Personal Power
"Late one afternoon, a young apprentice and the nagual Carlos Castaneda were walking along the Santa Monica Bluff. "You've been practicing the magical passes a great deal," the nagual said to the apprentice. "You've redeployed a lot of energy. It's time for us to talk about what to do with that energy. It's time for us to begin to talk about power."
They sat down on a bench overlooking the bay. A warm ocean breeze came from the west; it spiraled upward for a moment, swirling a little dust from the path in front of the bench.
"Ah, the wind is informing us," the nagual said. "Look up!"
The sun was setting over the bay, shifting from a bright golden color to a rich mango that gave the waves below a lavender hue, a vibration of color that seemed to dance in the air above the water. A deep quiet seemed to permeate the air in and around the student and the nagual as they took in the scene.
"That's power," the nagual said, indicating the sunset, "the closing arc of the day. Knowing that the day, this splendid day, comes to an end."
The nagual's words rang into the surrounding silence as the breeze rippled across the waves to the bluff, riffling through their hair, their shirts. The student felt a release of tension in his midsection, and a sense of balance; he breathed easily and felt everything around him; the bench, the bluff, the trees, the breeze, the water, the seagulls, the hills surrounding the bay, the sun, the people walking by.
"Personal power is a feeling," the nagual continued as the sun slipped closer to the western hills. "It's a mood of bringing our best - of bringing our intimate link with infinity - to every interaction. We intend this by deliberately reviewing and adjusting what works, and what doesn't, day-to-day."
"The day began over there," the nagual said, indicating the darkening skyline to the east. "You could say that each day has an arc, a path," he said, picking up a long stick and tracing an arc from right to left in the sand.
"Here we have an arc we could call 'East and West,' he said. Then he traced another downward arc, that crossed the first one. "We could call this one 'North and South.' "And if we extend them," he said, completing both arcs to make two intersecting oval shapes, "if we fill these directions with breath, so to speak, we can have a complete sphere," he said, tracing a circle that encompassed both ovals, "a Tensegrity structure with all of its parts interconnecting."
He put down the stick and traced the shape of a sphere with his hands slightly cupped in the air in front of him.
"The seer acknowledges the gift of the day by summing up its full arc - the arc of his intent, his actions," he said, sweeping one hand from east to west across the sphere he had traced.
"How did he begin as the sun rose?" he asked, indicating the eastern skyline. "Did he start out with gratitude, or with groaning? Where was he in the middle of the day, when the sun was overhead?" he asked, sweeping his hand toward the zenith. "Where is he at twilight?" he asked, continuing the sweep toward the setting sun. "Is he thankful, and ready to move with his full presence into the mystery of the night, or just hoping the day would be over, so he can somehow escape, and stumble into unconsciousness. Does he sense anyplace he went off course, anyplace he could adjust his actions?"
An eastern gust came from the direction of the trees behind them, blowing across their backs. The student felt an invigorating lightness that spread onto his shoulders, his chest, his midsection; he sensed his feet touching the earth.
"Bringing our best means we are willing to bring in all the parts of the summary, including those words, moods, and actions that we habitually leave out - to make a more complete account, and to act on it. There is so much going on at every moment that we do not see; yet part of us senses it."
"For example, somewhere, right now, the sun is rising. This," he said, tapping his belly, "it senses that. It doesn't leave out vital information. A warrior makes it his business to become fully aware of the arc of his day," he went on. "He delights in finding what works. He delights equally in seeing what doesn't work, because he includes what he used to leave out of his accounts: the ins and outs of what gets him, what throws him off course, from moment to moment, day to day - and he adjusts his actions accordingly. That's his first pass toward personal power."
The nagual rose to stand next to the low fence that bordered the bluff; the student followed. They watched quietly as the sun slipped behind the hills, leaving a soft glow. A cold western breeze ruffled their clothes.
"That's enough for one day," the nagual said. "Let's go home." They turned their backs and walked eastward along the pathway that lined the bluff.
