The Power of Silence (15 page)

The instant
I caught his thought the filaments of light seemed to consume all my energy.
Fatigue overwhelmed me. It erased my vision and plunged me into darkness.

When I
became aware of myself again, there was something so familiar around me,
although I could not tell what it was, that I believed myself to be back in a
normal state of awareness. Don Juan was asleep beside me, his shoulder against
mine.

Then I
realized that the darkness around us was so intense that I could not even see
my hands. I speculated that fog must have covered the ledge and filled the
cave. Or perhaps it was the wispy low clouds that descended every rainy night
from the higher mountains like a silent avalanche. Yet in spite of the total
blackness, somehow I saw that don Juan had opened his eyes immediately after I
became aware, although he did not look at me. Instantly I realized that seeing
him was not a consequence of light on my retina. It was, rather, a bodily
sense.

I became so
engrossed in observing don Juan without my eyes that I was not paying attention
to what he was telling me. Finally he stopped talking and turned his face to me
as if to look me in the eye.

He coughed
a couple of times to clear his throat and started to talk in a very low voice.
He said that his benefactor used to come to the cave quite often, both with him
and with his other disciples, but more often by himself. In that cave his
benefactor saw the same prairie we had just seen, a vision that gave him the
idea of describing the spirit as the flow of things.

Don Juan
repeated that his benefactor was not a good thinker. Had he been, he would have
realized in an instant that what he had seen and described as the flow of
things was intent, the force that permeates everything. Don Juan added that if
his benefactor ever became aware of the nature of his
seeing
he didn't reveal it. And
he, himself, had the idea that his benefactor never knew it. Instead, his
benefactor believed that he had
seen
the flow of things, which was the absolute truth, but
not the way he meant it.

Don Juan
was so emphatic about this that I wanted to ask him what the difference was,
but I could not speak. My throat seemed frozen. We sat there in complete
silence and immobility for hours. Yet I did not experience any discomfort. My
muscles did not get tired, my legs did not fall asleep, my back did not ache.

When he
began to talk again, I did not even notice the transition, and I readily
abandoned myself to listening to his voice. It was a melodic, rhythmical sound
that emerged from the total blackness that surrounded me.

He said
that at that very moment I was not in my normal state of awareness nor was I in
heightened awareness. I was suspended in a lull, in the blackness of
nonperception. My assemblage point had moved away from perceiving the daily
world, but it had not moved enough to reach and light a totally new bundle of
energy fields. Properly speaking, I was caught between two perceptual
possibilities. This in-between state, this lull of perception had been reached
through the influence of the cave, which was itself guided by the intent of the
sorcerers who carved it.

Don Juan
asked me to pay close attention to what he was going to say next. He said that
thousands of years ago, by means of
seeing
, sorcerers became aware that the
earth was sentient and that its awareness could affect the awareness of humans.
They tried to find a way to use the earth's influence on human awareness and
they discovered that certain caves were most effective.

Don Juan
said that the search for caves became nearly full-time work for those
sorcerers, and that through their endeavors they were able to discover a
variety of uses for a variety of cave configurations. He added that out of all
that work the only result pertinent to us was this particular cave and its
capacity to move the assemblage point until it reached a lull of perception.

As don Juan
spoke, I had the unsettling sensation that something was clearing in my mind.
Something was funneling my awareness into a long narrow channel. All the
superfluous half-thoughts and feelings of my normal awareness were being
squeezed out.

Don Juan
was thoroughly aware of what was happening to me. I heard his soft chuckle of
satisfaction. He said that now we could talk more easily and our conversation
would have more depth.

I
remembered at that moment scores of things he had explained to me before. For
instance, I knew that I was
dreaming
. I was actually sound asleep yet I
was totally aware of myself through my second attention - the counterpart of my
normal attentiveness. I was certain I was asleep because of a bodily sensation
plus a rational deduction based on statements that don Juan had made in the
past. I had just seen the Eagle's emanations, and don Juan had said that it was
impossible for sorcerers to have a sustained view of the Eagle's emanations in
any way except in
dreaming
, therefore I had to be
dreaming
.

Don Juan
had explained that the universe is made up of energy fields which defy
description or scrutiny. He had said that they resembled filaments of ordinary
light, except that light is lifeless compared to the Eagle's emanations, which
exude awareness. I had never, until this night, been able to
see
them in
a sustained manner, and indeed they were made out of a light that was alive.
Don Juan had maintained in the past that my knowledge and control of intent
were not adequate to withstand the impact of that sight. He had explained that
normal perception occurs when intent, which is pure energy, lights up a portion
of the luminous filaments inside our cocoon, and at the same time brightens a
long extension of the same luminous filaments extending into infinity outside
our cocoon. Extraordinary perception,
seeing
, occurs when by the force
of intent, a different cluster of energy fields energizes and lights up. He had
said that when a crucial number of energy fields are lit up inside the luminous
cocoon, a sorcerer is able to
see
the energy fields themselves.

On another
occasion don Juan had recounted the rational thinking of the early sorcerers.
He told me that, through their seeing, they realized that awareness took place
when the energy fields inside our luminous cocoon were aligned with the same
energy fields outside. And they believed they had discovered alignment as the
source of awareness.

Upon close
examination, however, it became evident that what they had called alignment of
the Eagle's emanations did not entirely explain what they were
seeing
.
They had noticed that only a very small portion of the total number of luminous
filaments inside the cocoon was energized while the rest remained unaltered.
Seeing
these few filaments energized had created a false discovery. The filaments
did not need to be aligned to be lit up, because the ones inside our cocoon
were the same as those outside. Whatever energized them was definitely an
independent force. They felt they could not continue to call it awareness, as
they had, because awareness was the glow of the energy fields being lit up. So
the force that lit up the fields was named will.

