CHAPTER III
SPIRITISM
I was still a lad of twelve summers when, eager to join someone who was anxiously investigating the mysteries of the beyond, I set out to inquire into, probe, and investigate the unsettling realm of spiritism.
With the tenacity of a cleric in his cell, I studied countless metaphysical works. It is worth citing authors such as Luis Zea Uribe, Camille Flammarion, Kardec, Léon Denis, Cesare Lombroso, etc.
The first in the series by Kardec struck me as truly interesting; indeed, I had to reread it three times with the firm intention of grasping it fully.
Later, having truly become a bookworm, I frankly and openly admit that I became captivated by *The Spirits' Book* before moving on to many other volumes of profound substance.
With a mind closed to anything other than study, I would shut myself away for long hours at home or in the public library, driven by a clear desire to find the secret path.
Now, without claiming to be a sage or harboring any vanity, I simply wish in this chapter to share the results of my investigations into the field of spiritism.
MEDIUMS
Passive, receptive subjects who yield their matter—their bodies—to metaphysical phantoms from beyond the grave.
It is indisputable that the *karma* associated with mediumship is epilepsy. Clearly, epileptics were mediums in their past lives.
EXPERIMENTS
1.) A certain lady—whose name I shall not mention—constantly saw the phantom of a deceased woman; this spirit would whisper many things into her ear.
During a solemn spiritist session, the lady fell into a trance; the obsessing spirit instructed the medium to dig in a specific spot in the house, for there—she was told—she would find a great treasure. The ghost's instructions were followed; unfortunately, the treasure was not found.
It is undeniable that this fortune was merely a mental projection arising from the subjective psyches of those present. Clearly, deep down, these people were very greedy.
2.) Far across time and distance——I found myself venturing into a country of South America.
While staying at my host's country home, I must attest that I personally witnessed an extraordinary metaphysical event during those days.
For the sake of my readers, it is worth noting that my aforementioned host was—beyond any doubt and to put it plainly—a very humble man of African descent.
Undoubtedly, this good gentleman—who was, incidentally, very generous toward the needy—would cheerfully spend his own money on lavish feasts.
For this good man, staying in a hotel among cultured people or harboring resentment against anyone was simply out of the question; he preferred to resign himself to his lot and face the harsh hardships of his work.
It goes without saying that the gentleman in question seemed to possess the gift of ubiquity, for he was seen everywhere—here, there, and yonder.
One night, that distinguished gentleman invited me, with great secrecy, to a séance. I had no desire whatsoever to decline such a kind invitation.
Three of us gathered under the rustic roof of his estate and sat around a three-legged table.
Filled with immense reverence, my host opened a small box—one he never parted with on his travels—and took out an indigenous skull.
He then recited some beautiful prayers and called out in a loud voice, summoning the phantom of the mysterious skull.
It was midnight; the sky was overcast with black storm clouds looming ominously in the tropical expanse; it was raining, and thunder and lightning made the whole region tremble.
Strange knocks were heard from within the furniture, and then—defying the law of gravity and seemingly mocking old physics textbooks—the table rose off the floor.
Then came the most sensational moment: the summoned phantom appeared in the room and passed right by me.
Finally, the table tilted toward me, and the skull resting upon it came to settle in my arms.
"Enough!" my host exclaimed. "The storm is raging, and under these conditions, such invocations are very dangerous." At that moment, a terrifying clap of thunder made the summoner turn pale.
3.) One day, while wandering through one of the old narrow streets of Mexico City, I was driven by a strange curiosity to enter—along with others—an old mansion where, for better or worse, a spiritist or spiritualist center was operating.
It was an exquisite, high-class salon—a place of great prestige, filled with emotional, refined, and distinguished people. Without wishing in any way to expose myself to danger, I respectfully took a seat facing the dais.
Immersing myself in the doctrines of Spiritist mediums, debating, or engaging in hostile exchanges disguised as friendly discourse—cloaked in feigned meekness and pious posturing—was certainly not my purpose in entering that place.
I simply wished to note every detail with an open mind and clear-headed judgment.
