Transcription
The Celestine Prophecy chapter five of nine read by John Devon at John Devon on social media and Tiffany at spot-on spirit. The title of this chapter is the message of mystics. Thanks for listening and enjoy.
The next morning, I awoke as soon as I heard Will steering. We had spent the night at a house belonging to one of his friends, and Will was sitting up in a cot across the room, dressing quickly. It was still dark outside. "Let's get back," he whispered. We gathered our clothes and made several trips out to the jeep with some extra supplies Will had brought. The center of town was only a few hundred yards away, but few lights penetrated the darkness. Dawn was but a streak of lighter sky toward the east. Other than a few birds signaling the impending morning, there were no sounds. When we finished, I stayed with the Jeep while Will spoke briefly with his friend who stood sleepily on the porch while we completed our packing.
Suddenly, we heard noise at the crossroads. We could see the lights of three trucks as they drove into the center of the town and stopped. "That could be Jensen," Will said. "Let's walk over there and see what they're doing, but carefully." We made our way across several streets and into an alley that entered the main road about 100 ft from the trucks. Two of the vehicles were being filled with fuel and the other was parked in front of the store. Four or five people stood nearby. I saw Marjorie walk out of the store and place something in the truck there, then walk casually toward us, gazing into the adjacent shops. "Walk over there and see if you can get her to come with us," Will whispered. "I'll wait for you here."
I slipped around the corner, and as I walked toward her, I was horrified. Behind her, in front of the store, I noticed for the first time that several of Jensen's men carried automatic weapons. A few moments later, my fright intensified. In the streets, across from me, armed soldiers crouched low and slowly approached Jensen's group. At the exact time Marjorie saw me, Jensen's men saw the others and scattered. A burst of machine gun fire filled the air. Marjorie looked at me with terror in her eyes. I rushed forward and grabbed her. We ducked into the next alley. More shots were being fired amid angry shouting in Spanish. We tripped over a pile of empty cartons and fell, our faces almost touching. "Let's go," I said, jumping to my feet. She struggled up, then pulled me down again, nodding ahead to the end of the alley. Two men with weapons were hiding with their backs to us, looking down the next street. We froze. Finally, the men raced across the street to the wooded area beyond.
I knew we had to get back to the house of Wilson's friend, to the jeep. I was sure Will would go there. We crept carefully to the next street. Angry shouting and gunfire could be heard toward the right, but we could see no one. I looked left. Nothing there either. No sign of Will. I figured he had run ahead of us. "Let's run across to the woods," I said to Marjorie, who was now alert and looking determined. "Then," I continued, "we'll stay along the edge of the woods and bear left. The jeep is parked in that direction." "Okay." We crossed the street quickly and made our way to within a 100 ft or so of the house. The jeep was still there, but we could see no movement anywhere. As we prepared to dash across the last street to the house, a military vehicle turned a corner to our left and proceeded slowly toward the dwelling. Simultaneously, Will ran across the yard, started the jeep, and sped away in the opposite direction. The vehicle pursued. "Damn," I said. "What do we do now?" Marjorie asked, panic returning to her face. More shots were being fired in the streets behind us. Closer this time. Ahead, the forest thickened and inclined up the ridge, which towered over the town and ran north and south. It was the same ridge that I had seen from the overlook earlier. "Let's get to the top," I said. "Hurry."
We climbed several hundred yards up the ridge. At an overlook, we stopped and looked back toward the town. Military vehicles seemed to be pouring into the crossroads, and numerous soldiers were conducting what seemed to be a house-to-house search below us. At the base of the ridge, I could hear muffled voices. We rushed further up the mountain. All we could do now was run. We followed the ridge north all morning, stopping only to crouch down when a vehicle traveled along the ridge parallel to us on our left. Most of the traffic was the same steel gray military jeep we had seen before, but occasionally a civilian vehicle would pass. Ironically, the road provided a lone landmark and point of security against the wilderness all around us. Ahead, the two ridges grew closer together and more steeply sloped. Jagged outcroppings of rock protected the valley floor between. Suddenly, from the north, we saw a jeep like Will's approach. Then turn quickly onto a side road which looped down into the valley. "That looks like Will," I said, straining to see. "Let's get down there," Marjorie said. "Wait a minute. What if it's a trap? What if they've captured him and are using the jeep to lure us out?" Her face fell. "You stay here," I said. "I'll go down there and you watch me. If everything's okay, then I'll motion for you to follow." Reluctantly, she agreed. And I started down the steep mountain toward the spot where the jeep had parked. Through the foliage, I could vaguely see someone get out of the vehicle, but couldn't see who it was. Holding on to small bushes and trees, I worked my way between the outcroppings, occasionally sliding down, in the thick humus. Finally, the vehicle was directly across from me on the opposite slope, perhaps a hundred yards away. The driver leaning against a rear fender was still obscured. I moved to my right to get a better look. It was Will. I rushed further to my right and felt myself slide. At the last minute, I reached for the tree trunk and pulled myself back up. My stomach twisted with fright. Below me was a sheer drop off of 30 feet or more. I had barely avoided killing myself, still holding the tree. I stood up and tried to gain Will's attention. He was surveying the ridge above my head and then his eyes dropped and he looked right at me. He jerked up and walked toward me in the bushes. I pointed down to the steep gorge. He surveyed the valley floor, then called to me. "I don't see a way across," he said. "You'll have to move down the valley and cross there." I nodded and was about to signal Marjorie when I heard a vehicle approaching in the distance. Will jumped into his jeep and sped back toward the main road. I hurried up the hill. I could see Marjorie through the foliage walking toward me. Suddenly, from the area behind her came loud shouts in Spanish and the sounds of people running. Marjorie hid below a rock overhang. I changed directions, running as quietly as I could to the left. As I ran, I searched for a view of Marjorie through the trees. Just as I caught sight of her, she screamed loudly as two soldiers grabbed her arms and forced her to stand. I continued to run up the slope, keeping low, her look of panic frozen in my mind. Once at the top of the ridge, I headed north again, my heart pounding with terror and panic. After running more than a mile, I stopped and listened. I could hear no movement or talking behind me. Lying flat on my back, I tried to relax and think clearly, but the awful spectre of Marjorie's capture was overwhelming. Why did I ask her to remain on the ridge alone? What should I do now? I sat up and took a deep breath, [sighs] gazed over at the road on the other ridge. I had seen no traffic while I was running. Again, I listened intently, nothing except the visual forest sounds. Slowly, I began to calm down. After