Transcription
The Celestine Prophecy chapter 7 of nine read by John Devon at John Dev on social media and Tiffany at spot onp. The title of this chapter is engaging the flow.
Enjoy.
The two priests walked back to the house, and I spent several more minutes observing the beauty of the mountains in an attempt to gain more energy. Then I lost my focus and drifted absently into a reverie about Will. Where was he? Was he close to finding the ninth Insight? I imagined him running through the jungle, the ninth Insight in his hand, troops everywhere pursuing. I thought of Sebastian orchestrating the chase. Yet, in my daydream, it was clear that Sebastian, even with all his authority, was wrong. That he misunderstood something about the impact the insights would have on people. I felt that someone could persuade him to take a different view, if only we could discover what part of the manuscript threatened him so much. As I mused over this thought, Marjorie popped into my mind. Where was she? I pictured seeing her again. How might that happen?
The sound of the front door closing brought me back to reality. I felt weak and nervous again. Sanchez walked around the house toward where I was sitting. His pace was quick, purposeful. He sat down beside me, then asked, "Have you decided what to do?"
I shook my head. "You don't look very strong," he said.
"I don't feel very strong."
"Perhaps you're not being very systematic in the way you build your energy."
"What do you mean?"
"Let me offer you the way that I personally gain energy. Perhaps my method will help you as you create your own procedure."
I nodded for him to go on. "The first thing I do," he said, "is to focus on the environment around me, as I think you do also. Then I try to remember how everything looks when I'm being filled with energy. I do this by recalling the presence everything displays, the unique beauty and shape of everything, especially plants, and the way colors seem to glow and appear brighter. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, I try to do the same thing."
Then he continued, "I try to experience that feeling of closeness, the feeling that no matter how far away something is, that I can touch it, connect with it. And then I breathe it in."
"Breathe it in? Did Father John not explain this to you?"
"No, he didn't."
Sanchez appeared confused. "Perhaps he intended to come back and tell you about it later. Often, he's very dramatic. He walks away and leaves his pupil alone to ponder what he has taught, then he shows up later at just the right time to add something else to the instruction. I suppose he intended to talk with you again, but we left too quickly."
"I'd like to hear about it," I said.
"Do you remember the feeling of buoyancy that you experienced on the ridgetop?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"To regain this buoyancy, I try to breathe in the energy with which I have just connected." I had been following along as Sanchez spoke; just hearing his procedure was increasing my connection. Everything around me had increased in presence and beauty. Even the rocks seemed to have a whitish glow, and Sanchez's energy field was wide and blue. He was now taking deep, conscious breaths, holding each about 5 seconds before exhaling. I followed his example.
"When we visualize," he said, "that each breath pulls energy into us and fills us like a balloon. We actually become more energized and feel much lighter and more buoyant." After several breaths, I began to feel exactly that way.
"After I breathe in the energy," Sanchez continued, "I check to see if I have the right emotion. As I've told you before, I consider this the true measure of whether I am really connected."
"You are speaking of love."
"That's correct. As we discussed at the mission, love is not an intellectual concept or a moral imperative or anything else. It is a background emotion that exists when one is connected to the energy available in the universe, which of course is the energy of God."
Father Sanchez was gazing at me, his eyes slightly out of focus. "There," he said, "you've reached it. That's the level of energy you need to have. I'm helping you some, but you are ready to maintain it on your own."
"What do you mean? You're helping me some?"
Father Sanchez shook his head. "Don't worry about that now. You'll learn about it later, in the eighth Insight."
Father Carl walked around the house and looked at both of us as though pleased. As he approached, he glanced at me. "Have you decided yet?"
The question irritated me. I fought against the resulting loss of energy. "Don't fall back into your aloof drama," Father Carl said. "You can't avoid taking a stand here. What are you thinking you need to do?"
"I'm not thinking anything," I said. "That's the problem."
"Are you sure? Thoughts feel different once you get connected with the energy."
I gave him a puzzled look. "The words you have habitually willed through your head in an attempt to logically control events," he explained, "stop when you give up your control drama. As you fill up with inner energy, other kinds of thoughts come into your mind from a higher part of yourself. These are your intuitions. They feel different. They just appear in the back of your mind, sometimes in a kind of daydream or mini-vision, and they come to direct you, to guide you."
"I still don't understand."
"Tell us what you were thinking about when we left you alone earlier," Father Carl said.
"I'm not sure I remember it all," I said.
"Try."
I tried to concentrate. "I was thinking about Will, I guess. About whether he was close to finding the ninth insight, and about Sebastian's crusade against the manuscript. What else?"
"I was wondering about Marjorie, about what happened to her."
"But I don't understand how this helps me know what to do."
"Let me explain," Father Sanchez said. "When you have acquired enough energy, you are ready to consciously engage evolution, to start it flowing, to produce the coincidences that will lead you forward. You engage your evolution in a very specific way. First, as I said, you build sufficient energy. Then you remember your basic life question, the one your parents gave you, because this question provides the overall context for your evolution. Next, you center yourself on your path by discovering the immediate, smaller questions that currently confront you in life. These questions always pertain to your larger question and define where you currently are in your lifelong quest. Once you become conscious of the questions active in the moment, you always get some kind of intuitive direction of what to do or where to go. You get a hunch about the next step. Always. The only time this will not occur is when you have the wrong question in mind. You see, the problem in life isn't in receiving answers. The problem is in identifying your current questions. Once you get the questions right, the answers always come."
