After an hour, Sanchez stood up and walked over to me. I had been content to sit with the plants, observing their incredible energy fields. Dobson and Phil were standing behind their jeep talking. “I think we should go on to Iquitos,” he said.
“What about those soldiers?” I asked.
“I think we should risk it. I’ve had a clear thought that we can make it through if we leave right now.”
I agreed to go with his intuition and we walked over and told Dobson and Phil our plans.
Both men supported the idea, then Dobson said, “We’ve also been discussing what to do. We’re going directly to the Celestine ruins, I think. Maybe we can help save the rest of the Ninth Insight.”
We bade them good-bye and drove north again.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked after a period of silence.
Father Sanchez slowed the truck and looked at me. “I’m thinking about Cardinal Sebastian, about what you have said: that he would stop fighting the Manuscript if only he could be made to understand.”
As Father Sanchez made this statement, my mind wandered into a daydream of actually confronting Sebastian. He was standing in a courtly room looking down at us. At that moment he had the power to destroy the Ninth Insight and we were fighting to make him understand before it was too late.
When I finished the thought, I noticed Sanchez was smiling at me.
“What were you seeing?” he asked.
“I was just thinking of Sebastian.”
“What was happening?”
“The image of confronting Sebastian was clearer. He was about to destroy the last insight. We were trying to talk him out of it.”
Sanchez took a deep breath, “It looks like whether the rest of the Ninth Insight becomes known will depend on us.”
My stomach drew into a knot at the idea. “What should we say to him?”
“I don’t know. But we must persuade him to see the positive, to understand that the Manuscript as a whole doesn’t negate but clarifies the truth of the Church. I’m sure the rest of the Ninth Insight does just that.”
We rode in silence for an hour, seeing no other traffic of any kind. My thoughts raced through the events which had transpired since I’d come to Peru. I knew the Manuscript’s insights had finally merged in my mind into one consciousness. I was alert to the mysterious way my life evolved, as revealed by the First Insight. I knew that the whole culture was sensing this mystery again as well, and we were in the process of constructing a new world view, as pointed out by the Second. The Third and Fourth had showed me that the universe was in reality a vast system of energy and that human conflict was a shortage of and a manipulation for this energy.
The Fifth Insight revealed that we could end this conflict by receiving an inpouring of this energy from a higher source. For me, this ability had almost become habit. The Sixth, that we could clear our old repeated dramas, and find our true selves, was also permanently etched in my mind. And the Seventh had set in motion the evolution of these true selves: through question, intuition of what to do, and answer. Staying in this magic flow was truly the secret of happiness.
And the Eighth, knowing how to relate in a new way to others, bringing out in them the very best, was the key to keeping the mystery operating and the answers coming.
All the Insights had integrated into a consciousness that felt like a heightened sense of alertness and expectation. What was left, I knew, was the Ninth, which revealed where our evolution was taking us. We had discovered some of it. What about the rest?
Father Sanchez pulled the truck to the side of the road.
“We’re within four miles of Cardinal Sebastian’s mission,” he said. “I think we should talk.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know what to expect but I presume all we can do is drive right in.”
“How large a place is this?”
“Large. He has developed this mission for twenty years. He selected this location to serve the rural Indians whom he felt had been neglected. But now students come from all over Peru. He has administrative duties with the church organization in Lima, but this is his special project. He is totally devoted to this mission.”
He looked directly into my eyes. “Please stay alert. There may come a time when we need to help each other.”
After saying this, Sanchez drove ahead. For several miles we saw nothing, then we passed two military jeeps parked at the right side of the road. The soldiers inside looked at us intensely as we drove by.
“Well,” Father Sanchez said, “they know we are here.”
A mile further we came to the entrance to the mission. Large iron gates protected the paved drive. Although the gates were open, a jeep and four soldiers blocked our way and signaled us to stop. One of the military men talked into a short-wave radio.
Sanchez smiled as a soldier walked up. “I’m Father Sanchez, here to see Cardinal Sebastian.”
