- It is a gloomy fate for me to contemplate an igneous trace of that which was! I was in the fights, I knew about tests, I knocked like others at the doors of the temple. That seductive beauty of the oriental temple put a spark of life into my suffering soul like the lightning that colors the cloud that cries, the rainbow that joy. Sacred image of the pleasant and radiant temple, it was like a wandering star or like a fast meteor, the lightning that opened in my night a fiery furrow of gold. That ineffable sanctuary of Tibet is the lantern and the torch, the breath that blows and the storm that stirs, the calm of the spirit that recreates and the storm that whips. Unfathomable mystery, sweet and strong harmony, severe and serious. God grants me to obtain you as a funeral lyricism, honor and glory of blood, flower of the abyss, mourning and glory of death. Upon this black river of profane existence, the austere and grave truth shines like the silence of the stars above the terrible crash of the waves. And I was subjected to unspeakable tests within those sacred walls, in the sunny courtyard of the temple. How many memories!... May the afternoon fold its golden wing in the void, may those esoteric reminiscences come to my mind for the good of my readers, may the stars twinkle, may the nocturnal birds tell me many things in secret! And in that courtyard of mysteries, an adept lady after so many and so many frightening and terrible tests in a great way, sinisterly showed me the emaciated and horrible figure of death, a bony skull between its two crossed shins... Let me live a little more ... I am working for suffering humanity... I will pay everything I owe, sacrificing myself for the great orphan. Have pity on me. "If you had been prepared you would die in the presence of this figure." This was the answer and then came a terrifying silence. I, vile worm of the mud of the earth, standing next to one of these solemn undefeated columns of the sanctuary... Woe to me! Oh! Oh, tremendous memories came to my mind... I was inside the Sacred Order of Tibet, but this was not new for me, I remembered that in other times I had been there, in that same place, standing next to the same revered column. In the courtyard, around the sacred table, a group of Nirvanakayas were sitting. Oh God! What beautiful robes, garments of paradise! What divine faces! It is obvious that some Sambogakayas were not lacking among them, which -as is known- have three more perfections than the Nirvanakayas. Allow me to say a few words... In these moments, the memory of other times comes to mind. It has been many centuries since I stood here in this very place and next to this column. "If you had not been here before," answered a venerable old man, you would not have knocked on the doors of this temple again. I advanced a few steps, withdrawing from the column to place myself reverently before the table of the saints; the old man who had spoken on behalf of all the elect, rose to make some just recriminations. What a majestic face! He looked like a living Christ, many cosmic days and nights were reflected in his eyes, his sacred beard was a living representation of the universal verb of life, and his immaculate hair falling on his ineffable shoulders reminded us of the old man of the days of the Hebrew Kabbalah. He spoke and said terrible things; he mentioned a woman I had met after the submergence of the old Atlantis continent. "Do you remember Jane Smith?" "Yes, venerable master, I remember her." Clearly I had failed for her in the old days. "Do you remember that another Jane Smith?" "Yes venerable master, I remember her." Then the living memory of a Tibetan queen came to mind. In Central Asia, in the very heart of the Himalayas, on one side of Tibet, there existed a marvelous kingdom about a thousands of years ago. The inhabitants of that ancient country were the result of an Aryan-Atlantis mixture. Every esoteric knows very well that the first sub-race of our current fifth root race flourished in Central Asia. I lived in that old country and knew the aforementioned queen, the one that the Master reminded me of in a recriminating way. She came to me when I was a priest of the Holy Order of Tibet. The unhappy woman suffered and told me her tragedies. The monarch, her husband, was in love with another woman and it is natural that the unfortunate queen had fallen into despair. I wanted to help her, I did what I could for her but I made serious mistakes. Assaulting the mind of others is a crime and it would be absurd to deny my own mistakes, I used psychic powers in an obviously negative way and I even made the mistake of receiving some money. The royal treasurer paid me the sum, at the expense of the queen. The husband abandoned the concubine, the king and queen reconciled for the good of that country. Apparently I did well, but let's remember the words of Master El Morya: "Among the cadences of the verse crime is also hidden." To all lights it is clear to understand that I fell into the absurd, that I did stupid things and for that reason, despite being twice born, I was severely punished. There was the old man reminding me of all these things and it is clear that my moral pain was frightening in a great way. -Did you join the Order of the Garter? -Yes, venerable Master, I did, was my answer. How can I deny it? The look of that most sacred old man pierced my heart, impossible to hide from the divinity. I then remembered that old personality I had in old Rome. I was given the mission to establish a strong stage for the fourth sub-race of this fifth root race and so I used the human personality of Julius Caesar. I formed the Great Roman Empire, I fought like a lion in Gaul and everyone knows that I was killed by Brutus, the traitor. I had no need to join the Order of the Garter, the secret laws of the Great Universal Life would have helped me anyway without the aforementioned Roman institution. After those recriminations I felt ashamed of myself, embarrassed and with a heavy heart. An adept lady disguised in the costume of a ritual executioner resolutely advanced towards me with the sacred whip in her right hand, I immediately understood that I had to go through the evangelical flogging. I walked toward the interior of the temple, slowly... along that ancient patio surrounded by archaic walls. Go dead! Go dead! Exclaimed the lady just as she was actually whipping me with the sacred whip. Yes, that is what I want, to die, to die, to die; and those lashes, instead of producing in me that frightening pain of torture, entered me as if they were electric rays, benefiting me, because I felt inside me that those entities that constitute the pluralized I were struck down to death. Many years of my life have passed and I have never been able to forget this cosmic event that occurred in the heart of the Himalayas.