"After you get an intuition of what might happen next," he continued, "then the next step is to become very alert and watchful. Sooner or later, coincidences will occur to move you in the direction indicated by the intuition. Do you follow me?"
"I think I do."
"So," he continued, "don't you think those thoughts of Will and Sebastian and Marjorie are important? Think about why these thoughts are coming now, considering the story of your life. You know that you came out of your family wanting to find out how to make the spiritual life an inwardly self-enhancing adventure, right?"
"Yes."
"Then, as you grew up, you became interested in mysterious topics. You studied sociology and worked with people, although you didn't yet know why you were doing these things. Then, as you began to wake up, you heard about the manuscript and came to Peru and found the insights one by one. And each has taught you something about the kind of spirituality you seek. Now that you've become clear, you can become super conscious of this evolution by defining your current questions and then watching the answers come."
I just looked at him. "What are your current questions?" he asked.
"I guess I want to know about the other insights," I said. "Especially, I want to know if Will is going to find the ninth Insight. I want to know what happened to Marjorie, and I want to know about Sebastian."
"And what were your intuitions suggesting about these questions?"
"I don't know. I was thinking of seeing Marjorie again, and of Will running with troops chasing him."
"What does it mean? Where was Will running in the jungle?"
"Perhaps that indicates where you should go. Quitos is in the jungle."
"What about Marjorie?"
"I saw myself seeing her again."
"And Sebastian?"
"I fantasized that he was against the manuscript because he misunderstood, that his mind could be changed if one could find out what he was thinking, what exactly he feared about the manuscript."
Both men looked at each other in total amazement. "What is it mean?" I asked.
Father Carl replied with another question. "What do you think?"
For the first time since the ridgetop, I was beginning to feel fully energized again and confident. I looked at them and said, "I guess it means I should go toward the jungle and try to discover which aspects of the manuscript the church dislikes."
Father Carl smiled. "Exactly. You can take my truck."
I nodded, and we walked around to the front of the house where the vehicles were parked. My things, along with a supply of food and water, were already packed in Father Carl's truck. Father Sanchez's vehicle was also packed.
"I want to tell you this," Sanchez said. "Remember to stop as often as necessary to reconnect your energy. Stay full. Stay in a state of love. Remember that once you achieve the state of love, nothing nor anyone can pull more energy from you than you can replace. In fact, the energy flowing out of you creates a current that pulls energy into you at the same rate. You can never run out, but you must stay conscious of this process in order for it to work. This is especially important when you interact with people." He paused, simultaneously as if on cue.
Father Carl walked closer and said, "You have read all but two insights, the seventh and eighth. Seven deals with the process of consciously evolving yourself, of staying alert to every coincidence, every answer the universe provides for you." He handed me a small folder. "This is the seventh. It is very short and general," he continued, "but it talks about the way objects jump out at us, the way certain thoughts come as guidance. As for the eighth, you will find it yourself when the time is right. It explains how we can aid others as they bring us the answers we seek, and further, it describes a whole new ethic governing the way humans should treat each other in order to facilitate everyone's evolution."
"Why can't you give me the eighth insight now?" I asked.
Father Carl smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. "Because we don't feel we should. We must follow our intuitions also. You will get the eighth insight as soon as you ask the right question."
I told him I understood. Then both priests hugged me and wished me well. Father Carl stressed that we would soon meet again and that I would indeed find the answers I was here to receive. We were all about to board our respective vehicles when Sanchez turned suddenly and faced me. "I have an intuition to tell you something. You will learn more about it later. Let your perception of beauty and iridescence lead your way. Places and people who have answers for you will appear more luminous and attractive."
I nodded and climbed into Father Carl's truck. Then followed them down the rocky road for several miles until we came to a fork. Sanchez waved out the back window as he and Father Carl headed east. I watched them for a moment, then turned the old truck north toward the Amazon basin.
A surge of impatience rose up within me. After making good time for over 3 hours, I now sat at a crossroads, unable to decide between two particular routes. To my left was one possibility. Judging from the map, this road bore north along the edge of the mountains for a 100 miles, then turned sharply east toward Iquitos. The other route led to the right and maintained an eastern angle through the jungle to the same destination. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, then quickly checked the rear-view mirror. No one was in sight. In fact, I hadn't seen anyone, no traffic, no locals walking, in over an hour. I tried to shake off a rush of anxiety. I knew I had to relax and stay connected if I expected to make the right decision.
I focused on the scene. The jungle route to my right progressed between a group of large trees. Several huge outcroppings of rock punctuated the ground around them. Most were encircled by large tropical bushes. The other route through the mountains seemed comparatively bare. One tree grew in that direction, but the remainder of the landscape was rocky, with very little plant life. I looked to the right again and tried to induce a love state. The trees and bushes were a rich green. I looked to the left and tried the same procedure. Immediately, I noticed a patch of flowering grass that bordered the road. The blades of grass were pale and spotty, but the white flowers, viewed together, created a unique pattern into the distance. I wondered why I hadn't noticed the flowers earlier. They now seemed to almost glow. I broadened my focus to include everything in that direction. The small rocks and brown patches of gravel seemed extraordinarily colorful and distinct. Hues of amber and violet and even dark red ran through the entire scene. I glanced back to the right, to the trees and bushes. Although beautiful, they paled in comparison to the other route. But how could that be? I thought. Initially, the road to the right seemed more attractive. Glancing back to the left, my intuition strengthened. The richness of shape and color amazed me. I was convinced.
