CHAPTER IV

31. I rested happily in the superior worlds; unfortunately, that repose in the deep bosom of eternity did not last long. One day, no matter which, one of the brilliant Lords of the Law came to me very quietly, took the floor and said: -Master Samael Aun Weor, everything is ready, follow me. I responded immediately. -Yes, venerable master, it is well, I will follow you. We then walked together through various places and finally entered a stately home, we crossed a patio and then we passed through a room and then we entered the midwife's bedroom, we heard her complaining, she was in labor pains. That was the mystical instant when I saw in awe the silver cord of my current existence psychically connected to the unborn child. Moments later that creature greedily inhaled the prana of life; I felt drawn into that little organism and then I wept with all the might of my soul. I saw some people around me who were smiling, and I confess that I was especially struck by a giant who looked at me with affection; He was my earthly father. It is not superfluous to say with some emphasis that that good author of my days was in medieval times during the times of chivalry a noble lord whom I had to defeat in bloody battles. He then swore revenge and it is clear that he fulfilled it in my present existence.
32. It is not superfluous to affirm solemnly that I was born with enormous spiritual concerns, denying it would be absurd. Although the concrete fact that there is someone in the world who can fully remember their entire existence, including even their own birth event, may seem unusual and incredible to many, I want to assert that I am one of those. After all the usual birth processes, very clean and beautifully dressed, I was deliciously placed in the maternal bed next to my mother. A certain very kind giant, approaching that sacred bed, smiling sweetly contemplated me. It was my father. When I was eleven months old I wanted to walk and it is evident that I managed to do it by standing firmly on my two feet. I still fully remember that marvelous moment in which interlacing my hands over my head, I solemnly made the Masonic sign of help "Elai B Ne Al' Manah". Certainly at that delightful age I loved the charming toys with which children amuse themselves, but this in no way interfered with my meditation practices. For those first years of life when one learns to walk, I used to sit in the oriental style to meditate. Then I retrospectively studied my past reincarnations and it is ostensible that many people from ancient times visited me. When the ineffable ecstasy ended and I returned to the ordinary normal state, I gazed with pain at the ancient walls of that hundred-year-old paternal home where I seemed, despite my age, a strange cenobite. How small I felt before those rough walls! I was crying... Yes!, like children cry. I lamented saying: Again in a new physical body! How painful is life! Oh! Oh! Oh! At those precise moments my good mother always came with the purpose of helping me at the time she exclaimed: "The child is hungry, he is thirsty, etc., etc., etc." I have never been able to forget those moments when I ran happily through the stately corridors of my house. Then unusual cases of transcendent metaphysics happened to me: my father called me from the threshold of his bedroom, I saw him in his night clothes and when I tried to get close to him, then he vanished, losing himself in the unknown dimension. However, I sincerely confess that this type of psychic phenomena was very familiar to me. I would simply go into his bedroom and upon verifying directly that his physical body was lying asleep in the scented mahogany bed, I would say to myself the following: “Ah! What happens is that my father's soul is outside because his fleshly body;  is sleeping right now."
33. As my earthly parents had divorced, it was up to us, the brothers of a great family, to suffer; we had stayed with the head of the family and he forbade us to visit our earthly mother. However, we were not so ungrateful as to be able to forget her, I always ran away from home with a little brother who followed me, we would visit her and then we would return home; but my little brother suffered a lot, because when he came back he would get tired because he was very small and I had to carry him on my back, he would be so small, and he wept bitterly, and said: "Now, when we return home, dad is going to whip us." , is going to give us whips and sticks". I responded by saying: "Why are you crying? Everything passes, remember that everything passes." When we arrived home, our earthly father was certainly waiting for us, full of great anger, and he was whipping us; later we went to our room to sleep, but, when we went to bed, I said to my brother: "Do you see? It's over, are you convinced that all that is over? It's all over." One of those many days, our father was able to hear when I told my brother: "Everything is over, that's over now", and of course, my father, who was quite angry, took up again the terrible whip he was carrying, penetrated our room saying: "So everything goes pass by, you shameless!", and then another more terrible whipping he gave us, later leaving, apparently very calm for having whipped us. Since he left, a little more quietly I said to my brother: "Do you notice? That also passed by".
34. In those days, the silent cinema was beginning and many people gathered in the public square at night, to distract themselves by watching movies outdoors on the rudimentary screen: a well-warmed sheet nailed to two suitably spaced poles. I had a very different cinema at home: I locked myself in a dark room and stared at the fence or wall. In a few moments of spontaneous and pure concentration, the wall was splendidly illuminated as if it were a multidimensional screen, the fences disappearing definitively; then emerged from the infinite space, living landscapes of great nature, playful gnomes, aerial sylphs, salamanders of fire, undines of the waters, nereids of the immense sea, happy creatures that played with me, infinitely happy beings. My cinema was also sound and all the creatures that appeared on my special screen sang or spoke in the purest dawn of the divine primal language that runs like a river of gold under the thick jungle of the sun. Later, when the family multiplied, I invited my innocent little brothers and they shared with me this incomparable joy, serenely looking at the astral figures on the extraordinary wall of my dark bedroom.