Practicing prayers for public recitation or preparing speeches in advance is something entirely foreign to the Spiritist mindset.
The sacred brotherhood of mystery waited patiently, with mystical longing, for voices and words to emerge from beyond the grave.
Acting independently in his diagnoses—and suited for a truly sinister role—a middle-aged gentleman fell into a trance; convulsing and shuddering like an epileptic, he mounted the platform, took the speaker’s stand, and began to speak.
“Here, among you, is JESUS of NAZARETH, the CHRIST,” that wretched, possessed man exclaimed in a loud voice.
In those terrifying moments, the dais—adorned with candles and flowers, an altar to Baal—vibrated horribly, and all the devotees fell prostrate to the ground.
Without wishing to disturb anyone in the proceedings, I calmly set about studying the medium using my sixth sense.
Filled with anguish, I was able to confirm the stark reality of that extraordinary metaphysical case. It was clearly a sinister, dark-path impostor who was exploiting the credulity of others by passing himself off as Jesus Christ.
With my clairvoyant vision, I observed a black magician clad in a blood-red robe. The sinister ghost, ensconced within the medium's physical body and offering counsel to the seekers, strove to speak in a Christ-like tone so that those zealots would not discover his true nature.
Once that horrifying session had ended, I left the premises with a burning desire never to return.
4.) Living at one’s leisure—with family, as a guest, and in peace to work the land as if by magic—is certainly a very romantic notion.
However, plunging into risk is often indispensable when the goal is to secure the greatest possible good for others.
Having broken through intellectual barriers and desiring to flourish in wisdom—and with my strength undiminished—I traveled to various parts of the world while still very young.
Across time and distance, in the remote reaches of a South American region popularly known as Quindío—a name that easily captures the imagination—I came to know a spirit medium who worked as a blacksmith.
Never one to get drawn into arguments, that workman labored calmly at his glowing red forge.
A strange blacksmith-medium; a mystic figure of bronze-like bearing; an athletic, ascetic personality.
Good heavens and Holy Mary! I witnessed him in a sinister, dark mediumistic trance, possessed by Beelzebub, Prince of Demons.
I still recall the ominous words with which the power of darkness concluded the session: “BEL TENGO MENTAL LA PETRA Y QUE A EL LE ANDUBE SEDRA, VAO GENIZAR LE DES” (he would then sign: BEELZEBUB).
A blacksmith who was a paradoxical hermit. I found him full of remorse the day after that dark spiritist gathering; he then swore solemnly, in the name of the eternal living God, never again to lend his physical body to the horror of darkness.
At times, I would catch him in his forge, earnestly consulting Kardec’s spiritist devotional.
Later, that same gentleman—filled with mystical fervor—invited me to other grueling mediumistic sessions, where, with infinite yearning, he would summon: “JUAN HURTADO THE ELDER.”
Without the slightest exaggeration—and for the benefit of my beloved readers—I must now state, at the appropriate moment, that the aforementioned phantom, speaking through the tongue of the medium in a trance, boasted of being able to manifest through one hundred and fifty mediums simultaneously.
To conclude a discourse (addressed to someone)—acting the smart aleck—is certainly quite normal; however, to multiply oneself into one hundred and fifty simultaneous, distinct discourses struck me at the time as something astonishing.
It is undeniable that, at that stage of my life, I had not yet analyzed the subject of the plurality of the "I"—of the "Ego."
THE EGO
Without wishing to digress unduly, I sincerely emphasize what I have directly and fully experienced.
The aforementioned EGO obviously lacks any aspect that is Divine, self-ennobling, or dignifying.
Indeed—and in the name of truth—we attest, without any inconsistency, to the tremendous, well-founded reality that within each subject there exists a PLURALIZED and terribly perverse "I."
This fundamental conviction is rooted in the lived experience of the author of this esoteric treatise.
We have no need to voice immature ideas; we would never commit the folly of asserting far-fetched utopias.
Our assertion is amply documented in all the sacred books of ancient times.