all, Marjorie had only been captured. She was guilty of nothing except running from gunfire. Probably she would be detained only until her identity as a legitimate scientist could be established. Once more, I headed north, my back aching slightly. I felt dirty and tired and pangs of hunger erupted in my stomach. For two hours I walked without thinking and without seeing anyone. Then from the slope to my right I heard sounds of running. I froze and listened again, but the sounds had stopped. Here the trees were larger, shielding the ground below from the sun, thinning the underbrush. I could see 50 or 60 yards. Nothing moved. I walked past a large boulder on my right, and several trees stepping as softly as possible. Three other massive outcroppings lay along my path, and I moved past two of them. Still no movement. I walked around the third boulder. Twigs cracked behind me. I turned around slowly. There, next to the rock was the bearded man I had seen at Jensen's farm. His eyes wild, panicked, his arms shaking [snorts] as he pointed an automatic weapon at my stomach. He seemed to be struggling to remember me. "Wait a minute," I stammered. "I know Jensen." He looked at me more closely and lowered the weapon. Then from the woods behind us, we heard the sounds of someone moving. The bearded man ran past me toward the north. Holding the rifle in one hand. Instinctively, I followed. Both of us were running as fast as we could, dodging limbs and rocks, and occasionally glancing back. After several hundred yards, he stumbled, and I raced past him. I collapsed between two rocks to rest and to look back, trying to detect movement. I saw a lone soldier 50 yards away raise his rifle toward the huge man who was struggling to his feet. Before I could utter a warning, the soldier fired. The man's chest exploded as bullets tore through from the rear, splattering me with blood. An echo of rifle fire filled the air. For an instant, he stood motionless. His eyes glazed. Then his body arched forward and fell. I reacted blindly, running north again, away from the soldier, keeping the trees between me and the area from which the bullets had come. The ridge grew constantly more rugged and rocky, and began to incline dramatically upwards. My entire body shook with exhaustion and terror as I struggled up the spaces between the outcroppings. At one point, I slipped and dared to glance backward. The soldier was approaching the body. I slithered around a rock just as the soldier looked up, seemingly right at me. I stayed low to the ground and crawled past several other boulders. Then the slope of the ridge leveled off, blocking the soldier's view. So I jumped to my feet again, running as fast as I could between the rocks and trees. My mind was numb. Escape was all I could think of. Though I didn't dare look back, I was sure I heard the soldier running behind me. The ridge inclined ahead, and I fought my way up, my strength beginning to wane. At the top of the rise, the ground leveled out and was thick with tall trees and lush undergrowth. Rising behind them was a sheer rock face that I had to scale delicately, searching for hand and footholds. As I proceeded, I struggled to the top and my heart fell at the sight before me. A drop off of a 100 ft or more blocked my way. I could go no further. I was doomed. Finished. Rocks slid along the outcropping behind me, indicating the soldier was closing fast. I sank to my knees. I was exhausted. Spent. And with a final sigh, I released the last of my fight, accepting my fate. Soon I knew the bullets would come. And interestingly, as an end to the terror, death seemed almost a welcome relief. As I waited, my mind flashed to childhood Sundays and to the innocent contemplation of God. What would it be like death? I tried to open myself to the experience.
After a long period of waiting during which I had no concept of time, I suddenly became aware that nothing had happened. I looked around and noticed for the first time that I was positioned on the highest peak of the mountain. Other ridges and cliffs fell away from this point, leaving me with a panoramic view in all directions. A movement caught my eye. There, far down the slope toward the south, walking casually away from me, was the soldier, the gun belonging to Jensen's man, slung across one arm. The sight warmed my body and filled me with ripples of silent laughter. I had somehow survived. I turned and sat cross-legged and savored the euphoria. I wanted to stay here forever. The day was brilliant with sunshine and blue sky. As I sat there, I was struck by the closeness of the purple hills in the distance. Or rather the feeling that they were close. The same perception applied to the few puffs of white cloud drifting overhead. I felt as if I could reach out and touch them with my hand. As I reached up toward the sky, I noticed something different about the way my body felt. My arm had glided upward with incredible ease, and I was holding my back, neck, and head perfectly straight with absolutely no effort. From my position, sitting cross-legged, I stood up without using my arms and stretched. The feeling was one of total lightness. Looking at the distant mountains, I noticed that a daytime moon had been out and was about to set. It looked to be about a quarter full and hung over the horizon like an inverted bowl. Instantly, I understood why it had that shape. The sun millions of miles directly above me was shining only on the top of the sinking moon. I could perceive the exact line between the sun and the lunar surface. And this recognition somehow extended my consciousness outward even farther. I could imagine the moon having already dipped below the horizon, and the exact reflected shape it would present to those who lived further west and could still see it. Then I imagined how it would look when it moved directly under me on the other side of the planet. To the people there, it would appear full because the sun over my head would shine past the Earth and strike the moon squarely. This picture sent a rush of sensation up my spine, and my back seemed to straighten even more as I conceived. No, I experienced the same amount of space commonly felt over my head as also existing under my feet on the other side of the globe. For the first time in my life, I knew the earth's roundness not as an intellectual concept, but as an actual sensation. At one level, this awareness excited me, but at another, it seemed perfectly ordinary and natural. All I wanted to do was immerse myself in the feeling of being suspended, floating amid a space that existed in all directions, rather than having to push myself away from the earth with my legs. As I stood there resisting the Earth's gravitation, I now felt as though I was held up by some inner buoyancy, as though I was filled like a balloon with just enough helium to hover over the ground and barely touch it with my feet. It was similar to being in perfect athletic condition, as after a year of intense exercise, only far more coordinated and light. I sat down again on the rock and again everything seemed close. The rugged outcrop on which I was sitting, the tall trees further down the slope and the other mountains on the horizon. And as I watched the limbs of the trees sway gently in the breeze, I experienced not just a visual perception of the event, but a physical sensation as well, as if the limbs moving in the wind were hairs on my body. I perceived everything to be somehow part of me. As I sat on the peak of the mountain, looking out at the landscape falling away from me in all directions, it felt exactly as if what I had always known as my physical body was only the head of a much larger body consisting of everything else I could see. I experienced the entire universe looking out on itself through my