Transcription
The Celestine Prophecy Chapter 8 of nine read by John De Vaux at [music]. John De Vaux on social media and Tiffany at spot on spirit. The title of this chapter is the interpersonal ethic. Enjoy.
I followed the soldier up the steps and out into the bright sunshine. Pablo's warning was echoing in my head. Addiction to another person? What did he mean by that? What kind of addiction?
The soldier led me down the path toward the parking area where two other soldiers stood beside a military jeep. They watched us intensely as we walked their way. When I was close enough to see inside the jeep I noticed that a passenger was already sitting in the back. Marjorie. She looked pale and anxious. Before I could catch her eye the soldier behind me grabbed my arm and directed me into the seat beside her. Two other soldiers climbed into the front seats. The one sitting on the driver's side glanced back at us briefly. Then he started the vehicle and headed north.
"Do you speak English?" I asked the soldiers. The soldier in the passenger seat, a beefy man, looked at me blankly and said something in Spanish that I couldn't understand, then turned curtly away.
I turned my attention to Marjorie. "Are you all right?" I asked in a whisper. "I uh..." Her voice faded, and I noticed tears were flowing down her face. "It's going to be okay," I said, putting my arm around her. She looked up at me, forcing a smile, then rested her head on my shoulder. A ripple of passion filled my body.
For an hour we bounced along the unpaved road. Outside, the landscape grew continuously more lush and jungle-like. Then, around one bend, the dense vegetation opened up into what appeared to be a small town. Wood-frame buildings lined both sides of the road. A hundred yards ahead, a large truck blocked the way. Several soldiers motioned for us to stop. Beyond them were other vehicles, some with flashing yellow lights. I became more alert.
As we pulled to a stop, one of the soldiers outside walked up and said something I couldn't understand. The only word I recognized was "gasoline." Our escorts left the jeep and stood outside talking with the other soldiers. They glanced at us occasionally, weapons at their side. I noticed a small street which angled to the left. As I looked at the shops and doorways, something changed in my perception. The shapes and colors of the buildings suddenly stood out and became more distinct.
"And," I whispered Marjorie's name and felt her look up. But before she could say anything, an enormous explosion rocked the jeep. A blast of fire and light shot up from the area in front of us, and the soldiers were blown to the ground. Immediately, our vision was obscured by smoke and falling ash.
"Come on!" I yelled, pulling Marjorie from the vehicle. Amid the confusion, we ran down the street in the direction I had been looking. Behind us, I could hear distant shouts and moans. Still engulfed with smoke, we ran perhaps 50 yards. Suddenly, I noticed a doorway to the left. "In here!" I shouted. The door was open, and we both ran inside. I fell against the door, closing it securely.
When I turned around, I saw a middle-aged woman staring at us. We had dashed into someone's home. As I looked at her, attempting to smile, I noticed that the woman's expression was not one of horror or anger at having had two strangers rush into her house after an explosion. Instead, what she displayed was an amused half-smile that looked more like resignation, as though she half expected us and now had to do something. On a chair nearby was a small child, about 4 years old.
"Hurry," she said in English. "They will be looking for you." She ushered us to the back of the sparsely furnished living room, through a hall, and down some wooden steps to a long cellar. The child walked at her side. We moved quickly through the cellar and up some other steps to an outside door leading to an alley. The woman unlocked a small compact car which was parked there and hurried us inside. She directed us to lie down in the back seat, threw a blanket over us, and pulled away in what seemed to be a northerly direction. Through it all, I remained speechless, carried along by the woman's initiative. A rush of energy filled my body as I fully realized what had happened. My intuition of escape had occurred.
Marjorie lay beside me, her eyes tightly closed. "Are you all right?" I whispered. She looked up at me with tearful eyes and nodded.
After about 15 minutes, the woman said, "I think you can sit up now." I pushed away the blanket and looked around. We seemed to be on the same road as before the explosion, only farther north.
"Who are you?" I asked. She turned and looked at me with her half-smile. She was a shapely woman of about 40 with shoulder-length dark hair. "I'm Carla Diaz," she said. "This is my daughter Marietta." The child was smiling and looking over the passenger seat at us with large, inquisitive eyes. Her hair was jet black and also long.
"And," I told them who we were, then asked, "How did you know to help us?" Carla's smile grew wider. "You were running from the soldiers because of the manuscript, aren't you?"
"Yes. But how did you know?"
"I know the manuscript, too."
"Where are you taking us?" I asked.
"I don't know that," she said. "You will have to help me." I glanced at Marjorie. She was watching me closely as I spoke.
"Right now, I don't know where to go," I said. "Before I was captured, I was trying to get to Iquitos."
"Why do you want to go there?" she asked.
"I'm trying to find a friend. He's looking for the ninth insight."
"That is a dangerous thing."
"I know. We will take you there, won't we, Marietta?"
"Of course," The little girl giggled and said with a sophistication beyond her years, "What kind of explosion was that back there?"
"And," I asked. "I think it was a gas truck," she answered. "Earlier, an accident had occurred, a leak."
I was still amazed at how quickly Carla had decided to help us, so I decided to press the question. "How did you know we were running from the soldiers?"
She took a deep breath. "[Sighs] Yesterday, many military trucks were passing through the village going north. This is unusual, and it made me think of the time 2 months ago when my friends were taken away. My friends and I studied the manuscript together. We were the only ones in the village who had all eight insights. Then the soldiers came and took my friends. I have not heard from them."
"As I watched the trucks yesterday," she continued. "I knew the soldiers were continuing to hunt copies of the manuscript and that others like my friends would need help. I envisioned myself helping those people if I could. Of course, I suspected that it was meaningful that I was having that particular thought at that particular time. So, when you came into my house, I was not surprised." She paused, then asked, "Have you experienced this?"
"Yes," I said.
Carla slowed the car. Ahead was a crossroads. "I think we should turn to the right here," she said. "It will take longer, but it will be safer."
As Carla turned the car to the right, Marietta slid to the left and had to hold on to the seat to keep from falling over. She giggled. Marjorie was staring appreciatively at the little girl.
"How old is Marietta?" Marjorie asked Carla.
Carla looked disturbed, then said gently, "Please don't talk to her as if she wasn't here. If she was an adult, you would have addressed the question to her."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Marjorie said.
"I'm five," Marietta said proudly.
"Have you studied the eighth insight?" Carla asked.
"No," Marjorie said. "I've only seen the third insight."
"Now I'm at the eighth," I said.
"Do you have any copies?"
"No," Carla said. "All the copies were taken away by the soldiers."
"Does the eighth talk about how to relate to children?"
"Yes. It is about how humans will eventually learn to relate to each other and talks of many things, such as how to project energy to others and how to avoid addictions to people." There was that warning again. I was about to ask Carla what it meant when Marjorie spoke.
"Tell us about the eighth insight," she said.
"The eighth insight," Carla explained. "It's about using energy in a new way when relating to people in general, but it begins at the beginning with children."
"How should we view children?" I asked.
