Prologue
“When the Guru fails what happens depends on each disciple’s merits.” –Sri Ramana Maharshi
In erstwhile days (not fully aware of what I was doing, I must confess) I left everything behind in search of The Eye of the Dragon. At the beginning of my journey, I came across the teachings of the ancient Toltecs of Mexico through the books of Carlos Castaneda. I must clarify that the Nahuatl word “Toltec” means “craftsman of the highest level” and refers to a lineage of ancient scientists and artists, dedicated to a higher learning and a certain spiritual discipline, not to the archaeological Toltec civilization centered at Tula in Mexico.
The wisdom of ‘don Juan’, a Mexican Yaqui Indian shaman, was a beacon, but in 2001, I came across derogatory information about Castaneda, which cast a shadow on his credibility and proved conclusively that many of his claims, (and to a great extent his work with don Juan) were fraudulent. At the time, I had verified a lot of what he had written about, and the new and discrediting facts greatly puzzled me. They also forced me to question my findings and convictions, and to look in other directions to take new bearings.
Furthermore, it had been claimed that Castaneda had left this world in full consciousness taking his body with him, and the turmoil and utter disappointment that Castaneda’s ordinary death (due to cancer of the liver) caused in many of his closest followers, made me realize how blind human beings can be; and how ready we are to miss a point and become either judges or victims. I am writing these notes with a double purpose: to help me get a better perspective and a new direction, and to maybe help a few others do the same.
And in case you don’t know Castaneda, I’ll tell you a little about his work as I go along, for it was a great help in my search for the eye of the dragon. I will also be comparing it with other works that have also been helpful. I won’t delve into any of these works; that is unnecessary. I will just say that their main and recurring theme is our destructive egomania, and I’ll let my own experience illustrate. It behooves you to do your own research and confirm the damaging effects of the ego, for being the bane of humankind its study is worthy of our consideration. Consider this:
In an article I once came across in a monthly magazine, I read about a six-year-old boy who died after breaking his neck under an extremely heavy load, too heavy for the child to carry. The article also said that he had been a slave all his life. The author knew this because archeologists are trained to read bones. And the child’s bones, together with other bones (a mass grave for slaves) had been found while excavating somewhere in New York City (of all places) to lay the foundation for a new building. His bones not only told this archeologist how he had died but also how he had lived. They told him that he had been overworked all his life, that he had been malnourished, that he probably never had a loving arm around him. His bones told him that that heavy load killed him at the tender age of six years old.
Should I ever feel sorry for myself? But actually, a more pertinent question would be, should I ever be sorry for that little boy? For just like that little boy I am going to die, and although longer, my life might well end up being much more miserable than his was. For only by reducing my self-importance to the lowest can I claim to be different from his captors and murderers; there is such a thing as a collective responsibility, a social contract. We all endorse a social contract that thrives in egomania, an egomania that causes the suffering of humanity.
Carlos Castaneda is dead now, but his controversial legacy remains.
Introduction
“We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness, which no one can make for us”—Marcel Proust
The intent behind Castaneda’s shamanic books was to help us become warriors who conquered themselves; warriors who developed an awareness of their full potential as human beings. Apprentices were grouped as ‘dreamers’ or ‘stalkers’ in an effort to classify them according to their abilities and energy configuration, but in fact they had to be both; ‘stalking’ helped ‘dreaming’ and vice versa. ‘Stalking’ was the art of developing a strategy to deal with the world as a spiritual warrior; ‘dreaming’ was the art of controlling your dreams to develop your ‘other’ self or the ‘dreaming body’. Stalking also helped in fixing the new position of the ‘assemblage point’ while “dreaming”.
According to Castaneda, dreams occurred due to the movement of the ‘assemblage point’ or ‘the point where perception is assembled’. This point (supposedly located behind us at arms length behind the shoulder blades) moves naturally while we sleep, causing our dreams. If we volitionally hold a new position while we sleep we are also stalking that dream and doing “dreaming”—the same thing we unwittingly do with this “dream” called life. Some call this process of controlling a dream “lucid dreaming”.