- So many things come to mind... One night, in deep intimate meditation, I abandoned the illusory world of Maya, and freed from those shackles of bitter existence, I submerged myself during samadhi in the world of the spirit. There is no greater pleasure than that of feeling with the soul detached from the body, the affections and the mind. Immense is the ineffable joy of those Diamond Souls who were lost among the Great Alaya of the Universe. And inebriated by ecstasy I entered through the doors of the temple with transparent walls and with the open Eye of Dagma, with that spiritual vision of the Adept or Jivanmukta I looked down, in the depths, and then I saw at the bottom of the abyss of the mind many loved ones. Oceans of the cosmic mind, precipice, cliff, frightening depth... who suffer. Oh!... do not desolate me like this, have mercy on me, stop our diversion now, eyes that give me anguish, eyes that look like dew-soaked leaves. And those shadows dilated melancholy and strangely, taking on mysterious traces of smoke that extinguish inks of flame. Murmur of confused words, vague and with deep sadness in the soul... Poor shadows! Various forms of the world of the mind! Just as the furious sea inclemently whips the beach with its waves, so does the world of the mind, the sea of understanding as whip the threshold of the temple with transparent walls. Litelantes, the lady adept, exclaimed indignantly: "Those women are very annoying, they try to get here!" and unsheathed her flaming sword, I did the same. These swords whirled for a menacing instant, spewing devouring fire everywhere. And those vain shadows of the universal mind, terrified, were lost in the frightful abyss of Maya. In the absence of body, effects and mind, we come to directly experience that which is Truth.
- One night, no matter what, neither the date, nor the day, nor the hour, I talked with an adept of the White Brotherhood in the Parallel Universe of the Fifth Dimension; the conversation was indeed soft and delicious and flowed slowly like a river of gold under the thick forest of the sun. Suddenly under the sublime foliage of the tree of life, I questioned him thus: - Do you have a physical body? Are you aware? It is obvious, ostensible, that the answers left me fully satisfied. -Yes, I am awake, I have a physical body, but right now I feel that my Consciousness begins to fall asleep by degrees, slowly, little by little, as my dense vehicle attracts me towards what is called a waking state. The most interesting thing was that ineffable moment in which the adept, floating ecstatically in the sidereal environment, beatifically joined his two feet in such a way that the soles of these made contact with each other; then, it is evident that it seemed to grow stronger; his consciousness regained lucidity. It is clear that I imitated his example and the adept explained the key to me saying: -With this secret, you will be able to resist the magnetic attraction of the dense body and thus you will be able to remain outside as long as you want.
- After having died in myself I was confirmed in the light, so I entered the temple and signed my documents. Ascending to the first lunar-type heaven was the next step; the adepts taught me to protect myself from the fatal attraction that the sub-lunar hells exert on one. I was given a branch to smell that exerted something very special on me. That delicate fragrance really had the flavor of sanctity. "With this perfume you will be able to defend yourself against lunar attraction", exclaimed the adept who was instructing me. I really know that adept, he is none other than the senior instructor of the Temple of the Twice-Born; its character is like the lemon, but it radiates infinite wisdom and love without limits or shores. Who wants to go up must first go down, that's the law. Every exaltation is preceded by a humiliation.