"We should view them as they really are. As end points in evolution that lead us forward. But in order to learn, to evolve, they need our energy on a constant basis, unconditionally. The worst thing that can be done to children is to drain their energy while correcting them. This is what creates control dramas in them, as you already know. But these learned manuscripts on the child's part can be avoided if the adults give them all the energy they need, no matter what the situation. That is why they should always be included in conversations, especially conversations about them. And you should never take responsibility for more children than you can give attention to."
"The manuscript says all this?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "And the point about the number of children is highly stressed."
I felt confused. "Why is the number of children one has important?"
She glanced at me for an instant as she drove. "Because any one adult can only focus on and give attention to one child at a time. If there are too many children for the number of adults, then the adults become overwhelmed and unable to give enough energy. The children begin to compete with each other and for the adults' time."
"Sibling rivalry?" I said.
"Yes, but the manuscript says that this problem is more important than people think. Adults often glamorize the idea of large families and children growing up together, but children should learn the world from adults, not from other children. In too many cultures, children are running in gangs. The manuscript says humans will slowly understand that they should not bring children into this world unless there is at least one adult committed to focus full attention all of the time on each child."
"But wait a minute," I said. "In many situations, both parents must work to survive. This denies them the right to have children?"
"Not necessarily," she replied. "The manuscript says humans will learn to extend their families beyond blood ties, so that someone else is able to provide one-on-one attention. All the energy does not have to come from the parents alone. In fact, it is better if it does not. But whoever cares for the children must provide this one-on-one attention."
"Well," I said. "You've done something right. Marietta certainly seems mature."
Carla frowned and said, "Don't tell me, tell her."
"All right." I looked at the child. "You act very grown-up, Marietta." She looked away shyly for a moment, then said, "Thank you."
Carla hugged her warmly. Carla looked at me proudly. "For the last 2 years, I have been trying to relate to Marietta according to the manuscript's guidelines. Haven't I, Marietta?" The child smiled and nodded. "I have tried to give her energy and to always tell her the truth of every situation in language she can understand. When she asks the questions a young child asks, I treat them very seriously, avoiding the temptation of giving her a fanciful answer, which is plainly for the entertainment of adults."
I smiled. "Do you mean untruths like storks bring babies? That sort of thing?"
"Yes, but these cultural expressions aren't so bad. Children figure these out quickly because they stay the same. Worse are the distortions created on the spot by adults just because they want to have a little fun and because they believe the truth is too complicated for a child to comprehend. But this is not right. The truth can always be expressed at a child's level of understanding. It just takes some thought."
"What does the manuscript say about this issue?"
"It says we should always find a way to tell a child the truth."
Part of me resisted this idea. I was one who enjoyed kidding around with children. "Don't kids usually understand that adults are just playing?" I said. "All this seems to make them grow up too fast and take some of the fun out of childhood."
She looked at me sternly. "Marietta is full of fun. We chase and tumble and play all the childhood fantasy games. The difference is that when we are fantasizing, she knows it."
I nodded. She was right. Of course.
"Marietta seems confident," Carla continued. "Because I was there for her. I gave her one-on-one attention when she needed it. And if I wasn't there, my sister, who lives next door, was there. She always had an adult to answer her questions. And because she has had this sincere attention, she's never felt she had to act out or show off. She has always had enough energy and that makes her assume she will continue to have enough, which makes the transition from receiving energy from adults to getting it from the universe, which we already talk about, much easier for her to grasp."
I noticed the terrain outside. We were traveling through deep jungle now, and though I couldn't see it, I knew the sun was low in the afternoon sky. "Can we get to Iquitos tonight?" I asked.
"No," Carla said. "But we can stay at a house I know."
"Near here?" I asked.
"Yes. It is the house of a friend. He works for the wildlife services."
"He works for the government?"
"Some of the Amazon is protected area. He is the local agent, but influential. His name is Juan Hinton. Do not worry. He believes in the manuscript and they have never bothered him."
By the time we arrived, the sky was completely dark. Around us, the jungle was alive with night sounds. The air muggy. A large, well-lit, wood-frame house stood at the end of a clearing in the dense foliage. Nearby were two large buildings and several jeeps. Another vehicle was up on the blocks, and two men worked around lights underneath. A thin Peruvian dressed in expensive clothing answered Carla's knock and smiled at her until he noticed Marjorie, Marietta, and myself waiting on the steps. His face turned nervous and displeased as he talked to her in Spanish. She said something pleadingly in return, but his mannerism and inflection indicated that he did not want us to stay. Then, through the crack in the door, I noticed a lone female figure standing in the foyer. I moved a little to bring her face into view. It was Julia. As I looked, she turned her head and saw me. Then quickly walked forward with a surprised look on her face. She touched the shoulder of the man at the door and said something quietly into his ear. The man nodded, then opened the door with a look of resignation. We all introduced ourselves as Hinton led the way into the den area.
"Julia looked at me and said, 'We meet again.'" She wore khaki pants with pockets on the legs and a bright red T-shirt.
"Yes, we do," I said. A Peruvian servant stopped Hinton, and after talking for a minute, the two walked into another part of the house. Julia sat in a chair by a coffee table and motioned for the rest of us to sit on a couch across from her. Marjorie appeared panicked. She looked at me intensely. Carla also seemed to be aware of Marjorie's distress. She walked over and took her by the hand. "Let's get some hot tea," she suggested. As they walked away, Marjorie glanced back at me. I smiled and watched them until they turned the corner into the kitchen. Then I turned to face Julia.
"So, what do you think it means?" she asked.
"What does what mean?" I replied, still distracted.
"That we have run into each other again."
"Oh. I don't know. How did you wind up with Carla and where are you going?"
"She saved us. Marjorie and I had been detained by Peruvian troops. When we escaped, she happened to be there to help us."
Julia looked intense. "Tell me what occurred." I leaned back and told her the whole story, beginning at the point in which I had taken Father Carl's truck, and then all about the capture, and our eventual escape.
"And Carla agreed to take you to Iquitos?" Julia asked.
"Yes. Why do you want to go there?"
"That's where Will told Father Carl he was going. Will apparently has a lead about the ninth insight. Also, Sebastian is there for some reason."
Julia nodded. "Yes, Sebastian has a mission near there. It is where he made his reputation converting the Indians."
"What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
Julia told me that she too wanted to find the ninth insight, but that she had no leads. She had come to this house after thinking repeatedly of her old friend Hinton. I was hardly listening. Marjorie and Carla had walked out of the kitchen and were standing in the hall talking, cups of tea in their hands. Marjorie caught my eye, but said nothing.
"Has she read much of the manuscript?" Julia asked, nodding toward Marjorie.
"Just the third insight," I said.
"We can probably get her out of Peru if that's what she wants." I turned and looked at her.
"How?"
"Rolando is leaving for Brazil. We have some friends at the American Embassy there. They can get her back to the United States. We have helped other Americans this way."
I looked at her and nodded tentatively. I realized I was having mixed feelings about what she had said. Part of me knew that leaving would be best for Marjorie, but another part wanted her to stay, to remain with me. I felt changed, energized when she was around. "I think I need to talk with her," I finally said.
"Of course," Julia replied. "We can talk later." I got up and walked toward her. Carla was heading back toward the kitchen. Marjorie stepped around the corner of the hall out of sight. When I walked up, she was leaning back against the wall. I pulled Marjorie into my arms. My body pulsated.
