[Editor's Note: This title of this piece was provided by Justin, the person who sent this excerpted conversation between Carlos Castenedas and don Juan, the Yaqui shaman who explains to Carlos the nature of the hidden fourth dimensional predators who plague humanity. Don Juan calls them the "flyers." The name refers to the darting shadows that some people can notice from the corner of their eyes when in a dark room. I'm not an expert on Carlos Castenedas books, but I think he wrote them in the 1940's and 50's. I'm greatly impressed by the information being relayed here. This information would have been very hard to accept at that time, as we were only starting to become aware of UFOs and an alien presence. In 2007, we now possess much more information about the alien manipulators that control the leaders of all major governments and are, in fact, the driving force behind the implementation of the New World Order nightmare. I remind readers of a comment that Phil Schneider made to a question from someone in his audience at his last lecture given in September of 1995 in Seattle, Washington. He said that "the alien agenda and the New World Order agenda are one and the same."
Don Juan explains that these aliens think of (and treat) humans as a food source and can overlay the human psyche in order to keep us dumbed down and unaware of their influence, however, it's possible, he says, to dislodge them through discipline. By allowing ourselves to be immersed in destructive emotions: fear, anxiety, anger, strife, jealousy, competitiveness, the dog-eat-dog mentality (just think of the daily fare on TV-Court TV, Survival shows, Reality shows, Apprentice shows, violent cartoons, Jerry Springer type shows, etc.) we hold at minimum our "shining coat of awareness", thus serving the alien agenda. We can rebuild our "shining coat" and no longer be under the influence of those dark forces by removing the "self" from our focus of existence.
There is much food for thought here. I encourage you to read this piece and ponder what is being discussed. Our thanks to Justin for sending it....Ken]
http://educate-yourself.org/cn/howtovanquishfear23may07.shtml
May 23, 2007
Subject: How to vanquish fear
From: Justin
Date: Wed, May 23, 2007
To: Editor
Dear Ken,
Thanks for your great site, thought you might appreciate this.
How to vanquish the predator's foreign installation of fear = Bravely, courageously, facing infinity with inner silence.
Please keep up the good work, your site promotes awareness.
Sincerely,
Justin
A conversation between Carlos Castenedas and Yaqui shaman don Juan
"They discovered that we have a companion for life," he said, as clearly as he
could. "We have a predator that came from the depths of the cosmos, and took over
the rule of our lives. Human beings are its prisoners. The predator is our lord and
master.
"It has rendered us docile; helpless. If we want to protest, it suppresses our
protest. If we want to act independently, it demands that we don't do so."
It was very dark around us, and that seemed to curtail any expression on my part. If
it had been daylight, I would have laughed my head off. In the dark, I felt quite
inhibited.
"It's pitch black around us," don Juan said, "but if you look out of the corner of
your eye, you will still see fleeting shadows jumping all around you."
He was right. I could still see them. Their movement made me dizzy. Don Juan turned
on the light, and that seemed to dissipate everything.
Don Juan said, "You have arrived, by your effort alone, to what the shamans of
ancient Mexico called the topic of topics.
"I have been beating around the bush all this time, insinuating to you that
something is holding us prisoner. Indeed we are held prisoner! This was an energetic
fact for the sorcerers of ancient Mexico."
"Why has this predator taken over in the fashion that you're describing, don Juan?"
I asked. "There must be a logical explanation."
"There is an explanation," don Juan replied, "which is the simplest explanation in
the world.
"They took over because we are food for them, and they squeeze us mercilessly
because we are their sustenance.
"Just as we rear chickens in chicken coops, gallineros, the predators rear us in
human coops, humaneros. Therefore, their food is always available to them."
I felt that my head was shaking violently from side to side. I could not express my
profound sense of unease and discontentment, but my body moved to bring it to the
surface. I shook from head to toe without any volition on my part.
I heard myself saying, "No, no, no, no. This is absurd, don Juan. What you're saying
is something monstrous. It simply can't be true, for sorcerers, or for average men,
or for anyone."
"Why not?" don Juan asked calmly. "Why not? Because it infuriates you?"
"Yes, it infuriates me," I retorted. "Those claims are monstrous!"
