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efore the appearance

of the L Edit Studio
egend of the Grail, or the founding of the Sect
Phone: of the Rosi

crucians. The Peyote Rite among the Tarahumara IT WAS the priests of Tutuguri who showed me the way of Ciguri, just as a few days earlier the Master of All Things had shown me the way of Tutuguri. The Master of All Things governs external relations between people: friendship, pity, charity, loyalty, pie

ty, generosity, work. His powe

r stops at the threshold of what is known in Europe as metaphysics or theology, but it goes much further into the realm of inner consciousness than that of any European political leader. In Mexico no one can be initiated, that is, receive the unction of the priests of the Sun and the immersive and rei

nstating blow of the priests of

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Ciguri, which is a rite of

humiliation, unless he has previously been touched by the sword of the old Indian chief who has authority over peace and war, over Justice, Marriage, and Love. He seems to have control over, those forces which compel people to love each other or which drive them mad, whereas the priests of Tutuguri invoke

with their

mouths that Spirit which creates men and places them in the Infinite from which the Soul must collect them and rearrange them in its self. The influence of the priests of the Sun surrounds the whole soul and stops at the had shown me the way of

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Tutuguri. The Master of All Things picks up the reverberation. And it was at this boundary that the old Mexican chief struck me in order to reawaken my consciousness, for to understand the Sun I was not well born; for the hierarchical order of things dictates that, after passing through the ALL, that is the many, which is matter, one returns to the simplicity of the one, which is Tutuguri or the Sun, only to dissolve and be reborn by means of this process of mysterious r

eassimilation. This dar

k reassimilation is contained within Ciguri, as a Myth of reawakening, then of destruction, and finally of resolution in the sieve of supreme surrender, as th

eir priests are incessantly shouting and affirming in their Dance of All the Night. For it lasts the entire night, from sunse

t to dawn, but it takes the whole night and gathers it as one gathers all the juice of a fruit at the very source of life. And the eradication of ownership extends to god and even beyond; for not even god, least of all god, can take that part of the self which is authentically one's own, however foolishly it may be abandoned. It was on a Sunday morning that the old Indian chief awakened my consciousness wi

th a prick of the sword between the spleen and the heart. "Have confidence, he said to me, "have no fear, I will do you no harm, and he quickly retreated t

hree or four steps and, after describing a circle in the air behind him with his sword, rushed forward and leaped at me with all his strength, as if he meant to destroy me. But the point of his sword barely grazed my skin and drew only a tiny drop of blood. I felt no pain whatsoever, but I did have the impression of awakening to something for which until then I had been ill endowed and ill prepared, and I felt filled with a l

ight which I had never before possessed. It was a few days later that one morning

at dawn I entered into relation with

Copyrightthe priests of Tutuguri and two days after that that