Ol Ella Book of Magzc Lave MIGUEL SERRANO Translated from ihe Spanish by Frank MacShane HARPER & ROW, PUBLISHERS ‘New York, Evanston, San Francisco, LondonAssistance: for the translation of this book was given by the Center for Inter- American Relations. EL/SLLA. English translation copyright © 1972 by Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved, Printed in the United States of America, No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any shanner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations emhodied in critical articles and reviews, For information address Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 70 East 33rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10022. Published simultaneously in Canada by Fitzhency & Whiteside Limited, Toronto, FIRST EDITION STANDARD BOOK NUMBER: 06-013829-7 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 70-384377 Designed by Gloria AdelsonChe Hime layas“ Waser, I have remembered something from the future. I've seen myself wearing strange clothes and ornaments, I was preparing to fight in a war I knew nothing about. It was in a place which didn't belong to our time at all.” “What will come will come,” the master replied, “and be 20 better than now.” “Master, this memory of the future has made me come to you here in the forest of Bundelkhand. I know you've lived here for a long time, and I therefore beg you to teach me the doctrine and ptactice of Tantric Kaula. You are the greatest master of all; you are Matsyendranatha.” The guru, who was completely naked, his body covered with blue ashes, closed his eyes and remained silent for a long time. His sight arm rested on a short wooden brace, and he sat in the lotus position shaded by an old fig tree. At length he opened his eyes, as though he were returning from a trip underground, He gazed steadily at the young man and stared into his eyes. The youth felt as though he was being opened up and examined in a most intimate way, leaving nothing untouched from his childhood to the present day. After a while, finding the ex- perience too much, he lowered his eyes in fear and shyness. “When you speak of your memory of the future, you're prob- ably thinking of transmigration or reincarnation. Maybe you 3think I can help you fulfill your destiny. But the idea of re- incarnation isn’t mentioned anywhere in the old texts. Rather it emerged from the detritus of the Flood and is linked to the primeval serpent and to the dark people of prehistoric times.” He then looked directly at the young man: “What else did you see while you were dreaming?” “I saw myself getting ready to fight in a war,” he answered. “T was cactying a sword.” “The sword represents knowledge. But before I can accept you as a disciple and begin to initiate you into the practice of Kaula, you must bring me a gift. What I require is the milk of a woman, mother’s milk. We must begin all over again as if we were children.” Where would he find mother’s milk? He would have to go to the entrance of the temple which was guarded by a statue of the god Ganesh, half elephant, half man, the son of Siva and Parvati. He'd have to bow down and ask that elephantine god for his help. The young man was wondering how to do this when he saw a priestess from the temple carrying flowers to place at the feet of the god. She was beautiful and smelled of sweet perfume. Her black hair was gathered under a garland of jasmine flowers. “Don’t go away,”’ he said. Her eyes were large and deep. “I must have mother's milk.” “Fm not a mother and am not allowed to be one,” she an- swered, “I’m a virgin. Still, give me your bowl.” The young man handed her the bowl, his eyes lowered. “No, you must help me,” she said, She made him stand up and took one of his hands in her own, and the young man saw there was a small white spot between two of her fingers. Leprosy, he thought. She uncovered her breast, ‘You must squeeze here,” she said. But his hand trembled and he didn’t know how. She showed him, and the virgin milk came out. “Ganesh is giving you this milk,” she said. 4The young man tried to kneel down before the priestess, but she stopped him. Then she joined her hands together and said, “OM.” The young man was pleased but also a little sad, without knowing quite why. Crossing the wide terrace enclosed by a gallery, he heard the sounds made by builders and sculptors cutting stone for the tem- ple. The granite and marble shook with their blows and the air was full of dust. Alone under a mathle gateway, a blind sculptor sat with a block of stone between his legs. He sensed the young man walking by with the bowl in his hands and, pre- tending he could see, he turned the blind sockets of his eyes to follow the youth as he walked toward the forest. The master raised the bow! to his lips and drank, keeping his eyes closed in meditation. “You must also drink,” he said, turn- ing to the young man. “What is left is yours.” The young man sipped the milk nervously. It lasted of jasmine, and he could not help thinking about the priestess. Something of herself had become a part of him, and of the master as well, forming a bond among them. Surely he was now ready to be initiated. . “No,” said the master, “you're not yet teady. I must first have your yantra.”’ “Master, who can draw my yantca?”” The master told him to visit Sudhir Ranjau Bhaduri and ask him to perform the task and reveal his inner nature, The young man therefore went to see him, thinking that he had heard the name before. Perhaps it was another memory from the future. He found Sudhir Ranjau Bhaduri scated inside his hut with a young boy who passed him his brushes, rinsing them before- hand in a brass bowl. “T shouldn't do this,” said the old man. “I ought to do your horoscope instead. The yantra is a sccret inner portrait upon which your outer appearance is based. In order to describe your yantra, I must discover your inner vibrations and give them 5colors. Then I must guess where the centers are that produce these vibtations. They represent your inner power and dictate the design of yout yantra, They are like a set of musical instru- ments, tambourines and zithers which your master calls chakras, of lotus wheels. . . . But there is something absurd in my draw- ing your yantra, since you are trying to change it, I don’t know whether what you atc doing is natural or not, but if you succeed, you will be immortal. I will be your witness, if not now, in the future, in three hundred yeats ot so.” The yantea was beautiful, painted in pale and somewhat in- distinct colors, as though the old man knew that the music it gave forth would be soft but captivating. The master also seemed to hear this music, for a strange ex- pression came into his eyes when the young man returned to the forest. He became immediately engrossed in the yantra, reading it with great care and skill. “No one knows who created the world, not even Brahma. Something must have upset the balance of forces for the world to be born. Perhaps it was the feminine principle, or wifc, that did it. Nevertheless, despite our ignorance of the world’s origins, we know at least of some beings who in ancient times tried to control the laws of fate by developing a countervailing set of laws. These strange people were called Siddhas, and they de- veloped their secret knowledge in two cities of the Himalayas called Agharti and Champula. Anyone wishing to approach these cities had to walk backward, to signify his return to the point of origin. “Although not even God knows who created the world, the Siddhas may have discovered the secret that is hidden in the sexual power of the female and may have made use of it.” The master continued his instructions to the young man: “As I sit under this tree I must tell you that what I am trying to say comes from a great distance. It was transmitted by the 6serpent who survived the great Flood that destroyed the race of god-men for whom woman was not something outside but within, for whom male and female were one and not alien to each other. But then ‘she’ did something ‘he’ didn’t know about, and the waters destroyed the land where the king was supreme priest. With horns on his head, silting beneath a tree and suttounded by four emblematic animals, he meditated and directed the course of the stars. You must follow his example. Unless you reincorporate woman within you and sit by the roots of the tree sutrounded by your animals, you will accomplish nothing. You'll only be a leaf blown by the wind.” After he spoke, the master thought it necessary to rise. He did so with the greatest difficulty. Having sat so long underneath the fig tree in the lotus pesition, his legs and feet had become mingled with the roots of the tree. Few understand the sacrifice a master imposes on himself when he accepts a disciple. At daybreak the forest came to life, sending vibrations actoss the silent siver to the temple roofs. The master led his disciple to the royal stables of Khajuraho. When they arrived, the stable boys prostrated themselves before them. They then ran away because no one had ever before seen Matsyendranatha in per- son, A black mare with a white star on her forehead was standing in the stables, A powerful stallion came in and with great delicacy rubbed his nose against her feet and haunches. He thea moved away and uttered a tich neigh as though he were master of the universe. The mate gazed at the stallion and the atmos- phere grew tense and heavy, like the sky before the monsoon. The drama went on until, like a ctack of thunder, the stallion leaped. And then an extraordinary thing happened; like a pre- historic god, the stallion lay stectched out along the mate’s back. He was like a tattered doll with big yellow teeth, while the mare stood powerful and cunning, only slightly loweting her eats. “Do you understand what has happened?” asked the master. The disciple was too disturbed to answer.Later, under the fig tree, the master explained. “All that has to be changed. The stallion must be turned into a mare, man into 2 woman, There is no other way. You remember how full of joy the mare was, anticipating her strength even before any- thing happened? And then afterward it was she who