In Castaneda’s “world” I was a dreamer. And the “dreaming” experience that I am about to relate in the following paragraphs is an example of a ‘dreaming’ technique that I arrived at after years of practice, please follow me…
It was a quiet night in Southern CA; my neighbors were away and there was not a sound in their apartment. I could hear the branches overhanging my porch rustling in the cool summer breeze. I lay on my back, closed my eyes and, after the usual effort to overcome the barrage of meaningless, random thoughts, my mind drifted into silence. Keeping my eyes closed, I looked for the color orange. Soon an orange circle appeared. It expanded into nothing, appearing again to expand once more and once more and once more… Suddenly, a scene appeared! In front of me there was a building and a road. I noticed that the building had an architectural style that I had never seen before.
I thought that the vision would soon vanish due to my inability to hold it, as was usually the case. But to my surprise the scene stayed. I decided to try to hold it for as long as I could in an effort to train (using Castaneda’s terminology) my ‘dreaming attention’. Soon, it startled me to realize that the building and the dirt road in front of me were staying. I also understood that through that vision I could enter another world…a world perhaps as ‘real’ as my day-to-day ‘reality.’
As soon as the realization struck me I felt my consciousness being pulled into the vision. “I” was no longer in my bed or in my physical body, but in the covered back of a two-and-a-half-ton truck. I climbed down while disentangling my pants that had stuck somewhere–probably a trick of my mind to distract me since our reason will always feel threatened when unable to explain an event. I looked around. It was obvious that I was not in the United States; in fact, I was nowhere that I could recognize. The brick buildings were long and unfamiliar constructions. I walked down the dirt road trying to figure out where I was. It seemed hot, maybe tropical. I saw then a group of teenagers stripped to the waist, tobogganing down the slope of a dirt hill on pieces of cardboard. I approached them.
“Where am I.” After I asked I realized that the young man I had addressed the question seemed to be mentally retarded, or perhaps suffered a speech impediment of some sort. His closest companion answered:
“Morocco!”
“Morocco” I thought.
After thanking them I walked on. I wanted to verify that my experience was actually taking place in Morocco; it is seldom that I am able to verify where I have been when “dreaming”; the places that I visit seem to be usually phantom worlds of my own making. It was a nice clear day. I seemed to be close to the ocean, although I couldn’t see it. I saw some black men dressed in white garments, wearing little white round hats that covered only the crown of their heads. I walked uphill toward the park where they were talking around a long wooden bench sans a backrest.
As I approached them I surveyed my surroundings once more. The park ahead had grass that obviously had been recently mowed. I don’t remember any trees although I saw long winding walkways through extensive terrain. I looked back to make sure I could retrace my steps to the ‘truck’, as if there was an entrance there to my everyday world. But I didn’t need an entrance; shortly after I continued walking my “dreaming attention” left me and I found myself back on my bed.
I was baffled. Never before had I entered the dreaming attention but in sleep. It was a new, exciting and unexpected development. I figured that “I” had gone somewhere…Morocco? And it had happened while I was awake; “I” had entered that vision, that ‘somewhere’…awake!
Next morning I looked for Morocco in the World Wide Web; and there they were–the long brick buildings! And people wearing long white garments and little white hats. I couldn’t be certain, of course, maybe the place I ‘visited’ wasn’t Morocco. But that was irrelevant. What was relevant as a new development was my entrance into that world while fully awake. That meant to me at the time that by merely stilling my mind, I had been able to hold a vision (stalk it) and enter Morocco in my “other” self.
Hitherto, I had always entered “dreaming” by looking at my hands while having a regular dream. According to Castaneda, the volitional act of looking at our hands (or whatever) gives us the control of the dream and from then on it becomes “dreaming”, a controlled experience as linear and real as in your everyday life but without the physical body, so nothing limits your movements. Therefore, the “dreaming body” is a door to the “second attention”; it is the “other”. It is a door to Infinity itself.
The “dreaming” experience mentioned before was indeed a new development for me, and it opened doors that I didn’t know existed; it gave me a new perspective. This happened for the first time a few years ago. Since then, however, new findings have altered that new perspective. I have come to realize that “dreaming” and any other psychic powers that we may develop don’t have much to do with personal awakening; in fact, they could be a help but also a hindrance.
