Those who have already passed to the other shore are the ones who truthfully know what the rigorous ordeals of initiations are...
It is not a crime to alienate ourselves from the monster of a thousand faces (humanity) in order to efficiently help it.
I was thirty years old when I was submitted to frightful ordeals. What I saw then, what happened to me, is relevant to narrate.
It was during one night of mystery when I felt the howling of the hurricane beside me. I then comprehended...
How lonely I found myself on that night; nevertheless, no matter where I situated myself, here, there, or anywhere, all of a sudden I saw myself always surrounded by crowds. I did not know how all of a sudden all of these people were surrounding me, and then suddenly...
The hurricane was howling again, this is how I comprehended “what was gone with the wind.” Today I utter this because...
so far away reverberates
which the silence
in the serene
black night did interrupt?
Is it perhaps the horse of the speedy race
that runs at full gallop in the flying escape,
or the rough roar of the hungry wild beast,
or perhaps the whistle of the north wind,
or the hoarse echo of the distant thunder
which in the deep caverns resounded,
or the boisterous sea which threatens with its engorged bosom,
a new Luzbel, for the throne of his God?
All of those specters from that night of mystery were also seen by this great poet who sang as follows:
covers the sky
and by spirits
here is the wind
and there, they go across
and here they gather
and there they spin
they now adjoin
they now disappear
they wander, they fly.
Vague crowd of vain phantoms
of diverse shapes, of assorted colors
riding on goats, on serpents and on crows,
and on canes of brooms, with a silent murmur...
They pass, they flee,
they come, they grow,
and within shadows
close and distant
now they vanish,
now they evade me
now they flurry
in a fantastic aerial masquerade
on all sides of me.
With all these wails, howls, whistles, neighs, squeaks, bellows, gaggles, meows, barks, snorts, snores, and croaks, the poet seer keeps listening and talking to us with words which are like the vivid and phosphoric strokes of El Greco, and like such extraordinary apparitions as those found in “The Caprices” of Goya.
In many places, there were shields with rampant lions, shells of Compostela, beheaded moors, fleurs de lis and trouts, palaces everywhere and big houses in ruins, poverty and more poverty.
Often, I had to courageously confront the black powers of the air, to which the Apostle Paul of Tarsus refers in chapter II, verse I of the Epistle to the Ephesians.
Unquestionably, the most dangerous adversary in that night had the fatal title of “Anagarika.” I want to emphatically refer to the demon Cherenzi. [Editor's Note: Not the Chenrezi of the Tibetans]
That repugnant, tenebrous creature had taught Black Tantrism (Sexual Magic with seminal ejaculation) to the world.
As a result of such Black Tantrism, just by glancing at him one could see that he has a very developed diabolical tail and horrifying horns.
This leftist Tantric demon came before my presence accompanied by two other demons.
He appeared to be very satisfied with his abominable Kundabuffer organ (a terribly satanic, witch-like tail), an outcome or corollary of Black Tantrism, which is the projected sexual fire from the coccyx, downwards towards the atomic infernos of the human being.
Out of the blue (as it is said), I asked him the following question, “Do you know me?”
His answer: “Yes, I saw you one night in the city of Bacata when I was dictating a lecture.”
Certainly, what happened afterwards was not very pleasant: that “Anagarika” had recognized me; infuriated, he threw fire through his eyes and tail... He wanted to hurt me in a violent way. I defended myself with the best conjurations of High Magic, and he finally flew off with his attendants.
While the hurricane was howling, I solitarily continued on my way during that night of mystery...
Within the profound depths of my consciousness I had the strange sensation of departing from everything and everybody...
Panting and tired after having fought repeatedly against the tyranny of the prince of the powers of the air (the spirit that now worked in disobedient children) I entered inside the Gnostic Church.
This temple of luminous marble with its unusual reflectivity looked as if it was made out of crystal.
The unconquered terrace of this Transcended Church, like a glorious acropolis, dominated the solemn area of a sacred pinery...