I started the truck and headed to the left, sure of the correctness of my decision. The road was bumpy with rocks and ruts. As I bounced along, my body felt lighter. My weight was centered on my buttocks, and my back and neck were straight. My arms were holding the steering wheel, but were not resting on it. For two hours, I drove without incident, nibbling from the food basket Father Carl had packed, and again seeing no one. The road meandered up and down one small foothill after another. At the top of one hill, I observed two older cars parked to my right. They were pulled far off to the side of the road, and a stand of small trees. I could see no occupants and assumed the vehicles were abandoned. Ahead, the road turned sharply to the left and circled downward into a wide valley. From the peak, I could see for several miles. I stopped the truck abruptly. Halfway across the valley, three or four military vehicles sat along both sides of the road. A small group of soldiers stood among the trucks. A chill ran through me. That was a roadblock. I backed off the crest and pulled my vehicle behind two large rocks, then got out and walked back to the overlook to again observe the activity in the valley. One vehicle was driving away in the opposite direction.
Suddenly, I heard something behind me. I turned around quickly. It was Phil, the ecologist I had met at Viente. He was equally shocked. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as he rushed up to me.
"I'm trying to get to Quitos," I said.
His face was filled with anxiety. "So are we. But the government's getting crazy over this manuscript. We're trying to decide whether to risk passing through that roadblock. There are four of us." He nodded to his left. I could see several men through the trees.
"Why are you going to Quitos?" he asked.
"I'm trying to find Will. We got separated in Kula, but I heard he might be headed to Quitos looking for the rest of the manuscript."
He looked horrified. "He shouldn't be doing that. The military has prohibited anyone having copies. Didn't you hear what occurred at Viente?"
"Yeah, some, but what did you hear?"
"I wasn't there, but I understand the authorities rushed in and arrested everyone who had copies. All the guests were detained for questioning. Dale and the other scientists were taken away. No one knows what happened to them."
"Do you know why the government is so disturbed about this manuscript?" I asked.
"No, but when I heard how unsafe it was getting, I decided to return to Quitos for my research data and then to leave the country myself." I told him the details of what had happened to Will and myself after leaving Viente, especially the shooting on the ridgetop.
"Damn," he said. "And you're still fooling around with this thing?"
His statement jarred my confidence, but I said, "Look, if we do nothing, the government is going to suppress the manuscript completely. The world will be denied its knowledge, and I think the insights are important."
"Important enough to die for?" he asked.
The sound of vehicles attracted our attention. The trucks were driving across the valley toward us. "Oh," he said, "here they come."
Before we could move, we heard the sound of vehicles approaching from the other direction as well. "They've surrounded us!" Phil shouted. He looked panicked. I ran to the truck and dumped the basket of food into a small pack. I took the folders containing the manuscript and placed them in the pack as well, then thought better of it and pushed them under the seat instead. The sounds were growing louder, so I ran across the road to my right, in the direction Phil had headed down the slope. I could see he and the other men huddled behind a group of rocks. I hid with them. My hope was that the military trucks would pass and keep going. My truck was out of sight, hopefully they would think, as I did, that the other cars were abandoned.
The trucks approaching from the south arrived first and, to our horror, stopped. "Even with the vehicles, don't move!" a voice shouted. We froze as several soldiers walked up from behind us. All were heavily armed and very cautious. The soldiers searched us thoroughly and took everything, then forced us to walk back to the road. There, dozens of soldiers were searching the vehicles. Phil and his companions were taken and placed in one of the military trucks, which quickly drove away. As he rode past me, I caught sight of him. He looked pale and ghostly.
I was led on foot in the opposite direction and asked to sit near the crest of the hill. Several soldiers stood near me, each carrying an automatic weapon on his shoulder. Finally, an officer walked over and tossed the folders containing my copies of the insights on the ground at my feet. On top of them, he threw the keys to Father Carl's truck. "Are these copies yours?" he asked.
I looked at him without answering. "These keys were found on you," he said. "Inside the vehicle, we found these copies. I ask you again, are they yours?"
"I don't think I'll answer until I see a lawyer," I stammered. The remark brought a sarcastic smile to the officer's face. He said something to the other soldiers and walked away. The soldiers directed me to one of the Jeeps and into the front seat by the driver. Two other soldiers sat in the back seat, their weapons ready. Behind us, more soldiers climbed aboard a second truck. After a short wait, both vehicles headed north into the valley.
Anxious thoughts filled my mind. Where were they taking me? Why did I put myself into this position? So much for the preparation the priests had given me. I hadn't lasted a day. Back at the crossroads, I had been so certain I had chosen the correct road. This route was the one most attractive, I was sure of it. Where did I make my mistake? I took a deep breath and attempted to relax, wondering what would happen now. I would plead ignorance, I thought, and present myself as a misguided tourist meaning no harm. "I just got mixed up with the wrong people," and I would say, "Let me go home." My hands were resting in my lap. They were shaking slightly. One of the soldiers sitting behind me offered a canteen of water, and I took it, though I could not drink. The soldier was young, and when I handed the canteen back to him, he smiled without a trace of malice on his face. The image of Phil's panicked look flashed across my mind. What would they do to him? The thought occurred to me that meeting Phil on that hilltop had been a coincidence. What was its meaning? What would we have talked about had we not been interrupted? As it was, all I did was stress the manuscript's importance, and all he did was warn me about the danger here and counsel me to get out before being captured. Unfortunately, his advice had come too late.