"Well," he said, "you haven't heard all the claims yet. Wait a bit longer and see
how you feel.
"I'm going to subject you to a blitz. That is, I'm going to subject your mind to
tremendous onslaughts; and you cannot get up and leave because you're caught. Not
because I'm holding you prisoner, but because something in you will prevent you from
leaving while another part of you is going to go truthfully berserk. So brace
yourself!"
There was something in me which I felt was a 'glutton for punishment'. He was right.
I wouldn't have left the house for the world; and yet I didn't like one bit the
inanities he was spouting.
Don Juan said, "I want to appeal to your analytical mind. Think for a moment, and
tell me how you would explain the contradiction between the intelligence of man the
engineer, and the stupidity of his systems of beliefs; or the stupidity of his
contradictory behavior.
"Sorcerers believe that the predators have given us our systems of beliefs; our
ideas of good and evil; our social mores. The predators are the ones who set up our
hopes and expectations, and dreams of success or failure. They have given us
covetousness, [* covetousness- an envious eagerness to possess something] greed, and
cowardice. It is the predators who make us complacent, routinary, and egomaniacal."
"But how can they do this, don Juan?" I asked, somehow angered further by what he
was saying. "Do they whisper all that in our ears while we are asleep?"
"No, they don't do it that way. That's idiotic!" don Juan said, smiling. "They are
infinitely more efficient and organized than that.
"In order to keep us obedient, meek and weak, the predators engaged themselves in a
stupendous maneuver- stupendous, of course, from the point of view of a fighting
strategist; a horrendous maneuver from the point of view of those who suffer it.
"They gave us their mind! Do you hear me? The predators give us their mind which
becomes our mind. The predators' mind is baroque, contradictory, morose, and filled
with the fear of being discovered any minute now.
"I know that even though you have never suffered hunger," he went on, "you have food
anxiety which is none other than the anxiety of the predator who fears that any
moment now its maneuver is going to be uncovered, and its food is going to be
denied.
"Through the mind, which after all is their mind, the predators inject into the
lives of human beings whatever is convenient for them. The predators ensure in this
manner a degree of security to act as a buffer against their fear."
"It's not that I can't accept all this at face value, don Juan," I said. "I could,
but there's something so odious about it that it actually repels me. It forces me to
take a contradictory stand.
"If it's true that they eat us, how do they do it?"
Don Juan had a broad smile on his face. He was as pleased as punch.
He explained that sorcerers see infant human beings as strange, luminous balls of
energy covered from the top to the bottom with a glowing coat something like a
plastic cover that is adjusted tightly over their cocoon of energy.
He said that that glowing coat of awareness was what the predators consumed, and
that when a human being reached adulthood, all that was left of that glowing coat of
awareness was a narrow fringe that went from the ground to the top of the toes. That
fringe permitted mankind to continue living, but only barely.
As if I were in a dream, I heard don Juan explaining that, to his knowledge, man was
the only species that had the glowing coat of awareness outside that luminous
cocoon. Therefore, he became easy prey for an awareness of a different order; such
as the heavy awareness of the predator.
He then made the most damaging statement he had made so far. He said that this
narrow fringe of awareness was the epicenter of self-reflection where man was
irremediably caught.
By playing on our self-reflection, which is the only point of awareness left to us,
the predators create flares of awareness that they proceed to consume in a ruthless,
predatory fashion.
They give us inane problems that force those flares of awareness to rise, and in
this manner they keep us alive in order for them to be fed with the energetic flare
of our pseudo-concerns.
There must have been something in what don Juan was saying which was so devastating
to me that at that point I actually got sick to my stomach.
After a moment's pause long enough for me to recover, I asked don Juan, "But why is
it that the sorcerers of ancient Mexico and all sorcerers today, although they see
the predators, don't do anything about it?"
"There's nothing that you and I can do about it," don Juan said in a grave, sad
voice. "All we can do is discipline ourselves to the point where they will not touch
us.
"How can you ask your fellow men to go through those rigors of discipline? They'll
laugh and make fun of you; and the more aggressive ones will beat the shit out of
you- and not so much because they don't believe it.