This dream is for us to enjoy, and the ‘path’ to inner knowledge seems to be a difficult winding road because of our own mind set. To follow that ‘path’ has been compared by ancient sages to walking the edge of a razor because of our pernicious and selfish absorption, which clouds our vision and turns our dream into a nightmare, or into sheer hell… In fact, everything is handed out to us! “…Rather, the kingdom of the Father is spread out upon the earth, and men do not see it.”–The Christ
But let me start from the beginning…
Arcosanti, an Excerpt, The Eye of the Dragon, Stalking Castaneda
….I took Interstate 40, the road leading to Arcosanti, Arizona, a small community that had been created by the famous architect Paolo Soleri to build and promote the ‘City of the Future’, that is, a city that would grow upward—no urban sprawl. I had found the concept interesting, perhaps a solution to our pollution problems, and contacted them by email. They informed me that a full time landscaping position was available. Since I had been thinking about traveling south of the border again while having a home base somewhere, I decided to give them a try. I could live there part of the year and maybe travel part of the year. On my first interview with KZ (the landscaping director) she said that my traveling plans agreed with Arcosanti.
My first weeks in Arcosanti were fabulous. I loved the place with its rocky desert hills, canyons and impressive lightning storms. We had monthly concerts and sometimes dancing on the auditorium. It was mandatory to complete a workshop of five weeks to become a permanent resident and that was a learning experience. It was also fun! We helped in Arcosanti’s construction; we harvested the olives and worked on the vegetable gardens; we did the landscaping: we did woodwork and ironwork; we worked on the kitchen. On our last week we chose a field to specialize in: it could be woodworking, ironwork, landscaping, cooking or working at the foundry making the famous Soleri bells.
Hence, I was surprised to hear from a stone that things would turn sour. It happened that I was out in the desert one day after work, doing Castaneda’s magical passes, when it occurred to me to talk to an interesting stone. I found a shady place behind some bushes and gazed at the stone until my mind was completely focused. The stone talked! Three sides gave me the images of people in great anguish. The fourth side had a man laying down on the ground, perhaps dead. He had long hair and a long, unkempt beard. The visions were so graphic…but I couldn’t believe the stone. It had to be a mistake. Five months later everything had changed. In a meeting in which I expressed my feelings of dissatisfaction toward a negligent and incompetent administration, I saw the distress, the anguish and the tears. All was revolving around the man with the beard (and others like him) who shouldn’t have been there in the first place, for they were disrupting the peace. And I remembered the stone!
I had found the concept interesting. But in practice Arcosanti was not delivering; your vote did not count. The place was run by the founders and what they said was final. It was to be expected; they had been there since the seventies and were quite possessive. Egomania was as prevalent in Arcosanti as it was in any other town I have ever been in. Only the architecture was different, and that is not enough to build the city of the future and set an example–a building is just that, a building. Where was the spirit of community? Mr. Soleri and his staff didn’t live in Arcosanti; some of them commuted 150 miles every day to their homes in the sprawling city of Phoenix. Did they really cared about developing a city to conquer urban sprawl? I didn’t think so. It was just a business for them. So after maneuvering around its petty tyrants for almost a year, I took my leave. It was the summer’s solstice of the year 2000.
I have to admit that most of my time there was pleasant in spite of the housing shortage. Although I lived in camp, where the crickets (and sometimes loud workshop participants) were unbearable during the summer months, I loved the place and was having fun in my landscaping job. I remember the joy of hiking to the waterhole, which was deep enough to dive into from the nearby rocks. I remember that once, while returning to town, a Golden Eagle swooped down by me to perch upon a nearby tree facing the Agua Fria River.
I had done the hiking trip with my friends Kelly and Chris, but they decided to take a different route to return to town. I wanted to get to know the original route to the water hole better. And so it happened that on my way back I stopped behind a huge boulder to get a drink of water and the eagle did not see me. At first I thought it was a turkey vulture due to its huge wingspan. But it couldn’t have been. Then the bird turn its head displaying its powerful beak and piercing stare, the stare of a bird of prey.
I also remember that it snowed one night the winter I was there. And before going to breakfast that morning I walked through camp enjoying the crunch of the new fallen snow under my boots, the crisp cold air and the white desert landscape. I walked to the edge of camp by the river and then retraced my steps in the gently falling snow and headed uphill toward Arcosanti . There wasn’t much landscaping to do that day other than shoveling snow downtown while throwing snow balls at each other.