eyes. This perception induced a flash of memory. My mind raced backward in time past the beginning of my trip to Peru, past my childhood and my birth. The realization was present that my life did not in fact begin with my conception and birth on this planet. It began much earlier with the formation of the rest of me, my real body, the universe itself. The science of evolution had always bored me. But now, as my mind continued to race backward in time, all the things I had read on the subject began to come back to me, including conversations with the friend who resembled Renew. I recalled that this was the field he was interested in, evolution. All knowledge seemed to merge with actual memories. Somehow I was recalling what had happened and the recollection allowed me to look at evolution in a new way. I watched as the first matter exploded into the universe and I realized as the third insight had described that there was nothing truly solid about it. Matter was only energy vibrating at a certain level. And in the beginning matter existed only in its simplest vibratory form, the element we call hydrogen. That's all there was in the universe, just hydrogen. I observed the hydrogen atoms begin to gravitate together as if the ruling principle, the urge of this energy was to begin a movement into a more complex state. And when pockets of this hydrogen reached a sufficient density, it began to heat up and to burn to become what we call a star. And in this burning, the hydrogen fused together and leaped into the next higher vibration, the element we call helium. As I continued to watch, these first stars aged and finally blew themselves up and spewed the remaining hydrogen and the newly created helium out into the universe. And the whole process began again. The hydrogen and helium gravitated together until the temperature became hot enough for new stars to form and that in turn fused the helium together creating the element lithium which vibrated at the next higher level and so on. Each successive generation of stars creating matter that had not existed before until the wide spectrum of matter, the basic chemical elements had been formed and scattered everywhere. Matter had evolved from the element hydrogen, the simplest vibration of energy, to carbon, which vibrated at an extremely high rate. The stage was now set for the next step in evolution. As our sun formed, pockets of matter fell into orbit around it. And one of them, the Earth, contained all the newly created elements, including carbon. As the earth cooled, gases once caught in the molten mass migrated to the surface and merged together, forming water vapor, and the great rains came, forming oceans on thin barren crust. Then when water covered much of the earth's surface, the skies cleared and the sun burning brightly bathed the new world with light and heat and radiation. And in the shallow pools and basins amid the great lightning storms that periodically swept the planet, matter leaped past the vibratory level of carbon to an even more complex state to the vibration represented by the amino acids. But for the first time, this new level of vibration was not stable in and of itself. Matter had to continually absorb other matter into itself in order to sustain its vibration. It had to eat life. The new thrust of evolution had emerged. Still restricted to living only in water. I saw this life split into two distinct forms. One form, the one we call plants, lived on inorganic matter and turned these elements into food by utilizing carbon dioxide from the early atmosphere. As a byproduct, plants released free oxygen into the world for the first time. Plant life spread quickly through the oceans and finally onto the land as well. The other form, what we call animals, absorbed only organic life to sustain their vibration. As I watched, the animals filled the oceans in the great age of fishes. And when the plants had released enough oxygen into the atmosphere, began their own trek toward land. I saw the amphibians, half fish, half something new, leave the water for the first time and use lungs to breathe the new air. Then matter leaped forward again into reptiles and covered the earth in the great period of the dinosaurs. Then the warm-blooded mammals came and likewise covered the earth. And I realized that each emerging species represented life. Matter moving into its next higher vibration. Finally, the progression ended. There at the pinnacle stood humankind. Humankind. The vision ended. I had seen in one flash the entire story of evolution. The story of matter coming into being and then evolving as if under some guiding plan toward ever higher vibrations creating the exact conditions finally for humans to emerge for each of us as individuals to emerge. As I sat there on that mountain, I could almost grasp how this evolution was extended even further in the lives of human beings. Further evolution was related somehow to the experience of life coincidences. Something about these events led us forward in our lives and created a higher vibration that pushed evolution ahead as well. Yet as hard as I tried, I couldn't quite understand.
For a long time, I sat on the rock precipice, consumed by peace and completeness. Then abruptly I became aware that the sun was beginning to sink in the west. I also noticed that toward the northwest about a mile was a town of some kind. I could make out the shapes of rooftops. The road on the west ridge seemed to meander right to it. I got up and began the climb down the rocks. I laughed out loud. I was still connected with the landscape so that I felt I was walking alongside my own body and more that I was exploring the regions of my own body. The feeling was exhilarating. I made my way down the bluffs and into the trees. The afternoon sun cast long shadows along the forest floor. Halfway down I came to a particularly thick area of large trees. And as I entered, I experienced a perceptible change in my body. I felt even lighter and more coordinated. I stopped and looked closely at the trees and underlying bushes, focusing on their shape and beauty. I could see flickers of white light and what seemed like a pinkish glow around each plant. I continued to walk, coming to a stream that radiated a pale blue and filled me with an enhanced tranquility and even a drowsiness. Eventually, I made my way across the valley floor and up the next ridge until I came to the road. I pulled myself up to the gravel surface and walked casually along the shoulder toward the north. Up ahead, I caught sight of a man in a priest's robe rounding the next bend. The sight thrilled me. Totally without fear, I jogged ahead to talk with him. I knew I would know exactly what to say and do. I had a feeling of perfect well-being. But to my surprise, he had disappeared. To the right, another road angled back down into the valley, but I could see no one in that direction. I ran further up the main road, but saw no one there either. I thought about getting back and taking the road I had passed, but I knew the town was ahead, so I continued to walk that way. Still, I thought several more times of the other road. A hundred yards farther as I rounded another curve. I heard the roar of vehicles through the trees. I could see a line of military trucks approaching at a high rate of speed. For a moment I hesitated, thinking I might stand my ground, but then I remembered the terror of the shooting on the ridge. I had time only to fling myself off the road to the right and lie still. Then jeeps sped past me. I had landed in a spot which was completely exposed, and all I could do was hope that no one looked my way. Each vehicle passed within 20 feet. I could smell the exhaust fumes and see the expression on every face. Luckily, no one noticed. After they were well