For several hours, we rode without anyone speaking. The terrain outside grew progressively more flat. The air warmed. At one point, the young soldier handed me an open can of sea rations, something like beef stew, but again, I couldn't force anything down. After sunset, the light faded quickly. I rode along without thought, staring straight ahead with the truck's headlights. Then I slipped into a restless sleep, during which I dreamed of being in flight. I was running desperately from an unknown foe amid hundreds of huge bonfires, certain that somewhere was a secret key that would open the way to knowledge and safety. In the middle of one of the giant fires, I saw the key. I darted in to retrieve it. I jerked awake, sweating profusely. The soldiers glanced at me nervously. I shook my head and leaned against the truck's door for a long time. I looked out the side window at the dark shapes of the landscape, fighting the urge to panic. I was alone and under guard, heading into the blackness, and no one cared about my nightmares.
About midnight, we pulled up to a large, dimly lit building constructed of cut stone and two stories high. We walked along a walkway past the front entrance and entered a side door. Steps led down to a narrow hall. The inner walls were also of stone, and the ceiling was constructed of large timbers and rough-cut planks. Bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling lit our way. We walked through another door and then into an area of cells. One of the soldiers who had disappeared caught up with us and opened one of the cell doors and motioned for me to enter. Inside were three cots, a wooden table, and a vase of flowers. To my surprise, the cell was very clean. As I walked in, a young Peruvian, no more than 18 or 19 years old, looked at me meekly from behind the door. The soldier locked the door behind me and walked away. I sat down on one of the cots as the young man reached over and turned up an oil lamp. When the light hit his face, I noticed that he was an Indian.
"Do you speak English?" I asked.
"Yes, some," he said.
"Where are we?"
"Near Puno."
"Is this a prison?"
"No, everyone is here for questioning about the manuscript."
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
He looked up at me with shy brown eyes. "Two months."
"What have they done to you?"
"They try to make me disbelieve the manuscript and tell about others who have copies."
"How?"
"By talking to me, just talking. No threats, just talking," he repeated.
"Have they said when they will let you go?"
"No."
I paused for a moment, and he looked at me questioningly. "Were you caught with copies of the manuscript?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Were you?"
"Yes. I live near here, in an orphanage. My headmaster was teaching from the manuscript. He allowed me to teach the children. He was able to escape, but I was captured."
"How many insights have you seen?" I asked.
"All that have been found," he said. "You? I've seen all but the seventh and eighth insights. I had the seventh, but I didn't get a chance to read it before the soldiers showed up."
The young man yawned and asked, "Can we sleep now?"
"Yeah," I said absently. "Sure." I laid on my cot and shut my eyes, my mind racing. What should I do now? How had I let myself be caught? Could I escape? I concocted several strategies and scenarios before I finally drifted off to sleep again.
I dreamed vividly. I was searching for the same key, but this time I was lost in a deep forest. For a long time, I had been walking aimlessly, wishing for some sort of guidance. After a while, a huge thunderstorm came and flooded the landscape. During the deluge, I was washed down a deep ravine and into the river, which was flowing in the wrong direction and threatening to drown me. With all my might, I fought against the current, struggling for what seemed like days. Finally, I was able to pull myself from the torrent by clinging to the rocky shoreline. I climbed up the rocks and along the sheer cliffs that bordered the river, ascending higher and higher and into ever more treacherous areas. Although I had summoned all my willpower and expertise to negotiate the cliffs, at one point I found myself clinging perilously to the rock face, unable to proceed any further. I looked down at the terrain below me in shock. I realized that the river I had been fighting flowed out of the forest and gently up to a beautiful beach and meadow. In the meadow, surrounded by flowers, was the key. Then I slipped and fell, screaming, down and down until I hit the river and sank.
I sat up quickly in my cot, grasping for air. The young Indian, apparently already awake, walked over to me. "What is wrong?" he asked.
I caught my breath and looked around, realizing where I was. I also noticed that the room had a window and that it was already light outside. "Just a bad dream," I said.
He smiled at me, as though he was pleased at what I said. "Bad dreams have the most important messages," he commented.
"Messages?" I asked, getting up and putting on my shirt.
He looked embarrassed at having to explain. "The seventh Insight talks about dreams," he said.
"What does it say about dreams?"
"It tells how to... uh... interpret dreams, yes."
"What does it say about that?"
"It says to compare the story of the dream to the story of your life."
I thought for a moment, unsure of what that instruction meant. "What do you mean, compare stories?"
The young Indian could barely look me in the eye. "Do you want to interpret your dream?"
I nodded and told him what I had experienced. He listened intently, then said, "Compare parts of the story with your life."
I looked at him. "Where do I start?"
"At the beginning. What are you doing at the beginning of the dream?"
"I was searching for a key in a forest."
"How did you feel?"
"Lost."
"Compare this situation to your real situation."
"Maybe it does relate," I said. "I'm looking for some answers about this manuscript, and I'm damn sure feeling lost."
"And what else is happening to you in real life?" he asked.
"I've been caught," I said. "In spite of everything I tried to do, I've been locked up. All I can hope for now is to talk to someone and to let me go home."
"You are struggling against being caught, of course."
"What happened next?"