I remember hiking on full moon nights with my friend Cristina. I took a fall one night that knock the wind out of me and disabled me for a couple of days—I did a jump after a run and it is hard to appraise distance in the moonlight. I also remember the huge cottonwood trees by the river where it runs bypassing camp, and their leaves rustling in the wind, and the good friends I made there–men and women who were doing their search: Kelly, Chris, Katherine, Andy, Losaida, Theresa, Christopher, Sparks, Anastasia and John… I wish them well wherever they are. Anastasia was the chef in charge when I arrived and also an experienced dancer. We started to choreograph a dance concert together to perform in the Auditorium. But we were so disappointed at the place that we lost all our interest. We all left.
But I also love landscaping and rockwork, and I left the place looking much better than I found it. I also helped them build a fence around the twenty five acres to keep the neighbor’s cattle out. It was hard work! We pounded those poles into the hard desert ground, freezing in the morning and sweating at noon through the month of November… But I enjoyed it. I worked with JG (the man with the beard) and RT; nobody else wanted to work with them on a steady basis. But JG wasn’t a bad guy really; I remember losing my watch one day and he taking some fifteen minutes of his time to help me find it. I actually liked him better than I liked RT (the dysfunctional egomaniac in charge), although JG may not believe that.
Let me tell you a little more about JG… Although not young or big, he was extremely strong and had the willingness to work hard. He was quite a hard worker, a small Paul Bunyan, and would have been at home with the pioneers of yore. I have rather big hands but his were twice as wide; you could tell that he knew what hard work was just by looking at them. I remember once pointing out to him some blood on the handle of his pick.
“That’s my blood,” he said matter of factly. He was working with an open blister in the palm of his right hand–no gloves. He never wore gloves.
He was also an activist. His picture was on the front cover of one of the main newspapers in the area once, due to a face-off he had with some strip miners nearby. He was trying to make them understand how they were harming the environment. The picture, in full color, showed him talking to one of the miners. It was a good picture of him as a defender of the environment.
But somehow he was off, maybe in need of professional help. He was overbearingly offensive to most people. Wherever he went he taunted and provoked; he always tried to put people down. I guess he felt superior. As James Taylor, the construction foreman, told him one day in our daily outdoor meeting in which we were all trying to make him see his folly to no avail:
“I don’t know why, but you bring out the worst on people.”
I remember the day I met JG. I was collecting some rocks on the slope of a rocky hill for a landscaping project, and he climbed down to talk. I think he was attracted by my old straw hat, which was overly patched with duck tape.
“You look like a survivor”, he said. And we talked for a while.
I can’t remember what we talked about, perhaps about surviving. And although he was friendly (He guffawed frequently), I had to end the conversation, for it was becoming erratic, rather nonsensical. I could tell that something was out of kilt but couldn’t say exactly what; I never could. The ego was partly to blame, but what else? I did not know. I heard later that he had been in Arcosanti before in the late seventies, and due to his obnoxious behavior somebody hit him on the head with a 2 x 4.
It was said that the guy went to jail and later jumped bail and fled to Mexico. JG could really upset people. It puzzles me to this day that he was invited again by the administration–an irresponsible and incompetent move! They put him and everybody else in a most trying situation, and they showed their lack of leadership and incompetence. When I left Arcosanti JG was already gone, but I knew he didn’t like my hat anymore, for I had been openly in favor of his removal. I wish him well anyway…
The Eye of The Dragon, Cuernavaca, An Excerpt.
The afternoon sun was beginning to cast the giant shadow of evening on the dusty downtown streets of Cuernavaca. I walked downhill toward the center of town, leaving behind the crowded bus station filled with bawling infants and angry blaring horns. I walked in earnest with the anticipation of the newcomer, welcoming the new sights and smells, the mouth-watering smells emanating from the “carne asada” and onions frying on ambulatory food stands by the street corners.
Without delay I set up residence in an inexpensive downtown hotel. I remember it was about four o’clock. I remember because the moment I entered my room, I dropped my backpack, grabbed my recently made jewelry and rushed out to find a place to sell my wares before the sun set. In a period of about two hours, standing on a street corner, close to the main plaza, I sold every single piece I had. As a result, I had a good dinner that night, the first of many to come.