was triumphant. This is the story of the race. Woman came from man, but once the two sexes became independent, it was in- evitable that one would devour the other. That is what the universe is: someone gives and someone receives. There is al- ways a sacrificial victim. Many people believe that the only way to avoid this cycle is asceticism and chastity. But this never works, for in one way or another the individual is devoured, Always the man’s role is secondary, The mare devours the stallion who has impregnated her, the bee kills the drones, the ptimeval mother carries around her neck the primordial Lingam. Every mother, mate, goddess and woman is a devouress, and in one form or other every male is castrated and consumed.” He paused. “To change all this we must redirect, the tremendous energy that you saw in the stallion. We must restore the original principle of male passivity and female activity. The world was created not by the masculine principle but by the feminine. Love must leatn to follow this course. Only those willing to learn how to love women in a different way, murdering them out- wardly in order to permit an inner rebirth, will find the im- mortal city of Agharti. “The key moment is when the semen is ejaculated. When the stallion ejaculates, he becomes impoverished. The tole of the Male appears to end while the female’s begins. But semen is also soma and should be conserved. It should not spurt outward but inward. Outwardly it can only create children of the flesh, while inwardly it makes sons of the spirit. Qutwardly it plays the mother’s game; inwardly the male is impregnated and en- genders the son of man, “No sons. of the flesh ate born in this loveless love. There are only sons of the spirit, escaping cyclical life, who are created when the semen is driven inward, giving them etetnal life.” 8In his doorway the blind sculptor tapped the stone caressingly. After a while he stopped, as though he were irying to listen to an echo within himsclf. Just then one of the priestesses of the temple’ placed flowers at the feet of the elephant god, Ganesh, Meanwhile the master continued his discourse. “Semen is a visible aspect of the great power of which we are all a part. It is OM madc into substance. It is the movement of the sun within your blood and of the sea of life within your body. It is also the word you use to communicate with the gods. You must therefore preserve it if you wish to enter Agharti.” The disciple said that he had seen statues of Siva and Parvati making love on the walls of the temple but he did not under- stand how the semen was to be withheld. “You must discover this for yourself. You must transform a natural act into a ritual, changing it into something supernatural. Ordinary sexual life does not create magicians or Siddhas; it metely perpetuates the human race. You will therefore have to follow a different road, also in the company of a woman so that you will both be saved. If she is not with you, something will be left unfulfilled and incomplete. You will have attained nothing. Even at the ends of their lives, saints and ascctics con- tinue to yearn for women. The technique you must follow is therefore not something you learn but something you must grow to understand, At the moment of ecstasy Siva temains motion- Jess; he does not ejaculate his semen. She, Parvati, is the active one, for whea woman does not receive, she gives. From her skin the woman transmits a substance which enters the man's blood and becomes a patt of him. It cteates a unity within him. The seed is planted, and he enters the city of Siddhas. Pure sexuality echocs a desire to return to the an- cestral home. It is @ return to unity: true sex is the nostalgia of the gods. “You ate cartied beyond the realm of ordinary existence. The life of a Kaula magician goes against nature: it proceeds in the opposite direction.”The master then spoke of visiting the temple, but did not move from the sliade of the fig tree. He explained that the tem- ple was like the body of a ian, and that as you go over the face of the earth, visiting sanctuaries from Mount Kailas in. the Himalayas to Cape Comorin in the fat’south, you find that they are all the same. The gods live in all of them, and you can make offerings to them wherever you are. ‘The sacred river flows through the human body, and the true Kailas is found within. Even the sky has the shape of a human body, and the stars reflect the centers of light that exist inside human beings. Those who travel externally to these heavenly bodies will only find empty planets. The real cosmic universe is an interior one. Every man should therefore accept the idea that he is also a temple. He must enter the labyrinth in order to find the central palace and throne of Parvati. It is necessary to go underground to discover this secret world and find the keys to this hidden continent. ‘This is the only way to tevive the ancient energy of the pre- vious race of god-men. These submerged giants are thirsting for their resurrection. They control the course of the stars and the impulses of the human body, but no one is in touch with them, It is therefore essential to return to this lost land of the giants. ‘The btidge that links the present with the past offers a clue to a real understanding of existence. The master then spoke of the lotus flowers and of chakras. These exist even though they cannot be felt. They ate invisible flowers symbolizing the possibility of the soul, The soul. itself has a body called the Linga-sarira, but it must be created. A person is like a garden in the datk. There must be light in order to see the flowers. The light, called Kundalini, illumines the narrow passages that lead from one flower, one chakra, to another. All this may seem unreal, but it is more real than what ac- tually exists, Immostality is a flower which no one has ever seen. If it didn’t exist, it would have to be invented. 10The master then described the different chakras or lotus flowers in the human body, giving them their ancient names. He spoke of their color and the number of petals each one had, starting with the flower of the genitals at the base of the spine, and continuing up through the stomach, the heart, the throat and the space between the eyes until finally reaching the last, which is outside the head, like a halo, representing the place where Siva met Parvati. It is beyond the human body and can be reached only by crossing a diamond-studded lake in a sub- marine vessel guided by a blind sailor. This voyage is necessary to find the emptiness which may be inside or out, Between the eyebrows there is a flower with two petals like the wings of a dove. When this flower blossoms, the third eye opens and the gates of the city of Aghasli come into view. The master also spoke of other flowers, forbidden ones, which exist in other parts of the body, on the feet and at the knees, that generally don’t open. These were other centers of conscious- ness representing the thoughts of the ancient god-men. A Kaula magician might open them, but without remaining too long in any of them, Speaking always in a symbolic language and making analogies between what was within and without, the master then de- scribed the channels that link the various chakras. He said they were called nadis, and that they wete filaments of the soul that cattied the terrible enetgy of the ancient giants. He spoke of the force called Kundalini which sleeps like a serpent at the base of the tree. Kundalini represents a potential power capable of destroying the world of illusion in order to attain a higher Jevel of reality. It has to be waked, created or invented. Together, the male and female are capable of arousing the sleeping Kunda- lini and fetting it express itself. Both powers are necessary, walking hand in hand on the summit. But the final leap must be made alone. Every part.of this journey could be repeated in some other form, but only in appearance, Moreover, the challenge of the leap produces a profound doubt. This trip is not a linear journey ILbut is citcuitous within each flower or chakra. The gardener stops, rests and eventually sleeps at the root of the tree in a dark cavern, Refreshed, he resumes his journey. Many times he falls back, only to rise once more so as to gain a sense of his own being, profiting from an alternation of movements backward and forward. In this process, he invents his own identity; he becomes his own father and son, which means that he is at once father and son. A child is born. He is so frail and delicate a gust of wind or an evil thought could destroy him. The child of a man im- pregnated by woman, he is Linga-sarira, an astral body or in- visible product of the mind. He becomes sublimated and trans- figured when, thtough the magic alchemy of the Siddhas, a stream of semen penetrates the father’s interior. Some helieve the woman is not needed, that this procedure is mental. Others assert it is only symbolic, involving the soul but not the body. But the Kaula practitioners ate physical. When the feminine soul cf the man marties the masculine soul of the woman, the hody becomes the instrament of theic unioa which must be tuned and played upon. This is especially true in this iron age when the physical body seems to control decisions, But the physical and spiritual must go together; each is necessary for the other. For a long time the disciple obeyed his master’s instructions. He practiced the rituals he had been taught and tried to purify the passages through which the magic fluids were to pass. He jearned how to swallow a Jong strip of linen and to eject it from his rectum. He discovered how to take in water through his penis so as to prepare for the reabsorption of semen during the magic ritual. Finally he concentrated on the point between the eyes and learned how to stop thinking and breathing. One day he returned to the statue of Ganesh at the doorway of the temple and bowed down to touch his forehead to the stone pavement. When he looked up, he saw once again the 412priestess standing before him, smelling of fresh flowers and sich perfumes. “Why do you look so sad?” she asked. “What else can I be,” he answered, “when despite my efforts to get rid of feelings I still have them?” “Who is your guru?” she inquired. ““Matsyendranatha.”’ She then asked whether he received lessons on a mystical plane, since no one had ever seen his teacher in person. The disciple replied that, on the contrary, Matsyendranatha lived in the woods of Bundelkhand and that he sat beneath a fig tree. When the priestess seemed doubtful, he offered to take her to him so that she could see for herself. They walked to- acther through the city and entered the forest. And then grad- ually the disciple, who had been so confident, began to hesitate. It took him some time to find the road and the fig tree he knew so well. Once they arrived, he had to admit there was no sign of the master. “You see,” said the priestess, “I was right after all. Your Matsyendtanatha doesn’t exist. It makes me wonder whether you've learned the truc doctrine after all, Maybe you've been deceived by your imagination.” The disciple answered that perhaps Matsyendranatha wanted to hide and had therefore made himself invisible or turned him- self into a tree. “Tt doesn’t matter,” said the priestess. “I will show you the possibilities of your own body.” The young man was unprepared for this and told her that his master would not approve, “You mustn’t worry,” she said. “Your body is a temple.” When they returned, she placed a jasmine wreath at the feet of Ganesh and began to lead the disciple toward the dark, cool interior of the temple. Before entering, however, she paused and decided to show him the outside of the temple. All about were catved the aspects of Maya or illusion. On the lower levels bas-relief figures fought, wounded one another, took pleasure 13and loved. Each of the eighty-four positions of love-making were teptoduced. But the lovers carved on the walls were not men but gods. The distant look on the faces of the male figures was not human. Moreover, the love-making positions were never spontaneous or natural: each was part of a ritual. The women helping the central couple received no pleasure from the caresses they gave and received, Rather they were like the minor accom- panying instruments in a piece of music. They kept the tempo or rhythm but remained in the background. It was a world of barren love which in the harsh sunlight echoed the stone wall of human existence. It was at once Maya and the steep rock face of Mount Kailas, upon which each configuration repre- sented a god making love. It also.reproduced the body of a man. The disciple recognized the temple from his master’s carlice description of it, It was built from a single piece of rock, like Siva’s mountain. Before they went inside, the priestess asked him to look carefully at the statues already made by the Kha- jutaho scufptors. She wanted him to see how the sculptors had recorded the mystery of the gods. They represented a mixture of the divine with the demoniacal, and the tension between them carries the message of this extraordinary art. It comes from a mysterious and illicit zone whose effect is reproduced on the faces of the couple. Like stone leaves on a cosmic tree, their bodies are agitated by an alien wind. Ordinary people will never understand their meaning. They will look for pious explanations to shake off the frightening vision these statues ceptesent: but they will not succeed, This vision has its own vitality and comes from another universe. It is indestructible. Siva’s face at the moment of ecstatic coitus expresses pleasure and sadness, piety, isolation, tenderness and withdrawal, all at the same time, With one hand he delicately supports his lover, protecting her, while with the other he traces a ritual gesture which passes on his message from one generation to another. The interlaced bodies of these stone figures present a vision that will expire only with the end of the human race. The spirit which built this temple corresponds to a moment of divine decadence. Only gods 14enamosed of human beings could favor this art. The sculptors who catved these figutes must have been mediums, blind ve- hicles for their message. Perhaps these sculptors were sleep- walkers who carved while they were away from their cells at night, All of the temples at Khajuraho run from north to south, except the temple of Siva, the Chonsant Jogini, which goes from east to west, suggesting something special. Moreover it is carved from a single block of dark granite, whereas the other temples are built of tan or red stone blocks. The Chonsant Jogini forms a mandala that is difficult to penetrate, and its door- way is guarded by the statue of Ganesh. In most Hindu temples the worshipper is enveloped by the structure and can leave only by the main entrance. At Khajuraho, however, the innermost rooms of the temples have three small passages that lead to the outside. In the temple of Siva these doors open to the west. She took him by the hand as they entered. “You ate now walking inside your own body,” she said, “looking for the entrances and exits of the mandala, which is a maze containing all your flowers. We're now in the first room and must walk across it, making a prayer at each step. Say ‘OM.’” They moved in, and the air was heavy with sandalwood smoke, On both sides were lateral cells with double doors. The pfiesiess pointed to one of them: ‘This is where I sleep,” she said. “I also prepare myself here, and offer sacrifices,” Then they entered the sancturn sanctocum known as the gabhagriha, It was like the crater of a volcano. The young man was overcome by a whitlwind of feelings and threw himself onto the floor, repeating mantrams, one after another. From the center of the floor, which represents the yoni or sexual organ of the primordial wife, rose the erect stone Lingam, symbolizing the phallus of Siva. The two were united there, creating the androgynous Siva Ardhanasisvara, The granite column was polished by the priestesses, who washed it with sacred oils and 15animal blood representing the menstrual flow of the wife. A brass horn sounded from time to time. The three doors on the rear wall were closed. Then from somewhere within the temple a door opened and the blind sculptor came out. He approached the Lingam and sat down beside it with his legs crossed, The priestess stepped for- ward and began a series of ritual movements, avoiding certain positions and searching for others with intense concentration, as though the air around her were a structure whose entrance she was irying to find. When she approached the Lingam she poured scented oil over it and then turned. to the disciple and told him to do the same. He stood up as though he were in a dream, She gave him the oil and he poured it over the granite Lingam and yoni, The three then lay down in the same position beside the dark column in the center of the room. She then got up again and gave the blind sculptor a basin of water, “I am the fiver,” she said, “whereas you ate both the stone in the middle of the river and the man who carves it. You foretell the future.” The blind sculptor rose and poured the consecrated water over the disciple’s head. “You are a fish in the tiver,”” he said, “and you must move to the west.” The priestess spoke again. “Even before the first stone was carved,” she said, “the temple was already here. It's always been here. All that happened is that it became visible. Within the temple walls the demiurge gazcs at herself in the mirror. You'll find her absorbed in herself and admiring her vanishing beauty. You must learn all these things, and many mote as well, for soon you will have to pass through those three doors toward something else.” Once again the blind sculptor approached them. He ran his fingers over the faces of the priestess and the disciple. He did so slowly in order to record them in the memory of his bands. The disciple returned to the forest and sat down under the fig tree. No one was there, and he knew the master would 16never return. He stayed there for many years. He subjected himself to the most difficult disciplines intended to purify the body and discovered many new ways to do so. Sometimes he believed the Siddhas were guiding him away from the city of Agharti and he felt that he was caught up in a battle between opposed forces. Then for a time it would seem to him that the eatth was feminine. In dreams he would see twisted rocks try- ing to take on animal forms, attempting to cry out in words their desite for the watmth of animal life. He would call out to them in his decam, urging them to hurty up so that in turn their animal brothers could become men. Then a god with horns and crooked feet appeared, playing a flute. He began to dance and sing: ‘“The vineyard is blue, the wine is red, the blood of the dancers is hot. Come and join us in the forest of Vrindavan!” The disciple would then close his eyes and pray that he might be relieved of this burning passion, Through the years he encountered the whole pantheon of the gods, and he sang and prayed io therm all as he prepared himself, almost unconsciously, for the ritual that was to come. Gradually the disciple became convinced that the priestess of the temple had died. By this time he had discovered the tech- nique of looking and seeing; that is, he had learned the differ- ence between the two, how to really see a flower, a tree, an animal or even a thought. To do this, he had to block all ideas and feelings out of his mind, so that he might see what could be revealed by an impersonal beam of light. His world became transformed as he began to hear the language of animals and tocks and to distinguish between various colors of light. He grew to understand that everything has a soul of its owa and an independent exterior vitality. To reach this stage, he first had to learn about his own body and become acquainted with the instrament which allowed him to see and hear, One day when he awoke from one of his akdreams, he asked himself whether he would see and hear if he had no eyes or ears. To find out, he covered up his exterior body from head to toe. He then began to examine himself from within, looking at his heart, his Jungs, his veins. Gradu- ally he moved up the tree of his spinal colume until he reached his skull, Then