As a living example of our claim, it is worth recalling the bloody battles Arjuna fought against his beloved kinsmen (the "I s) in the *Bhagavad Gita* (The Song of the Lord).
Clearly, such subjective psychic aggregates personify the entire array of psychological defects that each of us carries within. In rigorous experimental psychology, the confinement of consciousness within such subjective "I's" becomes evident.
What continues beyond the grave is, therefore, the EGO—a heap of "I-Devils," or psychic aggregates.
The identification of such psychic aggregates is palpable and manifest in Spiritist or spiritualist centers.
It is notorious and evident that those "I-Devils," due to their... ...multiplicity, they can enter many mediumistic bodies—as in the case of Juan Hurtado the Elder—in order to manifest.
Any Master of Samadhi can clearly demonstrate, while in a state of ecstasy, the following: those who manifest through spiritist mediums are certainly neither the souls nor the spirits of the dead, but rather the latter's "Devil-Egos"—the psychic aggregates that persist beyond the grave.
We have been emphatically told that, during the post-mortem states, mediums who have become possessed by the Devil—or by demons—eventually divorce themselves from their own Divine Being; they then enter the submerged involution of the infernal worlds.
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CHAPTER IV:
THEOSOPHY
Without wishing to boast in the least about such delicate and multifaceted philosophical and metaphysical inquiries, I frankly and sincerely confess that I had not yet reached the age of sixteen in my current existence when I was already deeply engrossed in many subjects of profound substance.
With boundless eagerness, I set out to analyze in detail the problems of the spirit in the light of modern science.
At that time, I found the scientific experiments of the English physicist William Crookes—the distinguished discoverer of matter in a radiant state and of the element thallium, and an illustrious member of the Royal Society—to be highly interesting.
I found the famous materializations of the specter of Katie King—conducted right in the laboratory, a subject Crookes addressed in his work *Researches into the Phenomena of Spiritualism* (originally titled *Experimental Investigation of a New Force* or *Notes of an Enquiry into the Phenomena called Spiritual* by Crookes, though often referred to by the concept of "psychic force")—to be sensational. I found many ancient sacred themes to be excellent, exceptional, and marvelous—such as the Serpent of Paradise, Balaam’s Ass, the words of the Sphinx, the mysterious voices of the Statues of Memnon at daybreak, the terrifying *Mene, Tekel, Peres* at Belshazzar’s feast, the Seraph of Terah (Abraham’s father), the Oracles of Delphi, the *baetyli* or Speaking Stones of Destiny, the magical rocking menhirs of the Druids, and the enigmatic voices accompanying bloody necromantic sacrifices—the true origin of classical tragedy, whose indiscreet revelations in *Prometheus*, *The Choephori*, and *The Eumenides* cost the Initiate Aeschylus his life. I was also fascinated by the words of Tiresias—the seer summoned by Ulysses in the *Odyssey* at the edge of the pit filled with the blood of the propitiatory black lamb—as well as the secret voices Alaric heard commanding him to destroy sinful Rome, and those the Maid of Orléans heard urging her to exterminate the English, and so on.
Though schooled in good manners and without any formal training in public speaking, by the age of seventeen I was already delivering lectures at the Theosophical Society.
I received my Theosophical diploma from the hands of Jinarajadasa—the illustrious president of that august Society, whom I was fortunate enough to meet in person.
Confident in my character, I was by then well-informed about the strange and mysterious Rochester knockings and the classic psychic phenomena at the Eddy farm—where the Theosophical Society itself was born. I had gathered a wealth of data regarding the evocative tripods of the ancient Pythias; I knew of haunted houses and post-mortem apparitions, and I was thoroughly versed in all manner of telepathic phenomena. Undoubtedly, with so much metaphysical data accumulated in my poor mind, I had become a very demanding scholar.
However, I sincerely wished to cultivate my heart according to sound Theosophical principles, and so I eagerly immersed myself in the works I found in that rich library.
An inexhaustible fount of Divine Wisdom, I discovered—with mystical awe—the pages of *The Secret Doctrine*, that extraordinary work by the Venerable Grand Master Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, the sublime martyr of the 19th century.
