkers are those magicians who have an innate ability to coordinate their lives with external circumstances and can reach high levels of perception, improving in controlling their behavior. Magical practice transforms this natural ability into the art of stalking.
Although all of don Juan's followers are proficient in both of these arts, each magician falls into one category. Taisha Abelar belongs to the stalkers and studied under their guidance. This book tells a fascinating story about her studies in the art of stalking.
INTRODUCTION
I have dedicated my life to the single-minded pursuit of a discipline that, for lack of a better name, we call magic. But I am also an anthropologist and received a PhD in this field. I mentioned these two areas of my activity in this order because my passion for magic came first. Usually a person becomes an anthropologist and then studies some aspects of human culture - in particular, magical cults. But the opposite happened to me: while doing magic, I began to study anthropology.
In the late 1960s, while living in Tucson, Arizona, I met a Mexican woman named Clara Grau, who invited me to stay at her home in the Mexican state of Sonora. Having received me there, she did everything in her power to initiate me into the secrets of her world, because in reality she was a magician - one of sixteen people who formed an integral magical group. Some of them were Yaqui Indians, others were Mexicans of various origins and upbringings, ages and genders. The majority were women. All of them persistently pursued one goal: they sought to overcome social prejudices and associated stereotypes of perception that prevent us from going beyond the ordinary everyday world and penetrating into other possible worlds.
For magicians, overcoming these perceptions means being able to cross the line and enter the unimaginable. They call this incredible leap the “magic transition.” Sometimes they say that this is that “flight into the abstract” that takes us from the material, physical world into the sphere of expanded perception and impersonal transcendental entities.
These magicians, on their own initiative, undertook to help me comprehend flight into the abstract so that I could subsequently join them in their activities.
Academic studies became an integral part of my preparation for the magical transition. The leader of the group of sorcerers to which I belong, or the nagual as we call him, is a person who takes a keen interest in formal scientific knowledge. As a result, all his students had to master abstract thinking, which is taught today only in universities.
I also felt the need to get a higher education because I am a woman. After all, women from early childhood are brought up in the spirit of dependence on the initiative of men, who in our society are assigned the role of thinkers and reformers. The magicians I studied with were quite categorical in their opinions on this matter. They believed that a woman must develop her intellect and master the skills of rational analysis in order to feel more confident in the modern world.
Moreover, the development of intelligence is an ingenious magical
trick. By consciously occupying the mind with reflection and analysis, magicians are able to freely explore other spheres of perception. In other words, while the rational side is engaged in formal academic studies, the energetic or irrational side, which magicians call the "double", devotes itself to performing magical actions. At the same time, the distrustful rational mind does not often interfere with processes occurring at the irrational level, and often simply does not notice them.
Therefore, my studies in science went hand in hand with the expansion of consciousness and the acquisition of extraordinary qualities of perception: these two aspects of activity develop our entire being. Having a simultaneous impact on me, these two aspects of my life transported me from the taken-for-granted world in which I was born and raised as a woman into a new area of \u200b\u200bperception for me, where many of the restrictions inherent in the ordinary world are absent.
This is not to say that mere adherence to the magical world would have been enough to overcome all the obstacles that arose in my path. The fact is that the influence of the ordinary world is so strong and persistent that, despite diligence and diligence, practitioners of magic again and again find themselves in situations where they are overcome by the most common fear, where they behave unreasonably and become attached to things as if we learned nothing at all. My teachers warned me that I was no exception in this sense, and that only continuous, persistent efforts aimed at achieving perfection could overcome our natural, but very unconstructive desire to not change anything.
After carefully considering what I have already achieved and what remains to be accomplished, after consulting with my magician friends, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to describe the entire process of my studies so that everyone who seeks to comprehend the unknown could learn about the importance of developing skills of perception that are more subtle than our usual one. These higher levels of perception must become an integral part of a new, sober and pragmatic way of life. But they should not under any circumstances be considered as an extension of our ordinary view of the world.
The events that I describe in the book represent the first steps in the magical practice of a stalker. This stage of training involves the eradication of stereotypes of thinking, behavior and emotional response through traditional magical means, one of which is "remembering" a method of reviewing one's life experiences that all neophytes go through. In addition to the recollection practice, I was also taught a series of exercises called "magic techniques" which are a combination of certain movements and breathing. Finally, in order to make the meaning of these exercises clear, relevant philosophical ideas and explanations were brought to my attention.
The goal of everything I studied was to learn how to accumulate and redistribute energy, which can then be used to perform the most unpredictable manipulations of perception necessary to perform magical actions. All activities were based on the idea that once obsessive habits, preconceptions, expectations and sensations disappear, a person immediately has the opportunity to accumulate sufficient energy to live, guided by the ideas that exist in the magical tradition - and to be convinced of their correctness by directly comprehending reality on a deeper level.