he opened his eyes and saw the world for the first time. He used the same technique to look inside, to calm his body and look at himself as though he were a stranger, When he teached the top of the tree, he did not open his ordinary eyes but the third eye between the eyebrows. It was an act of un- folding. The petals opened, and the bird resting there spread its wings. Deeply concentrating on this spot between his eyes, he stopped all thoughts and blocked all images. He sat in the lotus pesition and breathed rhythmically. At length he felt a slight movement at the base of his spine as though a mouth had opened, The feeling moved up his spine and he felt coolness gradually spread through his body. Rhythmic waves moved upward, seeming to expand and destroy his body at the same time. As the waves of burning ice reached his throat and moved even higher, he felt as though he were about to be pushed into a vacuum that would consume his ego and obliterate his identity. He thought he was going to be torn apart by opposing forces. He was overcome with terror: he was on the threshold of death, standing at the edge of the abyss. He resisted with al his strength, for he felt something trying to push him over. And then he crossed over in a fiery chariot. For a while he knew nothing, but before Jong he felt himself falling. He went down faster and faster until at last he floated gently through dark clouds, turning around and around like a sactificial victim being roasted over the flames. He rose again, and crossed over into a region of thin, high air, where he felt himself light and free in the lumin- ous blue heights. Then all of a sudden he was once again a prisoner within 18fout walls, already missing the freedom he had begun to enjoy, He looked at his hands and had the feeling that everything had happened in a second. At the same time, he had lived for centuries in remote periods and submerged worlds. He now had the wisdom with which to open the secret chamber where the Bird of Paradise lives. But it wasn’t as easy as he had hoped. Each time the process was different, and he met new difficulties. He was unable to make the leap as he had done before, Even though he took other trips with his alter-ego or astral body, visiting different regions and meeting beings from other worlds, something always happened to him at the edge of the moment and he couldn't go on. His three-dimensional mind or ego retained its identity, and fought to correct what was happening to him in this alien world. Two opposed forces or worlds battled each other. One universe was ancient and submerged; the other floated on the surface of the waves. Then one day he was overcome by powerful vibrations which rose through him as from the base of a tree. He felt the substance rising rapidly up the trunk and passing into the branches by way of the secret channels, turning the wheels and making the flowers bloom. But upon reaching the top, the fluid was stopped: the ego again asserted itself. The son of life opposed the son of death. The ego wished to direct events and order them in its favor. Once more the disciple found himself caught between the two forces, half-conscious and paralyzed because his con- scious mind was only pattly functioning. Since the exit seemed to be blocked, the vibrations that had been interrupted by the ego became increasingly violent. He felt he was being destroyed in a whirlwind and he began to see blood spots. At that moment a basin of water appeared at his side, As though obeying a secret command, he plunged his invisible hands into it and splashed water over his body. The vibrations diminished and he was soon able to move again. Did the water 19come from the river that flows down from the head of Siva on the top of Mount Kailas? Exhausted by these experiences, the Kaula disciple didn’t even want to open his eyes again, He felt he was losing ail his strength. It was as though he had climbed a mountain and was slipping down the tock face, covered with cold sweat. Then in the shadows he saw a woman coming toward him, She leaned over him and wiped his face with the edge of her sari, He couldn’t tell whether it was an illusion or not, The image was momentarily clear, but soon vanished. Then he heard a voice saying: “I've come to take you away.” Together they lived in a jungle hut and he acted as her servant. He did the chores, preparing the food and bringing water from a neatby fountain. Sometimes she would leave with- out telling him where she was going. He would wait for her patiently, and when eventually she came back he would be happy. She told him about her perfumes and ornaments; in turn he made het a tiara of flowers and a necklace of turquoises and sapphires. She taught him how to anoint her with perfumes and powders, She would then look at herself in the looking- glass just as the carved goddesses did on the walls of the temple. When she came back from her mysterious trips, he would wash her feet in a basin of water he always had ready for her at the door of the hut. When night fell, the forest was alive with whispers. They could hear the howling of the hyenas and the wind beating against the trees. In a clear, sweet voice she would sing songs describing divine love. Then they would lie down outside under a sky heavy with stars, She would sleep on one side, placing her head in the palm of her hand. He stretched himself out at her feet. During this period it seemed as though each of them was living in a dream world or was acting out the events of some 20interior life. He felt the woman was becoming a goddess like one of those carved on the stone walls of the temple. The moon would wax and wane and still he slept at her feet. She would tell him about her childhood, about the games she had played with other children. She also asked him about his childhood and so he told her about it. He spoke of two childhoods, one taking place just then, the other relating to a life in 2 future country in the south- ern part of the world, She was not surprised by this, but looked at a distant point in the treetops and spoke of a city known by the name of Ur. It was there, she said, that she had played with the other children. One night she asked him not to sleep at her fect any longer but to lie down to her left in the bed. The disciple obeyed, crossed his hands on his chest and gazed up at the deep sky. She lay on her right side. The next day she went out at dawn and returned late at night. He was waiting for her, listening for her to come through the jungle. When she arrived, he rose and anointed her feet. That night she asked him to sleep on her right side, and he felt her perfumed breast next to his cheek. Nevertheless, he kept his gaze fixed upon the night sky. There he thought he made out the body of Krishna dancing in the sky-blue garden of Vrindavan, surrounded by all the milkmaids of the universe but dancing with only one. Days and months went by. She kept taking her mysterious trips, but each time she came back. Once he asked her where she had been, and she told him she had been visiting her hus- band. More and more he realized that she was transforming herself into some kind of energy inside him. She gave life to memories he had long carried dormant within him. One night he dreamed about snow-covered mountains. They were not the Himalayas but were in the southern part of the world. There was a woman there with blue eyes and blond hair who looked through him as though he were transparent. He woke up with 21his face covered with tears and realized what he was dreaming about wouldn't happen for another thousand years. She wiped off his tears with her sari and anointed him with the same care with which he had bathed her feet eatlier in the evening. “Why are you ctying?” she asked. For the first time he looked at her as if she were a stranger. “Because I know my wheel is going to turn for another day,” he answered. “The wheel of Padmasambhava, who was mattied on top of the Tree of Life, also continued to turn,” she replied, “The secret marriage is a product of pure mental concenteation. It comes from the light of a single star. You gaze at the star, and if it sends you words spoken by your love, you are married forever.” ‘Tm afraid I have already been married in this way in the future,” he answered. That evening she taught him how to kiss. Lying naked on the grass, she called him to her side. She embraced him with her long arms and brought her lips to his. Her kiss was so gentle it was almost unnoticeable in the heavy scent of jasmine. The following day she left, and he knew she would not re- turn that night. He lay down under the tree and began to concen- trate, Suddenly he had a doubt: was he dreaming his own life? On the fine wood floor a new yantra was drawn in gold and silver, with an outline of colored chalk and powdered sandal- wood. It had nine entrances, for although it represented the universe, it also represented a man’s body. It was a maze. Between the yantra and the entrance to the temple, a triangle was drawn, and then, one by one, a circle, a hexagon and a squatc, Meanwhile old women and wise men consulted the stats and the moon for a propitious day. Over the yantra stood a tripod on which a chalice was balanced. Several exquisite dishes and two catafes of wine and water were on the floor. 