"Feel that energy?" I asked, whispering into her ear.
"It's incredible," she said. "What does it mean?"
"I don't know. We have some kind of connection." I glanced around. No one could see us. We kissed passionately. When I pulled back to look at her face, she looked different, stronger somehow, and I thought back to the day we had met at Vicente and to the conversation in the restaurant at Kula. I couldn't believe the amount of energy I felt in her presence. And when she touched me, she held me tightly.
"Since the day at Vicente," she said. "I've wanted to be with you. I didn't know what to think about it then, but the energy is wonderful. I've never experienced anything like this."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Carla walking up, smiling. She told us that dinner was ready, so we made our way into the dining room and found a huge buffet of fresh fruits and vegetables and breads. Everyone served their plates and sat around a large table. After Marietta sang a blessing song, we spent an hour and a half eating and talking casually. Hinton had lost his nervousness, and he set a light-hearted mood which helped to ease the tension of our escape. Marjorie was talking freely and laughing. Sitting beside her filled me with warm love.
After dinner, Hinton took us back into the den where a custard dessert was served with a sweet liqueur. Marjorie and I sat on the couch and fell into a long conversation about our past and significant life experiences. We seemed to grow closer and closer. The only difficulty we discovered was that she lived on the West Coast and I resided in the South. Later, Marjorie dismissed the problem and laughed heartily.
"I can't wait until we get back to the United States," she said. "We'll have so much fun traveling back and forth."
I sat back and gave her a serious look. "Julia said she could arrange a way for you to go home now."
"You mean both of us, don't you?" she replied. "No, I I can't go."
"Why?" she asked.
"I can't leave without you, but I can't stand to stay here any longer either. I'll go crazy. You'll have to go on ahead."
"No," she said loudly. "I can't stand that." Carla, who was walking back into the den from putting Marietta in bed, glanced toward us, then looked quickly away. Hinton and Julia were still talking, seemingly oblivious to Marjorie's outburst.
"Please," Marjorie said. "Let's just go home."
I looked away. "Okay, fine."
"She [snorts] said. 'Stay.'" She stood and walked briskly toward the bedroom area. My gut wrenched as I watched Marjorie walk away. The energy I had gained with her collapsed, and I suddenly felt weak and confused. I tried to shake it off. After all, I told myself, I hadn't known her that long. On the other hand, I thought, maybe she was correct. Maybe I should just go home. What difference could I make here anyway? Back at home, I could perhaps marshal some support for the manuscript and stay alive as well. I stood up and started to follow her down the hall, but for some reason, I sat back down. I couldn't decide what to do.
"May I join you for a minute?" Carla was suddenly asking. I hadn't noticed that she was standing beside the sofa.
"Sure," And I said. She sat down and looked at me with regard.
"I couldn't help overhearing what is going on," she said. "And I thought that before your decision, you might want to hear what the eighth insight says about addictions to people."
"Yes, please. I want to know what that means."
"When one first learns to be clear and to engage one's evolution, any of us can be stopped suddenly by an addiction to another person."
"You're speaking of Marjorie and me, aren't you?"
"Let me explain the process," she said. "And you judge for yourself. Okay. First, let me say that I have had a very hard time with this part of the insight. I don't think I would have ever understood if I had not met Professor Renew."
"Renew?" And I exclaimed. "And I know him. We met when I was learning the fourth insight."
"Well," she said. "We met when we both had reached the eighth insight. He stayed at my house for several days." And I nodded in amazement. He said that the idea of an addiction, as used in the manuscript, explains why power struggles arise in romantic relationships. We've always wondered what causes the bliss and euphoria of love to end, to suddenly turn into conflict, and now we know. It is a result of the flow of energy between the individuals involved. When love first happens, the two individuals are giving each other energy unconsciously, and both people feel buoyant and elated. That's the incredible high we call being in love. Unfortunately, once they expect this feeling to come from the other person, they cut themselves off from the energy in the universe and begin to rely even more on the energy from each other. Only now, there doesn't seem to be enough, and so they stop giving each other energy and fall back into their dramas and an attempt to control each other and force the other's energy their way. At this point, the relationship degenerates into the usual power struggles."
She hesitated for a moment, as if checking whether I understood, then added. "Renew told me that our susceptibility to this kind of addiction can be described psychologically if that will help you understand." I nodded again for her to continue.
"Renew said the problem starts in our early family because of the energy competition there. None of us were able to complete an important psychological process. We weren't able to integrate our opposite sexual side."
"Our what?"
"In my case," she continued. "I wasn't able to integrate my male side. In your case, you weren't able to integrate your female side. The reason we can become addicted to someone of the opposite sex is that we've yet to access this opposite sex energy ourselves. You see, the mystical energy that we can tap as an inner source is both male and female. We can eventually open up to it, but we have to first begin to evolve. We have to be careful. The integration process takes some time. If we continue prematurely with a human source for our female or male energy, we block the universe's full supply."
I told her I didn't understand. "Think of how this integration is supposed to work in an ideal family," she explained. "And then perhaps you can see what I mean. In any family, the child must first receive energy from the adults in his life. Usually, identifying with and integrating the energy of the same-sex parent is accomplished easily, but receiving energy from the other parent can be more difficult because of the differences in the sexes. Let's use a female child as an example. All the little girl knows as she first attempts to integrate her male side is that she is extremely attracted to her father. She wants him around and close to her all the time. The manuscript explains that what she really wants is male energy because this male energy complements her female side. From this male energy, she receives a sense of completion and euphoria, but she mistakenly thinks that the only way to have this energy is by sexually possessing her father and keeping him close physically. Interestingly, because she intuits that this energy is really supposed to be her own and that she should be able to command this energy at will, she wants to direct the father as if he were the part of herself. She thinks he is magical, imperfect, and able to supply her every whim. In a less than ideal family, this sets up a power conflict between the little girl and her dad. Dramas are formed as she learns to posture herself in order to manipulate him into giving her the energy she desires. But in the ideal family, the father would remain uncompetitive. He would continue to relate honestly and have enough energy so as to supply her unconditionally, even though he can't do everything she asks. The important thing to know here is our ideal example is that the father would remain open and communicative. She thinks he is ideal and magical, but if he honestly explains who he is and what he is doing and why, then the little girl can integrate his particular style and abilities and proceed past an unrealistic view of her father. In the end, she will see him as just a particular human being, a human being with his own talents and faults. Once this true emulation takes place, then the child makes an easy transition from receiving her opposite-sex energy from her father to receive it as part of the overall energy existing in the universe at large."
"The problem," she went on, "is that most parents up to now have been competing with their own children for energy, and that has affected all of us. Because this competition was taking place, none of us have quite resolved this opposite-sex issue. We're all stuck at the stage where we still look for our opposite-sex energy outside of ourselves in the person of a male or female we can think of as ideal and magical and can possess sexually. See the problem?"
"Yes," And I said. "I think I do."
"In terms of our ability to evolve consciously," she continued. "We are faced with a critical situation. As I said before, according to the eighth insight, when we first begin to evolve, we automatically begin to receive. It comes in naturally from the energy in the universe. But we must be careful because if another person comes along who offers this energy directly, we can cut ourselves off from the true source and regress."