CHAPTER 1
I chose a secluded place, away from the highway and people. Early in the morning I wanted to sketch shadows on the slopes of the amazing volcanic mountain range that borders the Gran Desierto desert in southern Arizona. The dark brown, sharp-angled rocks sparkled as the first rays of the sun splashed onto their peaks. Huge blocks of porous rock were scattered around me - solidified lava, reminiscent of the fact that in the distant past there had been a gigantic volcanic eruption here. I made myself comfortable on a large rock and, forgetting about everything in the world, plunged into my work, as often happened in this wild but beautiful place. I had just finished drawing the peaks and valleys of a distant mountain range when I noticed a woman watching me. I felt extremely unpleasant that someone had again invaded my solitude. I tried my best to ignore her, but when she came closer to look at my drawing, I turned to face her angrily.
With her wide cheekbones and black hair falling over her shoulders, she could be mistaken for a Euro-Asian. Her strong, beautifully built body made it impossible to judge her age. He could be anyone from thirty to fifty. She was probably about two inches taller than me—which meant she was five feet nine inches tall—but she seemed twice my size. And at the same time, in her oriental-cut jacket and black silk trousers, she looked very elegant.
I noticed her eyes. They were green and sparkling. It was this friendly sparkle that instantly extinguished all my anger, and I heard myself asking her an absurd question:
- Do you live somewhere nearby?
“No,” she said, taking a few steps in my direction. - I’m heading towards the checkpoint on the US border in the town of Sonoita. I stopped here to stretch my legs, and then I walked into this deserted place. Seeing that there was already someone in this wilderness, I was so surprised that I could not resist being curious. Let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Grau.
She extended her hand to me and I shook it, and then, without any hesitation, I told her that right after I was born, I was given the name Taisha, but later my parents decided that this name was not very suitable for America, and began to call me Martha, same as my mother's name. I didn’t like this name and decided that it would be better if my name was Mary.
- How interesting! - she was amazed. -You have three names, and they are all different. I will call you Taisha, because that is your first name.
I was pleased that she chose this name. It was the closest to me. Although I agreed with my parents that it sounded too unusual, I disliked the name Martha so much that I secretly entertained the idea of reclaiming the name Taisha.
In a harsh tone, which she nevertheless softened with a gentle smile, she uttered a series of statements that were clearly hidden questions.
“You're not a native of Arizona,” she began.
I answered her directly, which was very unusual for me due to my habit of not trusting people, especially strangers.
- I came to Arizona a year ago to work.
-You are no more than twenty years old.
- In a couple of months I will turn twenty-one.
-You have a barely noticeable accent. Apparently you are not American, but I can't pinpoint your nationality.
“I’m an American, but I spent my childhood in Germany,” I said. - My father is American, and my mother is Hungarian. I left my parents' house when I went to college and never returned because I didn't want anything to do with my family.
- I assume you didn't get along with them?
- No. I felt disgusting at home. I still couldn’t wait to get out of there.
She smiled and nodded understandingly, as if she herself was well acquainted with the desire to run away from home.
- Are you married? - the woman asked.
- No. “I have no one in the whole world,” I answered, feeling sorry for myself, as I always did when I had to talk about myself.
She did not react to my words in any way, but began to calmly and business-likely talk about herself, as if she was trying to win my trust and at the same time tell me as much information as possible in each phrase.
As she spoke, I put the pencils in my bag and did not take my eyes off the stranger, because I did not want to give the impression that I was not listening to her attentively.
“I was an only child in the family, and my parents are no longer alive,” she said. - My father comes from a Mexican family from the city of Oaxaca. But my mother is an American of German descent. Her relatives still live in the eastern states, in Phoenix. I'm just returning from the wedding of one of my cousins.
- Do you also live in Phoenix? - I asked.
“I spent half my life in Arizona, and the other half in Mexico,” she answered. - Now I live in the Mexican state of Sonora.
I started zipping up my briefcase. The meeting and conversation with this woman unsettled me somewhat, and I realized that that day I would no longer be able to draw anything.
“And I also traveled around the East,” she said, again attracting my attention. - There I studied martial arts, acupuncture and local medicine. For several years I even lived in a Buddhist temple.
- Seriously? - I looked into her eyes in surprise. You could really tell from them that she had been meditating for a long time. There was a sense of strength in them, but their gaze was calm.
“I’m very interested in the East,” I said, “especially Japan.” I also read about Buddhism and studied martial arts.
- Seriously? - She asked me the same question with surprise. “I would love to tell you my Buddhist name, but secret names can only be pronounced under certain circumstances.”
“I told you my secret name,” I reproached, fastening the straps of my briefcase.
“Yes, Taisha, it is, and it means a lot to me,” she answered in a genuinely serious tone. Still, now is not the time for this.