- Returning to the old Tibetan monastery was always my greatest wish; I returned to that holy place after having suffered much. I needed, yes, according to ancient uses and customs, someone who would answer for me, a charitable soul, a godfather to introduce me to the order, and it is obvious that I had him, thank God! He paid my entrance fee, or better we would say re-entry into the venerated order, with esoteric money unknown to the human multitudes. For the return there are no parties; This is how it is written and the divine and the human know it. Simply and without any ostentation I resumed my position within the order and continued in the work that I had once abandoned when I strayed from the straight path. I restarted my work doing charity; it was necessary to help a poor soul inside the monastery who had knocked on our doors looking for the light. "Ask and it will be given to you, knock and it will be opened to you" That is Love... The fire of charity works miracles. Unfortunately that supplicant was too sleepy; I really made enormous efforts to wake her up, but everything was useless. It is obvious that this suffering creature had not even begun to fight against Seth's demons (the Ego), his consciousness was totally bottled up within the self. Oh, old monastery protected by ancient walls! How much I love you! How can we forget that ineffable courtyard and that sacred table before which the Nirvanakayas of compassion sit? How can we forget those work rooms and all the multiple and varied ineffable corridors through which the adepts of the Light circulate and come and go?
- Now you will understand, conspicuous readers, why I was required to die. Only by eliminating the ego could I return to the Holy Order of Tibet. But, oh my God!, remember dear reader that there are no roses without thorns, you know it. How much pain I felt when going through all the towns and villages of Tibet! Everywhere, here, there and everywhere, I could see Chinese-communist troops that had treacherously invaded the land of the adepts. How dreadful are the profaners! See here the red soldiers at the very gates of the sacred pagodas, cynically mocking what they do not understand. To the divine Padma Sambhava, incarnation of the Lotus, protector of all conscient beings, I beg freedom for Tibet. To all the sublime Fathers and Mothers of the Buddhas of the five orders, I beg to ward off forever the barbarian hordes that have murdered the saints. Bhagavan Aclaiva, Master Protector of our Holy Order; drive away from Tibet the brutalizing hordes of Marxism. Ah! The Tathagata (Buddha) well knows how much I had to suffer when contemplating the terrible solitude of the Valley of Amitabha. What happened to those religious festivals that once cheered up the sublime valley? Now only the bloodthirsty hosts of Marxism are seen everywhere; How long will this bitterness continue? Fortunately, the monastery of the Sacred Order of Tibet is very well protected within the fourth-fifth dimension. –
- I am going now with an open soul to relate to you a transcendental mystical experience... Listen to me, please... The peasant night is wounding me in its chaste beauty with all its splendor of reason in principle. We -a group of Gnostic brothers-, holding hands, made a magical chain in the patio of the house. We prayed a lot, yes!, and then we made an invocation to Anael, the Angel of Love. Above the sober walls, swaying by the breeze, the limpid branches laughed deliciously, the graceful freshness of their laughter reeled off the silver of the stream crowned of lace. A clear and sweet voice disturbed my senses. Was it the voice of the siren or the lullaby of the sea? Look, look, look... the angel Anael is coming...! Yes! Yes! Yes! we all answered. Our attentive eyes rested on a handful of white doves that happily flew over our dwelling... I still remember the bird of silver and fire, so pure, so tender, so soft... that was the guide. Anael! Anael! Anael!... we all exclaimed... The night was sweet and peaceful, dim and fragrant... It tasted like roses... Then came a pause after so many shouts of joy; we waited... we sighed... those sublime birds disappeared in the mystery, and then... three measured and rhythmic knocks resounded solemnly at the door of the house; I myself hastily opened... There they are!... They are...! They arrived…!, so exclaimed all the brothers of the group. We all went out to receive the group of beautiful, terribly divine celestial children... It made me want to play... We were able to verify that those beautiful creatures came dressed in the wedding dress of the soul (the solar bodies). Within the soul of these angels so pure we find nothing that in one way or another could resemble the self of psychology. Within those children only the Being shines. It is obvious that those holy gods intensely love poor suffering humanity. It is ostensible that in some remote past these venerable ones worked in the Forge of the Cyclops. Their glorious bodies make them immortal in all departments of the kingdom... It is not difficult to guess that they radically eliminated the lunar bodies (the ego). I humbly prostrated myself at the feet of Anael, the Angel of Love... I needed to ask her something... The answer left me fully satisfied. Many years have passed and I am still meditating... Impossible to forget all this... Today, digging through rancid chronicles with the tenacity of a cleric in a cell, I write for others to read. We, the brothers of that group, still remember the presence of those ineffable beings, their enchanting voice, their majestic bearing... The light of the pure spirit touched our temples, wounding us with swords, glare, turning shadows into lights, step into dance, stillness in sculpture and the timid violence of the air in hair, clouds, treasures, joy...
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