22When night came, the Kaula disciple arrived wearing a white tunic. His hair fell over his shoulders and smelled of powders, ashes and oil, He caught sight of the yantra and began a dance that was supposed to represent the flight of the Bird of Paradise. He danced around the yantta looking for the particular private entrance that related to himself, and when he found it, he stopped. The doots then opened, and the witnesses came in accom- panied by their women. They placed themselves around the citcle with situalistic flourishes, carefully avoiding the center. There was a long wait before the woman appeared, but finally she came in, attended by her assistants and wearing a long cloak. Her eyes were closed and she looked as though she were asleep, but she entered the yantca without hesitation or confusion. Her assistants did so as well. He and she then sat down together. After a moment a voice was heard ordering that the feast should begin. The food was consecrated with mantrams sung by the servants and witnesses. The water and the wine were then consecrated with elaborate gestures, turning them into ambrosia, which is at once the blond of the sun end the moon, and the sperm which brings about the second creation of the twice-born. The wine was then poured into the chalice, and the mantram of the sun was recited: Kang, Bang, Tapinyai, Namah Kang, Bang, Tapinyat, Namah Gang, Phang, Ngang, Nang Chang, Dhang, Jhang, Tang, Nyang Nang, Thang, Dang, Thang, Dang After thal, the glass was filled three-quarters full with winc, the rest with water, Thea came the mantram of the moon: Ung, Soma, Mandalaya, Shodasha, Kalatmane, Namah 24The wine was now turned into nectar, destroying the curse which had made it poisonous for centuries. It was now a magic potion which allowed those who drank it to cross the threshold. For this reason it was known as the blood of the sun and the moon, Flowers representing the man and the woman were then thrown into the liquid, and they began to drink from two glasses, passing them back and forth. Another mantram begin- ning with the letter G in honor of Ganesh was recited. With the first glass of wine, the couple ate cooked meat; with the second, fish; with the third, cereal. The ritual had transformed these forbidden foods into the flésh of a god. As they drank the fifth glass of wine, the witnesses sang and a brass horn was blown. After that, there was no more drinking. An invisible voice described the fragrant forests and flowery meadows of Mount Kailas, where Siva and Parvati danced during their magic wedding. « The Kaula disciple and the woman then rose, letting their clothes fall to the ground. A servant brought a basin of water. As they began to bathe each other, the chorus described the body of the woman: it was a pleasure garden, a temple of the sun and moon, Her stomach was a sacrificial altar; her vulva held the fiery dreams of two worlds. Her hair was sacramental Stain, while the soft fuzz on her arms and legs was like summer wheat. Her full breasts were volcanoes which strike fear among those who live in the fields below, and het long legs were toads along which the pilgrim passes. Her eyes were stars, her lips milk and honey. Ske then spoke; “I have fire within my lips. Come and drink it with yours. Be quick, my love; do not hesitate.” Then for a moment they seemed to fall into a trance because the water was pure ambrosia. After leaving the bath they were crowned as king and queen, holding stafis or scepters in theit hands. The disciple then sat down with his legs crossed. The woman was lifted up by her 24assistants, who held her with her legs apart. They raised her to the level of the disciple's face, and then gradually lowered her along his body, touching all its different centers or flowers, until she finally slipped smoothly over his lingam. ‘The man felt as though he had penetrated the woman to her deepest interior region, She then began a slow rhythmic move- ment, while her assistants, who were also naked, reproduced the gestures and actions that ate carved on the temple walls of Khajuraho. They were an ensemble, moving together in a rising cadence, while someone sang: Pure man only woman remains when everything else is lost All the others have died even the open eyes of the Great One have closed The rhythm increased aad grew more intense. ‘The scourge of Smara plays with fire and dances on funeral pyres She wears a crown of human skulls Bless her, praise her! She gives control She guides the vague She delights the brothers of Kaula She leads them weeping with joy to a lake full of nectar and to the top of Mount Kailas Bless her, praise her! For a moment, she seemed to be losing control and began to cy out. But then her lips found the hero’s, and she played rapidly oa him with her tongue. The chorus continued: 25Horror and beauty Her body is Durga’s forest Daughter of Matanga Wife of Brahma Kumari, Lakshmi Pute, pure Concentrating with all his force on the space between his eyebrows, he participated in every detail of the drama, feeling the woman entirely from within, his lips on hers, her legs embracing him and her arms around his neck, While embracing her, he also tried to protect her from herself, by quietly making a sign with his free hand. But the maddening rhythm of the woman neatly undid him, taking him along with her in its frenzy. It was the moment of his greatest trial, and he knew he aust discover a way out through some new inspiration, At that moment he thought of the dead priestess, and as he did so, his semen penctrated himsclf, moving inward toward the base of the tree, where it wakened the fiery serpent. Like liquid flame, it moved up the trunk of the tree, opening the flowers of his garden along the way and releasing cosmic music. He then opened his eyes and with infinite tenderness held the woman and calmed her, But the feast was not yet over, since the witnesses had to ditie, and their celebration was his own flesh. 26TWO C he &. verieesBho festival time in the city. People were singing in the streets, and the balconies were covered with flowers. ‘Through one of the narrow cobblestone alleys a knight was pulling his horse along by the bridle. He kept running into people rattling tambourines, blowing trumpets and playing flutes, They all wore bright costumes. In an arcade he met a young girl and asked her what was happening. She told him it was a fiesta in honor of May, and then she added, “It may be the last one we'll have, because Friar Domingo has banned the nightingale,” She explained that the nightingale told her whether her lover would visit her when her husband was away. The flowers were supposed to keep evil away from Carcassonne. “Tell me,” said the knight, “do you know where Archdeacon Sans Morlane lives? I want to see him.” She told him that he was a Cathat in hiding from the Inquisi- tion. She also said it would be particularly hard to find him since everyone was in disguise for May Day. Husbands were lovers and lovers husbands. Everything was topsy-turvy. “That’s the way life really is,” murmured the knight. Just then an old man who had overheard the conversation came up to them. ‘This is the ancient feast of the Queen of the May,” he announced. He then took off his mask, turned into a youth and kissed the girl. It became cvident that the youth was 29really a girl and that the other young girl the knight had ques- tioned was returning her kisses with passion. “T'll never know who you are, but I know I love you,” she said. It turned out she was a troubadour, In the evening the knight finally succeeded in meeting Sans Morlane. He found him in the, basilica near the left-hand door, wearing a blue cape and standing on a gravestone. The knight approached and told him he wanted to go to Montsegur. “Are you a Cathar?” he asked, “Have you received the Con- solamentum?” “No,” he replied, “but I've had a dream of love. I've seen her beckoning me on the other side of a deawbridge. She was trying to tell me a secret. I've got to cross that bridge so I can enter one of the five gates of the castle.” “But Montsegur has only two entrances,” he answered, “one on the north and one on the south. In fact, there’s really only onc, since the northern entrance is reserved for those who are known as the Perfect Ones.” “I kept hearing two names in my drcam,” the knight per- sisted, “Montabor and Montsegur.” “But are you a Cathar?” “Of course, How else could I know your name, know about yout death and see you standing here on your tombstonc?” “You're right,” he said. “Only someone who lives in the future can visit here without endangering us. Very well, you should go to Fanjeaux, where the last Cathar lives. It will take you seven hundred years to find him. His name is Roques Marceau. You should also try to sec Esclarmonde de Foix.” The knight then left the flowery city of Carcassonne and rode toward Fanjeaux, passing through patches of mist and hearing sounds of war preparations along the way. Finally, in an isolated place he found the last Cathar, Roques Marceau, He looked into his eyes and there was no need to say anything. The two man recognized each other, “We've met before,” he said. “Haven't you already come to 30see me, to have your horoscope read or to have me sketch the colors of your soul? The boy who hands me my brushes isn't here just now.” “No, I've only come to ask the way to Montsegur.” “Always asking about mountains. I told you once before that Montsegur is not outside but inside. Why do you keep search- ing in the external world?” “TI must. Besides, I also want to see Esclarmonde. Didn't she build Montsegur?” “Yes,” he replied, “she did what her dreams told her to do." Roques Marceau then led the knight to a place in the Rua de Castello whete seven hundred years earlier the castle of Fanjeaux had stood, “But there’s nothing here but ruins,” said the knight; “hardly one stone on another.” “You've come back too late,” he replied. “It’s been centuries since the castle of Montsegur was captured and destroyed,” The knight paused for 2 while, looking at the ruins and wondering whether he was dreaming of the past or the future. His meditations were soon interrupted by the last Cathar. “Since you’re here,” he said, “I'll tell you a secret. It’s really your own destiny. At the bottom of Montsegur a beautiful gicl lies asleep. No one has ever wakened her. She is being kept asleep there by the Perfect Ones, who are waiting for a savior to come from far away. When she wakes, Montsegur will be destroyed and the Perfect Ones will die in the flames.” “But I've come to save Montsegur, not to destroy it. I cer- tainly won’t wake her up.” “The Perfect Ones know what they're doing; they don’t make mistakes, They act according to their destiny and are guided by someone else who thinks and dreams their existence. Perhaps they are guided by this girl. For them the destruction of Mont- segur would be a triumph, Therefore you must go to this girl and make her your mistress, That's the only way to save Montsegur now.” 31Deeply troubled, the knight left the last Cathar. He was hungry and tired, and