11-07-2013, 12:00 AM
Hello all, first time poster here. I hope no one minds me resurrecting this 2 year old thread but it's such an interesting discussion and as apparently the only one who agrees with Don Juan on this I feel almost compelled to comment.
First off, while the place of no pity certainly includes not having pity for oneself, I don't believe that's the extent of what Don Juan meant by it. If he did he might have called it "the place of no self-pity", or Carlos would have insisted on noting it was only about self-pity somewhere in his books due to his obsession with exact wording, (a trait of his I greatly appreciate). But even if you disagree with me about their intended meaning, I personally am arguing that not having pity for others (as well as oneself) IS a trait one should strive to attain. After all, if we can agree that feeling pity for ourselves for the bad things that happen to us is undesirable, (or even "worse than useless" as Don Juan called it) why should feeling pity for the bad things that happen to others be any better? They have their challenges just like you do, and as Don Juan put it "challenges cannot possibly be good or bad. Challenges are just challenges", ( this idea is also excellently illustrated by the parable at http://www.planetb.ca/2012/10/good-luck ... who-knows/ ).
Pitying someone is often phrased as "feeling bad for them", but I think it would be more accurate to call it "feeling sad for them". Or even better still, "feeling sadness when you mentally picture bad things happening to them". How does your feeling of sadness help them? When you project that sadness back to them, does that really do them any good? Is taking the time to imagine bad things happening to others and feeling sad about it more akin to indulging or being impeccable?
I think most of you don't want to give up pity because you are afraid of abandoning a morality rule that's been drilled into you since birth, not because you think it is a useful emotion. That some of you are suggesting those who don't choose to feel pity are akin to violent psychopaths, (as in, the Joker), leads me to think this. Giving up your pity for others will not turn you into a homocidal maniac. It's not the same as not having empathy. Empathy is about trying to feel how another feels by putting a taste of that feeling in yourself. It doesn't require you to energize that feeling though, I'd say just moving your spirit into the shape of the emotion, ( and Don Juan might say moving a few threads of your assemblage point to match theirs ) is enough. It is useful when you aren't sure of how you should treat someone and you're trying to guess how your actions will, (or how your recent actions have), made them feel. It can also be useful when trying to determine how someone feels about you. But beyond that, I don't see any use in it. To use it to feel sad for someone because you think they feel sad, (or even worse, because you think they should feel sad ), about their situation not only makes you feel bad, it's also not something I think you have any obligation to do, nor does it produce anything helpful.
Some of you might be thinking that not pitying someone is the same as not loving them. Trust me, you can fall in love with someone in a wheelchair, marry them, and live the rest of your lives together without ever spending a single second feeling sad about their handicap and it doesn't mean you love them any less. In fact, unless they indulge in self-pity themselves, that's exactly how they'd want it.
On top of all that, I don't think when you feel pity for others you are using death as your advisor. Using death as your advisor is more than just an empty concept. Don Juan talks about it a lot, but Castenada never gives us an illustration of how to do that in his books. Since I think such an illustration could be very useful I'm going to provide one here. As you read the following story try to really imagine it happening, and feel what you would feel in that situation.Imagine that you're outside on a summer afternoon, and while looking at the sky you suddenly see a dark round spot in it initially appearing abour half the size of the sun. As you watch for a few minutes, it appears to ever so slowly be growing in size. You go inside and overhear someone on the news saying that a giant meteor is about to collide with the Earth, and that within 24 hours everything on this planet will die. You rush into the other room and look at the TV, which is showing various photos of the meteor from different angles, some of which have been taken from space. Underneath is a clock counting down the time until everyone dies. 23 hours 37 minutes 8 seconds. You watch it tick down a few times. 7 seconds, 6 seconds, 5 seconds.
A woman [your mom, wife, or whoever might be on your couch] asks you "Which TV show do you want to watch now?"
"What?!" you reply, amazed at her question.
"Don't you want to watch the rest of that [insert your favorite TV show here] episode you recorded?" she asks. You stare back at her with your mouth open. From the easy chair in the corner a man [again, anyone who might be there] asks "So what did you think about the Packers decision to go for it on fourth and one on Sunday?"
"What the @#$%?!" you cry out, "Didn't you two just hear that? We're all going to die!"
The woman answers sounding unconcerned "Well of course we're going to die, we've always known that," and the man adds "What's with this sudden obsession with death? You're in good health, I'm sure you've got plenty of hours left."
Not knowing what to do, you walk back outside and look up. You see the meteor. It's just a little bit bigger than the last time you looked at it. You look around you. Everyone you see is just going about their own business. A mail truck is making deliveries to all the boxes on the street. One of your neighbors is yelling explicitives at his broken down lawnmower.