"Down in the depths of every human being, there is an ancestral, visceral [*
visceral- obtained through intuition rather than from reasoning or observation]
knowledge about the predators' existence."
My analytical mind swung back and forth like a yo-yo. It left me and came back, and
left me and came back again. Whatever don Juan was proposing was preposterous,
incredible.
At the same time, it was a most reasonable thing; so simple. It explained every kind
of human contradiction I could think of.
But how could one have taken all this seriously? Don Juan was pushing me into the
path of an avalanche that would take me down forever.
I felt another wave of a threatening sensation. The wave didn't stem from me, yet it
was attached to me. Don Juan was doing something to me, mysteriously positive and
terribly negative at the same time. I sensed it as an attempt to cut a thin film
that seemed to be glued to me.
His eyes were fixed on mine in an unblinking stare. He moved his eyes away, and
began to talk without looking at me anymore.
"Whenever doubts plague you to a dangerous point," he said, "do something pragmatic
about it. Turn off the light. Pierce the darkness; find out what you can see." He got up to turn off the lights. I stopped him.
"No, no, don Juan," I said, "don't turn off the lights. I'm doing okay."
What I felt then was a most unusual, for me, fear of the darkness. The mere thought
of it made me pant. I definitely knew something viscerally, [* visceral- relating to
or affecting internal organs collectively rather than from reasoning or observation]
but I wouldn't dare touch it, or bring it to the surface, not in a million years!
"You saw the fleeting shadows against the trees," don Juan said, sitting back
against his chair. "That's pretty good. I'd like you to see them inside this room.
You're not seeing anything. You're just merely catching fleeting images. You have
enough energy for that."
I feared that don Juan would get up anyway and turn off the lights, which he did.
Two seconds later, I was screaming my head off. Not only did I catch a glimpse of
those fleeting images, I heard them buzzing by my ears.
Don Juan doubled up with laughter as he turned on the lights.
"What a temperamental fellow!" he said. "A total disbeliever, on the one hand; and a
total pragmatist on the other.
"You must arrange this internal fight, otherwise you're going to swell up like a big
toad and burst."
Don Juan kept on pushing his barb deeper and deeper into me. "The sorcerers of
ancient Mexico," he said, "saw the predator. They called it the flyer because it
leaps through the air. It is not a pretty sight. It is a big shadow, impenetrably
dark, a black shadow that jumps through the air. Then, it lands flat on the ground.
"The sorcerers of ancient Mexico were quite ill at ease with the idea of when it
made its appearance on Earth. They reasoned that man must have been a complete being
at one point, with stupendous insights and feats of awareness that are mythological
legends nowadays. And then everything seems to disappear, and we have now a sedated
man."
I wanted to get angry and call him a paranoiac, but somehow the righteousness that
was usually just underneath the surface of my being wasn't there.
Something in me was beyond the point of asking myself my favorite question: What if
all that he said is true? At the moment he was talking to me that night, in my heart
of hearts, I felt that all of what he was saying was true, but at the same time and
with equal force, I felt that all that he was saying was absurdity itself.
"What are you saying, don Juan?" I asked feebly. My throat was constricted. I could
hardly breathe.
"What I'm saying is that what we have against us is not a simple predator. It is
very smart and organized. It follows a methodical system to render us useless. Man,
the magical being that he is destined to be, is no longer magical. He's an average
piece of meat. There are no more dreams for man but the dreams of an animal who is
being raised to become a piece of meat: trite, conventional, imbecilic."
Don Juan's words were eliciting a strange, bodily reaction in me comparable to the
sensation of nausea. It was as if I were going to get sick to my stomach again. But
the nausea was coming from the bottom of my being, from the marrow of my bones. I
convulsed involuntarily.
Don Juan shook me by the shoulders forcefully. I felt my neck wobbling back and
forth under the impact of his grip. The maneuver calmed me down at once. I felt more
in control.
"This predator," don Juan said, "which, of course, is an inorganic being, is not
altogether invisible to us as other inorganic beings are. I think as children we do
see it, but we decide it's so horrific that we don't want to think about it.
"Children, of course, could insist on focusing on the sight, but everybody else
around them dissuades them from doing so.