35. I was always a worshiper of the sun and both at dawn and at dusk I climbed on the roof of my house, and sitting in the oriental style like a child yogi on the clay tiles, I contemplated the sun. The king star in a state of ecstasy, thus plunging me into deep meditation. Good scares my noble mother had seeing me walk on top of the dwelling.
36. Whenever my old father opened the old wardrobe door, I felt as if he was going to hand me that singular purple jacket or coat on which wore gold buttons. Old garment of chivalrous clothing that I used elegantly in that my old reincarnation in which I was called Simeón Bleler; Sometimes it occurred to me that swords and foils from ancient times might also be stored in that old cupboard. I don't know if my father understood me, I thought perhaps that he could give me objects from that ancient existence; The old man looked at me and instead of such clothes he gave me a cart so that I could play with it; toy of innocent happiness in my childhood.
37. Taught in good manners, I confess frankly and unequivocally that I was educated according to the official religion of my people. Goofing off with someone in the attic, in the middle of a liturgy, always seemed abominable to me. Since I was a child I had the sense of veneration and respect. I never wanted to shrug my shoulders in the midst of worship; I never liked to slink away from my sacred duties, or laugh or scoff at holy things.
38. I was still a twelve-year-old boy, when solicitous with someone who anxiously investigated the mysteries of the beyond, I also decided to search, investigate, inquire the disturbing field of spiritism. So with the tenacity of a cleric in the cell, I studied innumerable metaphysical works. It is worth mentioning authors such as Luis Zea Uribe, Camilo Flamarión, Kardec, León Denis, César Lombroso, etc. The first of a series by Kardec certainly seemed interesting to me, but I had to reread it three times with the undeniable spirit of fully understanding it. Later, becoming a real bookworm, I confess frankly and unequivocally that I fell in love with the "Book of Spirits" before continuing with many other volumes of substantial content. With an impenetrable mind for anything other than study, I shut myself up for very long hours inside my house or in the public library, with the evident desire to seek the secret path. The mediums are receptive passive subjects who give up their matter, their body, to the metaphysical ghosts from beyond the grave (in most cases specially when such entities of the lower astral plane They take advantage of the opportunity of that opening to gets into this plane, so it is not uncommon to listen to many of these passive subjects that a Jesus, a Buddha, a Great Master speaks through them, we know that this is not the case...Another thing is those works of high theurgy of the Intimate Being. )It is unquestionable that the  mediumship   has a Karma in which the activity of nerve cells in brain is interrupted causing seizures in the next body of such subject.
39. Beyond time and distance, I had to enter the state of Zulia, Venezuela, South America. Guest of my host in his country dwelling, I must assert that in those days I was an eyewitness to an unusual metaphysical event. It is convenient to ratify for the good of my readers, that my aforementioned host was, without a doubt and unequivocally, a very humble character of the colored race. It is unquestionable that that good gentleman, by the way very generous with the needy, spent his monies on rich feasts. To reside in the hotel among educated people or to resent someone for any reason, was for this good man something impossible; he certainly preferred to resign himself to the task, with his luck, in the harsh misfortunes of work. It goes without saying that this gentleman in question seemed to have a gift of ubiquity, since he could be seen everywhere, here, there and everywhere. Any night of these many, that distinguished gentleman with much secrecy He invited me to a séance.. I in no way wanted to decline such a kind invitation. Three people gathered under the peasant roof of their hacienda, we sat around a three-legged table. My host, full of immense veneration, opened a small box that he never abandoned on his travels and from it he extracted an indigenous skull. Later he recited some beautiful prayers and cried out with a loud voice calling the ghost of the mysterious skull. It was midnight, the sky was overcast with black clouds that were outlined sinister in the tropical space, it was raining thunderously, and the lightning made the whole region tremble. Strange blows were felt within the interior of the cabinet and then definitively, violating the law of gravity, as if mocking the old physics texts, the table rose from the floor. Then came the most sensational: the summoned ghost appeared in the room and walked past me. Finally, the table leaned towards my side and the skull that was on this piece of furniture came to rest on my arms. Enough is enough! exclaimed my host. The storm is very strong and in these conditions, such invocations are very dangerous. In those moments a frightening thunder made the summoner's face turn pale.