She chuckled to herself. "What are you laughing at?" And I asked.
"Renew once made this analogy," she said. "He said that until we learn how to avoid the situation, we are walking around like a circle half complete. You know, we look like the letter C. We are very susceptible to a person of the opposite sex, some other circle half complete coming up and joining with us, completing the circle that way, and giving us a burst of euphoria and energy that feels like the wholeness that a full connection with the universe produces. In reality, we have only joined up with another person who is looking for their other half and on the outside, too. Renew said that this is a classical codependent relationship and that it has built-in problems that begin to arise immediately." She hesitated, as though she expected me to say something, but I only nodded.
"You see, the problem with this completed person, this O that both people think they have reached, is that it has taken two people to make this one whole person. One supplying the female energy and one supplying the male. This one whole person consequently has two heads or egos. Both people want to run this whole person they have created and so, just as in childhood, both people want to command the other as if the other were themselves. This kind of illusion of completeness always breaks down into a power struggle. In the end, each person must take the other for granted and even invalidate them so that they can lead this whole self in the direction they want to go. But of course, that doesn't work, at least not anymore. Perhaps in the past, one of the partners was willing to submit themselves to the other. Usually the woman, sometimes the man, but we are waking up now. No one wants to be subservient to anyone else any longer."
I thought of what the first insight had conveyed about power struggles within intimate relationships and of the woman's outburst at the restaurant with Charlene. "So much for romance," I said.
"Oh, we can still have romance," Carla replied. "But first we have to complete the circle on our own. We have to stabilize our channel with the universe. That takes time, but afterward, we are never susceptible to this problem again, and we can have what the manuscript calls a higher relationship. When we connect romantically with another whole person after that, we create a super person, but it never pulls us from the path of our individual evolution."
"Which is what you think Marjorie and I are doing to each other now? Isn't it? Pulling ourselves off our paths?"
"Yes."
"So how do we avoid these encounters?" I asked.
"By resisting the love-at-first-sight feeling for a while. By learning to have platonic relationships with members of the opposite sex. But remember the process. You must have these relationships only with people who will reveal themselves totally, telling you how and why they are doing what they are doing. Just as this would have happened with the opposite-sex parent during an ideal childhood. By understanding who these opposite-sex friends really are on the inside, one breaks past one's own fantasy projection about that gender, and that releases us to connect again with the universe. Remember also," she continued. "That this is not easy, especially if one has to break away from a current codependent relationship. It is a real pulling apart of energy. It hurts, but it must be done. Codependence is not some new malady some of us have. We're all codependent, and we're all growing out of it now. The idea is to begin to experience that sense of well-being and euphoria experienced in the first moment of a codependent relationship when you are alone. You get to have him or her on the inside. After that, you evolve forward and can find that special romantic relationship that really fits you."
She paused. "And who knows, if both you and Marjorie evolve further, perhaps you will find that you truly belong with each other, but understand your relationship with her has no way of working now."
Our conversation was interrupted as Hinton walked over and explained that he was retiring for the night and that our rooms had been prepared. We both expressed our appreciation for his hospitality, and as he walked away, Carla said, "I think I'm going to bed also. We'll talk later." I nodded and watched her as she left. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Julia.
"I'm going to my room," she said. "Do you know where yours is? I can show you."
"Please," I said. Then asked, "Where is Marjorie's room?"
She smiled as we walked down the hall and stopped in front of a particular door. "Nowhere near yours," she said. "Mr. Hinton is a very conservative man." I smiled back and bid her good night. Then entered my room and held my stomach until I went to sleep.
I awoke to the smell of rich coffee. The aroma permeated the entire house. After I dressed, I walked into the den. An older male house worker offered me a glass of fresh grape juice, which I accepted.
"Good morning," Julia said from behind me. I turned around. "Good morning." She looked at me intensely, then asked, "Have you discovered yet why we run into each other again?"
"No," I said. "I haven't been able to think about it. I've been trying to understand addictions."
"Yes," she replied. "I saw."
"What do you mean?"
"I could tell what was happening by the way your energy field looked."
"How did it look?" I asked.
"Your energy was connected to Marjorie's. When you were sitting here and she was in the other room, your field stretched all the way in there and attached to hers." I shook my head. She smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. "You had lost your connection with the universe. You had become addicted to Marjorie's energy as a substitute. It is the same way with all addictions. One goes through someone or something else to connect with the universe. The way to deal with this is to get your energy up and then center yourself again and what you're really doing here."
I nodded and walked outside. She waited in the den for about 10 minutes. I practiced the method of building energy that Sanchez had taught me. Gradually, the beauty returned, and I felt much lighter. I returned to the house.
"You look better," Julia said.
"I feel better," I replied. "So, what are your questions at this point?"
I thought for a minute. I had found Marjorie. That question had been answered, but I still wanted to find out where Will was, and I still wanted to understand how people would be acting toward each other if they followed this manuscript. If the manuscript's effect was positive, why would Sebastian and the other priest be worried? I looked at Julia.
"I need to grasp the rest of the eighth insight, and I still want to find Will. Maybe he has the ninth."
"I'm going to Iquitos tomorrow," she said. "Would you like to go?"
I hesitated. "I think Will is there," she added.
"How do you know?"
"Because of the thoughts I had about him last night," I said nothing.
"I had thoughts of you too," Julia continued. "Of both of us going to Iquitos. You're involved in this somehow."
"Involved in what?" I asked.
She grinned. "In finding the last insight before Sebastian does." As she spoke, the image came to my mind of Julia and me arriving at Iquitos but then deciding to go in separate directions for some reason. I felt I had a purpose, but it was unclear. I focused again on Julia. She was smiling.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"Sorry," I said. "I was thinking about something."
"Was it important?"
"I don't know. I was thinking that once we get to Iquitos, that we would go in two different directions."
Rolando came into the room. "I brought the supplies you wanted," he said to Julia. He recognized me and nodded politely.
"Good. Thank you," Julia replied. "Did you see many soldiers?"
"No, I did not see any," he said.
Marjorie walked into the room then and distracted me, but I could hear Julia explaining to Rolando that she thought Marjorie wanted to go with him to Brazil, where she would arrange passage back to the states. I went over to Marjorie.
"How did you sleep?" I asked. She looked at me as though deciding whether to remain angry.
"Not very well," she said.
I nodded toward Rolando. "He is Julia's friend. He is leaving this morning for Brazil. From there, he will help you get back to the states."
She appeared frightened. "Look, you're going to be okay," I said. "They've helped other Americans. They know people at the American Embassy in Brazil. In no time, you will be home."
She nodded. "I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine. Don't worry. As soon as I get back to the US, I'll call you."
From behind me, Hinton announced that breakfast was being served. We walked into the dining room and ate. Afterward, Julia and Rolando seemed to be in a hurry. Julia explained that it was important for Rolando and Marjorie to get across the border before dark, and the journey would take all day. Marjorie packed some clothes that Hinton had given her. And later, while Julia and Rolando were talking by the door, I pulled Marjorie to the side.
"Don't worry about anything," I said. "Just keep your eyes open and perhaps you'll see the other insights." She smiled but said nothing.