"Next, in the dream, I fought against the current."
"Why?" he asked.
"I began to pick up on where he was headed. "Because at the time, I thought it would drown me."
"And if you hadn't fought the water, it would have carried you to the key."
"What are you saying? That if I don't fight against the situation, that I might still get the answers I want?"
He looked embarrassed again. "I'm not saying anything. The dream is saying."
I thought for a moment. Was this interpretation correct? The young Indian looked up at me, then asked, "If you had to experience the dream again, what would you do different?"
"I wouldn't resist the water, even though it looked as though it might kill me. I would know better."
"What is threatening you now?"
"I guess the soldiers, being detained."
"So, what is the message to you?"
"You think the message of the dream is to look at this capture positively?"
He didn't answer. He only smiled. I was sitting on my cot, leaning back against the wall. The interpretation excited me. If it was accurate, it would mean that I hadn't made a mistake at the crossroads after all, that this was all part of what should be happening.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Pablo," he said. I smiled and introduced myself, then briefly told him the story of why I was in Peru and what had happened. Pablo was sitting on his cot, his elbow was resting on his knees. He had short black hair and was very thin.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"To find out about this manuscript," I replied.
"Why specifically?" he asked again.
"To find out about the seventh insight, and to find out about some friends, Will and Marjorie, and I guess to find out why the church is so against the manuscript."
"There are many priests here to talk to," he said.
I thought about his statement for a moment, then asked, "What else does the seventh Insight say about dreams?"
Pablo told me that dreams come to tell us something about our lives that we are missing. Then he said something else, but instead of listening, I started to think about Marjorie. I could see her face clearly in my mind, and I wondered where she might be. Then I saw her running up to me, smiling. Suddenly, I became aware that Pablo was no longer talking.
"I'm sorry, my mind was wandering," I said.
"What were you saying?"
"That is all right," he replied. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just a friend of mine. It was nothing."
He looked as though he wanted to press the question, but someone was approaching the cell door. Through the bars, we could see a soldier sliding back the bolt lock. "Time for breakfast," Pablo said. The soldier opened the door and motioned with his head for us to walk into the hall. Pablo led the way down the stone corridor. We proceeded to a stairway and up one flight of stairs to a small dining area. Four or five soldiers stood at the corner of the room, while several civilians, two men and a woman, waited in line to be served. I stopped, not believing my eyes. The woman was Marjorie. Simultaneously, she saw me and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes opening wide with surprise. I glanced at the soldier behind me. He was walking toward the other military men in the corner, smiling nonchalantly and saying something in Spanish. I followed Pablo as he led us across the room and to the end of the line. Marjorie was being served. The two other men took their trays to a table, talking. Several times, Marjorie gazed over and met my eyes, struggling not to say anything. After the second glance, Pablo guessed that we knew each other and looked at me questioningly. Marjorie carried her food to a table, and after being served, we walked over and sat with her. The soldiers were still talking amongst themselves, seemingly oblivious to our movements.
"God, I'm glad to see you," she said. "How did you get here?"
"I hid for a while with some priests," I replied. "Then I left to find Will and was captured yesterday."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since they found me on the ridge," she said.
I noticed Pablo was looking at us intensely, and I introduced him to Marjorie. "I guess that this must be Marjorie," he said. They talked briefly, then I asked Marjorie, "What else has happened?"
"Not much," she said. "I don't even know why I'm being detained. Every day I've been taken to one of the priests or one of the officers for questioning. They want to know who my contacts were at Viente and if I know where any other copies are, over and over again." Marjorie smiled and looked vulnerable, and when she did, I felt another strong attraction to her. She looked at me sharply out of the corner of her eyes. We both laughed quietly.
A period of silence followed as we ate our food, and then the door opened, and in walked a priest dressed formally. He was accompanied by a man appearing to be a high-ranking military officer. "That's the head priest," Pablo said. The officer said something to the soldiers, who had snapped to attention, and then he and the priest walked across the room toward the kitchen. The priest looked directly at me, our eyes meeting for a long second. I looked away and took a bite of food, not wanting to attract attention. Both men continued through the kitchen and out a door.
"Is that one of the priests you've talked to?" I asked Marjorie.
"No," Marjorie said. "I've never seen him."
"I know that priest," Pablo said. "He arrived yesterday. His name is Cardinal Sebastian."
I sat up straight. "That was Sebastian."
"It sounds like you've heard of him," Marjorie said.
"I have," I replied. "He's the main person behind the church's opposition to the manuscript."
"I thought he was at Father Sanchez's mission."
"Who is Father Sanchez?" Marjorie asked.
I was about to tell her when the soldier who had escorted us walked over to the table and motioned for Pablo and me to follow. "Time for exercise," Pablo said. Marjorie and I looked at each other. Her eyes revealed an inner anxiety. "Don't worry," I said. "I'll talk to you at the next meal. Everything will be fine." As I walked away, I wondered if my optimism was realistic. These people could make any of us disappear without a trace at any time.
The soldier guided us into a short hall and through a door that led to an outside stairway. We walked down to a side yard, which was surrounded by a tall rock wall. The soldier stood by the entrance. Pablo nodded for me to walk with him around the borders of the yard. As we walked, Pablo bent down several times to pick up some of the flowers growing in beds by the wall.
"What else does the seventh Insight say?" I asked.
He bent down and picked another flower. "It says that not only dreams guide us, also thoughts or daydreams guide us."