passed, I crawled behind a large tree. My hands were shaking and my sensation of peace and connection was totally shattered. A now familiar pang of anxiety nodded in my stomach. Finally, I inched up to the road. The sound of more vehicles sent me scurrying down the slope again as two more jeeps raced past. I felt nauseous. This time I stayed well off the road and retreated the way I had come. Moving very cautiously, I came to the road I had passed earlier. After carefully listening for sound and movement, I decided to walk through the woods beside it, angling back into the valley. My body felt heavy again. What had I been doing? I asked myself. Why had I been walking in the road? I must have been crazy, deluded by the shock of the shooting, entranced in some state of euphoria. Get real, I told myself. You have to be careful. There are people here who will kill you if you make the slightest mistake. I froze. Ahead of me, perhaps 100 feet, was the priest. He was sitting under a large tree that was surrounded by numerous rock outcroppings. As I stared at him, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. I flinched, but he only smiled and motioned for me to walk up. Cautiously, I approached him. He remained motionless, a thin, tall man of about 50 years of age. His hair was cut short and was dark brown in color, matching his eyes. "You look as though you need some help," he said in perfect English. "Who are you?" I asked. "I am Father Sanchez." "And you?" I explained who I was and where I was from, dizzily sinking to one knee and then to my buttocks. "You were part of what happened in Kula, weren't you?" he asked. "What do you know of that?" I asked wearily, not knowing whether to trust him. "I know someone in this government is very angry," he said. "They don't want the manuscript publicized." "Why?" I asked. He stood up and looked down at me. "Why don't you come with me? Our mission is only a half mile away. You'll be safe with us." I struggled to my feet, realizing I had no choice, and nodded affirmatively. He led me slowly down the road, his manner respectful and deliberate. He weighed each word. "Are the soldiers still looking for you?" he asked at one point. "I don't know," I replied. He said nothing for a few minutes, then asked. "Are you searching for the manuscript?" "Not anymore," I said. "Right now, I just want to survive this and go home." He nodded reassuringly, and I found myself beginning to trust him. Something about his regard and warmth affected me. He reminded me of Will. Presently we came to the mission which was a cluster of small houses facing a courtyard and a small church. It was situated in a place of great beauty. As we walked up he told me of the other robed men something in Spanish and they scurried away. I tried to see where they were going but fatigue was engulfing me. The priest led me into one of the houses. Inside was a small living area and two bedrooms. A fire burned in the fireplace. Soon after we entered, another priest walked in with a tray of bread and soup. Wearily, I ate as Sanchez sat politely in the chair beside me. Then upon his insistence, I stretched out on one of the beds and fell into a deep sleep.
When I walked into the courtyard, I noticed immediately that the grounds were immaculately kept. The gravel walkways were edged with precisely arranged bushes and hedges, each seemed to be placed so as to accent their full natural shape. None were trimmed. I stretched and felt the starched shirt I had put on. It was made of coarse cotton and chafed my neck slightly. Still, it was clean and freshly ironed. Earlier I had awakened as two priests poured hot water into a tub and laid out fresh clothes. After I had bathed and dressed, I had walked into the other room and found hot muffins and dried fruit on the table. I had eaten ravenously while the priest stood by. After I had finished, the priest had left and I had walked outside to where I now stood. I walked over and sat on one of the stone benches that faced the courtyard. The sun was just clearing the tops of the trees, warming my face. "How did you sleep?" a voice asked from behind me. I turned to see Father Sanchez standing very erect, smiling down at me. "Very well," I replied. "May I join you?" "Sure." Neither of us spoke for several minutes. So long, in fact, that I felt some discomfort. Several times I looked at him, preparing to say something. But he was looking in the direction of the sun, his face tilted slightly back, his eyes squinting. Finally, he spoke. "This is a nice place you found here." Apparently, he meant the bench at this time of the morning. "Look, I need to ask your advice," I said. "What is the safest way for me to get back to the United States?" He looked at me seriously. "I don't know. That depends on how dangerous the government thinks you are. Tell me how you happen to be in Kula." I told him everything from the time I first heard of the manuscript. My feeling of euphoria on the ridge now seemed fanciful and pretentious, so I only alluded to it briefly. Sanchez, however, immediately questioned me about it. "What did you do after the soldier failed to notice you and left?" he asked. "I just sat up there for a few hours," I replied. "Feeling relieved, I guess." "What else did you feel?" he asked. I squirmed somewhat, then decided to attempt a description. "It's hard to describe," I said. "I felt this euphoric connection with everything and this total kind of security and confidence. I was no longer tired." He smiled. "You had a mystical experience. Many people report them in that forest near the peak." I nodded tentatively. He turned on the bench to face me more directly. "This is the experience the mystics of every religion have always described. Have you read anything about such experiences?" "Some years ago," I said, "but until yesterday it was only an intellectual concept." "Yeah, I suppose." A young priest walked up and nodded to me, then whispered something to Sanchez. Sanchez nodded and the young priest turned and walked away. The older priest watched every step the young man took. He crossed the courtyard and entered a park-like area about 100 ft away. I noticed for the first time that this area, too, was also extremely clean and full of various plants. The young priest walked to several locations, hesitating at each one as though searching for something, then at one specific location sat down. He appeared to be engaged in an exercise of some kind. Sanchez smiled and looked pleased, then turned his attention to me. "I think it is probably unsafe for you to attempt to go back right now," he said, "but I will try to find out what the situation is and if there is any word about your friends." He stood up and faced me. "I must attend to some chores. Please understand that we will assist you in any way possible. For now, I hope you will be comfortable here. Relax and gain your strength." I nodded. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out some papers and handed them to me. "This is the fifth insight. It speaks about the kind of experience you had. I think you might find it interesting." I took it reluctantly as he continued speaking. "What was your understanding of the last insight you read?" he asked. I hesitated. I didn't want to think about manuscripts and insights. Finally, I said that humans are stuck in a kind of competition for each other's energy. When we get others to acquiesce to our view, they identify with us and that pulls their energy into us and we feel stronger. He smiled. "So the problem is that everyone is trying to control and manipulate each other for energy because we feel short of it." "That's right. But there is a solution, another source of energy. That's what the last insight implied." He nodded and walked very deliberately into the church.