I watched with Julia as Rolando helped her load her things into his small car. Her eyes met mine briefly as they drove away.
"Do you think they will get through all right?" I asked Julia.
She looked at me and winked. "Of course." She handed me a satchel of clothes, and we loaded these and several boxes of foodstuff into the pickup truck. We then said goodbye to Hinton and Carla and Marietta and drove northeast toward Iquitos.
As we traveled, the landscape grew even more jungle-like, and we saw very few signs of people. I began thinking of the eighth insight. Clearly, it was a new understanding of how to treat others, but I didn't understand it completely. Carla had told me of the way one should treat children and the dangers of an addiction to a person, but both Pablo and Carla had alluded to a way to consciously project energy onto others. What was this about?
I caught Julia's eye and said, "I haven't quite grasped the eighth insight."
"How we approach other people determines how quickly we evolve, how quickly our life questions are answered," she said.
"How does that work?" I asked.
"Think about your own situation," she said. "How have your questions been answered?"
"By people who came along, I guess."
"Were you completely open to their messages?"
"Not really. I was mainly aloof."
"Were the people who brought messages to you pulled back also?"
"No, they were very open and helpful. They..." I hesitated, unable to think of the correct way to express my idea.
"Did they help you by opening you up?" she asked. "Did they fill you with warmth and energy somehow?" Her remark uncapped an eruption of memories. I recalled Will's soothing attitude when I was on the verge of panic in Lima, and Sanchez's fatherly hospitality, and Father Carl's and Pablo's and Carla's concerned counsel, and now Julia's. They all had the same look in their eyes.
"Yes," I said. "All of you have done that."
"That's right," she said. "We have. And we were doing it consciously, following the eighth insight by lifting you up and helping you to get clear. We could search for the truth, the message that you had for us. Do you understand that? Energizing you was the best thing we could do for ourselves."
"What does the manuscript say about all this?"
"Exactly. It says that whenever people cross our paths, there's always a message for us. Chance encounters do not exist, but how we respond to these encounters determines whether we're able to receive the message. If we have a conversation with someone who crosses our path and we do not see a message pertaining to our current questions, it does not mean that there was no message. It only means we missed it for some reason."
She thought for a moment, then continued. "Have you ever run into an old friend or acquaintance, talked for a minute and then left, then run into him or her again the same day or the same week?"
"Yes. I have," I replied.
"And what do you usually say?"
"Something like, 'Well, fancy seeing you again,' and laugh and go on your way?"
"Something like that."
"The manuscript says that what we should do instead in that situation is to stop what we're doing, no matter what, and find out the message we have for that person and that the person has for us. The manuscript predicts that once humans grasp this reality, our interaction will slow down and become more purposeful and deliberate."
"But isn't that hard to do? Especially with someone who wouldn't know what you were talking about?"
"Yes. But the manuscript outlines the procedures."
"You mean the exact way we're supposed to treat each other?"
"That's right. What does it say?"
"Do you remember the third insight? That humans are unique in a world of energy and that they can project their energy consciously?"
"Yes. Do you remember how this is done?"
"I recall John's lessons. Yes. It is done by appreciating the beauty of an object until enough energy comes into us to feel love. At that point, we can send energy back."
"That's right. And the same principles hold true with people. When we appreciate the shape and demeanor of a person, really focus on them until their shape and features begin to stand out and to have more presence, we can then send them energy, lifting them up. Of course, the first step is to keep our own energy high. Then we can start the flow of energy coming into us, through us, and into the other person. The more we appreciate their wholeness, their inner beauty, the more energy flows into them and naturally, the more that flows into us."
She laughed. "It's really a rather hedonistic thing to do," she said. "The more we can love and appreciate others, the more energy flows into us. That's why loving and energizing others is the best possible thing we can do for ourselves."
"I've heard that before," I said. "Father Sanchez says it often." I looked at Julia closely, and I had the feeling I was seeing her deeper personality for the first time. She returned my gaze for an instant, then focused again on the road.
"The effect on the individual of this projection of energy is immense," she said. "Right now, for instance, you're filling me with energy. I can feel it. What I feel is a great sense of lightness and clarity as I'm formulating my thoughts to speak. Because you're giving me more energy than I would have otherwise, I can see what my truth is and more readily give it to you. When I do that, you have a sense of revelation about what I'm saying. This leads you to see my higher self even more fully and so appreciate and focus on it at an even deeper level, which gives me even more energy and greater insight into my truth, and the cycle begins over again. Two or more people doing this together can reach incredible highs as they build one another up and have it immediately returned. You must understand, though, that this connection is completely different from a codependent relationship. A codependent relationship begins this way, but soon becomes controlling because the addiction cuts them off from their source and the energy runs out. Real projection of energy has no attachment or intention. Both people are just waiting for the messages."
As she spoke, I thought of a question. Pablo had said that I didn't get Father Costus' message at first because I set off his childhood drama. "What do we do?" I asked Julia. "If the person we are speaking with is already operating in a controlled drama and trying to pull us into it. How do we cut through that?"
Julia answered quickly. "The manuscript says, 'If we do not assume the matching drama, then the person's own drama will fall apart.'"
"I'm not sure I understand," I said.
Julia was looking at the road ahead. I could tell she was in thought. "Somewhere right through here is a house where we can buy some gasoline." I looked down at the gas gauge. It indicated the truck's tank was half full.
"We still have plenty of gas," I said.
"Yes, I know," she replied. "But I had a thought about stopping and filling it up. So, I think we should."
"Oh. Okay. There's the road," she said, pointing to the right. We made the turn and drove almost a mile into the jungle before arriving at what looked like a supply house for fishermen and hunters. The dwelling was built at the edge of a river, and several fishing boats were tied to the dock. We pulled up to a rusty pump, and Julia went inside to find the owner. I climbed out and stretched, then walked around the building to the water's edge. The air was extremely humid, although the thick canopy of trees blocked the sun. I could tell it was almost directly overhead. Soon the temperature would be scorching. Suddenly, a man behind me was speaking angrily in Spanish. I turned to see a short, stocky Peruvian. He looked at me menacingly and repeated the statement.
"I don't understand what you are saying," he switched to English. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" And I tried to ignore him. "We're just here for gas. We'll be gone in a few minutes." I turned around and faced the water again, hoping he would go away. He walked to the side of me.
"I think you better tell me who you are, Yankee." I looked at him again. He appeared to be serious.
"I'm an American," I said. "I'm not sure where I'm going. I'm riding with a friend."
"A lost American," he said hostilely.
"That's right," I said. "What are you after here, American?"
"I'm not after anything," I said, trying to walk back to the car. "And I've done nothing to you. Leave me alone." I noticed suddenly that Julia was standing at the vehicle. When I looked, the Peruvian turned and looked, too.
"It's time to leave," Julia said. "They're not in business any longer."
"Who are you?" the Peruvian asked.
Her in his hostile tone. "Why are you so angry?" Julia asked in response.
The man's demeanor changed. "Because it is my job to look after this place."
"I'm sure you do a good job, but it's hard for people to talk if you're frightening them." The man stared, trying to figure Julia out. "We're on our way to Iquitos," Julia said. "We're working with Father Sanchez and Father Carl. Do you know them?"