"Yes, Father Carl said that. Tell me how daydreams guide us."
"They show us a scene happening, and this is an indication that this event might happen. If we pay attention, then we can be ready for this turn in our lives."
"Now," I looked at him, "you know, Pablo, an image came to me that I would run into Marjorie, then I did."
He smiled. A chill went up my spine. "I must indeed be in the right place. I had intuited something that had come true. I had thought several times of finding Marjorie again, and now it had happened. The coincidences were taking place." I felt lighter.
"I don't have thoughts like that happen very often," I said.
Pablo looked away, then said, "The seventh Insight says that we all have many more such thoughts than we realize. To recognize them, we must take and observe our position. When a thought comes, we must ask why, why did this particular thought come now, how does it relate to my life questions? Taking this observer position helps us release our need to control everything. It places us in the flow of evolution."
"But what about negative thoughts now?" I asked. "Those fear images of something bad happening, such as someone we love getting hurt, or of not achieving something we very much want?"
"Very simple," Pablo said. "The seventh Insight says that fear images should be halted as soon as they come, then another image, one with a good outcome, should be willed through the mind. Soon, negative images will almost never happen. Your intuitions will be about positive things. When negative images come after that, the manuscript says they should be taken very seriously and not followed. For instance, if the idea comes to you that you're going to have a wreck in a truck, and someone comes along and offers you a ride in a truck, then do not accept it."
We had come full circle in our walk around the courtyard and were approaching the guard. Neither of us talked as we passed him. Pablo picked a flower, and I took a deep breath. The air was warm and humid, and the plant life outside the wall was dense and tropical. I had noticed several mosquitoes.
"Come," the soldier suddenly called out. He prodded us inside and down to our cell. Pablo entered ahead of me, but the soldier put his arm up, blocking my way. "Not you," he said, then nodded for me to walk down the hallway and up the other steps and outside through the same door we had entered the night before. In the parking lot, Father Sebastian was entering the back seat of a large car. A driver shut the door behind him. For an instant, Sebastian looked at me again, then he turned and said something to the driver. The car sped away. The soldier nudged me toward the front of the building. We walked inside and into an office. I was directed to sit in a wooden chair across from a white metal desk. Within minutes, a small, sandy-haired priest of about 30 entered and sat at the desk. Without acknowledging my presence, he looked through a file for a full minute, then looked up at me. His round, gold-rimmed glasses produced an intellectual appearance.
"You've been arrested with illegal State documents," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm here to help determine whether prosecution is in order. I would appreciate your cooperation."
Now, I nodded. "Where did you get the translations?"
"I don't understand," I said. "Why would copies of an old manuscript be illegal?"
"The government of Peru has its reasons," he said. "Please answer the question. Why is the church involved?"
"Because this manuscript contradicts the traditions of our religion," he said. "It misrepresents the truth of our spiritual nature."
"Where look?" I said, interrupting. "I'm just trying to understand this. I'm just a tourist who got interested in this manuscript. I'm a threat to no one. I only want to know why it is so alarming."
He looked puzzled, as if trying to decide the best strategy for dealing with me. I was consciously pressing for details. "The church feels the manuscript is confusing to our people," he said carefully. "It gives the impression that people can decide on their own how to live without regard to the scriptures."
"Which scriptures?"
"The commandment to honor thy father and mother, for one."
"What do you mean?"
"The manuscript blames parents, undermining the family."
"I thought it spoke of ending old resentments," I said, "and finding a positive view of our early life."
"No," he said. "It is misleading. There should never have been a negative feeling to begin with. Can't parents be wrong?"
"Parents do the best they can. Children must forgive them."
"But isn't that what the manuscript is clarifying? Doesn't forgiveness take place when we see the positive about our childhoods?"
His voice rose with anger. "But from what authority does this manuscript speak? How can it be trusted?" He walked around the desk and stared down at me, still angry. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Are you a religious scholar?"
"I think not. You're direct evidence of the kind of confusion this manuscript evokes. Don't you understand that there is order in the world only because of law and authority? How can you question the authorities in this matter?"
I said nothing, which seemed to infuriate him even more. "Let me tell you something," he said. "The crime you have committed is punishable by years in prison. Have you ever been in a Peruvian prison? Does your Yankee curiosity yearn to find out what our prisons are like? I can arrange that. Do you understand? I can arrange that." He put his hand over his eyes and paused, taking a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. "I am here to find out who has copies, where they are coming from. I will ask you one more time: Where did you get your translations?"
His outburst had filled me with anxiety. I was making my situation worse with all my questions. What might he do if I failed to cooperate? Still, how could I implicate Father Sanchez and Father Carl?
"I need some time to think before I answer you," I said.
He looked as if he might fly into another rage, then he relaxed and looked very tired. "I will give you until tomorrow morning," he said, motioning for the soldier standing in the doorway to take me away.
I followed the soldier back down the hall and directly to the cell without saying anything. I walked over and laid down on my cot, feeling exhausted myself. Pablo was looking out the bar window. "Did you talk to Father Sebastian?" he asked.
"No, it was another priest. He wanted to know who gave me the copies I had."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. Asked for time to think, and he gave me until tomorrow."
"Did he say anything about the manuscript?" Pablo asked.
I looked into Pablo's eyes, and this time he did not lower his head. "He talked a little about how the manuscript undermines traditional authority," I said. "Then he started raving and threatening me."