For a few moments, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. Not looking at the translation, I continued to feel reluctant. The events of the last two days had dampened my enthusiasm, and I preferred instead to think of how I might return to the United States. Then, in the wooded area across the way, I noticed the young priest stand up and walk slowly to another location about 20 ft from where he was. He turned toward me again and sat down. I was intrigued over what he might be doing. Then it dawned on me that he might be practicing something that was spelled out in the manuscript. I looked at the first page and began to read. It described a new understanding of what has long been called mystical consciousness. During the last decades of the 20th century, it stated this consciousness would become publicized as a way of being that is actually attainable, a way that has been demonstrated by the more esoteric practitioners of many religions. For most, this consciousness would remain an intellectual concept to be only talked of and debated. But for a growing number of humans, this consciousness would become experientially real. Because these individuals would experience flashes or glimpses of this state of mind during the course of their lives. The manuscript said that this experience was the key to ending human conflict in the world. Because during this experience, we are receiving energy from another source, a source we will eventually learn to tap at will. I stopped reading and looked at the young priest again. His eyes were open and he appeared to be looking directly at me. I nodded even though I couldn't make out the details of his face. To my surprise, he nodded back too. He smiled faintly. Then he stood up and walked toward my left, heading toward the house in that direction. He avoided my eyes as I watched him cross the courtyard and enter the dwelling. Behind me, I heard footsteps and turned to see Sanchez leaving the church. He smiled as he approached me. "That didn't take long," he said. "Would you like to see more of the grounds?" "Yes, I would," I replied. "Tell me about these sitting areas you have." I pointed toward the area where the young priest had been. "Let's walk up there," he said. As we strolled across the courtyard, Sanchez told me that this mission was over 400 years old and was founded by a unique missionary from Spain who felt the way to convert the local Indians was through their hearts, not through coercion with the sword. The approach had worked, Sanchez went on. And partly because of this success, and partly due to the remote location, the priest had been left alone to follow his own course. "We carry on his tradition of looking inward for the truth," Sanchez said. The sitting area was landscaped immaculately. About half an acre of dense forest had been cleared, and the bushes and flowering plants beneath were interspersed with walkways made of smooth river stone like those in the courtyard. The plants here were also spaced perfectly, accentuating their unique shape. "Where would you like to sit down?" Sanchez asked. I looked around at my options. In front of us were several arranged areas, nooks which seemed complete unto themselves, all contained open spaces surrounded by beautiful plants and rocks and larger trees of varying shapes. One to our left, where the young priest had been last sitting, had more outcroppings of stone. "How about over there?" I said. He nodded and we walked over and sat down. Sanchez breathed deeply for several minutes, then looked at me. "Tell me more about your experience on the ridge," he said. I felt resistant. "I don't know what else I can say about it. It didn't last." The priest looked at me sternly. "Just because it ended when you became afraid again doesn't negate its importance, does it? Perhaps it is something to be regained." "Maybe," I said, "but it's hard for me to concentrate on feeling cosmic when people are trying to kill me." He laughed, then looked at me warmly. "Are you studying the manuscript here at the mission?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "We teach others how to pursue the kind of experience you had on the ridge. You wouldn't mind getting some of that feeling back, would you?" A voice from the courtyard interrupted. A priest calling for Sanchez. The older man excused himself and walked down to the courtyard and talked with the priest who had summoned him. I sat back and looked at the plants and rocks nearby, taking my eyes slightly out of focus. Around the bush closest to me, I could barely make out an area of light, but when I tried it on the rocks, I could see nothing. Then I noticed Sanchez walking back. "I must leave for a while," he said as he reached me. "I'll be going into town for a meeting, so perhaps I can acquire some information concerning your friends, or at least how safe it is for you to travel." "Good," I said. "Will you be back today?" "I don't think so," he replied. "More like tomorrow morning." I must have looked insecure because he walked closer and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, you are safe here. Please make yourself at home. Look around. It is fine to talk with any of the priests, but understand that some of them will be more receptive than others depending on their development." I nodded. He smiled and walked behind the church and entered an old truck I had not noticed. After several attempts, it started and he drove around the backside of the church and onto the road leading back up the ridge.