40. . One day wandering through one of those old streets of Mexico City, DF, moved by a strange curiosity I had to enter with other people in an old mansion where for better or for worse a spiritualist center worked. Exquisite extra-superior hall with many bells and quite a lot of emotional, delicate and top brand people. Without intending in any way to expose myself to any risk, I very respectfully took my seat in front of the dais. Immersing myself in the doctrines of spiritualist mediums, arguing or beginning to throw evil on friendly terms and with feigned meekness and pietistic poses, was certainly not my purpose in entering such a room. I just wanted to take note of all the details with flexible understanding and singular sanity. Rehearsing to pray in speaking to recite in public, preparing in advance, is certainly something that is always excluded from the spiritist mentality. Patient the sacred brotherhood of the mystery, awaited with mystical longing, voices and words that emerged from beyond the grave. Independent of the others in his diagnoses, suitable for something very nefarious, a gentleman of a certain age falls into a trance, convulsively shudders like any epileptic, climbs onto the platform, occupies the podium of eloquence and takes the floor. "Here among you Jesus of Nazareth the Christ", exclaims with a loud voice that unhappy possessed. In those terrifying moments the stage decorated with candles and flowers -the altar of the Baals- vibrates horrifyingly, and all the devotees fall to the ground in prostration. Without wanting to disturb anyone's performance, I serenely dedicated myself to studying the medium with my sixth sense. Transfixed by anguish, I could certainly verify the harsh reality of that unusual metaphysical case. Obviously it was a sinister and left impostor who exploited the credulity of others by posing as Jesus-Christ. With my clairvoyant sense I observed a black magician dressed in blood-red robes. The gloomy ghost inserted within the physical body of the medium, advising the consultants, tried to speak in a Jesus-Christian tone so that the fanatics would not discover it. That horrifying session concluded, I left the room with a burning desire never to return there.
41. Living at pleasure with your family, please, in peace to work, by magic, on earth, is certainly something very romantic. However, jumping to risks is sometimes essential when it comes to seeking for others as much good as possible. Flanked by intellective walls, I wanted to flourish in wisdom and, without losing strength, I traveled very young to various parts of the world. Beyond time and distance, in the remoteness of a South American region, popularly known by the typical name of Quindío, very flexible in understanding, I had to relate to a spiritualist medium who worked as a blacksmith. Without ever getting involved in any discussion, that worker worked calmly in his reddish forge. Strange spiritualist; mystical lord of bronze athletic figure cenobite personality. Good God and Holy Mary!, and I saw him in a sinister and left mediumistic trance possessed by Beelzebub, prince of the Demons. I still remember those gloomy words with which the power of darkness closed the session: " "Bel tengo mental la petra y que a el le anduve sedra, vao genizar le des." Then he signed: Beelzebub. Anchorite paradoxical blacksmith. Repentant I found him the next day of the left spiritualist coven; then he solemnly swore in the name of the eternal living God never again to lend his physical body to the horror of darkness. Sometimes I surprised him in his forge very sincerely consulting Kardec's spiritualist prayer book. Later that gentleman of yore invited me full of mystical enthusiasm to many other exhaustive mediumistic sessions, where with infinite longing would evoke "Juan Hurtado el Mayor". Without any exaggeration, for the good of my beloved readers, I must now opportunely assert that the aforementioned ghost, speaking with the tongue of the medium in a trance, boasted of being able to manifest himself through one hundred and fifty mediums simultaneously. Concluding with a clever speech (to someone), in consonance, is certainly very normal; however, pluralizing itself into one hundred and fifty different simultaneous discourses seemed to me at that time something amazing. It is unquestionable that at that time in my life I had not yet analyzed the issue of the plurality of the I, of the ego.
42. Taught in good manners and unrehearsed in oratory for public recitation, at the age of seventeen I was lecturing at the Theosophical Society. I received the Theosophist diploma from the hands of Jinarajadasa, illustrious president of that august society, which congratulations I personally knew. However, I very sincerely wanted to form my heart with the Theosophist good judgment and therefore I was enthralled with the works that I found in the rich library. Inexhaustible source of Divine Wisdom, I discovered with mystical astonishment in the golden pages of the Secret Doctrine; extraordinary work of the Venerable Master Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, the sublime martyr of the 19th century. Exhausted theoretical studies of theosophical type, I intensely practiced Raya-Yoga, Bhakti, Jnana-yoga, Karma Yoga, etc. etc. etc. I obtained multiple psychic benefits with the practical yoga advocated by the revered institution.