The soldier scrutinized Sanchez, then me. He turned and walked back to the soldier with the radio. They talked without taking their eyes off us. After several minutes the soldier came back and said we should follow them.
The jeep led us up the tree-lined drive for several hundred yards until we came to the mission grounds. The church was built of cut stone and was massive, capable of seating, I guessed, over a thousand people. On both sides of the church were two other buildings which looked like classrooms. Both were four stories high.
“This place is impressive,” I said.
“Yes, but where are the people?” he asked.
I noticed the paths and walkways were empty.
“Sebastian runs a famous school here,” he said. “Why are there no students?”
The soldiers led us to the entrance of the church and asked us politely but firmly to get out and follow them inside. As we walked up the cement steps, I could see several trucks parked behind an adjacent building. Thirty or forty soldiers stood at attention nearby. Once inside we were led through the sanctuary and asked to enter a small room. There we were searched thoroughly and told to wait. The soldiers left and the door was locked.
“Where is Sebastian’s office?” I asked.
“Further back toward the rear of the church,” he said.
The door suddenly opened. Flanked by several soldiers stood Sebastian. His posture was tall and erect.
“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked Sanchez.
“I want to talk with you,” Sanchez said.
“About what?”
“The Ninth Insight of the Manuscript.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. It will never be found.”
“We know you’ve already found it.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “I will not allow this insight to be disseminated,” he said. “It is not the truth.”
“How do you know it’s not the truth?” Sanchez asked. “You could be wrong. Let me read it.”
Sebastian’s face softened as he looked at Sanchez. “You used to think I would make the correct decision in a matter of this kind.”
“I know,” Sanchez said. “You were my mentor. My inspiration. I patterned my mission after yours.”
“You respected me until this Manuscript was discovered,” Sebastian said. “Don’t you see how divisive it is? I tried to let you go your own way. I even let you alone after I knew you were teaching the insights. But I will not let this document destroy everything our church has built.”
Another soldier walked up behind Sebastian and asked to see him. Sebastian glanced at Sanchez, then walked back into the hall. We could still see but could no longer hear the conversation. The message obviously alarmed Sebastian. As he turned to walk away, he signaled for all the soldiers to follow him except for one, whom he apparently told to wait with us.
The soldier walked into the room and leaned against the wall, a disturbed look on his face. He was only about twenty years old.
“What is wrong?” Sanchez asked him.
The soldier only shook his head.
“Is it about the Manuscript, the Ninth Insight?”
The soldier’s face displayed surprise. “What do you know of the Ninth Insight?” he asked timidly.
“We’re here to save it,” Sanchez said.
“I too want it saved,” the soldier replied.
“Have you read it?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But I have heard the talk. It brings our religion alive.”
Suddenly, from outside the church came the sound of gunfire.
“What’s going on?!” Sanchez asked.
The soldier stood motionless.
Sanchez gently touched his arm, “Help us.”
The young soldier walked to the door and checked the hall, then said. “Someone has broken into the church and stolen a copy of the Ninth Insight. They seem to still be here on the grounds somewhere.”
More gunfire broke out.
“We must try to help them,” Sanchez told the young man.
He looked horrified.
“We must do what’s right,” Sanchez stressed. “This is for the whole world.”
The soldier nodded and said we should move to another area of the church where there would be less activity, that perhaps he could find a way to help. He led us down the hall and up two flights of stairs to a larger corridor which spanned the full width of the church.
“Sebastian’s office is right below us, two stories down,” the young man said.
Suddenly we could hear a group of people running down an adjacent corridor, heading our way. Sanchez and the soldier were ahead of me and ducked into a room to the right. I knew I couldn’t reach that room so I ran into the one next to it and closed the door.