- Did you come here by car? - I asked, looking around for her car.
“And I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I left my car a quarter of a mile south of here, on a dirt road.” And you?
- Did you come in a white Chevrolet? - she asked cheerfully.
- Yes.
“Well, in that case, my car is parked next to yours,” she replied, giggling as if it was very funny. I was surprised when I noticed that she had such an unpleasant laugh.
“I was about to leave,” I said. - It was very nice to meet you. Goodbye!
I headed towards my car, expecting the woman to stay a little longer to admire the scenery.
“Let’s not say goodbye just yet,” she protested. - I am going with you.
We went together. Next to my hundred and ten pounds she looked like a big boulder.
Current page: 1 (book has 21 pages in total)
Taisha Abelar
Magical transition. The path of a warrior woman
Foreword by Carlos Castaneda
Taisha Abelar is one of three women who completed a serious training in magic in Mexico with Don Juan Matus.
I described in detail my training under his leadership, but in my books I never mentioned this special group to which Taisha Abelar belongs. The fact is that among don Juan's wards there was an unwritten agreement not to mention them.
For twenty years we have adhered to this agreement. And despite the fact that we lived and worked in close proximity to each other, we never discussed our experiences together. In fact, we never even had the opportunity to exchange opinions about what exactly don Juan and the sorcerers of his squad were doing to us.
This state of affairs was not due to the presence of don Juan. After he and his group left the world, we continued to live in isolation from each other because we did not want to expend energy on revising existing agreements. All the time and energy we had was used by us to improve in what don Juan taught us so diligently.
Don Juan taught us magic as a practice that gave each of us the ability to see energy directly. He argued that in order to see energy in this way, we must first free ourselves from the limitations of ordinary perception. This liberation and learning to see became our first priority.
Sorcerers believe that the qualities of our ordinary perception were forced upon us during the process of education, although not without our participation. One of the integral aspects of ordinary perception is the system of interpretation of sensations, which transforms what we observe through the senses into meaningful units, considered in accordance with the social value system.
Ordinary life in society requires from people a blind and unconditional adherence to normal perception, which excludes the possibility of directly seeing energy. But don Juan argued, in particular, that if desired, it is quite possible to learn to see people as energy fields, reminiscent of large elongated egg-shaped bubbles, glowing with a dim white light.
In order to reach a higher level of perception, we need internal energy. Therefore, accumulating the required amount is a key task for those who practice magic.
The current circumstances in the world are favorable for Taisha Abelar to describe her learning process, which was in many ways similar to mine, but at the same time significantly different from it. It took her a long time to write the book because she had to first acquire magical creative tools. Don Juan Matus himself gave me the task of writing about his magic. He gave me instructions on how to do this, saying: “Write like a magician, not like a writer.” This meant that I had to write in a state of more subtle perception, which sorcerers call dreaming. It took Taisha Abelar years to master dreaming to the degree necessary to turn it into a magical creative tool.
In the world of don Juan, magicians, depending on their temperament, were divided into two main categories: dreamers and stalkers. Dreamers include those magicians who are endowed with the ability to reach a higher level of perception by controlling the flow of their dreams. They improve this ability through focused practice, turning it into the art of dreaming. On the other hand, stalkers are those magicians who have an innate ability to coordinate their lives with external circumstances and can reach high levels of perception, improving in controlling their behavior. Magical practice transforms this natural ability into the art of stalking.
Although all of don Juan's followers are proficient in both of these arts, each magician falls into one category. Taisha Abelar belongs to the stalkers and studied under their guidance. This book tells a fascinating story about her studies in the art of stalking.
Introduction
I have dedicated my life to the single-minded pursuit of a discipline that, for lack of a better name, we call magic. But I am also an anthropologist and received a PhD in this field. I mentioned these two areas of my activity in this order because my passion for magic came first. Usually a person becomes an anthropologist and then studies some aspects of human culture - in particular, magical cults. But the opposite happened to me: while doing magic, I began to study anthropology.
In the late 1960s, while living in Tucson, Arizona, I met a Mexican woman named Clara Grau, who invited me to stay at her home in the Mexican state of Sonora. Having received me there, she did everything in her power to initiate me into the secrets of her world, because in reality she was a magician - one of sixteen people who formed an integral magical group. Some of them were Yaqui Indians, others were Mexicans of various origins and upbringings, ages and genders. The majority were women. All of them persistently pursued one goal: they sought to overcome social prejudices and associated stereotypes of perception that prevent us from going beyond the ordinary everyday world and penetrating into other possible worlds.
For magicians, overcoming these perceptions means being able to cross the line and enter the unimaginable. They call this incredible leap the “magic transition.” Sometimes they say that this is the “flight into the abstract” that takes us from the material, physical world into the sphere of expanded perception and impersonal transcendental entities.