"Here you go." the mail carrier says, handing you a letter. It's a sweepstakes envelope from Publishers Clearing House.
"I have a good feeling you've got a winner there." he says as he smiles at you.
"What difference would it make? Can't you see the meteor heading towards us?" you ask him.
"Of course I see it, but if that's a winner, you might find your remaining hours a bit more comfortable" he winks and drives off.
"Tag!" you hear, and turn to see some children playing nearby.
"Hey!" you call out to them "Do you know about the meteor?"
"Yeah we know." a boy, approximately 5 years old answers as he takes a quick only semi-interested look up at the meteor.
"Then you know we're all going to be dead tomorrow?"
"Yeah"
"Do you know how soon tommorow is?" you follow up.
"Sure we do. We were sad about it for a little bit, but then we got bored and decided to play." He tells you.
Another child interjects, looking up at you sweetly "I hope you don't mind, but talking to you is boring. We only have one day left and we really want to play tag."
There is a seconds pause.
"But you can play with us if you want." he adds cheerfully.
You smile at him "No, no thank you. But you have fun, sorry for interrupting your..."
You don't get to finish your sentence as they've already run back to continue their game. As you watch them for a minute, you realize that they do understand. They know they're going to die and they know exactly what they want to do with the little time they have left. A little bit of smoke moves into your peripheral vision and you turn your head to see Mrs. Deagul has started up her grill. You see the uncooked hot dogs on the table next to her and your mind starts to think about what you'll want to have for your own dinner later. It's the last one you'll ever eat, it says, and you don't want to waste it! Better make it steak... or lobster... or caviar! Or some fancy french food you've never tried before. It's your last chance to try something new. Better yet, a buffet! Tonights your last meal so you should gorge yourself with a complete smorgasborg of all the best, most expensive, fanciest...
A falling leaf pulls your attention upwards and you see the meteor. Your mind instantly quiets, and you look back at the children playing. Apparently they've switched to freeze tag now, and one of the children, a girl, looks at you as she laughs and runs around unfreezing her playmates. Suddenly the boy who was "it" jumps out from behind a bush, and she screams her surprise. "Freeze Mary!" he laughs as he tags her. Some of the other children circle around them, trying to create a good angle to run in and unfreeze her as he stays just close enough to her, hoping to bait one of them into running too close to him.
"It isn't about fear. Or is it?" a voice behind you asks.
"No, it isn't." you answer, still watching the children.
"They didn't choosing to play tag because they are afraid of wasting time?" the voice pursues.
"No", you answer again.
The voice irritates you by continuing "But don't you think that when they learned about the meteor they thought about the time they have left, and imagined themselves not getting to play tag again? And don't you think picturing that filled them with a deep sadness, and then they realized it could happen for real which made them so afraid that they rushed out to start playing?"
"It didn't happen that way." You say with an edge to your voice, "If it had, those children would have only played for a moment and then thought of something else that they'd 'miss out on' if they didn't do it, and go do that. And they'd keep doing that cycle for as long as they were able, which is to say about half an hour or so before they were so tired of it they couldn't keep doing it anymore. Then they'd go back to doing what they want to, which is usually to play whatever game sounds best to them at the moment."
"Why?" the voice asks.
For some reason you're getting very annoyed with this person's cluelessness about how young children act. "Haven't you ever spent any time with young children before? Try throwing a birthday party for a 4 year old with 20 friends sometime. Think you'll be able to get them to sit down just because it's dinnertime? Ha! They want to play, they want to run around, and the moment you get a second one to the table the first has taken off to go rejoin one of their games. In all probability when you finally get them seated they'll all just wolf down a few bites and run off again. Only if they are really hungry will they slow down and then enjoy the meal."
"Do you find young children to be rude?" the voice implors.
"It's not about rudeness, it's just that at age 4 you don't really understand how much work was put into making the meal. You don't get that if you let food get cold someone has to heat it up again for you. You don't think about how other people's schedules require them to clean up your dishes after you eat before they can do other things. You don't realise that the person cooking feels an obligation to make sure you all get fed, and until they see you eat they're going to feel a nagging pressure to try and get you to eat. It takes years of adults telling them before children understand that they should eat when it's served, and they should take enough time to enjoy the meal, and they should do so fairly quietly and remain seated until they and everyone else has finished in to show your appreciation to the host or hostess. Without an adult there reminding them of those things, they just want to do whatever the spirit motivates them to do. They don't have time for any of those things."
"Then," says the voice, "would it be reasonable to say that even though those kids do know about the meteor, it doesn't really matter to them? As in, wouldn't they be playing tag because their spirit is motivating them to play tag whether the meteor was there or not?" The question intrigues you.