I was in a classroom. Desks, podium, closet. I ran to the closet, found it unlocked, and squeezed in amid boxes and several musty smelling jackets. I attempted to conceal myself as best I could, but I knew if anyone checked in the closet, I would be discovered. I tried not to move, not even to breathe. The door to the classroom squeaked open and I could hear several people enter and walk about the room. One seemed to be coming toward the closet, then stopped and headed in the other direction. They were talking loudly in Spanish. Then silence. No movement.
I waited ten minutes before I slowly cracked the closet door and looked out. The room was empty. I walked to the door. There was no indication of anyone outside. I quickly walked to the room where Sanchez and the soldier had hidden. To my surprise, I found it was not a room at all but a hallway. I listened but could hear nothing. I leaned against the wall, feeling anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I quietly called out Sanchez’s name. No response. I was alone. I could feel a slight dizziness from the anxiety.
I took a deep breath and tried to talk to myself; I had to keep my wits about me and increase my energy. For several minutes, I struggled until the colors and shapes in the hallway had more presence. I tried to project love. Finally I felt better, and thought of Sebastian again. If he was in his office, Sanchez would go there.
Ahead, the hallway ended at another stairway, so I walked two flights down to the first level. Through the window of the stairway door, I looked down the corridor. No one was in view. I opened the door and walked ahead, not sure where I wanted to go.
Then I heard Sanchez’s voice coming from a room in front of me. The door was cracked. Sebastian’s voice boomed back at him. As I approached the door, a soldier inside opened it suddenly and pointed a rifle at my heart, forcing me inside and against the wall. Sanchez acknowledged me with a glance and put his hand on his solar plexus. Sebastian shook his head in disgust. The young soldier who had helped us was nowhere to be seen.
I knew that Sanchez’s gesture to his stomach meant something. All I could think of was that he needed energy. As he spoke, I focused on his face, trying to see his higher self. His energy field widened.
“You can’t stop the truth,” Sanchez said. “People have a right to know.”
Sebastian looked condescendingly at Sanchez. “These insights violate the scriptures. They could not be true.”
“But do they really violate the scriptures, or do they just show us what the scriptures mean?”
“We know what they mean,” Sebastian said. “We’ve known for centuries. Have you forgotten your training, your years of study?”
“No, I haven’t,” Sanchez said. “But I also know that the insights expand our spirituality. They …”
“According to whom?” Sebastian shouted. “Who wrote this Manuscript anyway? Some pagan Mayan who learned somewhere how to speak Aramaic? What did these people know? They believed in magic places and mysterious energy. They were primitives. The ruins where the Ninth was found is called the Celestine Temples, the
Heavenly
Temples. What could this culture possibly know about heaven?
“Did their culture endure?” he continued. “No. No one knows what happened to the Mayans. They just disappeared without a trace. And you want us to believe this Manuscript? This document makes it sound as though humans are in control, as though we are in charge of change in the world. We are not. God is. The only issue humans face is whether to accept the scriptural teachings and thereby win our own salvation.”
“But think about that,” Sanchez replied, “What does accepting the teachings and winning salvation really mean? What is the process through which this happens? Doesn’t the Manuscript show us the exact process of becoming more spiritual, connected, saved—the way it actually feels? And doesn’t the Eighth and Ninth show us what would happen if everyone were acting this way?”
Sebastian shook his head and walked away, then turned and looked at Sanchez piercingly. “You haven’t even seen the Ninth Insight.”
“Yes I have. Part of it.”
“How?”
“Part of it was described to me before we arrived here. I read another section a few minutes ago.”
“What?! How?”
Sanchez walked closer to the older priest. “Cardinal Sebastian, people everywhere want this last insight revealed. It places the other insights into perspective. It shows us our destiny. What spiritual consciousness really is!
“We know what spirituality is, Father Sanchez.”
“Do we? I think not. We’ve spent centuries talking about it, visualizing it, professing our belief in it. But we’ve always characterized this connection as something abstract, something we believe in intellectually. And we’ve always cast this connection as something an individual must do to avoid something bad happening, rather than to acquire something good and tremendous. The Manuscript describes the inspiration that comes when we are truly loving others and evolving our lives forward.”