These magicians, on their own initiative, undertook to help me comprehend flight into the abstract so that I could subsequently join them in their activities.
Academic studies became an integral part of my preparation for the magical transition. The leader of the group of sorcerers to which I belong, or the nagual as we call him, is a person who takes a keen interest in formal scientific knowledge. As a result, all his students had to master abstract thinking, which is taught today only in universities.
I also felt the need to get a higher education because I am a woman. After all, women from early childhood are brought up in the spirit of dependence on the initiative of men, who in our society are assigned the role of thinkers and reformers. The magicians I studied with were quite categorical in their opinions on this matter. They believed that a woman must develop her intellect and master the skills of rational analysis in order to feel more confident in the modern world.
Moreover, the development of intelligence is a clever magic trick. By consciously occupying the mind with reflection and analysis, magicians are able to freely explore other spheres of perception. In other words, while the rational side is engaged in formal academic studies, the energetic or irrational side, which magicians call the “double,” devotes itself to performing magical actions. At the same time, the distrustful rational mind does not often interfere with processes occurring at the irrational level, and often simply does not notice them.
Therefore, my studies in science went hand in hand with the expansion of consciousness and the acquisition of extraordinary qualities of perception: these two aspects of activity develop our entire being. Having a simultaneous impact on me, these two aspects of my life transported me from the taken-for-granted world in which I was born and raised as a woman into a new area of \u200b\u200bperception for me, where many of the restrictions inherent in the ordinary world are absent.
This is not to say that mere adherence to the magical world would have been enough to overcome all the obstacles that arose in my path. The fact is that the influence of the ordinary world is so strong and persistent that, despite diligence and diligence, practitioners of magic again and again find themselves in situations where they are overcome by the most common fear, where they behave unreasonably and become attached to things as if we learned nothing at all. My teachers warned me that I was no exception in this sense, and that only continuous, persistent efforts aimed at achieving perfection could overcome our natural, but very unconstructive desire to not change anything.
After carefully considering what I have already achieved and what remains to be accomplished, after consulting with my magician friends, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to describe the entire process of my studies so that everyone who seeks to comprehend the unknown could learn about the importance of developing skills of perception that are more subtle than our usual one. These higher levels of perception must become an integral part of a new, sober and pragmatic way of life. But they should not under any circumstances be considered as an extension of our ordinary view of the world.
The events that I describe in the book represent the first steps in the magical practice of a stalker. This stage of training involves the eradication of stereotypes of thinking, behavior and emotional response through traditional magical means, one of which is “remembering” - a method of reviewing one’s life experiences that all neophytes go through. In addition to the recollection practice, I was also taught a series of exercises called "magic techniques" which are a combination of certain movements and breathing. Finally, in order to make the meaning of these exercises clear, relevant philosophical ideas and explanations were brought to my attention.
The goal of everything I studied was to learn how to accumulate and redistribute energy, which can then be used to perform the most unpredictable manipulations of perception necessary to perform magical actions. At the heart of all the studies was the idea that as soon as obsessive habits, preconceptions, expectations and sensations disappear, a person immediately has the opportunity to accumulate sufficient energy to live, guided by the ideas that exist in the magical tradition - and to be convinced of their correctness by directly comprehending reality on a deeper level.
I chose a secluded place, away from the highway and people. Early in the morning I wanted to sketch shadows on the slopes of the amazing mountain range of volcanic origin that borders the Gran Desierto desert in southern Arizona. The dark brown, sharp-angled rocks sparkled as the first rays of the sun splashed onto their peaks. Huge blocks of porous rocks were scattered around me - solidified lava, reminiscent of the fact that in the distant past there had been a gigantic volcanic eruption here. I made myself comfortable on a large rock and, forgetting about everything in the world, plunged into my work, as often happened in this wild but beautiful place. I had just finished drawing the peaks and valleys of a distant mountain range when I noticed a woman watching me. I felt extremely unpleasant that someone had again invaded my solitude. I tried my best to ignore her, but when she came closer to look at my drawing, I turned to face her angrily.
With her wide cheekbones and black hair falling over her shoulders, she could be mistaken for a Euro-Asian. Her strong, beautifully built body made it impossible to judge her age. He could be anyone from thirty to fifty. She was probably about two inches taller than me—which meant she was five feet nine inches tall—but she seemed twice my size. And at the same time, in her oriental-cut jacket and black silk trousers, she looked very elegant.
I noticed her eyes. They were green and sparkling. It was this friendly sparkle that instantly extinguished all my anger, and I heard myself asking her an absurd question:
– Do you live somewhere nearby?
“No,” she said, taking a few steps in my direction. – I’m heading towards the checkpoint on the US border in the town of Sonoita. I stopped here to stretch my legs, and then I walked into this deserted place. Seeing that there was already someone in this wilderness, I was so surprised that I could not resist being curious. Let me introduce myself. My name is Clara Grau.