"I hadn't thought of that." you say, turning around to see an indian man standing behind you. He winks. You recognize him as Don Juan.
"To those children, death is an indifference. They are all keenly aware of it, but none of them are obsessed with it," Don Juan tells you, "They are doing what they want to, what the spirit is telling them to. As you already said, they don't have time for anything else. All the adults around us on the other hand are treating death as though it doesn't exist. Do you think deep down inside that now, with less than a day left, they really want to keep watching television? Do you think it was the spirit that motivates some of them to invest all their emotional energy into watching other people play a game and pretend the result of it is far more important than they secretly know it is? They are being immortal, they have all the time in the universe for that ****. They are the ones who really need instruction, far more than the children. The advisor they need is death."
You look up again at the sky. The meteor slowly but persistently continues to increase in size.
Don Juan continues "Sure, some of the things we learn as we change from children to adults are worthwhile. Don't hit others. Don't call people names. If someone does call you names, don't hit them. But mostly what we learn is useless. Don't put your feet on the coffee table. Keep your lawn mowed. Learn your place in the various social heirarchies with all the entitlements they give you over those beneath you and obligations to those above you. Defend those heirarchal rules violently when you see them broken. Value yourself and others based on your material possessions. Don't do anything too weird." As if to punctuate this last point, one of the children does a headstand while shouting "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and the others laugh.
"Those children don't need death as an advisor because they already do the only thing that death advises. They listen to and act from their spirit. The adults on the other hand listen to and act from the nonsensical social rules that were forced on them when they grew up. Imagine if right now they all finally got it. They finally understood that death was coming for them and so they spent the next day acting purely from the spirit. For all of them, it would be the most worthwhile day they have spent in many years. Which of all the rules they learned would they continue to follow? Would they start hitting each other? No, because the spirit would tell them not to act in that way. Would they keep watching tv when they really want to go outside and practice shooting a basketball because they know they're bad at shooting baskets because the rule says they should feel embarassed and avoid doing things they want to do that might get them laughed at? No, that rule which has controlled them all their adult lives would be discarded." As Don Juan finishes, you feel a sudden pang of sadness.
"Don Juan I want to act from spirit," you say, "but I really don't know what to do. I mean, I know what I don't want to do. I don't want to discuss trivial things, I don't want to waste time, even the thought of going back in and watching the rest of my show makes me want to projectile vomit."
"The problem is that you're still asking your mind to advise you when you should be asking your death. Your mind has believed that you are immortal for it's entire life, so it will continue to advise you as such. You need to eat this, and that, and the other it will say. You need to try everything! It will tell you to try every video game, watch a bit of every tv show you ever were interested in but haven't seen yet. After you do this for a little while it will then remind you of the importance of a bucket list and how you must put as many checkmarks on that piece of paper as possible while there's still time! An hour later it will insist you to contact everyone you've ever cared about and 'get closure' in every relationship you've ever had. By morning, it will practically force you to get as many people together as you possibly can and have the kinkiest orgy you can imagine." You pause a moment as Don Juan's words sink in, realising he is more or less right.
"To the mind," he continues, "not having time is a reason to fulfill every physical pleasure, to complete every percieved obligation, to finish works purely for the pride of having done so in time. As the meteor draws closer, more and more of the adults will begin to really become aware of the coming of death, and they will ask their minds to advise them. Soon they will be rushing to complete everything their minds tell them to do, and tommorow this street and all the others will be filled with adults acting from nothing but their purile, base instincts or their overblown senses of obligation. Look at the children by comparison. Tonight as their parents slowly become aware of death, Sarah's mom will decide they all need to try her beef wellington at least once before they die. Timmy's mom won't have that awareness yet, so she'll still be making macaroni and cheese. The kids will eat at Timmy's because their spirit will advise them that's preferable to spending time at a fancy formal meal. Besides, it will let them get back to playing sooner although Sarah will really enjoy the macaroni, even more than she would have her mom's beef wellington. They won't feel required to eat or do anything while they still can, they'll still only do what they actually want to."
"I get what you're saying Don Juan," you tell him, "I really do but I still don't know what to do. I could go play with the kids, and I would enjoy that, but I feel like there's still something that I really should do. Not some trivial thing that my mind is advising me to do, but something else, something important that I just can't put my finger on."
"Use death as an advisor." Don Juan says forcefully. You start to answer but he reaches out and gently puts his hand over your mouth. He shakes his head no, and with his other hand he presses a finger over his own mouth. You stop talking, and your mind goes quiet. Using his hand he turns your head upwards. Time stops as you stare at the meteor. The answer hits you like a ton of bricks.