Let us now consider the following notes, which are certainly very interesting:
“1885. In his diary, Colonel Olcott notes on January 9th: ‘H.P.B. has received the plan for her *Secret Doctrine* from Master M.’ ‘It is excellent; Oakley and I tried to draft it last night, but this one is far better.’”
“The conspiracy involving the Coulombs forced H.P.B. to leave Adyar and travel to Europe in March. H.P.B. took the precious manuscript with her. As I was preparing to board the ship, Subba Row advised me to write *The Secret Doctrine* and send him what I had written on a weekly basis. I promised him I would, and I shall... since he is going to...”
...add notes and comments, and then the Theosophical Society will publish it.”
“It was in that year that Master K.Humi. wrote: ‘When *The Secret Doctrine* is ready, it will be a threefold production of M., Upasika, and myself.’”
It is evident that such notes invite us to meditation. However, it is obvious that the Venerable Master interpreted the teachings, adapting them to the times.
Having exhausted the theoretical studies of a Theosophical nature, I practiced Raja Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Jnana Yoga, Karma Yoga, etc., etc., etc., with great intensity.
I obtained multiple psychic benefits from the practical Yogas advocated by that revered institution.
Since the highly meritorious Teacher H.P.B. always considered Hatha Yoga to be something far too inferior, I may state that I never took an interest in that branch of Indian Yoga.
Much later, I was invited to a great assembly of the Venerable White Lodge, where, in the midst of the gathering, Hatha Yoga was characterized as authentic not white Magic.
CHAPTER V
THE ROSICRUCIAN FRATERNITY
I had already lived through eighteen springs of my current incarnation when I was granted the high honor of entering the Ancient Rosicrucian School. This meritorious institution was auspiciously founded by the most excellent Dr. Arnoldo Krumm-Heller—a Colonel-Physician in the Mexican Army, an illustrious veteran of the Mexican Revolution, a distinguished professor at the University of Medicine in Berlin (Germany), a notable scientist, and an extraordinary polyglot.
As an impetuous youth, I presented myself with a certain haughtiness at that *Aula Lucis*—then directed by an illustrious gentleman of brilliant intellect—and, without wasting time on formalities, I frankly and unreservedly confess that I began by arguing... ...and I concluded by studying.
Leaning against the wall, tucking myself into the corner of the room, rapt in ecstasy—that, after all, seemed best to me.
Suffice it to say—simply and without pretension—that, steeped in many intricate theories of profound substance, I yearned with infinite longing to find my old path: the path of "The Razor's Edge."
Carefully eschewing all pseudo-pietism and the hollow verbiage of ambiguous chatter, I firmly resolved to combine theory and practice.
Rather than prostituting my intellect for gold, I chose instead to prostrate myself humbly before the Demiurge, the Creator of the Universe.
I joyfully discovered a rich, inexhaustible fount of exquisite splendors in the magnificent works of Krumm-Heller, Hartmann, Eliphas Lévi, Steiner, Max Heindel, and so forth.
Without empty rhetoric—seriously and sincerely—I emphatically declare that, during that period of my current existence, I systematically studied the entire Rosicrucian library.
With infinite longing, I sought a wayfarer along the path who might possess some precious balm to heal my aching... heart.
I suffered terribly and cried out in solitude, invoking the Holy Masters of the Great White Lodge.
The great Kabir Jesus said: “Knock and it shall be opened unto you,” “ask and it shall be given unto you,” “seek and ye shall find.”
In the name of that which is Real, I declare the following: fulfilling the teachings of the Christian Gospel, I asked and it was given to me; I sought and I found; I knocked and it was opened to me.
Given that studies such as those of the Rosicrucian are so extensive and complex, it is unquestionable that the subject matter could by no means fit within the narrow confines of this chapter; therefore, I shall limit myself to summarizing and concluding.
FRONTAL CHAKRA
It is developed by intoning the vowel E. Like this: EEEEEE . Faculty: CLAIRVOYANCE.