43. I was already eighteen springs of adolescence on the path of my current reincarnation when I had to be granted the high honor of entering the Ancient Rosicrusinan School, a worthy institution founded in good time by Dr. Arnoldo Krumm Heller; physician-colonel of the Glorious Mexican Army, illustrious veteran of the Mexican Revolution, distinguished professor at the Medical University of Berlin, Germany, notable scientist and extraordinary polyglot. Impetuous boy I presented myself with a certain arrogance in that "Aula Licis", then run by an illustrious gentleman of enlightened intelligence, and without going with many compliments, in the air, I confess frankly and  without  roundabout style that I began arguing and ended up studying. Hovering against the wall, cornering oneself in the corner of the room, rapt in ecstasy, it seemed better to me after all. Needless to say, in a great way and without much prosopopoeia, that steeped in many intricate theories of substantial content, I only longed with infinite longing to find my old path, the path of the "Razor's Edge". Carefully excluding all pseudo-pietism and pointless vain wordiness of ambiguous talk, I definitely resolved to combine theory and practice. Without prostituting intelligence to gold, I certainly preferred to humbly prostrate myself before the Demiurge Creator of the Universe. Very rich inexhaustible source of exquisite splendors, I found joyful in the magnificent works of Krumm Heller, Hartman, Eliphas Levi, Steiner, Max Heindel, etc., etc., etc. Without any verbiage, seriously, sincerely, I emphatically declare that at that time of my present existence I studied the entire Rosicrucian library in an orderly manner. With infinite longing I sought the way, I suffered terribly and cried out in solitude invoking the holy masters of the Great White Lodge. Dr. Krumm Heller used to say that an hour a day of vocalization was better than reading a million books on pseudo-esotericism and pseudo-occultism. I then inhaled with supreme avidity the Christonic Prana, the vital breath of the mountains, and then slowly exhaled, resounding the corresponding vowel. All my astral chakras or magnetic centers intensified their vibratory activity rotating positively from left to right like the hands of a clock seen not from the side but from the front. With a lot of didactics, the professor taught us a certain marvelous retrospective exercise. He advised us never to move from the bed at the moment of awakening, explaining that with such a movement the astral body is shaken and memories are lost. It is unquestionable that during the hours of sleep the human souls travel outside the physical body; the important thing is not to forget our intimate experiences when we return to the body. He told us to practice at that precise moment a retrospective exercise with the intelligent purpose of remembering facts, occurrences and places visited in dreams. Undoubtedly and without any exaggeration, it is possible for me to put some emphasis to solemnly assert that each one of my astral chakras developed extraordinarily, intensifying for that reason the clairvoyant, clairaudient, etc.,. type perceptions. Shortly before retiring from that meritorious institution, that professor cried out saying: "Let none of those present here dare to describe themselves as Rosicrucians, because all of us are nothing but simple Rosicrucian aspirants." And then he added with great solemnity: "Rosicrucian is a Buddha; a Jesus; a El Morya; a Kuthumi, etc., etc., etc."
44. Flanking the intellectual walls, tired of so many complicated and difficult theories, I decided to travel to the tropical shores of the Caribbean Sea. Far away, sitting like a hermit from times gone by, under the taciturn shade of a solitary tree, I decided to bury every difficult entourage of vain rationalism. With a blank mind, starting from the radical zero, immersed in deep meditation, I searched within myself for the secret Master. Obviously I was looking for the Intimate, I adored him in the secret of meditation, I worshiped him. Later in time I had to move away from the sandy beach to take refuge in other lands and in other places. However, wherever I went I continued with my meditation practices, lying on my bed or on the hard floor I placed myself in the form of a flaming star - legs and arms open to the right and left - with the body completely relaxed. I closed my eyes so that nothing in the world could distract me; then I got drunk with the wine of meditation in the cup of perfect concentration. Unquestionably, as I intensified my practices, I felt that I was really getting closer to the Intimate. The vanities of the world did not interest me; I well knew that all things in this valley of tears are perishable. The Intimate and his instantaneous and secret answers were the only thing that really interested me. From the inner garden of my dwelling, outside the planetary body, kneeling humbly, crying out with a loud voice, I called the Intimate. The blessed crossed the threshold of my mansion; I saw him come towards me with a triumphant step. Dressed in precious zephyr and white ineffable tunic, the adorable one came to me; I looked at him happily. On his celestial head he wore the crown of the Hierophants, his whole body was made of the nature of happiness. In his right hand shone precious all those valuable gems of which the Apocalypse of Saint John speaks. The Lord wielded with great firmness the Rod of Mercury, the scepter of kings, the staff of the Patriarchs. Taking me in his arms, the venerable sang with the voice of paradise, saying things that earthly beings cannot understand. The Lord of Perfections then took me to the planet Venus, far away from the bitterness of this world. This is how I approached the Intimate along the secret path of profound interior meditation.