"The escape clause!" You yell at him. You run to your car with him running behind. He barely gets into the passenger seat before you're pulling out of the driveway.
"Are we going out for ice cream?" he asks as you tear out of the neighborhood.
"No time!" you tell him emphatically, not even taking enough time to think about what he said to determine whether he was joking.
Suddenly you feel fingers pinching your nose closed. Annoyed you ask Don Juan "What are you doing?"
"Stop!" he shouts at you.
You brake just in time to avoid careening into a car crossing the intersection in front of you. Only then do you notice the stop sign.
As you recover your breath you hear "It's good to let the spirit motivate us towards a certain future action, but remember we must always live in the present."
The driver of the other car opens his door and steps out. He's not injured, but he kneels down on the road and starts weeping.
"First I lose all my 401K and now this?" he cries out.
Exasperated you drive around him, calling out through the window as you pass "Sorry I don't have time to comfort you, but try to remember that after you die that 401k wasn't going to do you any good anyway."
Don Juan buckles his seatbelt and you drive more carefully now. Calmer, you explain to him that you're going to park off of a dirt road just outside the crowded parts of the suburbs near where you feel you can meditate most effectively.
You park when you get there and walk over to sit in a soft patch of grass underneath a shady tree. Don Juan waits in the car, and you pull out your smartphone and look through your music collection. You pick out a few songs that you think will help you meditate, and gaze at the nature before you. You quiet the mind, and wait, gazing, listening. You do not notice as afternoon turns to evening, and then to dusk as your phone finally finishes your meditation playlist. George Rafferty's Baker Street melds perfectly into the music of the crickets chirping before being overtaken by them.
Don Juan approaches, "You came back into this awareness, you must see another awareness."
You turn your gaze away from him and intend another awareness. Everything gets a little bigger, a little brighter. You never noticed how deep the grass really is before. It's a whole world of it's own. You see light bouncing off of it, playing. It dances around. You couldn't really describe it's movement, you can only see it. Then you see how all those blades of grass are made of tiny fibers. Fibers which are made out of energy. They brighten up when you notice them. You can sense that they know you're seeing them and more then anything they all want you to pay attention to them. They mirror you're slightest emotions. A little happiness makes them dance happily. A tiny drop of sadness and they project it back at you. Even though they have a different sort of consciousness you realize they are indeed conscious and that everything is made up of those fibers. Slowly it all fades back. When your vision returns to normal you can see that everything that was moving and dancing was simultaneously standing still, and even though your reason can't make sense of this it feels perfectly natural to your spirit. You see Don Juan sitting nearby.
"What happened?" you ask him.
"You quieted your mind and started to see. You went into the shift below as Castenada called it, which modern man might call the micro-world."
"Why did I stop?"
"You ran out of energy. Your spirit knew you had no more energy and so it made you stop. Learning to see is a discipline that requires practice. You're going to have to save energy and build your will for some time before you'll really be able to do it. That you went so far on your first real attempt at it in years is remarkable, especially without the aid of power plants."
"But I thought if one was about to die, their spirit would let them do things they didn't really have the energy to do?"
"Apparently death isn't touching you."
"But the meteor?"
"They just shot it down."
For a brief moment, you actually find this news disappointing.
"Don't worry," Don Juan smiles at you, "You might still die tomorrow anyway."
You laugh.
On the way home, you notice the meteor.
"Don Juan," you begin, "I still see the meteor."
"A little trick of mine," he says, "For everyone else the meteor is gone. For you it is still there, but only as a reminder. Whenever you need death to advise you, look to the meteor." He says.
The next morning the world is still there. The news is reporting that the meteor is gone, and everyone has returned to their usual routines. You decide to go for a walk and pass a TV store in which the demonstration models are playing scenes from the movie Tombstone. It catches your attention for a moment as you notice the scene in which Doc Holliday is being told by another doctor that he will be dead sometime between 2 days and 2 years hence. You wonder how Doc will take advice from his death. Another set is playing a scene just a little further along in the movie in which Holliday is about to join the Earps on their way to a gunfight at the O.K. corall. Wyatt, who knows of Doc's impending death, tells him "You don't need to get involved. This isn't your fight." Doc replies "That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me." Damned right, you think and move on.
You think about the day before and realise that continuing your dreaming/seeing practices is exactly what your spirit is telling you to do, but first you want to learn what you need to do to regain your energy. You silence your mind and look up at the meteor. Today, you begin regaining your energy by joining in a game of freezetag.