Pablo looked genuinely surprised. "Did he have brown hair and round glasses?"
"Yes. His name is Father Costos," Pablo said.
"What else did you say?"
"I disagreed with him about whether the manuscript undermines tradition," I replied. "He threatened me with prison."
"Do you think he meant that?"
"I don't know," Pablo said. He walked over and sat on his cot across from me. I could tell he had something else on his mind, but I was so tired and scared that I closed my eyes.
When I awoke, Pablo was shaking me. "Time for lunch," he said. We followed a guard upstairs and were served a plate of gristly beef and potatoes. The two men who we saw earlier came in after us. Marjorie wasn't with them.
"Where is Marjorie?" I asked them, trying to whisper.
The two men looked horrified that I would speak to them, and the soldiers stared at me intensely. "I don't think they speak English," Pablo said.
"I wonder where she is," I said.
Pablo said something in response, but again, I wasn't listening. I suddenly felt like running away and was picturing myself fleeing down a street of some kind, then ducking through a doorway to freedom.
"What are you thinking about?" Pablo asked.
"I was fantasizing about an escape," I said.
"What kind of an escape?"
"I was running down an alley or a street, then through a doorway. I got the impression I was successfully escaping."
"What do you think of this image?" Pablo asked.
"I don't know," I said. "It didn't seem to be logically connected to what we were talking about."
"Do you remember what we were talking about?"
"Yes, I was asking about Marjorie."
"You don't think there is a connection between Marjorie and your thought?"
"Not an obvious link I can think of."
"What about a hidden link?"
"I can't see the connection. How could escaping be related to Marjorie?"
"Do you think she escaped?"
He looked thoughtful. "Your thought was of you escaping."
"Oh yeah, that's right," I said. "Maybe I'm going to escape without her."
"I looked at him. "Maybe I'm going to escape with her."
"That would be my guess," he said. "But where is she?"
"I don't know."
We finished eating without talking. I was hungry, but the food seemed too heavy for some reason. I felt tired and sluggish. My hunger left me quickly. I noticed Pablo wasn't eating either.
"I think we should go back to the cell," Pablo said. I nodded, and he motioned for the soldier to take us back. When we arrived, I stretched out on my cot, and Pablo sat looking at me.
"Your energy seems down," he said.
"It is," I replied. "I'm not sure what is wrong."
"Are you trying to take in energy?" he asked.
"I guess I haven't," I replied. "And that food doesn't help."
"But you don't need much food if you are taking everything in," he swept his arm in front of him to emphasize everything. "I know it's hard for me to get the love flowing in a situation like this," he looked at me quizzically, "but not to do so is to harm yourself. What do you mean?"
"Your body is vibrating at a certain level. If you let your energy get too low, your body suffers. That is the relationship between stress and disease. Love is the way we keep our vibration up. It keeps us healthy. It is that important."
"Give me a few minutes," I said. I practiced the method Father Sanchez had taught me. Immediately, I felt better. The objects around me stood out with presence. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling.
"That's good," he said. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling broadly at me. His face and body were still boyish and immature, but his eyes now seemed full of wisdom. "I can see the energy coming into you," he said. I could detect a slight field of green around Pablo's body. The new flowers he had placed in the vase on the table seemed radiant.
"To grasp the seventh insight and truly enter the movement of evolution," he said, "one must pull all the insights into one way of being."
I didn't say anything.
"Can you sum up how the world has changed for you as a result of the insights?"
I thought for a moment. "I guess I've woken up and seen the world as a mysterious place."
That provides everything we need. If we get clear and get on the path, then what happens? he asked.
Then we're ready to begin the evolutionary flow. And how do we engage this process?
I thought for a moment. By keeping our current life questions firmly in mind, I said. And then watching for direction, either in a dream, or in an intuitive thought, or in the way the environment ideses and jumps out at us.
I paused again, trying to pull the whole insight together. Then added, we build our energy and center ourselves in our situations and the questions we have. Then we receive some form of intuitive guidance, an idea of where to go or what to do. And then coincidences occur to allow us to move in that direction.
Yes, yes, Pablo said. That is the way. And each time that these coincidences lead us into something new, we grow. We become fuller persons, existing at a higher vibration.
He was leaning toward me, and I noticed the incredible energy around him. He was beaming, no longer appearing shy or even young. He seemed full of power.
Pablo, what has happened to you? I asked. Compared to when I first met you, you seem more confident and knowledgeable and full somehow.
He laughed. When you first came, I had allowed my energy to dissipate. At first, I thought that you might be able to help me with my energy flow, but I realized that you haven't learned to do this yet. That ability is learned in the eighth insight.
I was puzzled. What was it that I didn't do?
You must learn that all the answers that mysteriously come to us really come from other people. Think about all that you have learned since you have been in Peru. Haven't all the answers come to you through the actions of other people you mysteriously met?
I thought about it. He was right. I had met just the right people at just the right time. Charlene Doson, Will Dale, Margerie, Phil Renew, Father Sanchez, and Father Carl. Now, Pablo, even the manuscript was written by a person, Pablo added.
But not all the people you meet will have the energy or the clarity to reveal the messages they have for you. You must help them by sending them energy. He paused. You told me of learning to project your energy toward a plant by focusing on its beauty, remember?
Yes. Well, you do exactly the same thing toward a person. When the energy goes into them, it helps them see their truth. Then they can give this truth to you.