Not for nothing is Cuernavaca known as the city of eternal spring. The aromas of the season and the songs of birds and mariachis are constantly in the air; the bougainvilleas seem to be always blooming and the average temperature throughout the years is 80* Farenheit. Cuernavaca is one of the most beautiful and historical centers of Mexico, boasting myriad schools to learn the Spanish language. In addition to that, it is only about an hour away (53 miles) from the traffic and pollution of Mexico City.
Surrounded by rolling hills and cut by narrow, cobbled streets, Cuernavaca is a quaint colonial remnant. For these reasons it is a city that foreigners and nationals alike find to be a fitting place to vacation and relax; it is also a favorite of celebrities. During my year stay, the plaza and the surrounding restaurants and shops were always teeming with visitors, especially on the weekends. Therefore, business was good in Cuernavaca and I was able to relax. And after I got rid of some parasites I had been hosting for a while, I recovered the weight I had lost on the road.
Cuernavaca’s historical past, striking scenery, vibrant life and climate makes it a place suitable for romance; in Cuernavaca I met Bonnie. I remember she had just finished dinner early one night in one of the spacious restaurants I visited while selling my string-art jewelry downtown. She was relaxing at her table with her folks, and she bought one of my pendants. Thus, we met!
Bonnie was an adventurous young woman; and for a while, we were planning to travel by land all the way to Brazil. Bonnie had character. Not only was she polished and sophisticated (she could have been a cover girl), but she also had a lot of spirit and a down-to-earth attitude with. a sense of humor to match; she had personality. I still remember her utterly hilarious comments made with an impassive countenance, and her mother’s bewildered questions from the kitchen, as we were splitting our sides laughing in the living room about something Bonnie said. Her memory always brings a smile to my face; a beautiful young lady in so many ways.
And if it is true that she dumped me after her visit to grandma in Texas, it is also true that she was too young to make a serious commitment yet. Besides, vagabonds are not favorites of their mothers-in-law (or grandmas-in-law for that matter) even if they have a good sense of humor, for they can take their daughters to distant lands…perhaps forever.
After about six months of living in Cuernavaca, I returned briefly to Guatemala. It is (or was) the law in Mexico that a tourist visa lasts a maximum of six months. When your visa expires you have to leave the country at least for a few days. During that visit to Guatemala, around 1979, I noticed that the soldiers at the military checkpoints were under stress, and soon after I returned to Cuernavaca a savage revolution erupted in the country, making that my last visit to Panajachel.
Nevertheless, for years I led quite a nomadic life, traveling between Mexico, Central America (Belize) and the U.S. while selling my crafts. My new lifestyle was so different from what I had been used to that I was definitely developing a new way of perceiving. My routines were disrupted frequently and my life was practically always on the line; so I had to take responsibility for every act, and the imminence of death and the impermanence of things and situations were obvious. Traveling fosters non-attachment, and travelers are a living symbol of impermanence.
Note: The Eye of the Dragon is out of the “fridge” now, and I am back to work. The complete manuscript will be available again, in book form, soon. Thanks for your patience and comments. To see some excerpts please visit:
http://authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=11044
The amazing amazon kindle 2; the next generation !http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00154JDAI?tag=thenet-20
Me and my buddies; the October 1999 workshop participants. Arcosanti
From Top Left:James Reinhardt, Rio Guzman, Pliny Reynolds, Kelly Schenk
From Bottom Left:Yu Miyamoto, Melissa Andrew, and Christopher Gidley
You say that the habit of self reflection is harmful, please elaborate.
Self-reflection is the internal dialogue. The wandering mind. The ego constant preocupation with itself.
Ah, lately I’ve been reflecting less and just livin’ going from now to now to now. I used to think it was silly to not reflect on your behavior and your actions and how you affect the world, etc…
I had noticed that I’ve been getting lost in moments though, I’m not sure whether I’m “doing” or “being”, I like to go with the flow and I subconsciously try to plant seeds of wisdom in others with sly tactics. What are your thoughts on getting lost in the moment? (example: Playing guitar and jamming with my friends and getting lost in the music, but feeling happy because of the creativity, the productivity, the sheer feeling of participation in something just like the feeling of a simple game of catch or frisbee.) Is it not being fully aware of now or is it simply being/going with the flow?