went to an inn, where he asked for wine and bread. A troubadour sat at a nearby table. “Long ago,” he said, “we carved temples, but now we make them in our verses.” “You believe in reincarnation? Don’t you know it's forbid- den?” z “The Perfect Ones believe in it,” he replied, “and that’s enough for me, Just now we're not allowed to mention it in our songs, but if Montsegur survives, you'll see the idea widely accepted, even though the Perfect Ones doubt whether it should be extended to everyone, Only those who have received the Consolamentum really understand it.” “Have you received it?” “I'm blind,” said the troubadour. “Why don’t you sing us a song, then?” And so the troubadour began: I shall build a castle as carefully as T can with trees and flowers and gardens full of birds In the tall towers of the castle up above the knight will find his lady and symbols of his love. The first door is open but the second’s always closed ‘That’s to let her test the devotion of the knight to see if he is worthy to awaken her delight. The open doors and windows Jet the cool air ia, for the walls are dark and heavy like love without an end Even the open fire seems cold compared to the flame of love. 32Whoever gains this palace finds peace at the last No foe will succeed in breaking down its walls This is the sacted message I bring from afar away. The troubadour stopped. Opposite him the knight had fallen asleep with his head on his arms, hunched over the wooden table. He was dreaming of the drawbridge. A girl dressed in white appeared on the other side. She was calling to him: “Hurry, cross the bridge. You and I are one.” Afterward the knight wandered alone in the mountains, where he eventually came upon 2 cave. There he stayed for days and months. The troubadour would come and bring him food, and after a while he became a continual though unob- trusive companion, One day he told the knight he had done well to stay in a cave, He said that the Perfect Ones carved signs on the walls of their caves centuries ago, They made pictures of human faces, fish and doves. Little by little the knight began to perceive a face on the rock wall. It was a woman's, and strangely familiar. The man was alarmed, not knowing who had carved it, or who it repre- sented, but something made him adore it, In the distance a stream tan by, and in the evening the knight would listen to it. He thought he heard voices coming from a faraway time and place. Meanwhile, in the dark air of his cave hung a message he could not understand. Once again the troubadour began to sing: Tn the words of Percival when he was still alive “Be strong and brave. Don’t ask whom you serve else you'll soon lose the lance and the Grail.” 33When I see you, Lady, I forget all else J only want to speak, to beg But this I cannot do. J live all day in dreams, Encouraged by the thin air of the cave, the knight also began to live in dreams. Little by little he became obsessed by the face he saw on the cavern wall. He would repeatedly ask it questions. Then finally the shadowy face began to loosen itself from the wall. As this went on, the image of a woman’s body began to take shape at the entrance of the cave. It didn’t have a face but approached him and went up to the stone face, which it lifted up and placed on its own body. “Now I can finally speak,” it said, “I will speak in the name of all the others because I am the master of their masters. I control the Perfect Ones in all their being. T come from a great distance. With the help of the Cathats and the troubadouts I shall take possession of this whole region. I am the Mother, and T alone know the secret.” The knight believed he had heard these words in some other place and grew anxious to meet the Perfect Ones and ask them directly. Then he remembeted that the troubadour had told him to hurry, since what he was dealing with might easily disappear. Moreover, the Cathats were not likely to reveal their secrets to strangers. He then went out to the edge of the cave and shouted for the troubadour, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice. Finally he fell asleep on the grass, At dawn the troubadour brought him goat's milk. The knight asked him where he’d been and told him how he'd called out for him. He then asked how much longer he would have to remain in the cave: he was anxious to go to Montsegur. There was little time left, for the castle was under siege. He was des- perate to be on his way. ‘The troubadour replied that it took at least twenty years of training to be ready, “How long have you been here?” he asked. “A few centuries,” answered the knight. “Let me see, we are 34now in the year 1244, and I came here from Asia in 900. Yet in a sense I feel I’ve been here only a few minutes.” Spring and summer passed by with the help of the troubadour. The power of art over nature was enough to sing the time away and jumble the seasons. Here is one of his songs: When the days grow long in May I listen to the nightingale and when I walk at dusk I consider my love, so far away. I'm so sad and‘bent with desire that neither song nor flower cheers my wintry heart. Snow began to fall, and icicles formed at the entrance of the cave. Nevertheless the knight did not feel cold. He wasn’t really there any more. THis body felt like an icicle, but his mind traveled, and moved with the swiftness of a living bird. His first flight took him to the foot of a mountain where he began to climb a narrow path. Far above he could see a stone house. After a while he entered a small courtyatd containing a pair of gates that guarded a tunnel leading into the mountain. He left his horse outside and opened the gates. Inside, the passageway was lit by a light that secmed to have no soutce. At the end of the tunnel thete was a round room. A small door opened, and the knight entered. Inside, the room was brightly lit with mirrors that rose tier on tier to the top of the mountain, ‘The knight realized he was not involved in personal or historical time. Ile was climbing a mountain of the mind on the other side of an event, passing through centuries, in the light’s shadow. He stared up through the long passage that Jed to the top of the mountain, and there he saw someone look- ing at him from one of the windows of the stone house. This person said,. “Traveler, go back; return to your own time.” Below, at the foot of the mountain, stretched a lake of deep green water. 35Yet even if there were no relationship to the time or place of Montsegur, the knight's adventures must have had something to do with it, otherwise he could not have continued as he did. Once again he undertook his quest for Montsegur, and he found it in a special sense, even though he made a mistake in time, What he saw at the top of the mountain were the ruins of the castle of Montsegur. AH that remained were a few stone walls, He climbed up from the foot of the mountain to look at them. It was a brilliant blue day, and the light made the snow luminous. Afier a while he passed by a stone inscribed with a date and a few words. He continued on, climbing up the steep hillside. It became increasingly difficult as he pushed through the snow and ice, and in the end he decided he had to go back down. He returned in a dismal mood. From time to time he would stop to look back at the stone rnins at the top of the mountain. When he reached the place where he had first glimpsed the ruins, he paused to look at them for the Jast time. He realized he had not seen a single person or animal all day, only the old stone walls of Montsegur. Then he thought he saw something teaching out from those ruins toward the blue sky. It looked as though a pair of arms were praying or imploring someone for help. As he watched he felt he was teceiving a message from another world, 2 region of extraotdinarily pure light sending him a sign of love. The sight of these stone arms, whether they existed or not, silhouetted against the snow of the mountain peaks, moved him deeply, and he accepted the signal, not daring to interrupt the vision with a gesture of any kind. It was true he had not reached the summit. He had come al the wrong time. But the experience made him realize that his effort had been recognized. They would not Jet him reach the top, but they expected him to try. With this understanding, the knight understood that he was not yet prepared for the ultimate test. He would have to go back to the cave and con- template the Mother's face. 36When he returned, he discovered that the face had disap- peared. He looked everywhere for it, following the fissures and scraping aside the snow and ice with his bate hands, ‘Then he began to doubt whether a woman had ever come into the cave and put the head on her owa body, like a mask. But in the midst of his doubts 2 new figure appeared. She came into the cave with bare feet, wearing a long white gown which nearly reached the ground, Without touching the stalactites, she made her way into the interior of the cave and walked over to the place where the woman's face had been., As she walked, her eyes were open and her arms hung down by her sides. “Tve come down from the mountain even though I am asleep. I've been slecping for ages and have been waiting for you to wake mc up. Unless you do that here in your cave, Montsegur will never be destroyed.” “But I've come to defend Montsegur,’’ exclaimed the knight. “You won't be saved until it’s destroyed,” she replied. With her arms extended she moved toward the knight. As she ap- proached, she seemed to emanate a perfume of flowers from another world, a distillation from ancient tombs. The knight trembled and tears ran down his cheeks. When he looked at her hand in the half-light of the cave he saw a little white spot between her fingers, Leprosy, he thought. I've seen it in another world. With that he knelt down before the woman. “I'll do what you want,” he said. “Pil obey your-wishes and follow you about. Then one day I'll awaken you and Montsegur will be de- stroyed. I don’t want any help from God unless it comes through you. She had slept fot more than three centuries at the base of the mountain on which the castle of Montsegur was built. The Perfect Ones had found her