Well, that story sort of took on a life of it's own after I started writing it, I had no intention of making it that long. Anyway, I hope some of you might find some of the stuff in this post helpful. And please understand if I don't stop to pity you. I don't have time. I'm dying.
First off, while the place of no pity certainly includes not having pity for oneself, I don't believe that's the extent of what Don Juan meant by it. If he did he might have called it "the place of no self-pity", or Carlos would have insisted on noting it was only about self-pity somewhere in his books due to his obsession with exact wording, (a trait of his I greatly appreciate). But even if you disagree with me about their intended meaning, I personally am arguing that not having pity for others (as well as oneself) IS a trait one should strive to attain. After all, if we can agree that feeling pity for ourselves for the bad things that happen to us is undesirable, (or even "worse than useless" as Don Juan called it) why should feeling pity for the bad things that happen to others be any better? They have their challenges just like you do, and as Don Juan put it "challenges cannot possibly be good or bad. Challenges are just challenges", ( this idea is also excellently illustrated by the parable at http://www.planetb.ca/2012/10/good-luck ... who-knows/ ).
Pitying someone is often phrased as "feeling bad for them", but I think it would be more accurate to call it "feeling sad for them". Or even better still, "feeling sadness when you mentally picture bad things happening to them". How does your feeling of sadness help them? When you project that sadness back to them, does that really do them any good? Is taking the time to imagine bad things happening to others and feeling sad about it more akin to indulging or being impeccable?
I think most of you don't want to give up pity because you are afraid of abandoning a morality rule that's been drilled into you since birth, not because you think it is a useful emotion. That some of you are suggesting those who don't choose to feel pity are akin to violent psychopaths, (as in, the Joker), leads me to think this. Giving up your pity for others will not turn you into a homocidal maniac. It's not the same as not having empathy. Empathy is about trying to feel how another feels by putting a taste of that feeling in yourself. It doesn't require you to energize that feeling though, I'd say just moving your spirit into the shape of the emotion, ( and Don Juan might say moving a few threads of your assemblage point to match theirs ) is enough. It is useful when you aren't sure of how you should treat someone and you're trying to guess how your actions will, (or how your recent actions have), made them feel. It can also be useful when trying to determine how someone feels about you. But beyond that, I don't see any use in it. To use it to feel sad for someone because you think they feel sad, (or even worse, because you think they should feel sad ), about their situation not only makes you feel bad, it's also not something I think you have any obligation to do, nor does it produce anything helpful.
Some of you might be thinking that not pitying someone is the same as not loving them. Trust me, you can fall in love with someone in a wheelchair, marry them, and live the rest of your lives together without ever spending a single second feeling sad about their handicap and it doesn't mean you love them any less. In fact, unless they indulge in self-pity themselves, that's exactly how they'd want it.
On top of all that, I don't think when you feel pity for others you are using death as your advisor. Using death as your advisor is more than just an empty concept. Don Juan talks about it a lot, but Castenada never gives us an illustration of how to do that in his books. Since I think such an illustration could be very useful I'm going to provide one here. As you read the following story try to really imagine it happening, and feel what you would feel in that situation.Imagine that you're outside on a summer afternoon, and while looking at the sky you suddenly see a dark round spot in it initially appearing abour half the size of the sun. As you watch for a few minutes, it appears to ever so slowly be growing in size. You go inside and overhear someone on the news saying that a giant meteor is about to collide with the Earth, and that within 24 hours everything on this planet will die. You rush into the other room and look at the TV, which is showing various photos of the meteor from different angles, some of which have been taken from space. Underneath is a clock counting down the time until everyone dies. 23 hours 37 minutes 8 seconds. You watch it tick down a few times. 7 seconds, 6 seconds, 5 seconds.
A woman [your mom, wife, or whoever might be on your couch] asks you "Which TV show do you want to watch now?"
"What?!" you reply, amazed at her question.
"Don't you want to watch the rest of that [insert your favorite TV show here] episode you recorded?" she asks. You stare back at her with your mouth open. From the easy chair in the corner a man [again, anyone who might be there] asks "So what did you think about the Packers decision to go for it on fourth and one on Sunday?"
"What the @#$%?!" you cry out, "Didn't you two just hear that? We're all going to die!"
The woman answers sounding unconcerned "Well of course we're going to die, we've always known that," and the man adds "What's with this sudden obsession with death? You're in good health, I'm sure you've got plenty of hours left."
Not knowing what to do, you walk back outside and look up. You see the meteor. It's just a little bit bigger than the last time you looked at it. You look around you. Everyone you see is just going about their own business. A mail truck is making deliveries to all the boxes on the street. One of your neighbors is yelling explicitives at his broken down lawnmower.