For several hours, I remained in the sitting area, content to gather my thoughts, wondering if Marjorie was all right and if Will had escaped. Several times the image of Jensen's man being killed flashed across my mind, but I fought off the memory and tried to stay calm. About noon, I noticed several priests were preparing a long table in the center of the courtyard with dishes of food. When they finished, a dozen or more other priests joined them and began serving their own plates and eating on the benches casually. Most of them smiled pleasantly at each other, but I could hear little talking. One of them looked at me and pointed to the food. I nodded and walked down to the courtyard and prepared a plate of corn and beans. Each of the priests seemed very conscious of my presence, but no one spoke to me. I made several comments about the food, but my words were met only with smiles and polite gestures. If I attempted direct eye contact, they would lower their eyes. I sat down on one of the benches alone and ate. The vegetables and beans were unsalted but spiced with herbs. When lunch was over and the priests were stacking their plates on the table, another priest walked out of the church and hastily prepared a plate. When he finished, he looked around for a place to sit and our eyes met. He smiled and I recognized him as the priest who had looked at me from the sitting area earlier. I returned his smile and he walked over and spoke to me in broken English. "May I sit on bench with you?" he asked. "Yes, please," I replied. He sat down and began to eat very slowly, over chewing his food and smiling up at me occasionally. He was short and small with a weary build and cold black hair. His eyes were a lighter brown. "You like the food?" he asked. I was holding my plate in my lap. Several bites of corn remained. "Oh yes," I said and took a bite. I noticed again how slowly and deliberately he chewed and tried to do the same. And then it struck me that all of the priests had been eating that way. "Are the vegetables grown here at the mission?" I asked. He hesitated before answering, swallowing slowly. "Yes, food is very important." "Do you meditate with the plants?" I asked. He looked at me with obvious surprise. "You have read manuscript?" he asked. "Yes, the first four insights." "Have you grown food?" he asked. "Oh, no. I'm just learning about all this." "Do you see energy fields?" "Yes, sometimes." We sat in silence for a few minutes while he carefully ate several more bites. "Food is the first way of gaining energy," he said. I nodded. "But in order to totally absorb energy in food, the food must be appreciated." He seemed to be struggling for the right English word. "Savored." He finally said, "Taste is the doorway. You must appreciate taste. This is the reason for prayer before eating. It is not just about being thankful. It is to make eating a holy experience so the energy from the food can enter your body." He looked closely at me as though to see whether I understood. I nodded without comment. He looked thoughtful. What he was telling me, I reasoned, was that this kind of deliberate appreciation of food was the real purpose behind the normal religious custom of being thankful with the result being a higher energy absorption of the food. "But taking in food is only first step," he said. "After personal energy is increased in this way, you become more sensitive to energy in all things and then you learn to take this energy into yourself without eating." I nodded affirmatively. "Everything around us," he continued, "has energy, but each has its own special kind. That is why some places increase energy more than others. It depends on how your shape fits with the energy there." "Is that what you were doing up there earlier?" I asked. "Increasing your energy." He looked pleased. "Yes. How do you do that?" "You have to be open to connect to use your sense of appreciation. As in seeing fields, but you take this one step further so that you get the sensation of being filled up." "I'm not sure I follow you." He frowned at my denseness. "Would you like to walk back to the sitting place? I can show you." "Okay," I said, "Why not?" I followed as he led the way across the courtyard and back to the sitting area. As we arrived, he stopped and looked around, as if surveying the area for something. "Over there," he said, pointing to a spot that bordered the dense forest. We followed the path as it wound through the trees and bushes. He picked a spot in front of a large tree that grew out of a mound of boulders so that its huge trunk seemed to be perched on the rocks. Its roots wrapped around and through the boulders before finally reaching the soil. Flowering shrubs and some type grew in semicircles in front of the tree, and I could detect a strange sweet fragrance from the shrubs' yellow blossoms. The dense forest provided a solid sheet of green in the background. The priest directed me to sit down in a clear spot amid the bushes. Facing the gnarled tree, he sat beside me. "Do you think the tree is beautiful?" he asked. "Yes." "Then uh feel it. Uh..." he seemed to be struggling again to find the word. He thought for a moment and then asked, "Father Sanchez told me that you had an experience on the ridge. Can you remember how you felt?" "I felt light and secure and connected." "How connected. That's hard to describe," I said, "like the whole landscape was part of me. But what was the feeling?" I thought for a minute. "What was the feeling?" Then it came to me. "Love," I said. "I guess I felt a love for everything." "Yes," he said. "That is it. Feel that for the tree." "But wait a minute," I protested. "Love is something that just happens. I can't make myself love anything." "You do not make yourself love," he said, "you allow love to enter you. But to do this, you must position your mind by remembering what it felt like and try to feel it again." I looked at the tree and tried to remember the emotion on the ridge. Gradually, I began to admire its shape and presence. My appreciation grew until I actually felt an emotion of love. The feeling was exactly the one I remember as a child for my mother and as a youth for the special little girl that was the object of my puppy love. Yet, even though I had been looking at the tree, this particular love existed as a general background feeling. I was in love with everything. The priest slid away several feet and looked back at me intensely. "Good," he said. "You are accepting the energy." I noticed his eyes were slightly out of focus. "How do you know?" I asked. "Because I can see your energy field getting larger." I closed my eyes and tried to reach the intense feelings I had acquired on the ridge top, but I couldn't duplicate the experience. What I was feeling was on the same continuum, but to a lesser degree than before. The failure made me frustrated. "What happened?" he asked. "Your energy fell." "I don't know," I said. "I just couldn't do it as strongly as before." He just looked at me amused at first, then with impatience. "What you experienced on the ridge was a gift, a breakthrough, a look at a new way. Now you must learn to get that experience by yourself a little at a time." He slid back a foot further and looked at me again. "Now try more." I closed my eyes and tried to feel deeply. Eventually, the emotion swept over me again. I stayed with it, attempting to increase the feeling by small increments. I focused my regard on the tree. "That is very good,"
He suddenly said, "You are receiving energy and giving it to the tree." I looked at him squarely. "I'm giving it back to the tree."
"When you appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of things," he explained, "you receive energy. When you get to a level where you feel love, then you can send the energy back just by willing it."
So for a long time, I sat there with the tree. The more I focused attention on the tree and admired its shape and color, the more love I seemed to acquire, generally an unusual experience. I imagined my energy flowing over and filling up the tree, but I couldn't see it.
Without changing my focus, I noticed the priest get up and begin to walk away. "What does it look like when I'm giving energy to the tree?" I asked. He described the perception in detail, and I recognized it as the same phenomenon I had witnessed when Sarah projected energy onto the philandrium at Vente. Though Sarah was successful, she apparently wasn't aware that a state of love was necessary for the projection to take place. She must have been acquiring a love state naturally without realizing it.
The priest walked down toward the courtyard and out of my range of vision. I remained in the sitting area until dusk. The two priests nodded politely as I entered the house. A roaring fire fended off the evening chill and several oil lamps illuminated the front room. The air was filled with the smell of vegetable or perhaps potato soup. On the table was a ceramic bowl, several spoons, and a plate holding four slices of bread.
One of the priests turned and left without looking at me, and the other kept his eyes lowered and nodded at a large cast iron pot sitting on the hearth by the fire. A handle protruded from under its lid. As soon as I saw the pot, the second priest asked, "Is there anything else you need?"
"I think not," I said. "Thank you." He nodded and left the house as well, leaving me alone.
I lifted the lid from the pot. Potato soup. It smelled rich and delicious. I poured several ladles full into a bowl and sat down at the table, then pulled the part of the manuscript Sanchez had given me from my pocket and placed it beside my plate. Intending to read, but the soup tasted so good that I focused entirely on eating. After I finished, I placed the dishes in a large pan and stared at the fire, hypnotized, until the flames burned low. Then I turned down the lamps and went to bed.