LARYNGEAL CHAKRA
It is developed by vocalizing the letter E. Like this: Like bed, set, ( SOUND LIKE AAA). Faculty: MAGICAL HEARING.
CARDIAC CHAKRA
It is developed by chanting the vowel O. Like this: oooooooooo. Faculties: INTUITION; ASTRAL PROJECTION, ETC., ETC.
UMBILICAL CHAKRA
It is developed by intoning the vowel U. Like this: uuuuuuuuuu. Faculty: TELEPATHY.
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PULMONARY CHAKRAS
They are developed by chanting the letter A. Like this: aaaaaaaaaa. ( LIKE CAT, HAT ) Faculty: RECOLLECTION OF PAST EXISTENCES.
I.E.O.U.A. is the order of the vowels. All mantra are formed with these letters.
Doctor Krumm Heller used to say that one hour of daily vocalization was better than reading a million books on PSEUDO-ESOTERICISM and PSEUDO-OCCULTISM. I would then inhale with supreme eagerness the Christonic Prana—the vital breath of the mountains—and subsequently exhale slowly, causing the corresponding vowel to resonate.
For the sake of clarity, I state that each vowel was preceded by an inhalation and resonated only during the exhalation (naturally, I inhaled through the nostrils and exhaled through the mouth).
CONCRETE RESULTS
All my Astral Chakras—or Magnetic Centers—intensified their vibratory activity, rotating positively from left to right, like the hands of a clock viewed from the front rather than from the side.
RETROSPECTIVE EXERCISE
The professor taught us a wonderful retrospective exercise with great instructional skill.
He advised us never to move while in bed the moment we woke up, explaining that such movement agitates the astral body and causes memories to be lost.
It is indisputable that during sleep, human souls travel outside the physical body; the important thing is not to forget our intimate experiences upon returning to the body.
He instructed us to practice a retrospective exercise at that precise moment, with the intelligent aim of recalling events, occurrences, and places visited in our dreams.
RESULTS
I solemnly declare that this psychic exercise proved astonishing to me, as my memories became more vivid, intense, and profound.
SOLAR PLEXUS
According to the teacher's instructions, daily (preferably at sunrise), I sat comfortably in a delicious armchair with my face facing east.
I then imagined in an extraordinary way a gigantic golden cross, which from the East of the world and having the Star King as its basic center, launched divine rays, which after crossing the infinite space, penetrated into my Solar Plexus.
I loved cleverly combining such an exercise with the mantric intonation of the Vowel U, prolonging the sound as it should: uuuuuuuuuuu.
RESULTS
There was an unusual awakening of my telepathic eye (located as we already said in the navel region) and I became exquisitely hypersensitive.
Since such a Magnetic Chakra has amazing functionalities, such as attracting and accumulating the radiant energy of the solar globe, it is obvious that for this reason my lotus flowers or astral wheels were able to receive greater electro-magnetic charges that further intensified the vibratory radioactivity.
It is very appropriate at this time to remind our beloved readers that the Solar Plexus supplies all the Chakras of the human organism with its solar radiation.
Undoubtedly and without any exaggeration, it is possible for me to place certain emphasis to solemnly assert that each of my astral chakras developed extraordinarily, intensifying for this reason the perceptions of clairvoyant, clairaudient, etc., etc., etc. types.
WITHDRAWAL
Shortly before I retired from that worthy institution, that professor cried out saying: "Let none of those present here dare to call themselves ROSICRUCIAN, because all of us are nothing more than simple aspirants to ROSICRUCIAN."
And then he added with great solemnity “ROSE-CROSS is: a BUDHA, a JESUS, a MORIA, a K.H.”, etc., etc.,
CHAPTER VI
THE CORSAIR
For certain very superficial people, the theory of reincarnation is a source of laughter; For others who are very religious, it can mean a Taboo or sin; For pseudo-occultists, this is a very firm belief; For the scoundrels of the intellect this is a far-fetched utopia; However, for men who remember our previous existences, reincarnation is a fact.
In the name of truth I must solemnly assert that I was born remembering all my past reincarnations and swearing this is not a crime. I am a man of awakened conscience.