"Here you go." the mail carrier says, handing you a letter. It's a sweepstakes envelope from Publishers Clearing House.
"I have a good feeling you've got a winner there." he says as he smiles at you.
"What difference would it make? Can't you see the meteor heading towards us?" you ask him.
"Of course I see it, but if that's a winner, you might find your remaining hours a bit more comfortable" he winks and drives off.
"Tag!" you hear, and turn to see some children playing nearby.
"Hey!" you call out to them "Do you know about the meteor?"
"Yeah we know." a boy, approximately 5 years old answers as he takes a quick only semi-interested look up at the meteor.
"Then you know we're all going to be dead tomorrow?"
"Yeah"
"Do you know how soon tommorow is?" you follow up.
"Sure we do. We were sad about it for a little bit, but then we got bored and decided to play." He tells you.
Another child interjects, looking up at you sweetly "I hope you don't mind, but talking to you is boring. We only have one day left and we really want to play tag."
There is a seconds pause.
"But you can play with us if you want." he adds cheerfully.
You smile at him "No, no thank you. But you have fun, sorry for interrupting your..."
You don't get to finish your sentence as they've already run back to continue their game. As you watch them for a minute, you realize that they do understand. They know they're going to die and they know exactly what they want to do with the little time they have left. A little bit of smoke moves into your peripheral vision and you turn your head to see Mrs. Deagul has started up her grill. You see the uncooked hot dogs on the table next to her and your mind starts to think about what you'll want to have for your own dinner later. It's the last one you'll ever eat, it says, and you don't want to waste it! Better make it steak... or lobster... or caviar! Or some fancy french food you've never tried before. It's your last chance to try something new. Better yet, a buffet! Tonights your last meal so you should gorge yourself with a complete smorgasborg of all the best, most expensive, fanciest...
A falling leaf pulls your attention upwards and you see the meteor. Your mind instantly quiets, and you look back at the children playing. Apparently they've switched to freeze tag now, and one of the children, a girl, looks at you as she laughs and runs around unfreezing her playmates. Suddenly the boy who was "it" jumps out from behind a bush, and she screams her surprise. "Freeze Mary!" he laughs as he tags her. Some of the other children circle around them, trying to create a good angle to run in and unfreeze her as he stays just close enough to her, hoping to bait one of them into running too close to him.
"It isn't about fear. Or is it?" a voice behind you asks.
"No, it isn't." you answer, still watching the children.
"They didn't choosing to play tag because they are afraid of wasting time?" the voice pursues.
"No", you answer again.
The voice irritates you by continuing "But don't you think that when they learned about the meteor they thought about the time they have left, and imagined themselves not getting to play tag again? And don't you think picturing that filled them with a deep sadness, and then they realized it could happen for real which made them so afraid that they rushed out to start playing?"
"It didn't happen that way." You say with an edge to your voice, "If it had, those children would have only played for a moment and then thought of something else that they'd 'miss out on' if they didn't do it, and go do that. And they'd keep doing that cycle for as long as they were able, which is to say about half an hour or so before they were so tired of it they couldn't keep doing it anymore. Then they'd go back to doing what they want to, which is usually to play whatever game sounds best to them at the moment."
"Why?" the voice asks.
For some reason you're getting very annoyed with this person's cluelessness about how young children act. "Haven't you ever spent any time with young children before? Try throwing a birthday party for a 4 year old with 20 friends sometime. Think you'll be able to get them to sit down just because it's dinnertime? Ha! They want to play, they want to run around, and the moment you get a second one to the table the first has taken off to go rejoin one of their games. In all probability when you finally get them seated they'll all just wolf down a few bites and run off again. Only if they are really hungry will they slow down and then enjoy the meal."
"Do you find young children to be rude?" the voice implors.
"It's not about rudeness, it's just that at age 4 you don't really understand how much work was put into making the meal. You don't get that if you let food get cold someone has to heat it up again for you. You don't think about how other people's schedules require them to clean up your dishes after you eat before they can do other things. You don't realise that the person cooking feels an obligation to make sure you all get fed, and until they see you eat they're going to feel a nagging pressure to try and get you to eat. It takes years of adults telling them before children understand that they should eat when it's served, and they should take enough time to enjoy the meal, and they should do so fairly quietly and remain seated until they and everyone else has finished in to show your appreciation to the host or hostess. Without an adult there reminding them of those things, they just want to do whatever the spirit motivates them to do. They don't have time for any of those things."
"Then," says the voice, "would it be reasonable to say that even though those kids do know about the meteor, it doesn't really matter to them? As in, wouldn't they be playing tag because their spirit is motivating them to play tag whether the meteor was there or not?" The question intrigues you.