Continuing, he said, "The only alternative left for mankind is discipline.
Discipline is the only deterrent.
"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 sorcerers, 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."
"In what way would the sorcerers' discipline be a deterrent to the flyers?" I asked.
Don Juan scrutinized my face as if to discover any signs of my disbelief. He said,"Sorcerers say that discipline makes the glowing coat of awareness unpalatable to
the flyer.
"The result is that the predators become bewildered. 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 [*
nefarious- extremely wicked] task.
He continued, saying, "If the predators don't eat our glowing coat of awareness for
a while, it will keep on growing. 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 Mexico 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," don Juan continued, "was to
burden the flyers' mind with discipline.
"Sorcerers found out that if they taxed the flyers' mind with inner silence, the
foreign installation would flee, and give any one of the practitioners involved in
this maneuver the total certainty of the mind's foreign origin.
"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.
"That's the day when you have to rely on your own devices which are nearly zero. A
sad day indeed! 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.
"My teacher, the nagual Julian, used to warn all his disciples," don Juan continued,"that this was the toughest day in a sorcerer's life for the real mind that belongs
to us.
"The sum total of our experience 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."
I became genuinely agitated. I wanted to know more, and yet a strange feeling in me
clamored for me to stop. It alluded to dark results and punishment, something like
the wrath of God descending on me for tampering with something veiled by God
himself. I made a supreme effort to allow my curiosity to win.
I heard myself say, "What-what-what do you mean, by taxing the flyers' mind?"
"Discipline taxes the foreign mind no end," he replied. "So, through their
discipline, sorcerers vanquish the foreign installation."
I was overwhelmed by his statements. I believed that don Juan was either certifiably
insane or that he was telling me something so awesome that it froze everything in
me.
I noticed, however how quickly I rallied my energy to deny everything he had said.
After an instant of panic, I began to laugh, as if don Juan had told me a joke. I
even heard myself saying, "Don Juan, don Juan, you're incorrigible!" [*
incorrigible- not capable of being affected by correction or punishment]
Don Juan seemed to understand everything I was experiencing. He shook his head from
side to side, and raised his eyes to the heavens in a gesture of mock despair.
He said, "I am so incorrigible, that I am going to give the flyers' mind which you
carry inside you one more jolt. I am going to reveal to you one of the most
extraordinary secrets of sorcery. I am going to describe to you a finding that took
sorcerers thousands of years to verify and consolidate."
He looked at me, smiled maliciously, and said, "The flyers' mind flees forever when
a sorcerer succeeds in grabbing on to the vibrating force that holds us together as
a conglomerate of energy fields. If a sorcerer maintains that pressure long enough,
the flyers' mind flees in defeat. And that's exactly what you are going to do; hold
on to the energy that binds you together."
I had the most inexplicable reaction I could have imagined. Something in me actually
shook, as if it had received a jolt. I entered into a state of unwarranted fear,
which I immediately associated with my religious background.
Don Juan looked at me from head to toe.
"You are fearing the wrath of God, aren't you?" he said. "Rest assured, that's not
your fear. It's the flyers' fear, because it knows that you will do exactly as I'm
telling you."
His words did not calm me at all. I felt worse. I was actually convulsing
involuntarily, and I had no means to stop it.
"Don't worry," don Juan said calmly. "I know for a fact that those attacks wear off
very quickly. The flyer's mind has no concentration whatsoever."
After a moment, everything stopped as don Juan had predicted. To say again that I
was bewildered is a euphemism. [* euphemism- an inoffensive expression that is
substituted for one that is considered offensive]
This was the first time in my life ever, with don Juan or alone, that I didn't know
whether I was coming or going.
I wanted to get out of the chair and walk around, but I was deathly afraid. I was
filled with rational assertions, and at the same time I was filled with an infantile
fear.
I began to breathe deeply as a cold perspiration covered my entire body. I had
somehow unleashed on myself a most godawful sight: black, fleeting shadows jumping
all around me wherever I turned.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the arm of the stuffed chair. "I don't know
which way to turn, don Juan," I said. "Tonight, you have really succeeded in getting
me lost."