From that terrace, the resplendent starry firmament was pictured as in the Atlantean temples of ancient times. Those now buried Atlantean temples were longing for the extraordinary poetry of Maeterlinck. Those temples were where Asuramaya, the astrologer, a disciple of Narada, made observations in order to discover the chronological cycles of thousands of years, which he then taught to his beloved disciples in the light of the pale Moon and which is still practiced today by his devout successors.
Slowly I advanced inside of this holy place, walking very quietly and with a reverent attitude.
However, something surprised me: I saw a certain personage who crossed my way and blocked my passage. Another battle? I prepared to defend myself, but this personage very amiably smiled and exclaimed with a voice of paradise, “You do not scare me; I know you very well!”
Ah! Finally, I recognized him... He was my Guru Adolfo, whom I have always called by the diminutive “Adolfito” (little Adolf). Bless my soul, oh God, and Hail Mary! But... what was I doing?
“Forgive me, Master! I did not recognize you...”
Then, by hand, my Guru conducted me towards the interior of the Gnostic Church...
The Mahatma took a seat, and afterward invited me to sit by his side. It was impossible to decline such an invitation.
Certainly, the dialogue that occurred afterwards between master and disciple was extraordinary.
“Here, within the Gnostic Church,” said the Hierophant solemnly, “you can only be married with one woman, you cannot be with two.
“Long ago, in the past, you gave vain hopes to a certain lady ‘X’ who, for that reason, in spite of time and distance, is still waiting for you.
“Obviously, you are unconsciously performing a very harmful action towards her, because she lives in a city in complete misery waiting for you.
“This lady could well return into the bosom of her family in the country, and it is clear that her economical problems would then be resolved.”
Astonished and perplexed when listening to these words, I hugged my Guru, with infinite gratitude for his advice.
“Master,” I said, “what could you say about my spouse Litelantes?”
Answer, “She is worthier for you for Sexual Magic, the Sahaja Maithuna... With this Adept-Lady you can work in the Ninth Sphere (sex).”
“Oh, Guru, what I hope for with infinite longings, at any cost to me, is the awakening of the Kundalini and the union with the Innermost...”
“But, what have you said, oh disciple - at any cost?”
“Yes, Master, I have said this...”
“A payment was given to someone on this night, and to him the duty of helping you in the awakening of your Kundalini has been entrusted.
“You have passed the Direne ordeal,” exclaimed the Hierophant; then while placing on my head a turban of immaculate whiteness that holds a button of gold on the forehead, he said, “Let us go towards the altar...”
By standing with promptness, I walked with my Holy Guru to the holy altar...
Still I remember that solemn instant in which I had to swear a solemn oath as I kneeled before the sacred altar…
“At any cost!” exclaimed my Master with a great voice and with intense vibration; this phrase was repeated from sphere to sphere...
I then covered my solar plexus with my left hand and extended my dexterous hand upon the Holy Grail while saying, “I swear it!”
A tremendous oath!
It has been stated that this cup, which was carved out of an enormous emerald, was used by the great Kabir Jesus in his last supper; genuine legends from Castilla, such as the one from Alphonse VII, states how he took away this famous bowl or Grail (better if we call it a cup) from the hands of the Moors of Almeria. Indeed, a terribly divine cup...
To swear before the Holy Grail?..
Ancient legends state that Joseph of Arimathaea collected the blessed blood that was shed from the wounds of the Adorable One within that cup at the foot of the cross, on the Mount of the Skulls...
Such a vessel was previously granted to Soliman or Solomon, the Solar King, by the Queen of Sheba, and was a patrimony (according to others) from the Tuatha Dé Danann, a “Jinn” race from Gaedhil (Gallic Britain).
How this venerated relic came to be found in the hermitage of Saint John of la Peña in the Pyrenees is unknown. From there, its peregrination continues, then to the Galician Salvatierra, then to Valencia during the time of James the Conquistador, and then to Genoa because the Genovese received it in ancient times as a reward for the help they lent to Alphonso VII in the fields of Almeria.
Very early in the morning, I wrote to the noble, suffering lady who was waiting for me in that remote city...
I advised her with infinite sweetness to return to her land with her relatives and that she should forget about my insignificant person who has no value...
Excerpted from The Three Mountains (1972-1973) by Samael Aun Weor.