The next morning, I awakened at dawn, feeling totally refreshed. Outside, a morning mist rolled through the courtyard. I stoked up the fire and put several pieces of kindling on the coals and fanned it until it caught up. I was about to look through the kitchen for food when I heard Sanchez's truck approaching. [snorts]
I walked outside as he emerged from behind the church, a backpack in one arm and several packages in the other. "I have some news," he said, motioning me to follow him back inside the house. Several other priests appeared with hot corn cakes and grits and more dried fruit. Sanchez greeted the men, then sat with me at the table as the priests scurried away.
"I attended a meeting of some of the priests of the southern council," he said. "We were there to talk about the manuscript. At issue was the government's aggressive actions. This was the first time any group of priests has met publicly in support of this document."
And we were just beginning our discussion when a government representative knocked on the door and asked to be admitted. He paused as he served his plate and took several bites, chewing them thoroughly. The representative, he continued, assured us that the government's sole purpose was to protect the manuscript from outside exploitation. He informed us that all copies being held by Peruvian citizens must be licensed. He said he understood our concern but asked us to comply with this law and turn in our copies. He promised that government duplicates would be issued back to us at once.
"Did you turn them in?" I asked.
"Of course not." We both ate for a few minutes. I tried to overchw to appreciate the taste. "We asked about the violence in Kula," he went on, and he told us that this was a necessary reaction against a man called Jensen, that several of his men were armed agents from another country. He said they plan to find and steal the undiscovered part of the manuscript and remove it from Peru. So, the government had no choice but to arrest them. There was no mention of you or your friends."
"Did you believe the government man?"
"No, we didn't." After he left, we continued the meeting. We agreed that our policy would be one of quiet resistance. We will continue to make copies and distribute them carefully.
"Will your church leaders allow you to do that?" I asked.
"We don't know," Sanchez said. "The church elders have disapproved of the manuscript, but so far have not seriously investigated who is involved with it. Our main concern is a cardinal who resides farther north. Cardinal Sebastian. He is the most vocal in opposition to the manuscript and is very influential. If he convinces the leadership to issue strong proclamations, then we will have a very interesting decision to make."
"He is afraid. Why?"
"I haven't spoke with him in a long time, and we always avoid the subject of the manuscript, but I believe he thinks man's role is to participate in the cosmos, ignorant of spiritual knowledge by faith alone. He thinks the manuscript will undermine the status quo, the lines of authority in the world."
"How would it do that?"
He smiled and tilted his head back slightly. "The truth shall set you free." I was looking at him, trying to understand what he meant. Eating the last of the bread and fruit on my plate. He ate several more tiny bites and pushed his chair back.
"You seem much stronger," he said. "Did you talk with anyone here?"
"Yes," I replied. "I learned a method of connecting with the energy from one of the priests. I didn't catch his name. He was in the sitting area while we were talking in the courtyard yesterday morning. Remember? When I spoke with him later, he showed me how to absorb energy and then to project it back. His name is John." Sanchez said, then nodded for me to go on.
"It was an amazing experience," I said. "By remembering the love I felt, I was able to open up. I sat up there all day simmering in it. I didn't reach the state I experienced on the ridge, but I got close."
Sanchez looked more serious. "The role of love has been misunderstood for a long time. Love is not something we should do to be good or to make the world a better place out of some abstract moral responsibility or because we should give up our hedonism. Connecting with energy feels like excitement then euphoria and then love. Finding enough energy to maintain that state of love certainly helps the world, but it most directly helps us. It is the most hedonistic thing we can do."
I agreed, then noticed he had moved his chair back several more feet and was looking at me intensely, his eyes unfocused. "So, what does my field look like?" I asked.
"It is much larger," he said. "I think you feel very good."
"I do."
"Good. That is what we do here. Tell me about that."
"We train priests to go farther into the mountains and work with the Indians. It is a lonely job, and the priests must have great strength. All of the men here have been screened thoroughly and all have one thing in common. Each has had one experience he calls mystical. I have been studying this kind of experience for many years," he continued, "even before the manuscript was found. And I believe that when one has already encountered a mystical experience, getting back into this state and raising one's personal energy level comes much easier. Others can also connect, but it takes longer. A strong memory of the experience, as I think you learned, facilitates its recreation. After that, one slowly builds back."
"What does a person's energy field look like when this is happening?"
"It grows outward and changes color slightly. What color?"
"Normally from a dull white toward green and blue. But the most important thing is that it expands. For instance, during your mystical encounter on the ridgetop, your energy flashed outward into the whole universe. Essentially, you connected and drew energy from the entire cosmos. And in turn, your energy swelled to encompass everything everywhere."
"Can you remember how that felt?"
"Yeah," I said. "I felt as though the entire universe was my body and I was just the head or perhaps more accurately the eyes."
"Yes," he said. "And at that moment your energy field and that of the universe were the same. The universe was your body."
"I had a strange memory during that time," I said. "I seem to remember how this larger body, this universe of mine, evolved. I was there. I saw the first stars formed from simple hydrogen and then saw more complex matter evolve in successive generations of these suns. Only I didn't see matter. I saw matter as simple vibrations of energy that were evolving systematically into ever more complex higher states. Then life began and evolved to a point where humans appeared."
I stopped suddenly and he noticed my changed mood. "What's wrong?" he said.
"That's where the memory of evolution stopped," I explained. "With humans, I felt as if the story continued, but I couldn't quite grasp it."
"The story does go on," he said. "Humans are carrying forth the universe's evolution toward higher and higher vibrational complexity."
"How?" I asked.
He smiled but didn't answer. "Let's talk about this later. I really must check on a few things. I'll see you in an hour or so." I nodded. He picked up an apple and walked out.