Don Juan said, "You're being torn by an internal struggle.
"Down in the depths of you, you know that you are incapable of refusing the
agreement that an indispensable part of you, your glowing coat of awareness, is
going to serve as an incomprehensible source of nourishment to, naturally,
incomprehensible entities.
"And another part of you will stand against this situation with all its might.
"The sorcerers' revolution," he continued, "is that they refuse to honor agreements
in which they did not participate.
"Nobody ever asked me if I would consent to being eaten by beings of a different
kind of awareness. My parents just brought me into this world to be food, like
themselves, and that's the end of the story."
Don Juan stood up from his chair and stretched his arms and legs. "We have been
sitting here for hours. It's time to go into the house. I'm going to eat. Do you
want to eat with me?"
I declined. My stomach was in an uproar.
"I think you'd better go to sleep," he said. "The blitz has devastated you."
I didn't need any further coaxing. I collapsed onto my bed, and fell asleep like the
dead.
At home, as time went by, the idea of the flyers became one of the main fixations of
my life. I got to the point where I felt that don Juan was absolutely right about
them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't discard his logic.
The more I thought about it, and the more I talked to and observed myself, and my
fellow men, the more intense the conviction that something was rendering us
incapable of any activity or any interaction or any thought that didn't have the
self as its focal point.
My concern, as well as the concern of everyone I knew or talked to, was the self.
Since I couldn't find any explanation for such universal homogeneity, I believed
that don Juan's line of thought was the most appropriate way of elucidating the
phenomenon.
I went as deeply as I could into readings about myths and legends. In reading, I
experienced something I had never felt before: Each of the books I read was an
interpretation of myths and legends. In each one of those books, a homogeneous mind
was palpable.
The styles differed, but the drive behind the words was homogeneously the same: Even
though the theme was something as abstract as myths and legends, the authors always
managed to insert statements about themselves. The homogeneous drive behind every
one of those books was not the stated theme of the book. Instead, it was
self-service. I had never felt this before.
I attributed my reaction to don Juan's influence. The unavoidable question that I
posed to myself was: Is he influencing me to see this, or is there really a foreign
mind dictating everything we do?
I lapsed, perforce, into denial again, and I went insanely from denial to acceptance
to denial. Something in me knew that whatever don Juan was driving at was an
energetic fact; but something equally important in me knew that all of that was
guff.
The end result of my internal struggle was a sense of foreboding; the sense of
something imminently dangerous coming at me.
I made extensive anthropological inquiries into the subject of the flyers in other
cultures, but I couldn't find any references to them anywhere. Don Juan seemed to be
the only source of information about this matter.
The next time I saw him, I instantly jumped to talk about the flyers.
I said, "I have tried my best to be rational about this subject matter, but I can't.
There are moments when I fully agree with you about the predators."
"Focus your attention on the fleeting shadows that you actually see," don Juan said
with a smile.
I told don Juan that those fleeting shadows were going to be the end of my rational
life. I saw them everywhere.
Since I had left his house, I was incapable of going to sleep in the dark. To sleep
with the lights on did not bother me at all. The moment I turned the lights off,
however, everything around me began to jump. I never saw complete figures or shapes.
All I saw were fleeting black shadows.
"The flyers' mind has not left you," don Juan said. "It has been seriously injured.
It's trying its best to rearrange its relationship with you. But something in you is
severed forever. The flyer knows that. 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," don Juan continued. "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, 'Yes, of
course, it is nonsense,' you will say. That's the way they overcome us.
"The flyers are an essential part of the universe," he went on, "and they must be
taken as what they really are- awesome, monstrous. They are the means by which the
universe tests us.
"We are energetic probes created by the universe," he continued as if he were
oblivious to my presence, "and it's because we are possessors of energy that has
awareness that we are the means by which the universe becomes aware of itself.
"The flyers are the implacable [* implacable- incapable of being more favourably
inclined, or gaining the good will of] challengers. They cannot be taken as anything
else. If we succeed in doing that, the universe allows us to continue."
I wanted don Juan to say more. But he said only, "The blitz ended the last time you
were here. There's only so much to be said about the flyers.
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