He shook his head, but the mention of the two priests settled him down even more. He finally nodded and walked away. "Let's go," Julia said. We got in the truck and drove away. I realized how anxious and nervous I had been. I tried to shake it off.
"Did anything happen inside?" I asked. Julia looked at me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, did anything happen inside to explain why you had the thought to stop?" She laughed, then said, "No, all the action was outside."
I looked at her. "Have you figured it out?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "What were you thinking about just before we arrived?"
"That I wanted to stretch my legs."
"No, before that. What were you asking about when we were talking?" I tried to think. "We were talking about childhood dramas." Then I remembered. "You had said something that had confused me," I said. "You had said that a person cannot play a control drama with us unless we play the matching drama."
"I didn't understand that."
"Do you understand now?"
"Not really. What are you getting at?"
"The scene outside clearly demonstrated what happens if you do play the matching drama."
"How?" She glanced at me briefly. "What drama was the man playing with you?"
"He was obviously the intimidator."
"Right. And what drama did you play?"
"I was just trying to get him off my back."
"I know, but what drama were you playing?"
"Well, I started off in my aloofness drama, but he kept coming after me."
"Then?"
"The conversation was irritating me, but I tried to get centered and stay with it." I looked at Julia and said, "I guess I was playing a poor me."
She smiled. "That's right. I noticed you handled him with no problem," I said.
"Only because I didn't play the drama he expected. Remember that each person's control drama was formed in childhood in relation to another drama. Therefore, each drama needs a matching drama to be fully played out. What the intimidator needs in order to get energy is either a poor me or another intimidator."
"How did you handle it?" I asked, still confused. "My drama response would have been to play the intimidator myself, trying to out-intimidate him. Of course, this would probably have resulted in violence, but instead, I did what the manuscript instructs. I named the drama he was playing."
"All dramas are covert strategies to get energy. He was trying to intimidate you out of your energy. When he tried that on me, I named what he was doing."
"That's why you asked why he was so angry?"
"Yes. The manuscript says that covert manipulations for energy can't exist them out. They cease to be covert. It is a very simple method. The best truth about what's going on in a conversation always prevails. After that, the person has to be more real and honest."
"That makes sense," I said. "I guess I've even named dramas myself before, though I didn't know what I was doing."
"I'm sure that's something all of us have done. We're just learning more about what is at stake. And the key to making it work is to simultaneously look beyond the drama at the real person in front of you and send as much energy their way as possible. If they can feel energy coming in any way, then it's easier for them to give up their way of manipulating for it."
"What could you appreciate in that guy?" I said.
"I could appreciate him as a little insecure boy needing energy desperately. Besides, he brought you a very timely message, right?" I looked at her. She appeared to be on the verge of laughter.
"You think we stopped there just so I could grasp how to deal with someone playing a drama?"
"That was the question you asked, wasn't it?" I smiled, my good feeling beginning to return. "Yes. I guess it was."
A mosquito buzzing around my face forced me awake. I looked over at Julia. She was smiling as though recalling something humorous. For several hours after leaving the river camp, we had ridden in silence, munching on the food Julia had prepared for the trip.
"You're awake," Julia said.
"Yes," I replied. "How far is Iquitos?"
"The town is about 30 miles, but the Stewart Inn is only a few minutes ahead. It's a small inn and a hunting camp. The owner is English and supports the manuscript." She smiled again. "We've had many good times together. Unless something has happened, he should be there. I hope we can get a lead on where Will is."
She pulled the truck to the side of the road and looked at me. "We'd better get centered in where we are," she said.
"Before I ran into you again, I had been floundering around wanting to help find the ninth insight, but not knowing where to go. At one point, I realized I had been thinking repeatedly of Hinton. I got to his house and who should show up but you. And you tell me that you're looking for Will and that he's rumored to be in Iquitos. I have the intuition that we'll both be involved in finding the ninth insight and then you'll have the intuition that at some point we will separate and go in different directions. Is that pretty much it?"
"Yes," I said. "Well, I want you to know that after that, I got to thinking about Willie Stewart and the Inn. Something is going to happen there."
I nodded. She drove the vehicle back on the road and around the curve. "There's the Inn," Julia said.
Ahead, about 200 yards, where the road took another sharp bend to the right, was a two-story, Victorian-style home. We pulled into a gravel parking area and stopped. Several men were talking on the porch. I opened the door of the vehicle and was about to get out when Julia touched my shoulder.
"Remember," she said. "No one is here by accident. Stay alert for the messages."
I followed her as we walked up on the porch. The men, well-dressed Peruvians, nodded distractedly as we walked by them and into the house. Once in the large foyer, Julia pointed to a dining room and asked me to pick a table and wait there while she looked for the owner. I surveyed the room. It contained a dozen or so tables lined in two rows. I picked a table about halfway down and sat with my back against the wall. Three more men, all Peruvians, came in behind me and sat down across from my table. Another man came in soon after and took a table about 20 ft to my right. He sat at an angle where his back was slightly toward me. I noticed he was a foreigner, perhaps European.
Julia entered the room, spotted me, and then walked over and sat down facing me. "The owner isn't here," she said. "And his clerk knew nothing of Will. Now what?" I asked.
She looked at me and shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to assume that someone here has a message for us."
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't know. How do you know it will happen?" I asked, suddenly feeling skeptical. Even after all the mysterious coincidences that had happened to me since I had been in Peru, I still had trouble believing one would occur now just because we wanted it to.
"Don't forget the third insight," Julia replied. "The universe is energy, energy that responds to our expectations. People are part of that energy universe, too. So, when we have a question, the people show up who have the answer." She cut her eyes to the other people in the room. "I don't know who these people are, but if we could talk to them long enough, we would find a truth each had for us, some part of the answer to our questions."
I looked at her askance. She leaned toward me across the table. "Get it into your head. Everyone who crosses our path has a message for us. Otherwise, they would have taken another path or left earlier or later. The fact that these people are here means that they are here for some reason."
I looked at her, still not sure whether I believed it was that simple. "The hard part," she said, "is figuring out who to take time to talk with when talking with everyone is impossible. How do you decide?"
"The manuscript says there are signs." I was listening intently to Julia, but for some reason I glanced around and looked at the man to my right. He turned around at exactly the same time and looked back at me. As I caught his eye, he shifted his gaze back to his food. I also looked away.
"What signs?" I asked.
"Signs like that," she said. "Like what?"
"Like what you just did." She nodded toward the man to my right. "What do you mean?"
Julia leaned toward me again. "The manuscript says we will learn that sudden, spontaneous eye contact is a sign that two people should talk."
"But doesn't that happen all the time?" I asked.
"Yes, it does," she said. "And after it happens, most people just forget about it and go on with what they're doing." I nodded.
"What other signs does the manuscript mention?" I asked.
"A sense of recognition," she replied. "Seeing someone who looks familiar, even though you know you've never seen the person before." When she said that, I thought of Dobson and Renée, of how familiar they looked when I had first seen them.
"Does the manuscript say anything about why some people look familiar?" I asked.