Father Cus is an example, he continued. He had an important message for you, which you did not help him to reveal. You tried to demand answers from him, and that created a competition between you and him for energy. When he felt that his childhood drama, his intimidator, took over the conversation.
What was I supposed to have said? I asked.
Pablo didn't answer. Again, we heard someone at the cell door. Father Cus entered. He nodded at Pablo, a slight smile on his face. Pablo smiled broadly, as if he actually liked the priest.
Father Cus shifted his gaze to me, his face becoming stern. Anxiety gripped my stomach. Cardinal Sebastian has asked to see you, he said. You will be transported to Quados this afternoon. I would advise you to answer all his questions.
Why does he want me? I asked.
Because the truck you were caught with belongs to one of our priests. We are assuming you received your copies of the manuscript from him. For one of our own priests to disregard the law is very serious. He looked at me with determination.
I glanced at Pablo, who nodded for me to continue. You think the manuscript is undermining your religion? I asked, cautious.
Gently, he looked at me with condescension. Not just our religion, everyone's religion. Do you think there is no plan for this world? God is in control. He assigns our destiny. Our job is to obey the laws set forth by God. Evolution is a myth. God creates the future the way he wants it to say. Humans can make themselves evolve takes the will of God out of the picture. It allows people to be selfish and separate. They think that their evolution is the important thing, not God's plan. They will treat each other even worse than they do now.
I couldn't think of another question. The priest looked at me for a moment, then said, almost kindly, I hope you will cooperate with Cardinal Sebastian. He turned and looked at Pablo, obviously proud of the way he had handled my questions. Pablo only smiled at him and nodded again.
The priest walked out, and a soldier locked the door behind him. Pablo leaned forward on his cot and beamed at me, his demeanor still completely transformed, confidence on his face. I looked at him for a moment, then smiled.
What do you think happened just now? he asked.
I struggled for humor. I found out I'm in more trouble than I thought.
He laughed. What else occurred?
I'm not sure what you're getting at. What were your questions when you arrived here?
I wanted to find Margerie and Will.
Well, you found one of them. What was your other question?
I had a sense that these priests were against the manuscript, not out of malice, but because they misunderstood. I wanted to know what they were thinking. For some reason, I had the idea they could be talked out of their opposition.
After saying this, I suddenly understood what Pablo was leading to. And I had met Cus here now, so that I could find out what bothered him about the manuscript. And what was the message you received? he asked.
The message. Yes, the message. I looked at him. It's the idea of participating in evolution that bothers them, isn't it?
Yes, he said. That would figure.
And added, the idea of physical evolution is bad enough, but to extend the idea to everyday life, to the individual decisions we make, to history itself, that's unacceptable. They think humans will run a muck with this evolution, that relations between people will degenerate. No wonder they want to see the manuscript suppressed.
Could you convince them otherwise? Pablo asked.
Nah. I mean, I don't know enough myself. What would it take for someone to be able to convince them?
One would have to know the truth. One would have to know how humans would be treating each other if everyone was following the insights and evolving.
Pablo appeared pleased. What? I asked, smiling along with him.
How humans will act toward each other is in the very next insight, the eighth. Your question of why the priests were against the manuscript has been answered, and the answer in turn has evolved into another question.
Yes, I said, deep in thought. I've got to find the eighth. I've got to get out of here.
Don't go too fast, Pablo cautioned. You must make sure you fully grasp the seventh insight before you go further.
Do you think I grasp it? I asked. Am I staying in the flow of evolution?
You will, he said, if you remember to keep your questions always in mind. Even people who are still unaware can stumble into answers and see coincidences in retrospect. The seventh insight occurs when we can see these answers as they arrive. It heightens everyday experience. We must assume every event has significance and contains a message that somehow pertains to our questions. This especially applies to what we used to call bad things. The seventh insight says that the challenge is to find the silver lining in every event, no matter how negative. You first thought that being captured had ruined everything, but now you can see that you were supposed to be here. This is where your answers were.
He was right. But if I was receiving answers here and evolving to a higher level, then Pablo must certainly be doing the same thing. Suddenly, we heard someone coming down the hall. Pablo looked directly at me, a serious look on his face.
Listen, he said. Remember what I told you. The eighth insight is next for you. It is about an interpersonal ethic, a way of treating other people. So more messages are shared. But remember not to go too fast. Stay safe, centered in your situation.
What are your questions?
I want to find out where Will is, I said. And I want to find the eighth insight. And I want to find Margerie.
And what was your guiding intuition concerning Margerie?
I thought for a moment that I would escape, that we would escape. We could hear someone right outside the door. Did I bring you a message? I asked.
Pablo hurriedly. Of course, he said. When you arrived, I didn't know why I was here. I knew it had something to do with communicating the seventh insight, but I doubted my ability. I didn't think that I knew enough. Because of you, he continued, I now know that I can. That was one of the messages that you brought to me.
Was there another?
Yes. Your intuition that the priest can be convinced to accept the manuscript as a message for me also. It makes me think I'm here to convince Father Cus.
As he finished speaking, a soldier opened the door and motioned for me. I looked at Pablo.
I want to tell you one of the concepts the next insight talks about, he said.
The soldier glared at him and took my arm, ushering me out the door and closing it. As I was led away, Pablo stared through the bars. The eighth insight warns against something he called out. It warns against your growth being stopped. It happens when you become addicted to another person.