She extended her hand to me and I shook it, and then, without any hesitation, I told her that right after I was born, I was given the name Taisha, but later my parents decided that this name was not very suitable for America, and began to call me Martha, same as my mother's name. I didn’t like this name and decided that it would be better if my name was Mary.
- How interesting! – she was amazed. – You have three names, and they are all different. I will call you Taisha, because that is your first name.
I was pleased that she chose this name. It was the closest to me. Although I agreed with my parents that it sounded too unusual, I disliked the name Martha so much that I secretly entertained the idea of reclaiming the name Taisha.
In a harsh tone, which she nevertheless softened with a gentle smile, she uttered a series of statements that were clearly hidden questions.
“You're not an Arizona native,” she began.
I answered her directly, which was very unusual for me due to my habit of not trusting people, especially strangers.
– I came to Arizona a year ago to work.
-You are no more than twenty years old.
“I’ll be twenty-one in a couple of months.”
-You have a barely noticeable accent. Apparently you are not American, but I can't pinpoint your nationality.
“I’m American, but I spent my childhood in Germany,” I said. – My father is American, and my mother is Hungarian. I left my parents' house when I went to college and never returned because I didn't want anything to do with my family.
– I assume you didn’t get along with them?
- No. I felt disgusting at home. I still couldn’t wait to get out of there.
She smiled and nodded understandingly, as if she herself was well acquainted with the desire to run away from home.
- Are you married? – the woman asked.
- No. “I have no one in the whole world,” I answered, feeling sorry for myself, as I always did when I had to talk about myself.
She did not react to my words in any way, but began to calmly and business-likely talk about herself, as if she was trying to win my trust and at the same time tell me as much information as possible in each phrase.
As she spoke, I put the pencils in my bag and did not take my eyes off the stranger, because I did not want to give the impression that I was not listening to her attentively.
“I was an only child in the family, and my parents are no longer alive,” she said. – My father comes from a Mexican family from the city of Oaxaca. But my mother is an American of German descent. Her relatives still live in the eastern states, in Phoenix. I'm just returning from the wedding of one of my cousins.
– Do you live in Phoenix too? – I asked.
“I spent half my life in Arizona and the other half in Mexico,” she answered. – Now I live in the Mexican state of Sonora.
I started zipping up my briefcase. The meeting and conversation with this woman unsettled me somewhat, and I realized that that day I would no longer be able to draw anything.
“I also traveled around the East,” she said, again attracting my attention. “There I studied martial arts, acupuncture and local medicine. For several years I even lived in a Buddhist temple.
- Seriously? “I looked into her eyes in surprise. You could really tell from them that she had been meditating for a long time. There was a sense of strength in them, but their gaze was calm.
“I’m very interested in the East,” I said, “especially Japan.” I also read about Buddhism and studied martial arts.
- Seriously? “She asked me the same question in surprise. “I would love to tell you my Buddhist name, but secret names can only be spoken under certain circumstances.”
“I told you my secret name,” I reproached, fastening the straps of my briefcase.
“Yes, Taisha, it is, and it means a lot to me,” she answered in a genuinely serious tone. Still, now is not the time for this.
– Did you come here by car? – I asked, looking around for her car.
“And I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I left my car a quarter of a mile south of here, on a dirt road. And you?
– Did you come in a white Chevrolet? – she asked cheerfully.
“Well, in that case, my car is parked next to yours,” she replied, giggling as if it was very funny. I was surprised when I noticed that she had such an unpleasant laugh.
“I was about to leave,” I said. – It was very nice to meet you. Goodbye!
I headed towards my car, expecting the woman to stay a little longer to admire the scenery.
“Let’s not say goodbye just yet,” she protested. - I am going with you.
We went together. Next to my hundred and ten pounds she looked like a big boulder. It was not the body that was dense and strong. Looking at her, one could tell that she tended to be overweight, but she was not obese.
“Can I ask you an indiscreet question, Mrs. Grau?” – I said in order to break the awkward silence.
She stopped and turned to face me.
– I’m not someone’s missus! – she said sharply. - I am Clara Grau. You can call me Clara and address me as “you,” and you can also ask me whatever you want without warning.
“I see you don’t have a very flattering opinion about love and marriage,” I noted, noticing her tone.
For a moment she looked at me with a withering gaze, but after a moment she softened.
“I have an unflattering opinion of slavery,” she replied. However, I don't just mean women. So what were you going to ask?
Her behavior was so unexpected for me that I forgot what was on my mind when I addressed her after a pause. I stared at her confusedly.
– Why did you decide to drive so far from the highway? I asked hastily.
