Carlos Castaneda’s Don Juan’s Teachings

War is the natural state for a warrior, and peace is an anomaly. But war, for a warrior, doesn’t mean acts of individual or collective stupidity or wanton violence. War, for a warrior, is the total struggle against that individual self that has deprived man of his power.

Ruthlessness is the most basic premise of sorcery. Any movement of the assemblage point means a movement away from the excessive concern with the individual self.

Self-importance is the force generated by man’s self-image. It is that force which keeps the assemblage point fixed where it is at present. For this reason, the thrust of the warrior’s way is to dethrone self-importance. And everything sorcerers do is toward accomplishing this goal.

Sorcerers have unmasked self-importance and found that it is self-pity masquerading as something else. It doesn’t sound possible, but that is what it is. Self-pity is the real enemy and the source of man’s misery. Without a degree of pity for himself, man could not afford to be as self-importance as he is. However, once the force of self-importance is engaged, it develops its own momentum. And it is this seemingly independent nature of self-importance which gives it its fake sense of worth.

Sorcerers are absolutely convinced that by moving our assemblage points away from their customary position we achieve a state of being which could only be called ruthlessness. Sorcerers know, by means of their practical actions, that as soon as their assemblage points move, their self-importance crumbles. Without the customary position of their assemblage points, their self-image can no longer be sustained. And without the heavy focus on that self-image, they lose their self-compassion, and with it their self-importance. Sorcerers are right, therefore, in saying that self-importance is merely self-pity in disguise.

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A nagual in his role as leader or teacher has to behave in the most efficient, but at the same time most impeccable, way. Since it is not possible for him to plan the course of his actions rationally, the nagual always lets the spirit decide his course.

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The position of self-reflection forces the assemblage point to assemble a world of sham compassion, but of very real cruelty and self-centeredness. In that world the only real feelings are those convenient for the one who feelings them.

For a sorcerer, ruthlessness is not cruelty. Ruthlessness is the opposite of self-pity or self-importance. Ruthlessness is sobriety.

Sorcerers’ increased energy, derived from the curtailment of their self-reflection, allows their senses a greater range of perception.

The only worthwhile course of action, whether for sorcerers or average men, is to restrict our involvement with our self-image. What a nagual aims at with his apprentices is the shattering of their mirror of self-reflection.

Each of us has a different degree of attachment to his self-reflection. And that attachment is felt as need.

It is possible for sorcerers, or average men, to need no one, to get peace, harmony, laughter, knowledge, directly from the spirit–to need no intermediaries. For you and for me, its different. I’m your intermediary and my teacher was mine. Intermediaries, besides providing a minimal chance–the awareness of intent –help shatter peoples mirrors of self-reflection.

The only concrete help you ever get from me is that I attack your self-reflection. If it weren’t for that, you would be wasting your time. This is the only real help you’ve gotten from me.

I’ve taught you all kinds of things in order to trap your attention. You’ll swear, though, that that teaching has been the important part. It hasn’t. There is very little value in instruction. Sorcerers maintain that moving the assemblage point is all that matters. And that movement depends on increased energy and not on instruction.

Any human being who would follow a specific and simple sequence of actions can learn to move his assemblage point. The sequence of actions I am talking about is one that stems from being aware. The nagual provides a minimal chance, but that minimal chance is not instruction, like the instruction you need to learn to operate a machine. The minimal chance consists of being made aware of the spirit.

The specific sequence I have in mind calls for being aware that self-importance is the force which keeps the assemblage point fixed. When self-importance is curtailed, the energy it requires is no longer expended. That increased energy then serves as the springboard that launches the assemblage point, automatically and without premeditation, into an inconceivable journey.

Once the assemblage point has moved, the movement itself entails moving from self-reflection, and this, in turn, assures a clear connecting link with the spirit. After all, it is self-reflection that has disconnected man from the spirit in the first place.

As I have already said to you, sorcery is a journey of return. We return victorious to the spirit, having descended into hell. And from hell we bring trophies. Understanding is one of our trophies.

Our difficulty with this simple progression is that most of us are unwilling to accept that we need so little to get on with. We are geared to expect instruction, teaching, guides, masters. And when we are told that we need no one, we don’t believe it. We become nervous, then distrustful, and finally angry and disappointed. If we need help, it is not in methods, but in emphasis. If someone makes us aware that we need to curtail our self-importance, that help is real.

Sorcerers say we should need no one to convince us that the world is infinitely more complex than our wildest fantasies. So, why are we dependent? Why do we crave someone to guide us when we can do it ourselves? Big question, eh?

The spirit moves the assemblage point. I have insisted to the point of exhaustion that there are no procedures in sorcery. There are no methods, no steps. The only thing that matters is the movement of the assemblage point. And no procedure can cause that. It’s an effect that happens all by itself.

The nagual entices the assemblage point into moving by helping to destroy the mirror of self-reflection. But that is all the nagual can do. The actual mover is the spirit, the abstract; something that cannot be seen or felt; something that does not seem to exist, and yet does. For this reason, sorcerers report that the assemblage point moves all by itself.

Because the spirit has no perceivable essence, sorcerers deal rather with the specific instances and ways in which they are able to shatter the mirror of self-reflection.

The world of our self-reflection or of our mind is very flimsy and is held together by a few key ideas that serve as its underlying order. When those ideas fail, the underlying order ceases to function.

Continuity is the key idea. Continuity is the idea that we are a solid block. In our minds, what sustains our world is the certainty that we are unchangeable.

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I’ve described to you in the past the concept of stopping the world and that it is as necessary for sorcerers as reading and writing are for the average man. It consists of introducing a dissonant element into the fabric of everyday behavior for purposes of halting the otherwise smooth flow of ordinary events–events which are catalogued in our minds by our reason.

The dissonant element is called not-doing , or the opposite of doing . Doing is anything that is part of a whole for which we have a cognitive account. Not-doing is an element that does not belong in that charted whole.

Sorcerers, because they are stalkers , understand human behavior to perfection. They understand, for instance, that human beings are creatures of inventory. Knowing the ins and outs of a particular inventory is what makes a man a scholar or an expert in his field.

Sorcerers know that when an average person’s inventory fails, the person either enlarges his inventory or his world of self-reflection collapses. The average person is willing to incorporate new items into his inventory if they don’t contradict the inventory’s underlying order. But if the items contradict that order, the person’s mind collapses. The inventory is the mind. Sorcerers count on this when they attempt to break the mirror of self-reflection.

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Intent is intended with the eyes. I know that it is so. Yet, just like you, I can’t pinpoint what it is I know. Sorcerers resolve this particular difficulty by accepting something extremely obvious: human beings are infinitely more complex and mysterious than our wildest fantasies.

All I can say is that the eyes do it. I don’t know how, but they do it. They summon intent with something indefinable that they have, something in their shine. Sorcerers say that intent is experienced with the eyes, not with the reason.

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Continuity is so important in our lives that if it breaks it’s always instantly repaired. In the case of sorcerers, however, once their assemblage points reach the place of no pity, continuity is never the same.