The nagual paused and looked at the student. "Personal power is personal," he said, "and yet it is not. By taking an account that is as complete as possible, a warrior can allow a beam of infinity to shine through his acts."
They sat down on a bench overlooking the bay. A warm ocean breeze came from the west; it spiraled upward for a moment, swirling a little dust from the path in front of the bench.
"Ah, the wind is informing us," the nagual said. "Look up!"
The sun was setting over the bay, shifting from a bright golden color to a rich mango that gave the waves below a lavender hue, a vibration of color that seemed to dance in the air above the water. A deep quiet seemed to permeate the air in and around the student and the nagual as they took in the scene.
"That's power," the nagual said, indicating the sunset, "the closing arc of the day. Knowing that the day, this splendid day, comes to an end."
The nagual's words rang into the surrounding silence as the breeze rippled across the waves to the bluff, riffling through their hair, their shirts. The student felt a release of tension in his midsection, and a sense of balance; he breathed easily and felt everything around him; the bench, the bluff, the trees, the breeze, the water, the seagulls, the hills surrounding the bay, the sun, the people walking by.
"Personal power is a feeling," the nagual continued as the sun slipped closer to the western hills. "It's a mood of bringing our best - of bringing our intimate link with infinity - to every interaction. We intend this by deliberately reviewing and adjusting what works, and what doesn't, day-to-day."
"The day began over there," the nagual said, indicating the darkening skyline to the east. "You could say that each day has an arc, a path," he said, picking up a long stick and tracing an arc from right to left in the sand.
"Here we have an arc we could call 'East and West,' he said. Then he traced another downward arc, that crossed the first one. "We could call this one 'North and South.' "And if we extend them," he said, completing both arcs to make two intersecting oval shapes, "if we fill these directions with breath, so to speak, we can have a complete sphere," he said, tracing a circle that encompassed both ovals, "a Tensegrity structure with all of its parts interconnecting."
He put down the stick and traced the shape of a sphere with his hands slightly cupped in the air in front of him.
"The seer acknowledges the gift of the day by summing up its full arc - the arc of his intent, his actions," he said, sweeping one hand from east to west across the sphere he had traced.
"How did he begin as the sun rose?" he asked, indicating the eastern skyline. "Did he start out with gratitude, or with groaning? Where was he in the middle of the day, when the sun was overhead?" he asked, sweeping his hand toward the zenith. "Where is he at twilight?" he asked, continuing the sweep toward the setting sun. "Is he thankful, and ready to move with his full presence into the mystery of the night, or just hoping the day would be over, so he can somehow escape, and stumble into unconsciousness. Does he sense anyplace he went off course, anyplace he could adjust his actions?"
An eastern gust came from the direction of the trees behind them, blowing across their backs. The student felt an invigorating lightness that spread onto his shoulders, his chest, his midsection; he sensed his feet touching the earth.
"Bringing our best means we are willing to bring in all the parts of the summary, including those words, moods, and actions that we habitually leave out - to make a more complete account, and to act on it. There is so much going on at every moment that we do not see; yet part of us senses it."
"For example, somewhere, right now, the sun is rising. This," he said, tapping his belly, "it senses that. It doesn't leave out vital information. A warrior makes it his business to become fully aware of the arc of his day," he went on. "He delights in finding what works. He delights equally in seeing what doesn't work, because he includes what he used to leave out of his accounts: the ins and outs of what gets him, what throws him off course, from moment to moment, day to day - and he adjusts his actions accordingly. That's his first pass toward personal power."
The nagual rose to stand next to the low fence that bordered the bluff; the student followed. They watched quietly as the sun slipped behind the hills, leaving a soft glow. A cold western breeze ruffled their clothes.
"That's enough for one day," the nagual said. "Let's go home." They turned their backs and walked eastward along the pathway that lined the bluff.
The nagual paused and looked at the student. "Personal power is personal," he said, "and yet it is not. By taking an account that is as complete as possible, a warrior can allow a beam of infinity to shine through his acts."