Obviously we must make a frank differentiation between RE-INCARNATION and RETURN (two very different laws), however, this is not the objective of this chapter. After this preamble let's get to the facts, to the point.
In the past, when the seas of the world were infested with pirate ships, I had to go through tremendous bitterness.
Then the BODHISATTVA of the Angel “DIOBULO CARTOBU” was reincarnated.
It is worth stating, with some emphasis, that that Being had a female body of splendid beauty. It is obvious that I was his father.
Unfortunately and at an unfortunate hour, the cruel piracy that did not respect lives or honors; after ravaging the European town where many of us citizens lived in peace, he kidnapped the beautiful women of the place, among whom, it is clear, was my daughter, an innocent maiden of bygone times.
Despite the terror of so many villagers, I bravely managed – and putting my own life at risk – to confront the treacherous captain of the privateer ship.
“Take my daughter out of that hell where you have put her and I promise that I will take your soul out of the hell where you already stuck!” Such were my painful exclamations.
The fearsome corsair, glaring fiercely at me, took pity on my insignificant self and, in an imperious voice, ordered me to wait a moment.
I watched with infinite anxiety as the buccaneer returned to his black ship; I gather he managed to cunningly outwit his ruthless sea-wolves, for the fact is that, moments later, he returned my daughter to me.
Good heavens and Holy Mary! But who would have thought that, centuries later, I would encounter the EGO of that fearsome corsair once more, re-embodied in a new human organism?
Such is the law of the eternal return of all beings and things; and everything repeats itself in accordance with another law known as recurrence.
One night, amidst great spiritual unrest, I joyfully encountered him again among a select group of Rosicrucian aspirant.
That old corsair also even told me he had traveled widely, having worked as a sailor for a North American shipping company.
That friendship, however, proved to be a mere *“a will-o’-the-wisp,” a “flash in the pan”*—for I soon realized that the man, despite his mystical yearnings, remained at his innermost core the same old corsair, merely dressed in modern attire.
That gentleman would grow very enthusiastic recounting his "astral experiences," for there is no doubt he knew how to project his astral body at will.
One day, we arranged a transcendental metaphysical rendezvous at the S.S.S. in Berlin, Germany.
This was a relatively new experience for me; indeed, until then, it had never occurred to me to attempt the experiment of voluntarily projecting the *Eidolon*. Yet, knowing I was capable of it, I dared to accept the appointment.
I recall with perfect clarity those solemn moments when I became a spy within my own dream...
In mystical watchfulness, I awaited the moment of transition between waking and sleeping; I wanted to seize that moment of wonder to slip out of my physical body.
The state of languor and the initial dreamlike images were enough for me to fully grasp that the long-awaited moment had arrived...
I rose delicately from my bed and, walking very softly, left my house, feeling possessed by a certain spiritual voluptuousness—exquisite, delicious...
It is undeniable that as I rose from the bed while dozing, astral projection occurred—the perfectly natural separation of the *Eidolon*...
With the astral body’s unique radiance, I moved away from those surroundings, yearning to reach the temple in Berlin...
I found myself traveling delightfully over the turbulent waters of the Atlantic Ocean...
Floating serenely in the radiant astral atmosphere of this world, I reached the lands of old Europe and immediately headed for the French capital...
I moved silently, like a ghost, through those ancient streets that had once served as the stage for the French Revolution...
Suddenly, something extraordinary happened: a telepathic wave reached my solar plexus, and I felt a categorical imperative to enter a beautiful dwelling...
I would never regret crossing the magnificent threshold of such a noble mansion, for there I had the immense joy of finding a friend from my past incarnations...
That companion floated blissfully, immersed in the fluidic astral atmosphere, free from the dense body that lay asleep in the perfumed mahogany bed...
In the nuptial bed, the lovely physical body of his beloved also slept; her sidereal soul—freed from its mortal vessel—shared in her husband's wondrous joy, and... was floating...
And I saw two tender children of splendid beauty, playing happily amidst the magical enchantment of that dwelling...
I greeted my old friend and his ineffable Eve as well, yet the children were frightened by my unusual presence.
