12-15-2013, 12:00 AM
~After you make the great journey – a journey of surmounting
obstacles and confronting fears, of unmasking deceivers, of burning everything,
of arriving at that final gate and killing that final Don Juan, of beholding
the infinite truth directly – after all that, then what?
Then done. Then you
pull the door shut and leave all that nagual-void **** out there where it
belongs. Then you know. Then you understand. Then the houselights are thrown on and the
whole tragicomic farce is revealed, and you’ll never be able to really suspend
disbelief again. Then the artificial
environment you went to such lengths to get out of would be looking pretty
sweet, and escape would be looking pretty dumb, like breaking out of a spaceship.
What is this new warrior that returns from that final door
back into the vast realm of the tonal?
Is he magically endowed? Is he a
mystic? Does he have special powers? Can he grant boons? Does he return in the boat, or can he walk on
water? If a non-awake resident of tonal
looks at our warrior in command of the totality of self, will they see in him
the highest human ideal, or just some misfit who doesn’t seem to belong? There is nothing different in his appearance;
he doesn’t glow or levitate or radiate benevolence, he doesn’t spew wisdom or
have a sagely answer to every question, he doesn’t know any shortcuts to that
final door, or why anyone would want to get there. He is, as Layman P’ang said, neither holy nor
wise, just an ordinary fellow who has completed his work.
What a true warrior in control of totality of self returns
to find is a tonal full of actors. What
he once saw as people like himself are now something else; something
bewildering and unrelatable. One thing
he knows is that they don’t know what he knows.
They haven’t undergone those personal unravelings and stood at that
final door. They haven’t made that
ultimate journey from which return itself in an illusion.
They don’t know where they are.
So what, at most, are they?
Straw dogs, zombies. None of
them, to our warriors clear new eyes, better or worse than another. Not bad, not good, just asleep at most and
non-sentient apparitions at least. They
are set design, props, extras. He is no
longer one of them or related to them, and never will be again.
The Warrior who obtains the totality of self walks out into
the tonal into a new life of love and freedom, but our warrior is now consigned
to walk alone in a world that he knows is not real, cloaked in a body and
persona to which he feels no connection, surrounded by actors playing a
pointless drama. He has traded
everything for nothing, and made a good deal.
obstacles and confronting fears, of unmasking deceivers, of burning everything,
of arriving at that final gate and killing that final Don Juan, of beholding
the infinite truth directly – after all that, then what?
Then done. Then you
pull the door shut and leave all that nagual-void **** out there where it
belongs. Then you know. Then you understand. Then the houselights are thrown on and the
whole tragicomic farce is revealed, and you’ll never be able to really suspend
disbelief again. Then the artificial
environment you went to such lengths to get out of would be looking pretty
sweet, and escape would be looking pretty dumb, like breaking out of a spaceship.
What is this new warrior that returns from that final door
back into the vast realm of the tonal?
Is he magically endowed? Is he a
mystic? Does he have special powers? Can he grant boons? Does he return in the boat, or can he walk on
water? If a non-awake resident of tonal
looks at our warrior in command of the totality of self, will they see in him
the highest human ideal, or just some misfit who doesn’t seem to belong? There is nothing different in his appearance;
he doesn’t glow or levitate or radiate benevolence, he doesn’t spew wisdom or
have a sagely answer to every question, he doesn’t know any shortcuts to that
final door, or why anyone would want to get there. He is, as Layman P’ang said, neither holy nor
wise, just an ordinary fellow who has completed his work.
What a true warrior in control of totality of self returns
to find is a tonal full of actors. What
he once saw as people like himself are now something else; something
bewildering and unrelatable. One thing
he knows is that they don’t know what he knows.
They haven’t undergone those personal unravelings and stood at that
final door. They haven’t made that
ultimate journey from which return itself in an illusion.
They don’t know where they are.
So what, at most, are they?
Straw dogs, zombies. None of
them, to our warriors clear new eyes, better or worse than another. Not bad, not good, just asleep at most and
non-sentient apparitions at least. They
are set design, props, extras. He is no
longer one of them or related to them, and never will be again.
The Warrior who obtains the totality of self walks out into
the tonal into a new life of love and freedom, but our warrior is now consigned
to walk alone in a world that he knows is not real, cloaked in a body and
persona to which he feels no connection, surrounded by actors playing a
pointless drama. He has traded
everything for nothing, and made a good deal.