Andrew
If you are immersed in what you are doing you are living the moment. Your full attention is in what you are doing. Is that what you mean?
Yes that’s what I mean, fully immersed in whatever I’m doing. There are subconscious thoughts sometimes diverting me away from the moment, and I do get distracted a little. For some reason I feel some sort of guilt in me when I get lost in playing music or in a good conversation. I’m confused because I’m not quite sure how being fully immersed in whatever you’re doing can make you fully aware. Presence of mind, does that have to do with not calling your parents to let them know you’;re safe because you’ve left all of your worries and stresses behind?
But let’s say I’m no the bus or lying in bed. Sometimes I get lost in my imagination and create things/stories/adventures in my mind. But it feels rewarding to me to stop and reflect on my day or on a trouble I’m having. I don’t want to live from moment to moment never accomplishing anything. It feels like that’s what this full attention business is.
Feeling guilty in this case is a thing of the ego; just do your best. Be aware of what the mind is doing–meditation (presence) should be fun; make it play. Your confusion will clear as you practice.
The past can be used sometimes for reference or to figure out something; the problem is daydreaming–the mind running away with you.
Your parents will, of course, worry about your welfare so it is always good to let them know how you are doing.
[...] Stalking Castaneda | Excerpts | The Eye of the Dragon « Rio Guzman’s JournalThe Open Lotus » Blog Archive » April HoroscopesYour Spiritual Success » The Zendykestowatchoutfor.com » Blog Archive » Live marriage!Angry Arab Attacks Cool Hand Luke, Defends State Censorship « Qifa Nabki’s BlogDo Buddhists Watch Telly? » in liquid praise of sound refraining » Review: Whistling Woods International | Aseem’s Blog » Grassy Hill Sympathy – TutorialViolet Voices » Blog Archive » Talking Women, Health, and Environment with Teresa Heinz KerryHow we support Israel every hour, every day! | Ammar-3Sixty! [...]
Hi Rio;
Every think of going back to Arcosanti? I am having thoughts of going back, I love the feelings of the rocks, the desert, I know its not perfect there, but it’s special place for me. Your thoughts please.
Lou Dallara
Hi Louis! Thanks for writing!
I loved Arcosanti. And I might stop for a visit sometime. Change is permanent after all; and who knows, they may be changing for the better. We have to make allowance for that. You will not know until you go.
When were you there?
Take care, good luck and keep in touch.
Does anybody know where I can find more of this type of information? Very good post, but I’d like to learn more. Thanks anybody…
Hi Murphy! Just go to my “recommended books” on the side bar of this blog. Enjoy!
Of course, what a great site and informative posts, I will add backlink – bookmark this site? Regards
You crafted a superb point with what you stated. People should read your posting so they can have a greater perspective on this matter. It was awesome of you to offer great facts and encouraging arguments. After reading this, I know my mind is pretty certain about the matter. Keep up the great work!
Thanks Candace and Jerome for your comments. Appreciated! Your blogs will benefit greatly if you put your photos. Take care!
Candace! Your blog says my identity couldn’t be verified so I couldn’t leave a comment. Regards!
I Will have to come back again when my class load lets up – however I am taking your RSS feed so I can read your site offline. Thanks.
Hi Leydys! Thanks for your kind comment. You can also get an email subscription to receive my posts on your email. Beautiful picture!
Thanks for sharing! Keep up the nice work.
You are welcome Dorsey. Thanks!
Being Amateur, I’m often searching on the internet for articles which could guide me. Thank you
You are welcomed. Thanks!
Good Info. Tweeted about it. I’ll bookmark this post too.
Thanks Karten!
Thanks for the greet page – I loved reading it!
Thanks Brittany!
Hi, You have some really Great articles on your blog. I also like the theme and the layout as well. excellent work!
Nice Blog!
[...] The Eye of the Dragon | Excerpts | Stalking Castaneda Rio … Castaneda dreams occurred due to the movement ofthe assemblage point or the point where perception is assembled. This point (supposedly located behind us at arms length behind the shoulder blades) moves naturally while we sleepcausing our dreams.If we volitionally holda new position while we sleep we are also stalking … [...]
[...] The Eye of the Dragon | Excerpts | Stalking Castaneda [...]