"Not much. It just says we are members of the same thought group with certain people. Thought groups are usually evolving along the same lines of interest. They think the same and that creates the same expression and outward experience. We intuitively recognize members of our thought group and very often they provide messages for us."
I looked at the man to my right one more time. He did look vaguely familiar. Incredibly, as I gazed at him, he turned and glanced at me again. I quickly looked back at Julia.
"You must talk with this man," Julia said.
I didn't respond. I felt uncomfortable with the idea of just walking up to him. I wanted to leave, to go on to Iquitos. I was about to make that suggestion when Julia spoke again. "This is where we need to be," she said. "Not Iquitos. We have to play this out. The trouble with you is that you're resisting the idea of walking up to him and starting a conversation."
"How did you do that?" I asked.
"Do what?" she replied.
"Know what I was thinking."
"There is nothing mysterious about it. It is a matter of looking closely at your expressions. What do you mean?"
"When you are appreciating someone at a deeper level, you can see their most honest self beyond any facades that they may put up. When you really focus at this level, you can perceive what someone is thinking as a subtle expression on their face. This is perfectly natural."
"It sounds telepathic to me," I said. She grinned. "Telepathy is perfectly natural."
I glanced over at the man again. He did not look. "You had better get your energy together and talk to him," Julia said. "Before you lose the opportunity."
I focused on increasing my energy until I felt stronger, then asked, "What am I going to say to this guy?"
"The truth," she said. "Put the truth in a form you think he would recognize."
"Okay, I will." I slid back my chair and walked over to where the man was sitting. He looked shy and nervous, the way I remembered Pablo looking the night I met him. I tried to look beyond the man's nervousness to a deeper level. When I did, I seemed to perceive a new look on his face, one with more energy.
"Hello," I said. "You appear not to be a native Peruvian. I'm hoping you can help me. I'm looking for a friend of mine, Will James."
"Please sit down," he said in a Scandinavian accent. "I'm Professor Edmund Conner." He offered me his hand and said, "I'm sorry. I do not know your friend, Will."
I introduced myself and then explained, just on a hunch, that it would mean something to him, that Will was searching for the Ninth Insight.
"I'm familiar with the manuscript," he said. "I'm here to study its authenticity. I was to meet a Professor Dobson here, but so far he has not come. I don't understand the delay. He assured me that he would be here when I arrived."
"You know Dobson?"
"Yes."
"He is the one who is organizing an inspection of the manuscript."
"And he's all right? He's coming here?" The professor looked at me questioningly. "Those were the plans we made. Has something been wrong?"
My energy fell. I realized that Dobson's meeting with Conner had been set up before Dobson's arrest. "I met him on an airplane," I explained. "When I came to Peru, he was arrested in Lima. I have no idea what happened to him."
"Arrested? My God! When did you last speak with him?" I asked.
"Several weeks ago, but our meeting time here was firm. He said he would call me if anything changed."
"Do you remember why he wanted you to meet him here instead of in Lima?" I asked.
"He said there were some ruins around here and that he would be up in this area speaking with another scientist."
"Did he mention where he would be talking to the scientist?"
"Yes."
"He said he had to go to uh San Luis, I believe."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I was just wondering." As I said this, two things happened simultaneously. First, I began thinking of Dobson, of seeing him again. We were meeting along a road with large trees. And then, at the same time, I looked out the window and saw, to my amazement, Father Sanchez walking up the porch steps. He looked tired and his clothes were dirty. In the parking lot, another priest waited in an old car.
"Who is that?" Professor Conner asked.
"It's Father Sanchez," I replied, barely able to contain my excitement. I turned around and looked for Julia, but she was no longer sitting at our table. I got up just as Sanchez walked into the room. When he saw me, he stopped abruptly, a look of total surprise on his face. Then he walked over and embraced me.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes, fine," I said. "What are you doing here?"
Through his fatigue, he chuckled lightly. "I didn't know where else to go and I almost didn't make it here. Hundreds of troops are headed this way."
"Why are troops coming?" Conner asked from behind me, walking up to where Sanchez and I were standing.
"I'm sorry," Sanchez replied. "I do not know what the troops have in mind. I just know there are many."
I introduced the two men and told Father Sanchez of Conner's situation. Conner appeared panicked. "I must leave," he said. "But I have no driver."
"Father Paul is waiting outside," Sanchez said. "He is going back to Lima immediately. You may ride with him if you wish."
"Indeed I do," Conner said. "Wait. What if they run into those troops?" I asked.
"I don't think they would stop Father Paul," Sanchez said. "He is not well known."
At that moment, Julia came back into the room and saw Sanchez. The two hugged warmly and again, I introduced Conner. As I spoke, Conner seemed to grow even more fearful. And after only a few minutes, Sanchez told him that it was time for Father Paul to start back. Conner left to get his belongings from his room and quickly returned. Both Sanchez and Julia escorted him outside, but I told him goodbye there and waited at the table. I wanted to think. I knew meeting Conner was significant somehow and that Sanchez finding us here was important, but I couldn't quite figure it out.
Before long, Julia came back into the room and sat down beside me. "I told you something was going to happen here," she said. "If we hadn't stopped, we wouldn't have seen Sanchez or Conner for that matter. By the way, what did you learn from Conner?"
"I'm not sure yet," I said. "Where is Father Sanchez?"
"He checked into a room to rest for a while. He hasn't slept in 2 days." I looked away. I knew that Sanchez was tired, but hearing that he was unavailable disappointed me. I wanted very much to talk with him, to see if he could add some perspective to what was happening, especially concerning the soldiers. I felt uneasy and part of me wanted to flee with Conner.
Julia picked up on my impatience. "Take it easy," she said. "Slow down and tell me what you think of the Eighth Insight so far."
I looked at her and tried to center myself. "I'm not sure where to start."
"What do you think the Eighth Insight is saying?"
I thought back. "It's about a way of relating to other people, to children and to adults. It's about naming control dramas and breaking through them and focusing on other people in a way that sends them energy."
"And?" she asked. I focused on her face and immediately saw what she was getting at. "And if we are observant about who to talk with, then we get the answers we desire as a result."
Julia smiled broadly. "Have I grasped the insight?" I asked.
"Almost," she said. "But there's one more thing. You understand how one person can uplift another. Now you're about to see what happens in a group when all of the participants know how to interact in this way."
I walked out to the porch and sat in one of the wrought iron chairs. After a few minutes, Julia came through the door and joined me. We had eaten a leisurely dinner without much talking and afterward had decided to sit outside in the night air.
3 hours had gone by since Sanchez had gone to his room and I was beginning to feel impatient again when Sanchez suddenly walked outside and sat down with us. I was relieved.
"Have you heard anything about Will?" I asked him. When I spoke, he slid his chair around to face Julia and myself. I noticed that he was carefully adjusting the position of his chair so that he was an equal distance from each of us.
"Yes," he said finally. "I have." He paused again and appeared to be in thought. So I asked, "What did you hear?"