"I hadn't thought of that." you say, turning around to see an indian man standing behind you. He winks. You recognize him as Don Juan.
"To those children, death is an indifference. They are all keenly aware of it, but none of them are obsessed with it," Don Juan tells you, "They are doing what they want to, what the spirit is telling them to. As you already said, they don't have time for anything else. All the adults around us on the other hand are treating death as though it doesn't exist. Do you think deep down inside that now, with less than a day left, they really want to keep watching television? Do you think it was the spirit that motivates some of them to invest all their emotional energy into watching other people play a game and pretend the result of it is far more important than they secretly know it is? They are being immortal, they have all the time in the universe for that ****. They are the ones who really need instruction, far more than the children. The advisor they need is death."
You look up again at the sky. The meteor slowly but persistently continues to increase in size.
Don Juan continues "Sure, some of the things we learn as we change from children to adults are worthwhile. Don't hit others. Don't call people names. If someone does call you names, don't hit them. But mostly what we learn is useless. Don't put your feet on the coffee table. Keep your lawn mowed. Learn your place in the various social heirarchies with all the entitlements they give you over those beneath you and obligations to those above you. Defend those heirarchal rules violently when you see them broken. Value yourself and others based on your material possessions. Don't do anything too weird." As if to punctuate this last point, one of the children does a headstand while shouting "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and the others laugh.
"Those children don't need death as an advisor because they already do the only thing that death advises. They listen to and act from their spirit. The adults on the other hand listen to and act from the nonsensical social rules that were forced on them when they grew up. Imagine if right now they all finally got it. They finally understood that death was coming for them and so they spent the next day acting purely from the spirit. For all of them, it would be the most worthwhile day they have spent in many years. Which of all the rules they learned would they continue to follow? Would they start hitting each other? No, because the spirit would tell them not to act in that way. Would they keep watching tv when they really want to go outside and practice shooting a basketball because they know they're bad at shooting baskets because the rule says they should feel embarassed and avoid doing things they want to do that might get them laughed at? No, that rule which has controlled them all their adult lives would be discarded." As Don Juan finishes, you feel a sudden pang of sadness.
"Don Juan I want to act from spirit," you say, "but I really don't know what to do. I mean, I know what I don't want to do. I don't want to discuss trivial things, I don't want to waste time, even the thought of going back in and watching the rest of my show makes me want to projectile vomit."
"The problem is that you're still asking your mind to advise you when you should be asking your death. Your mind has believed that you are immortal for it's entire life, so it will continue to advise you as such. You need to eat this, and that, and the other it will say. You need to try everything! It will tell you to try every video game, watch a bit of every tv show you ever were interested in but haven't seen yet. After you do this for a little while it will then remind you of the importance of a bucket list and how you must put as many checkmarks on that piece of paper as possible while there's still time! An hour later it will insist you to contact everyone you've ever cared about and 'get closure' in every relationship you've ever had. By morning, it will practically force you to get as many people together as you possibly can and have the kinkiest orgy you can imagine." You pause a moment as Don Juan's words sink in, realising he is more or less right.
"To the mind," he continues, "not having time is a reason to fulfill every physical pleasure, to complete every percieved obligation, to finish works purely for the pride of having done so in time. As the meteor draws closer, more and more of the adults will begin to really become aware of the coming of death, and they will ask their minds to advise them. Soon they will be rushing to complete everything their minds tell them to do, and tommorow this street and all the others will be filled with adults acting from nothing but their purile, base instincts or their overblown senses of obligation. Look at the children by comparison. Tonight as their parents slowly become aware of death, Sarah's mom will decide they all need to try her beef wellington at least once before they die. Timmy's mom won't have that awareness yet, so she'll still be making macaroni and cheese. The kids will eat at Timmy's because their spirit will advise them that's preferable to spending time at a fancy formal meal. Besides, it will let them get back to playing sooner although Sarah will really enjoy the macaroni, even more than she would have her mom's beef wellington. They won't feel required to eat or do anything while they still can, they'll still only do what they actually want to."
"I get what you're saying Don Juan," you tell him, "I really do but I still don't know what to do. I could go play with the kids, and I would enjoy that, but I feel like there's still something that I really should do. Not some trivial thing that my mind is advising me to do, but something else, something important that I just can't put my finger on."
"Use death as an advisor." Don Juan says forcefully. You start to answer but he reaches out and gently puts his hand over your mouth. He shakes his head no, and with his other hand he presses a finger over his own mouth. You stop talking, and your mind goes quiet. Using his hand he turns your head upwards. Time stops as you stare at the meteor. The answer hits you like a ton of bricks.