I wandered outside behind him, then remembered the copy of the fifth insight in the bedroom and retrieved it. Earlier, I had been thinking of the forest where Sanchez had been sitting when I had first met him. Even in my fatigue and panic, I had noticed that the place was extraordinarily beautiful. So I walked down the road toward the west until I came to the exact spot, then sat down there myself, leaning back against a tree. I cleared my mind and spent several minutes looking around. The morning was bright and breezy, and I watched the wind as it whipped the branches above my head. The air felt refreshing as I took in several deep breaths. [sighs] [snorts] [sighs]
During a lull in the wind, I took out the manuscript and looked for the page where I had stopped reading. Before I could locate it, however, I heard the sound of a truck engine. I lay flat beside the tree and attempted to determine its direction. The sound was coming from the mission. As it grew closer, I could see it was Sanchez's old truck with him driving.
"I thought you might be here," he said as he pulled up to where I was standing. "Get in. We need to leave."
"What's going on?" I asked, sliding into the passenger seat. He drove on toward the main road.
"One of my priests told me of a conversation he overheard in the village. Some government officials are in town and they were asking questions about me and the mission."
"What do you think they want?"
He looked at me reassuringly. "I don't know. Let's just say I'm not as certain as before that they will leave us alone. I thought as a precaution that we should drive up into the mountains. One of my priests lives near Machu Picchu. His name is Father Carl. We'll be safe at his house until we can better read the situation." He smiled. "I want you to see Machu Pu anyway."
I suddenly had a flash of suspicion that he had made a deal and was taking me somewhere to turn me in. I decided to proceed cautiously and to stay alert until I found out for sure.
"Did you finish the translation?" he asked.
"Most of it," I said. "You had asked about human evolution. Did you finish that part?"
"No." He turned his eyes from the road and looked at me intensely. I pretended not to notice.
"Is something wrong?" he said.
"Nothing," I said. "How long will it take to get to Machu Pachu?"
"About 4 hours."
I wanted to remain silent and let Sanchez talk, hoping he might give himself away, but I couldn't control my curiosity about evolution. "So, how do humans further evolution?" I asked.
He glanced at me. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," I said. "But when I was up on the ridge, I thought it might have something to do with the meaningful coincidences that the first insight talks about."
"That's right," he said. "That would fit with the other insights, wouldn't it?" I was confused. I almost understood, but I couldn't quite grasp it. I remained silent.
"Think of how the insights fall into sequence," he said. "The first insight occurs when we take the coincidences seriously. These coincidences make us feel there is something more, something spiritual operating underneath everything we do. The second insight institutes our awareness as something real. We can see that we have been preoccupied with material survival, with focusing on controlling our situation in the universe for security. And we know our openness now represents a kind of waking up to what is really going on. The third insight begins a new view of life. It defines the physical universe as one of pure energy, an energy that somehow responds to how we think. And the fourth exposes the human tendency to steal energy from other humans by controlling them, taking over their minds. A crime in which we engage because we so often feel depleted of energy and cut off. This shortage of energy can be remedied, of course, when we connect with the higher source. The universe can provide all we need if we can only open up to it. That is the revelation of the fifth insight."
"In your case," he continued, "you have a mystical experience that allowed you to briefly see the magnitude of energy one can acquire. But this state is like leaping ahead of everyone else and glimpsing the future. We can't maintain it for very long. Once we try to talk to someone who is operating a normal consciousness or try to live in a world where conflict is still happening, we get knocked out of this advanced state and fall back to the level of our old selves. And then," he continued, "it is a matter of slowly regaining what we glimpsed a little at a time and to begin a progression back toward that ultimate consciousness. But to do this, we must learn to consciously fill up with energy because this energy brings on the coincidences and the coincidences help us actualize the new level on a permanent basis."
I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Think about it. When something occurs beyond chance to lead us forward in our lives, then we become more actualized people. We feel as though we are attaining what destiny is leading us to become. When this occurs, the level of energy that brought on the coincidences in the first place is instituted in us. We can be knocked out of it and lose energy when we are afraid. But this level serves as a new outer limit which can be regained quite easily. We have become a new person. We exist at a level of higher energy, at a level, get this, of higher vibration. Can you see the process now? We fill up, grow, fill up, and grow again. This is how we as humans continue the evolution of the universe to a higher and higher vibration."
He paused for a moment, then seemed to think of something he wanted to add. "This evolution has been going on unconsciously throughout human history. That explains why civilization has progressed and why humans have grown larger, lived longer, and so forth. Now, however, we are making the whole process conscious. That is what the manuscript is telling us. That is what this movement toward a worldwide spiritual consciousness is all about."
I was listening intensely, totally fascinated with what Sanchez was telling me. "So all we have to do is fill up with energy, as I learned to do with John, and the coincidences begin to happen more consistently?"
"Well, yes, but that's not as easy as you think. Before we can connect with the energy on a permanent basis, there is one more hurdle we must pass. The next insight, the sixth, deals with this issue."
"What is it?"
He looked squarely at me. "We must face up to our particular way of controlling others. Remember the fourth insight reveals that humans have always felt short of energy and have sought to control each other to acquire the energy that flows between people. The fifth then shows us that an alternative source exists. But we can't really stay connected with this source until we come to grips with the particular method that we as individuals use in our controlling and stop doing it. Because whenever we fall back into this habit, we get disconnected from the source. Getting rid of this habit isn't easy because it's always unconscious at first. The key to letting it go is to bring it fully into consciousness. And we do that by seeing that our particular style of controlling others is one we learned in childhood to get attention, to get the energy moving our way, and we're stuck there. This style is something we repeat over and over again. I call it our unconscious control drama. I call it a drama because it is one familiar scene, like a scene in a movie for which we write the script as youths. Then we repeat this scene over and over in our daily lives without being aware of it. All we know is that the same kind of events happen to us repeatedly. The problem is if we are repeating one particular scene over and over, then the other scenes of our real life movie, the high adventure marked by coincidences, can't go forward. We stop the movie when we repeat this one drama in order to manipulate for energy."
Sanchez slowed the truck and moved carefully forward through a series of deep ruts in the road. I realized I was frustrated. I couldn't quite grasp how a control drama worked. I almost expressed my feelings to Sanchez, but I couldn't. I realized I still felt distant from him, and I didn't care to reveal myself.
"Did you understand?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said curtly. "I don't know if I have a control drama."
He looked at me with the warmest regard and chuckled out loud. "Is that so?" he asked. "Then why do you always act so aloof?"