“I turned here because this is a place of power,” she answered, pointing to large piles of lava in the distance. “Once upon a time these mountains appeared on the surface of the earth the way blood appears on a body. When driving through Arizona, I always make a detour to stop here. This place radiates a special earthly energy. Now let me ask you the same thing, why did you choose this particular place to paint?
– I come here often. This is one of my favorite places.
I didn't think my words would seem funny to her, but she burst into laughter.
- That says it all! – she exclaimed, and then continued in a calmer voice:
“I’m going to ask you to do something that may seem strange and even stupid to you, but listen to me first. I want to invite you to my house to stay for a few days.
I was about to raise my hand to thank her and refuse, but she asked me not to rush. She assured me that our common interest in the East and martial arts could serve as the basis for a serious exchange of views.
- Where exactly do you live? – I asked.
– Not far from the town of Navojoa.
“But it’s more than four hundred miles from here.”
- Yes, it's quite far. But there are such quiet and beautiful places there that I have no doubt: you will be pleased.
She was silent for a while, as if waiting for my answer.
“Besides, it seems to me that right now you are not busy with anything,” she continued, “and you yourself don’t know what you will do next.” You know, maybe I'm offering you exactly what you've been looking for for a long time.
She was right in that I really had no idea what to do next. I recently quit my job as a secretary to take up painting. However, I did not have the slightest desire to go visit anyone.
I looked around in search of something that could tell me what to do right. I could never explain where I got the idea that a person can draw help and advice from his environment. But I almost always managed to get a clue this way. I had a method that seemed to be born with me and with the help of which I could find out the answers to the questions that interested me. To do this, I usually let my thoughts float away, focusing my gaze on the horizon line to the south, although I had no idea why I chose the south. After several minutes of silence, as a rule, insights came to me that helped me understand what to do or how to act in a given situation.
Walking along the path with Clara, I fixed my gaze on the horizon in a southern direction and suddenly saw life stretching out before me like this barren desert. I could honestly say that I had never noticed before how lonely and abandoned this land was, although I had been to the Sonoran Desert more than once before, which occupies the entire south of Arizona, part of California and half of the Mexican state of Sonora.
It only took a moment for the sight of the barren and deserted desert to translate into concrete thoughts. I broke up with my family, but haven't started my own yet. I didn't even have any plans for the future. I haven't worked anywhere. I lived on the meager savings I inherited from the aunt after whom I took my name, but they were already running out. I was completely alone in this world. The vast space, stretching in all directions, was cruel and indifferent. The sight of him made me feel a surge of self-pity. I felt that I needed a friend who could end my loneliness.
I knew it would be very foolish of me to accept Clara's invitation and to find myself in a situation that I could hardly control, but there was something about her directness and energy that aroused my curiosity and made me respect her. I noticed that I admired her beauty and strength, and maybe even envied her. I thought that this was the most amazing and bright woman I had ever known - independent, self-confident, calm and at the same time uncomplicated and not without a sense of humor. She was endowed with exactly those qualities that I myself would most like to have. But, above all else, her presence seemed to put an end to the aimlessness of my life. The space around her became saturated with energy, full of hope and possibility.
However, I had an unshakable rule not to accept invitations to stay, which in this case was also reinforced by the fact that I met Clara in the desert by chance. I thought that agreeing to stay with her would mean that I would have to invite her to my place later, and I was completely unprepared for this, because I lived in a small apartment in Tucson. For some time I could not make a decision, not knowing which way to turn.
“Please agree,” Clara insisted. You'll be doing me a big favor.
“Okay, it seems to me that I can go with you,” I said sluggishly, wanting to actually say the opposite.
She looked at me joyfully and I had to hide my panic with a deliberately perky phrase, although I was not at all happy.
“A change of scenery will do me good,” I said. – New adventure!
She nodded approvingly.
“You won’t regret this,” she said in a tone that conveyed such confidence that all my doubts immediately disappeared.
“We can practice martial arts together.”
She made several quick movements with her hands that were both graceful and energetic. It seemed incredible to me that this tightly built woman could be so active.
– What specific styles of martial arts have you studied? – I asked, noticing that she casually took a wrestler’s stance with a long pole.
“In the East, I studied all the styles, but I didn’t dwell on any of them for long,” she said, as if about to smile. – When we come to me, I will be happy to show them to you.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. Arriving at the place where the cars were parked, I sat behind the wheel and waited for what Clara would say.
“Well, let’s get going,” she responded. - I will ride ahead and show you the way. How do you like to drive, fast or slow, Taisha?
- Like a turtle.
- And me too. Life in China has taught me not to rush.
– Can I ask you a question about China, Clara?
- Certainly. I already said that you can ask me whatever you want without permission.
– You were probably in China before World War II, right?
- Oh yeah. I was there in a past life. I assume you've never been to China itself?
- Yes, I haven’t. I've only been to Taiwan and Japan.
