The only alternative left for mankind is discipline. Discipline is the only deterrent against the foreign installation. But by discipline I don’t mean harsh routines. I don’t mean waking up every morning at five-thirty and throwing cold water on yourself until you’re blue. Sorcerers understand discipline as the capacity to face with serenity odds that are not included in our expectations. For them, discipline is an art: the art of facing infinity without flinching, not because they are strong and tough but because they are filled with awe.
Sorcerers say that discipline makes the glowing coat of awareness unpalatable to the flyer. The result is that the predators become bewildered. I suppose that an inedible glowing coat of awareness is not part of their cognition, I suppose. After being bewildered, they don’t have any recourse other than refraining from continuing their nefarious task.
If the predators don’t eat our glowing coat of awareness for a while, it’ll keep on glowing. Simplifying this matter to the extreme, I can say that sorcerers, by means of their discipline, push the predators away long enough to allow their glowing coat of awareness to grow beyond the level of the toes. Once it goes beyond the level of the toes, it grows back to its natural size. The sorcerers of ancient sorcerers used to say that the glowing coat of awareness is like a tree. If it is not pruned, it grows to its natural size and volume. As awareness reaches levels higher than the toes, tremendous maneuvers of perception become a matter of course.
The grand trick of those sorcerers of ancient times was to burden the flyers‘ mind with discipline and inner silence. They found out that if they taxed the flyers‘ mind with inner silence, the foreign installation would flee, giving to them the total certainty of its foreign origin.
The real danger is that the flyers‘ mind may win by getting you tired and forcing you to quit by playing the contradiction between what it says and what I say.
You see, the flyers‘ mind has no competitors. When it proposes something, it agrees with its own proposition, and it makes you believe that you’ve done something of worth. The flyers‘ mind will say to you that whatever Juan Matus is telling you is pure nonsense, and then the same mind will agree with its own proposition. That’s the way they overcome us.
The foreign installation comes back, I assure you, but not as strong, and a process begins in which the fleeing of the flyers‘ mind becomes routine, until one day it flees permanently. A sad day indeed! That’s the day when you have to rely on your own devices, which are nearly zero. There’s no one to tell you what to do. There’s no mind of foreign origin to dictate the imbecilities you’re accustomed to.
This is the toughest day of a sorcerer’s life, for the real mind that belongs to us, the sum total of our experience, the tonal, after a lifetime of domination has been rendered shy, insecure, and shifty. Personally, I would say that the real battle of sorcerers begins at that moment. The rest is merely preparation.
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