"The escape clause!" You yell at him. You run to your car with him running behind. He barely gets into the passenger seat before you're pulling out of the driveway.
"Are we going out for ice cream?" he asks as you tear out of the neighborhood.
"No time!" you tell him emphatically, not even taking enough time to think about what he said to determine whether he was joking.
Suddenly you feel fingers pinching your nose closed. Annoyed you ask Don Juan "What are you doing?"
"Stop!" he shouts at you.
You brake just in time to avoid careening into a car crossing the intersection in front of you. Only then do you notice the stop sign.
As you recover your breath you hear "It's good to let the spirit motivate us towards a certain future action, but remember we must always live in the present."
The driver of the other car opens his door and steps out. He's not injured, but he kneels down on the road and starts weeping.
"First I lose all my 401K and now this?" he cries out.
Exasperated you drive around him, calling out through the window as you pass "Sorry I don't have time to comfort you, but try to remember that after you die that 401k wasn't going to do you any good anyway."
Don Juan buckles his seatbelt and you drive more carefully now. Calmer, you explain to him that you're going to park off of a dirt road just outside the crowded parts of the suburbs near where you feel you can meditate most effectively.
You park when you get there and walk over to sit in a soft patch of grass underneath a shady tree. Don Juan waits in the car, and you pull out your smartphone and look through your music collection. You pick out a few songs that you think will help you meditate, and gaze at the nature before you. You quiet the mind, and wait, gazing, listening. You do not notice as afternoon turns to evening, and then to dusk as your phone finally finishes your meditation playlist. George Rafferty's Baker Street melds perfectly into the music of the crickets chirping before being overtaken by them.
Don Juan approaches, "You came back into this awareness, you must see another awareness."
You turn your gaze away from him and intend another awareness. Everything gets a little bigger, a little brighter. You never noticed how deep the grass really is before. It's a whole world of it's own. You see light bouncing off of it, playing. It dances around. You couldn't really describe it's movement, you can only see it. Then you see how all those blades of grass are made of tiny fibers. Fibers which are made out of energy. They brighten up when you notice them. You can sense that they know you're seeing them and more then anything they all want you to pay attention to them. They mirror you're slightest emotions. A little happiness makes them dance happily. A tiny drop of sadness and they project it back at you. Even though they have a different sort of consciousness you realize they are indeed conscious and that everything is made up of those fibers. Slowly it all fades back. When your vision returns to normal you can see that everything that was moving and dancing was simultaneously standing still, and even though your reason can't make sense of this it feels perfectly natural to your spirit. You see Don Juan sitting nearby.
"What happened?" you ask him.
"You quieted your mind and started to see. You went into the shift below as Castenada called it, which modern man might call the micro-world."
"Why did I stop?"
"You ran out of energy. Your spirit knew you had no more energy and so it made you stop. Learning to see is a discipline that requires practice. You're going to have to save energy and build your will for some time before you'll really be able to do it. That you went so far on your first real attempt at it in years is remarkable, especially without the aid of power plants."
"But I thought if one was about to die, their spirit would let them do things they didn't really have the energy to do?"
"Apparently death isn't touching you."
"But the meteor?"
"They just shot it down."
For a brief moment, you actually find this news disappointing.
"Don't worry," Don Juan smiles at you, "You might still die tomorrow anyway."
You laugh.
On the way home, you notice the meteor.
"Don Juan," you begin, "I still see the meteor."
"A little trick of mine," he says, "For everyone else the meteor is gone. For you it is still there, but only as a reminder. Whenever you need death to advise you, look to the meteor." He says.
The next morning the world is still there. The news is reporting that the meteor is gone, and everyone has returned to their usual routines. You decide to go for a walk and pass a TV store in which the demonstration models are playing scenes from the movie Tombstone. It catches your attention for a moment as you notice the scene in which Doc Holliday is being told by another doctor that he will be dead sometime between 2 days and 2 years hence. You wonder how Doc will take advice from his death. Another set is playing a scene just a little further along in the movie in which Holliday is about to join the Earps on their way to a gunfight at the O.K. corall. Wyatt, who knows of Doc's impending death, tells him "You don't need to get involved. This isn't your fight." Doc replies "That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me." Damned right, you think and move on.
You think about the day before and realise that continuing your dreaming/seeing practices is exactly what your spirit is telling you to do, but first you want to learn what you need to do to regain your energy. You silence your mind and look up at the meteor. Today, you begin regaining your energy by joining in a game of freezetag.
Well, that story sort of took on a life of it's own after I started writing it, I had no intention of making it that long. Anyway, I hope some of you might find some of the stuff in this post helpful. And please understand if I don't stop to pity you. I don't have time. I'm dying.