It seemed best to me to go out—out into the streets of Paris—and my friend did not reject the idea; chatting together, we walked away from that mansion of delights...
We walked slowly, ever so slowly, along all those streets and avenues stretching from the center to the outskirts...
On the outskirts of that great metropolis, I proposed—point-blank, as the saying goes—that we visit the esoteric temple in Berlin, Germany, together; that initiate very kindly declined the invitation, objecting that he had a wife and children and therefore wished to focus his attention solely on life's economic problems...
With great sorrow, I parted ways with that awakened man, lamenting that he was postponing his esoteric work...
Suspending myself in the astral light of wonders and marvels, I passed over ancient, time-worn ramparts...
Blissfully, I traveled along the winding path that snaked its way here, there, and everywhere...
, I Intoxicated with ecstasy arrived at the temple of transparent walls; the entrance to that holy place was truly unique...
I saw a sort of Sunday park, filled with beautiful plants and exquisite flowers that exhaled a breath of death...
In the extraordinary depths of that enchanting garden, the temple of splendors shone with solemn radiance...
The wrought-iron gates granting access to the sanctuary's lovely park would sometimes open to let someone in, and at other times, they would close...
That entire delicate and wondrous assembly stood out, illuminated by the immaculate light of the universal spirit of life...
Before the *Sanctum Sanctorum*, I happily encountered many noble aspirants of diverse nationalities, peoples, and tongues...
Mystical souls who—during those hours when the physical body sleeps, moved by the force of longing—had slipped free from their dense mortal forms to come to the *Sancta*...
Those devotees conversed sublimely on ineffable themes; they spoke of the law of Karma and discoursed on extraordinary cosmic matters... radiating the perfume of friendship and the fragrance of sincerity.
In a state of bliss I wandered here, there and everywhere, seeking the daring freebooter who had boldly arranged such a momentous meeting with me...
I intruded upon many groups, asking for the aforementioned gentleman, yet no one could give me an answer...
I realized then that the old pirate had not kept his word; I did not know the reasons, and I felt let down...
Silently, I resolved to approach the glorious door of the Temple of Wisdom; I wished to enter the holy place, but the guardian barred the way, saying: "The time has not yet come; withdraw"...
Serene, and understanding it all, I sat joyfully upon the symbolic stone, very close to the portal of mystery...
In those moments of fulfillment, I observed myself completely: Truly, I am not a subject with a subjective psyche; I was born with an awakened consciousness and have access to objective knowledge...
How beautiful the astral body seemed to me! (A splendid result of ancient transmutations of the libido). I remembered my physical body, which now lay asleep in the remote distance of the Western world, in a town in the Americas...
While observing myself, I made the mistake of comparing my astral and physical vehicles; because of such comparisons, I lost the ecstasy and returned instantly to the interior of my dense material shell...
Moments later, I rose from my bed; I had achieved a marvelous astral projection...
When I sternly asked the old buccaneer why he had failed to keep his word, he could not give me a satisfactory answer.
Thirty-five years had passed since the time when that old sea dog and I had arranged such a mysterious meeting...
Across time and distance, that strange figure had become merely a memory written within the dusty pages of my old chronicles...
Yet, I confess without hesitation that, after so many years, I was to be surprised by something extraordinary...
One spring night, while absent from my dense, perishable form, I saw Lord Shiva (the Holy Spirit)—my Sacred Super-Individual Monad—bearing the ineffable likeness of the "Ancient of Days"...
The Lord was sternly admonishing the old corsair of the seas; it is unquestionable that the latter's physical body lay asleep in his bed at that hour of the night...
Eagerly, I wished to intervene as a third party. The Ancient of Ages categorically ordered me to remain still and silent...
In the past, that pirate had returned my daughter to me; he had brought her out of the hell into which he himself had cast her...
Now my Real Being—Samael—was striving to liberate him, to emancipate him, to bring him out of the Infernal Worlds...
Samael Aun Weor: Planetary Logos of Mars.
Red Christ of the Age of Aquarius.
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