sleeping there and had teft her alone because they knew that once she was disturbed, their 37castle would be destroyed. They were aware this would eventu- ally happen and were serene about it. At times they almost wished for it. Few knew of the room where she lay, or the secret passage that led to it at the foot of the mountain. It was a dark, bare foom and she was stretched out.on a stone platform and covered with a transparent veil, like a bride. Her arms were crossed on her breast, her hair hung down on either side and her feet were bare. She looked alive cnough to make people tealize she was only asleep. Sometimes in the middle of the night she would open her eyes and unfold her hands. She would gather up her hair and move about the oom. She even walked up the passageway that led to the top of the mountain. The Perfect Oues who guarded the castle knew immediately when she had risen from her bed, or tomb, at the foot of the hill, They did nothing. They would merely watch with ecstasy and wonder, overcome by the mystery of her existence. More than one knight guarding the castle sighed as he watched het walk along the battlements or pause at a sentry fire as though she were warming herself, Then with her open blind eyes she would stare out over the valley and river below in hope of finding the knight who would come at last. After their first encounter she went away for a long time. The troubadour then came with his lute, sat down next to a tree outside the cave and began to speak: “You're now the sup- plicant, What you are going through was revealed to me by the first troubadour. He received the message from a falcon perched on a golden branch of one of the oldest trees in Eden.” He then fepeated the message he had heard: “Only he who is prepared will reach Montsegur.” And with that he left. Finally she came. Standing asleep in the snow outside the cave, she started to speak to the knight. ‘'Let’s sit and talk,’ she said. “You can do what you want with me. I won't defend myself.” 38The knight responded quietly. “It’s 1 who am at your feet, hoping to be a mirror for your beautiful image. I hope some- how that my words will get through to your dreams. Your beautiful whiteness and purity justify my long pilgrimage. Moreover, F can see bloodstains and wounds on your delicate feet. They're also covered with sand from the deserts you've been crossing for centuries. Your long legs are like the columns of a temple or like the long paths I walk along. Your stomach is the valley of the moon where ancient tribes celebrate their ritual. Your breast is the summit of the mountain where you sleep, your forchead is like the-crest of the moon seen from the northern gate of Montsegur. Your eyes are a bridge I've not yet crossed but which brought a message that reached me during the darkest night. Your pale hands and fingers are scratched by the rough tombs you've struggled to open for centuries.” He then fell silent and she approached him with a shudder. She opened her arms and stretched out her hands in search of his face. Her eyes were open, but they looked beyond him into the night. “O my lover,” she said, “if ever you become mine .. . if ever a night comes when I may lie down by your side and clasp you in my naked arms. I give you all my Jove, my cyes, my life.” Her hands found his face. She pulled him toward her very gently, and her lips touched his like a momentary feather of snow. Then she left, passing over the surface of the ice as though walking along a ray of moonlight. The troubadour continued to bring him food. He told him the castle of love had five entrances and that three remained to be discovered. He also added that he would sing no more be- cause there was nothing more to add to what the woman had already said. The knight now entered a new stage of delight, He was filicd with ccstasy, and his days and nights were marked by a delicate awareness. He walked through the white forest and 39whenever he was brushed by a snowflake or saw a bird take flight, he thought of the kiss he had received from his lady. More and more he began to live in her. Her solitude became his, and he felt himself enveloped by her sleeping essence. The troubadour then came to say that she would come that night. He told the troubadour to wait for her at the entrance of the cave. He imagined her getting ready to leave the castle. Still asleep, she removed her hands from her breast and rose from the stone bed at the foot of the mountain..She moved silently through the dack passages, and the cold emanating from her dimmed the fires as she passed by them. He knew she had entered the forest where his cave was because he felt himself getting so chilled that his flesh burned with the cold. When she arrived, she looked deep into his eyes, without secing any- thing. Then she let her gown fall slowly from her shoulders, first revealing her breasts, and then the rest of her body. She stood before him naked, trembling and vibrating, but with a triumphant smile on her face. In it he recognized the look of the Mother on the wall of the cave. Without moving, and paralyzed by his fearful ecstasy, the knight gazed at the girl's body, murmuring a single word over and over again. Het body exuded an intangible substance that penetrated him. He realized she possessed a magic power, and his feelings went beyond those of love or desire. He was con- fronting a vision that emerged from the depths of time, and her silent presence contributed to his understanding. When will this pale winter end? When will the snow melt, and the ice? Will the nightingale ever sing again? ‘Without hesitation she had come back to the knight's bed which was made of branches and skins. She was naked and leaned overt him to undress him. Then she lay down by his side, crossed her arms over her breasts and gazed at the ceiling of the cave without seeing him, Caught in her own dreams, 40staring at her private sky, she began to speak. “My knight,” she said, “I've not come to you but you have come to me at the foot of the mountain, You've entered the circular stone tomb whete I lie dead or asleep. And now you must wake me up according to the directions I give you. Touch me with your lips and hands. I need your caresses, Start with my hair, thea take hold of my breasts, linger there for a while, letting your fingers encircle them. They are the fruit of a golden tree with two small suns that shine when touched by the tip of your fingers. Press your lips softly on them and then move down to my stomach, which is the deep night sky. Put your head there and listen to my shadowy heart. Then move your gentle hands down to my legs. I'll give you refuge in my knees,” The girl trembled so much it seemed as though she might wake from her dream. Embracing the knight, she returned all the warmth she had taken from him before. Her hands caressed him, touching centers that were dormant within him. Whole worlds were aroused in his flesh. She had turned the key and was reviving the latent power of his flesh The knight kept his mind as empty as possible. He knew he had to let her play the active role. One mistake ot indiscretion would ruin everything. She would never again wake up. Mont- scgur would therefore be neither destroyed nor saved. He wondered how many knights must have failed this ultimate test called Asag. “My love,” he said with the greatest delicacy, “put your head here on my breast. You are ready to wake up from your tong sleep. We must therefore both begin to live in this new dimension, in this new condition of waking sleep.” Once again the Mother’s face appeared on the wall of the cave. Insinuatingly it detached itself and approached the knight. “Come, take me,” it said. ‘Take me like a warrior, a real knight. I'll give you my heart to devour and afterward we can exchange blood.” 41“Its too late now,” he teplied. “I'm attached to another. Love has only one purpose, and that is the fusion of hearts.” The woman's face faded from the wall. Once again the girl returned and pressed hetself upon him, kissing him with open lips. She sighed toward him and gave him her heart. “Now you have two hearts,”’ she said. “You must now give me youts so that I can live.” p The knight then kissed her in the same way she had kissed him. He sighed toward her interior and gave her his heart. Later, sitting at the entrance of the cave, the kni ght thought about what had happened. His heart was now in one piece with hex, and his spirit had its own identity. The heart is a mirtor where the lover sees his beloved. The knight now entered Montsegur. He went into her heart, although he did not stop living in the cave, He was in both places at the same time. He knew everything that happened to her and experienced her feelings. She also lived within him, Having made the heart the center of their being, they changed their mede of consciousness. The knight dreamed her dreams and shared her vision. He knew her sorrows and ecstasies, and she knew his. He now had a woman's heart and she a man’s. This fusion meant that each had a greater life: each had a heart with wings. They could move through space and visit the castle, the cave, the base of the mountain where the enemy was camped, and no one could stop them. A substance as delicate as a breath of air moved from her to him, and acquired its tangible life within him, so that the two were always mingled together, Finally the snows vanished. The knight came out of his cave and rode toward Montsegur. Since his heart was already there, he knew the way. After a while the troubadour joined him, and the knight grectcd him, saying, “Let’s go to the battle and destroy everything that’s perishable within us. You'd better sing us a song to help us get through the enemy lines.” 42The troubadour took up his lute and began to sing: Ta hot summer have I great rejoicing When the tempests kill the earth’s foul peace, And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson, And the fierce thunders roar me their music And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, opposing, And through all the riven skies God's swords clash. And I love to see the sun rise blood-crimson. And I watch his spears through the datk clash And it fills all my heart with rejoicing And pries wide my mouth with fast music When I see him so scorn and defy peace, His lone might ’gainst all darkness opposing. And let the music of the swords make them crimson!