“Of course, after the war, a lot has changed there,” Clara said meaningfully. – The connection with the past has been broken. Now it is a completely different country.
I don’t know why, but I was afraid to ask her what she meant, and so I asked a question about how long it would take to get to her house. Clara spoke very vaguely, and this worried me. She just warned me to be prepared for a long trip. Then her voice softened, and she noted that my courage definitely pleased her.
“If someone behaves so carelessly with a stranger,” she said, “it indicates either extreme stupidity or great daring.”
“I’m usually very careful,” I explained, “but today I’m not at all like myself.”
It was true, and the more I thought about my inexplicable behavior, the more uneasy I became.
“Please tell me more about yourself,” she asked in a gentle voice, and then came and stood next to the door of my car, as if to instill confidence in me.
And again, to my surprise, I found that I began to tell the whole truth about myself.
“My mother is Hungarian, but from an old Austrian family,” I said.
“She met her father during World War II, when they worked together in a field hospital. After the war they moved to the United States and then went to South Africa.
– What are they doing in South Africa?
– My mother always wanted to be with her relatives who live there.
- Do you have borthers and sisters?
– I have two brothers, whose ages differ by one year. The eldest is now twenty-six.
Her eyes were fixed on me. And with unexpected ease I told her about all my sad experiences that had been locked in my memory throughout my life. I told her that I grew up alone. My brothers never paid attention to me because I was a girl. When I was little, they often tied me to a pole like a dog, while they ran around the yard or played football. All I could do was walk back and forth, pulling on the rope, and watch them have fun. Then, when I grew up, I started running after them. But by that time they both already had bicycles, and I could not keep up with them. When I began to complain to my mother, which happened quite often, she replied that boys are boys, and I am a girl and therefore should play with dolls and help around the house.
“Your mother raised you in the traditional European spirit,” she said.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me.”
As soon as I started, I couldn’t stop and continued to tell this woman everything I remembered about my childhood. I said that every year more and more often I remained the only child in the house, because my brothers often traveled and later went to residential college. I wanted my life to be full of adventure, but my mother taught me that girls should make beds and iron clothes. Taking care of a family is already an adventure, my mother liked to say. Women are born to obey. I was already on the verge of tears when I told Clara that, for as long as I can remember, I had to serve three male masters: my father and two brothers.
“That sounds impressive,” Clara said.
- It was terrible. “I ran out of the house and decided to stay as far away from him as possible,” I said. – And of course, live with adventures. But up until now I have not been able to get what I was striving for. Probably, I was simply raised in such a way that I cannot be happy and carefree.
Describing my life to a stranger, I felt very uncomfortable. I stopped talking and looked at Clara, expecting a reaction from her that would either eliminate my anxiety or increase it to such an extent that I would decide not to go anywhere with her.
“Well, it seems you only know how to do one thing well, and so you indulge in this activity as much as you want,” she said.
I thought that she meant my passion for painting and graphics, and I was completely annoyed when she added:
- All you know how to do is complain about YOUR LIFE.
I tightly squeezed the handle of the cabin door with my fingers.
- Not true! – I protested. – Who are you to me to say that?!
She laughed and shook her head knowingly.
“You and I are alike in many ways,” she said. We were taught to be passive and obedient, to adapt to the situation, but inside we are all boiling. We are like a volcano that is about to begin to erupt, and our situation is aggravated by the fact that we have no other hope than the dream that one day we will meet a good man who will pull us out of this swamp.
From surprise I could not say anything.
- Well? Am I not right? Isn't that right? - she insisted. – Tell me, hand on heart, am I not right?
I clenched my fingers into fists, intending to send her away. But Clara smiled warmly, radiating both strength and well-being, and I immediately felt that I could not lie to her or hide what I was thinking from her.
“You read my mind,” I agreed.
I had to admit that the only thing that gave meaning to my terrible existence, besides drawing, was the hope that someday I would still meet a man who would understand me and appreciate all the unique qualities of my personality.
Abelar Taisha
Magical transition (Way of the warrior woman)
Before you is a new, completely “Castaneda” book - “The Magical Transition” by Taisha Abelar, a female stalker from the party of the nagual Carlos Castaneda. This is not only another fascinating journey into the world of don Juan’s magic in relation to the training of a female warrior, but also a most valuable practical guide. The so-called “Magical techniques” exercises are described here in detail, with the help of which you can achieve the discovery of energy resources, health, youth and, in addition Moreover, understanding many amazing things hidden from us in everyday life. In addition to this book, “Sofia” is preparing for publication two books by another female magician from the squad of Carlos Castaneda, already known to you from “The Witch’s Dream” by Florinda Donner. This is "Shabono", - according to the chronology of events, which is a continuation of "Dream" and "Life in a Dream", - a book about the training of the dreaming Florinda from the same magical family that is described by the stalker Taisha Abelar.