"Let me tell you everything that happened," he said. "When Father Carl and I left to go back to my mission, we expected to find Father Sebastian there along with the military. We expected an inquisition. When we arrived, we found that Father Sebastian and the soldiers had left abruptly several hours earlier after receiving a message. For a whole day, we didn't know what was going on. Then yesterday, we were visited by a Father Costas, whom I understand you have met. He told us that he was directed to my mission by Will James. Apparently, Will remembered the name of my mission from his conversation earlier with Father Carl, and intuitively knew that we would need the information Father Costas was bringing. Father Costas has decided to support the manuscript."
"Why did Sebastian leave so suddenly?" I asked.
"Because," Sanchez said, "he wanted to speed up the implementation of his plans. The message he received told him that Father Costas was about to expose his intention to destroy the ninth insight. Sebastian found it?"
"Not yet, but he expects to. They found another document that indicated where the ninth is."
"Where is it supposed to be?" Julia asked.
"At the Celestine Ruins," Sanchez replied.
"Where is that?" I inquired.
Julia looked at me. "About 60 miles from here. It's a dig that Peruvian scientists have excavated exclusively and with quite a lot of secrecy. It consists of several layers of ancient temples, first Mayan, then Inca. Apparently, both cultures believe that there was something special about that location."
I suddenly realized that Sanchez was concentrating on the conversation with unusual intensity. When I talked, he would focus totally on me without breaking his gaze at all. When Julia spoke, Father Sanchez shifted his position to focus completely on her. He seemed to be acting very deliberately. I wondered what he was doing. And at that precise moment, there occurred a lull in the conversation. They both looked at me expectantly.
"What?" I asked.
Sanchez smiled. "It's your time to speak."
"Are we taking turns?" I asked.
"No," Julia said. "We're having a conscious conversation. Each person speaks when the energy moves to him. We could tell it had moved to you."
I didn't know what to say. Sanchez looked at me warmly. "Part of the eighth insight is learning to interact consciously when in a group. But don't get self-conscious. Just understand the process. As the members of a group talk, only one will have the most powerful idea at any one point in time. If they are alert, the others in the group can feel who is about to speak, and then they can consciously focus their energy on this person, helping to bring out his idea with the greatest clarity. Then, as the conversation proceeds, someone else will have the most powerful idea, then someone else, and so forth. If you concentrate on what is being said, you can feel when it is your turn. The idea will come up into your mind."
Sanchez shifted his eyes to Julia, who asked, "What idea were you having that you didn't express?"
I tried to think. "I was wondering," I said finally, "why Father Sanchez was looking intensely at whomever was speaking. I guess I was wondering what it meant."
"The key to this process," Sanchez said, "is to speak up when it is your moment, and to project energy when it is someone else's time. Many things can go wrong." Julia interjected. "Some people get inflated when in a group. They feel the power of an idea and express it. Then, because that burst of energy feels so good, they keep on talking long after the energy should have shifted to someone else. They try to monopolize the group. Others are pulled back, and even when they feel the power of an idea, they won't risk saying it. When this happens, the group fragments and the members don't get the benefit of all the messages. The same thing happens when some members of the group are not accepted by some of the others. The rejected individuals are prevented from receiving the energy, and so the group misses the benefit of their ideas."
Julia paused, and we both looked at Sanchez, who was taking a breath to speak. "How people are excluded is important," he said. "When we dislike someone or feel threatened by someone, the natural tendency is to focus on something we dislike about the person, something that irritates us. Unfortunately, when we do this, instead of seeing the deeper beauty of the person and giving them energy, we take energy away and actually do them harm. All they know is that they suddenly feel less beautiful and less confident, and it is because we sapped their energy. That is why Julia said, this process is so important. Humans are aging each other at a tremendous rate out there with their violent competitions. But remember," Sanchez added, "in a truly functional group, the idea is to do the opposite of this. The idea is for every member's energy and vibration to increase because of the energy sent by all of the others. When this occurs, everyone's individual energy field merges with everyone else's and makes one pool of energy. It is as if the group is just one body, but one with many heads. Sometimes one head speaks for the body. Sometimes another talks. But in a group functioning this way, each individual knows when to speak and what to say because he truly sees life more clearly. This is the higher person the eighth insight talked about in connection with the romantic relationship between a man and a woman. But other groups can form one as well."
Father Costas suddenly and of Pablo. Had this young Indian finally changed Father Costas's mind, leading him to now want to preserve the manuscript? Was Pablo able to do this because of the power of the eighth insight?
"Where is Father Costas now?" I asked.
Both individuals looked mildly surprised at my question, but Father Sanchez quickly replied. "He and Father Carl decided to go to Lima to speak with our church leaders about what Cardinal Sebastian seems to have planned. I guess that's why he was so adamant about going to your mission with you. He knew there was something else he was supposed to do."
"Exactly," Sanchez said. A lull developed in the conversation, and we looked at one another, each of us waiting for the next idea.
"The question now," Father Sanchez finally said, "is what are we supposed to do?"
Julia spoke first. "I've had thoughts all along about being involved with the ninth insight somehow, of getting a hold of it long enough to do something, but I can't quite see it clearly." Sanchez and I gazed at her intensely. "I see this happening at a particular place," she continued. "Wait a minute. The place I've been thinking about is the ruins, at the Celestine ruins. There is a particular spot there between the temples. I'd almost forgotten." She looked back at us. "That's where I need to go. I need to go to the Celestine ruins."
As Julia finished, both she and Sanchez shifted their gaze to me. "I don't know," I said. "I've been interested in why Sebastian and his people are so against the manuscript. I found out it's because they fear the idea of our inner evolution. But now I don't know where to go. Those soldiers are coming. It appears that Sebastian is going to find the ninth insight first. I don't know. I've been thinking I'm involved somehow in convincing him not to destroy it." I stopped speaking. My thoughts went to Dobson again. And then abruptly to the ninth insight. I suddenly realized that the ninth insight was going to reveal where we humans were going with this evolution. I had wondered how humans would be acting toward each other as a result of the manuscript. And that question had been answered with the eighth insight. And now the logical next question was, where is it all going to lead? How will human society change? That had to be what the ninth was about. I knew somehow that this knowledge could also be used to ease Sebastian's fears about conscious evolution. If he would listen.
"I still think Cardinal Sebastian can be convinced to support the manuscript," I said with conviction.
"You see yourself convincing him?" Sanchez asked me.
"No. No, not really. I'm with someone else who can reach him. Someone who knows him and can speak at his level." As I said that, Julia and I both spontaneously looked at Father Sanchez. He struggled to smile and spoke with resignation. "Cardinal Sebastian and I have avoided a confrontation over the manuscript for a long time. He has always been my superior. He considered me his protege and I must admit that I looked up to him. But I guess I always knew that it would come to this. The first time you mentioned it, I knew that the task of convincing him was mine. My whole life has set me up for it." He looked intensely at Julia and me, then continued. "My mother was a Christian reformer. She hated the use of guilt and coercion when evangelizing. She felt that people should come to religion because of love, not out of fear. My father, on the other hand, was a disciplinarian who later became a priest and like Sebastian believed adamantly in tradition and authority. That left me wanting to work within church authority, but always seeking ways it should be amended so that higher religious experience is emphasized. Dealing with Sebastian is the next step for me. I've been resisting it, but I know I have to go to Sebastian's mission at Iquitos."
"I'll ride with you," I said.