Don Juan
had said that when their
seeing
became still more sophisticated and
effective, they realized that will was the force that kept the Eagle's
emanations separated and was not only responsible for our awareness, but also
for everything in the universe. They
saw
that this force had total
consciousness and that it sprang from the very fields of energy that made the
universe. They decided then that intent was a more appropriate name for it than
will. In the long run, however, the name proved disadvantageous, because it
does not describe its overwhelming importance nor the living connection it has
with everything in the universe.

Don Juan
had asserted that our great collective flaw is that we live our lives
completely disregarding that connection. The busyness of our lives, our
relentless interests, concerns, hopes, frustrations, and fears take precedence,
and on a day-to-day basis we are unaware of being linked to everything else.

Don Juan
had stated his belief that the Christian idea of being cast out from the Garden
of Eden sounded to him like an allegory for losing our silent knowledge, our
knowledge of intent. Sorcery, then, was a going back to the beginning, a return
to paradise.

We stayed
seated in the cave in total silence, perhaps for hours, or perhaps it was only
a few instants. Suddenly don Juan began to talk, and the unexpected sound of
his voice jarred me. I did not catch what he said. I cleared my throat to ask
him to repeat what he had said, and that act brought me completely out of my
reflectiveness. I quickly realized that the darkness around me was no longer
impenetrable. I could speak now. I felt I was back in my normal state of
awareness.

In a calm
voice don Juan told me that for the very first time in my life I had seen the
spirit, the force that sustains the universe. He emphasized that intent is not
something one might use or command or move in any way - nevertheless, one could
use it, command it, or move it as one desires. This contradiction, he said, is
the essence of sorcery. To fail to understand it had brought generations of
sorcerers unimaginable pain and sorrow. Modern-day naguals, in an effort to
avoid paying this exorbitant price in pain, had developed a code of behavior
called the warrior's way, or the impeccable action, which prepared sorcerers by
enhancing their sobriety and thoughtfulness.

Don Juan
explained that at one time in the remote past, sorcerers were deeply interested
in the general connecting link that intent has with everything. And by focusing
their second attention on that link, they acquired not only direct knowledge
but also the ability to manipulate that knowledge and perform astounding deeds.
They did not acquire, however, the soundness of mind needed to manage all that
power.

So in a
judicious mood, sorcerers decided to focus their second attention solely on the
connecting link of creatures who have awareness. This included the entire range
of existing organic beings as well as the entire range of what sorcerers call
inorganic beings, or allies, which they described as entities with awareness,
but no life as we understand life. This solution was not successful either,
because it, too, failed to bring them wisdom.

In their
next reduction, sorcerers focused their attention exclusively on the link that
connects human beings with intent. The end result was very much as before.

Then,
sorcerers sought a final reduction. Each sorcerer would be concerned solely
with his individual connection. But this proved to be equally ineffective.

Don Juan
said that although there were remarkable differences among those four areas of
interest, one was as corrupting as another. So in the end sorcerers concerned
themselves exclusively with the capacity that their individual connecting link
with intent had to set them free to light the fire from within.

He asserted
that all modern-day sorcerers have to struggle fiercely to gain soundness of
mind. A nagual has to struggle especially hard because he has more strength, a
greater command over the energy fields that determine perception, and more
training in and familiarity with the intricacies of silent knowledge, which is
nothing but direct contact with intent.

Examined in
this way, sorcery becomes an attempt to reestablish our knowledge of intent and
regain use of it without succumbing to it. And the abstract cores of the
sorcery stories are shades of realization, degrees of our being aware of
intent.

I
understood don Juan's explanation with perfect clarity. But the more I
understood and the clearer his statements became, the greater my sense of loss
and despondency. At one moment I sincerely considered ending my life right there.
I felt I was damned. Nearly in tears, I told don Juan that there was no point
in his continuing his explanation, for I knew that I was about to lose my
clarity of mind, and that when I reverted to my normal state of awareness I
would have no memory of having seen or heard anything. My mundane consciousness
would impose its lifelong habit of repetition and the reasonable predictability
of its logic. That was why I felt damned. I told him that I resented my fate.

Don Juan
responded that even in heightened awareness I thrived on repetition, and that
periodically I would insist on boring him by describing my attacks of feeling
worthless. He said that if I had to go under it should be fighting, not
apologizing or feeling sorry for myself, and that it did not matter what our
specific fate was as long as we faced it with ultimate abandon.

His words
made me feel blissfully happy. I repeated over and over, tears streaming down
my cheeks, that I agreed with him. There was such profound happiness in me I
suspected my nerves were getting out of hand. I called upon all my forces to
stop this and I felt the sobering effect of my mental brakes. But as this
happened, my clarity of mind began to diffuse. I silently fought - trying to be
both less sober and less nervous. Don Juan did not make a sound and left me
alone.

By the time
I had reestablished my balance, it was almost dawn. Don Juan stood, stretched
his arms above his head and tensed his muscles, making his joints crack. He
helped me up and commented that I had spent a most enlightening night: I had
experienced what the spirit was and had been able to summon hidden strength to
accomplish something, which on the surface amounted to calming my nervousness,
but at a deeper level it had actually been a very successful, volitional
movement of my assemblage point. He signaled then that it was time to start on
our way back.