Foreword by Carlos Castaneda Introduction Chapter 1. An unexpected acquaintance
Alone in the desert of southern Arizona - Conversation with the mysterious
stranger - Clara invites me to visit - I tell Clara
about myself - Anxiety, resentment and new hope
Chapter 2. The Path to Mexico
Lunch in Guaymas - A man sits down with us and Clara
drives him away - Clara talks about Mexico and the Yaqui Indians
House in the middle of nowhere - Clara shows me the room where I will live
Find out who lives in this house - In the yard
Chapter 3. The Invisible House
Walking around the neighborhood at dusk - Trying to make out the house with
hill - In the kitchen - A dog that should not be called a toad
Completion of the Manfred experiment - Everything in my room
unusual and mysterious
Chapter 4. The road to the cave
Meeting Clara in the kitchen on the second day - View from the hill during the day
A grueling hike to the cave Clara gives me acupressure and
teaches you to give up fatigue to water - I find out what I will study
abstract flight - Clara talks about the human position in
the world and art of being free Breathing exercises of the ancients
What is recollection
Chapter 5. The Secret Teaching of Energies
Clara continues to talk about remembering - The role of men and
feminine energy - What binds a man to a woman - The way out
energy slavery - Teachers' mistakes - Clara and I
we conclude an agreement
Chapter 6. The art of being empty
I'm starting to remember - I'm trying to solve the mystery of the house
Clara says I have to change - How to communicate with
intention Ability to pass through the dragon's eye - Clara
talks about true impartiality
Chapter 7. Shadow Movement
Clara talks about correct breathing - Clara's shadow moves
regardless of her body - Remembering helps make room
in the warehouse - Exercises for energy recharging - Conversation
about what Clara teaches me
Clara's Mysterious Absence - Walking into a Cave in the Dark - Clara
explains why I didn't trip in the dark - Exercise for
opening the inner ear - The spirit speaks to me - Exercises
for shifting awareness - Harmony and non-doing
Chapter 9. Gift of the Great Magician
I find magic crystals in a cave, I remember how it used to be
I saw a great magician - Clara tells why we need
crystals - I talk about my failures - Clara explains why
recollection is different from psychoanalysis - What does it mean to open in
seer - Crystals - ancient magical weapons - Energy
in dreams and in reality, awareness of time and going beyond the world
Chapter 10. Magic techniques
The difference between a magical technique and a regular exercise - Clara teaches,
reception Energy of the earth and sun - Exercises for saturation
energy of the sun - Clara shows her double - Like promises
deprive us of freedom - Clara talks about herself
Chapter 11. The World of Shadows
What we do expresses our inner state
The True Meaning of Kung Fu - The Mistake of the Ancient Magicians - Lesson
correct placement of stones - Clara offers me
visit the world of shadows - Two indispensable magic tricks
Otherworldliness - Dance beyond the world - "In other worlds there is no
there are shadows!"
Chapter 12. The Nagual
I meet a great magician near a cave - Talk about remembering,
double and ethereal network - I run into the house and find the magician there
Continuation of the conversation - Clara and the nagual are making fun of me
Clara talks about the nagual - the nagual teaches how to recreate in
ethereal connection in the imagination - I'm falling somewhere
Chapter 13. Manfred's Secret
Clara talks about what happened to me - Clara
remembers the nagual Julian - Who's Who in the Magic Group
Everyone in this house is a magician, even the dog - It awakens in me
self-pity Clara suggests using magic
crystals - "Manfred is an ancient magician!"
Chapter 14. Lesson from the Nagual
Life with Clara and Manfred - I wake up in the courtyard and see the nagual
The Nagual talks about the double and the energy gate - We
already met in the past - the Nagual explains what happened
five years ago - How I was noted then - Why did I get to
Chapter 15. New teacher
Clara prepares me for the arrival of her guest - How I spied - Story
Clara about her relatives - Farewell to Clara - Nelida's arrival
Nelida explains my strangeness - Clara and Manfred left
forever
Chapter 16. Lesson from Nelida
Nelida teaches you to relax and calm down. The energy of her body is Two.
magical techniques for awareness of a double - Attracting attention
double using words - Scream at the entrance to the left wing of the house - I
already met Nelida - Failed meeting with the residents of the left
half
Chapter 17
Waking up in the air - Alone in an empty house - Looking through books
and fall asleep in the living room Meeting with the “caretaker” - Emilito thinks
I'm crazy - I'm walking through the central part of the house for the first time
Night in a tree house
Chapter 18. A sip of intention
I remember an episode from my childhood and fall asleep - The caretaker's buffoonery
Emilito's new role - The story of Manfred's appearance in the house
The caretaker teaches the double to go beyond the body - Explanation