* They climbed the mountain path to the top, where they found the entrance to the castle of Montsegur. The drawbridge was lowered, She stood on the cther side and said, “We are one.” He was then able to cross the bridge. The troubadour came in like his shadow. But his story ends here, for as he said to the knight before leaving, “Your story is not a tale of love like ours: it is more secret and ancient. Yours is the solar story of loveless love that was lost in the Flood. T’'ve only a glimmering of it. Our stories tell of love affairs between common men and queens, whereas yours are always of exalted people, kings and queens. In the same way, your sleeping beauty is a queen and her lover a king.” Meanwhile the knight continued on, guided by his lady. He was greeted in a large square room by the knights of the castle. They sat at a round table and each had at his side a companion. His lady crossed the citcle and stood beside him as he waited for what was to come next. She then spoke, “Dear love,’ she said, “what has happened to my heart?” “It’s here in my breast making two beats at a time, repeating * Ezra Pound. 43your name and mine. It’s a looking-glass and also a sand-clock that tells me how much time I still have.” The knights seated around the table nodded their approval, and so he was allowed to enter the circle and sit with her beside him as a defender of Montsegur. Later she showed him the tooms of the castle, how it was defended and where its secret passages went, She also led him to the hidden chamber at the base of the mountain where she had lain asleep for so Jong. High in the towers the view extended over the Pyrenees. As they stood there in the Jate-afternoon light, she began to speak, She told him that for centuries these mountains had been a refuge for holy men. When the great Flood drowned the contincat of the god-men, and when the third moon fell on the earth, the keys of their knowledge were saved and kept in the mountains. They were all that survived from one world to another. The Grail was really a piece of Tucifer’s stone crown that fell onto our planet. At his defeat, his crown was broken into a thousand ftagments and spread throughout the firmament. Only when they were all gathered together would Lucifer be vindicated and return to the throne. He is the morning stat and the guardian of love. She explained that the stone that fell on carth was an essential part of the broken crown. It shone brighter than the sun and was like frozen fire with its green and white light. It was able to unite what is dispersed and to retutn everything to its source. Only those who walk backward can find it, It is a talisman that links the individual with the morning star. For centuries this talisman has gone from hand to hand, Originally it came from the Orient, but it was taken from there and has finally come to this place. When Montsegur falis, it will be sent to some distant land, perhaps to a place that is still unknown. ‘In the meantime,” she said, “Montsegur will always be special, for its story will pass down through the ages, transforming the lives of all who know it.” She raised her hand to protect herself from the evening sun, 44and once again he noticed the white mark between her fingers. Pointing toward the Pyrenees, she told him about the fortified caves of Ornalac and of Black Mountain, where those in search of the great secret were trained. She said that the whole valley was more or Jess a temple and that the center of the world was wherever the talisman was kept. “We must move on,” she concluded, “and carry the treasure ftom one place to another until it reaches its last refuge, Venus of the morning star, There we shall reconsttuct a ctown as beautiful as it was before it was destroyed.” He explored the castle so as to find out as much as he could about its subterrancan passages. He felt at home there, but also somewhat constricted. He therefore asked her to lead him to the northern gate, so that he might visit the Perfect Ones who lived outside it and prepare for the great battle that was to come. She looked at him fixedly for a moment. Then she took him by the hand and led him into an empty corridor. He soon passed through the northern gate of Montsegut, leaving her behind. Outside there was complete silence, and the air was still and clear. An open terrace led to the edge of a cliff, while beyond stood the glistening white mountains. Near the edge was a small group of cabins surrounded by bushes and low tzees. Everything was imbued with a faint lavender light. He walked toward one of the cabins on the precipice. Tt had no windows, but the door was open and he entered. In the middle of the room, sitting ctoss-legged, was the Perfect One. His eyes were fixed and open, and he had a vague smile on his face. He seemed to be in a trance, for when he spoke his lips did not move, and the sound came from the roof of the room. “Diaus vos benesiga, Come in,” For a long time nothing was said, Then, whether he spoke the words or not, the man asked where he was. “Don’t you realize,” came the reply, “that you're visiting 45the ruins of a castle destroyed seven hundred years ago? All you're seeing is the ghostly shadow of something that hasn't existed on earth for centutics. It exists only in the light of a distant star. You are coming here from the future. You've been able to cross intersecting planes of light. Perhaps you're in a parallel time in which Montsegur both exists and is destroyed. But the fall of Montsegur is always taking place, each time with a different luminosity. Even though these paral- Tel times and planes cross one another, they do not touch. They are like bells sounding in closed universes, What happens here on carth has altcady bad a prior existence somewhere else through some other concentration of light and continuum of time. You and J ate taking part in the distant drama of Mont- segut and at the same time are engaged in a personal drama within outselves.”’ The Perfect One sat motionless and a faint light played on his face. It seemed as though he then spoke again: “We were opposed to marriage and to physical copulation because they gave birth to new bodies that could only be corrupted by noth- ingness and death. Instead we wanted a copulation of the mind, a mental wedding of the sort performed in the secret ceremony inside the castle. That was the real initiation, the true secret and treasure of Montsegur.” They say that just before the castle fell, four knights suc- ceeded in escaping by means of a silver rope. They took the treasure of Montsegut with them. Three of their names are known. But the fourth is not. 46THREE (Che WvdlosCre midday sun filtered through the thick Jeaves and ferns of the forest, making the air luminous and green. Red copihue flowers were scattered among the pine trees, and the atmosphere was suffused by the penetrating odor of the dark forest. The man rode along on a horse with a white star on its forehead. As he passed under the great trees, he thought how open and benign the woods were, and how pleasant the mur- four of waterfalls and stceams. The only danger came from the light. It created a sense of longing, a dream of invisible beings who had once inhabited the place and who might still be found there. From time to time the horse stopped, widened its nostrils and neighed, as though it sensed their presence. They continued on until they emerged from the forest into an open valley. Ahead of them rose the massive snow-covered range of the Andes. At the end of a long day the man dis- mounted and tied his horse to a tree. He then walked toward an opening that looked like a cave. A figure came out of it and walked toward him with arms extended. He had a long beard and was dressed in a poncho that flapped in the breeze. He stared straight ahead, but when he came near the man he stretched out his arms and placed them on his shoulders. Then he ran his fingers over his face, and the man felt he had ex- petienced this once before, as though the fingers had modeled his face in another age. 49Later they sat down by the fire. He saw that the old man was blind but that his dead eyes were blue. “I'm not surprised that you're blind,” he said, “but I didn’t expect you to have blue eyes and white skin. I though! you'd be a wild man with dark hair and Mongol features,” “We'll talk of that later,” replied the old man, “but first you must tell me why you came here,” “I was told that a wise man lived in these parts who knew all about herbs. T'm looking for an herb that will cure a friend. There’s some sort of medicina! coot in this part of the world, some kind of moss or resin that’s strong enough to save her.” “There's no herb that can cure her. Her illness is in her blood.” The old man then spoke of the way in which vegetables and mincrals imitate the organs of the body. The lungwort, for example, is fibrous and very much like the lung itself. ‘The copihue is a bell flower full of blood, while the rose is coagu- lated blood. “There's a dead man,” he said, “hidden in these mountains with a rose in his breast.”” “But T’ve come for medicine,” The hermit was not to be silenced. “The loica bird also has a red breast,"’ he continued, “and she helps me find the cure. But don’t worry: you don’t have to take the medicine directly to her, All you have to de is touch it with your hand and then touch her breast, This illness concerns her invisible body, not her visible one. Illness is a disequilibrium between these two bodies and the breath or current that unites them, The stars are also important, for they have an influence on human bodies. ‘What's your friend’s birthstone?” “Topaz,” The hermit went on as though he had heard nothing. “The South Pole sends out an orange-colored emanation,” he said, “and represents the earth’s sexual organs, The left side of the body also emits an orange light.” “T still don’t understand why you are white. I thought you'd be an Indian.” “Quetzalcoatl was also white. Don’t you know that America 50