PA means point of assemblage. In Carlos Castaneda’s system, perception is the key to ordinary magic. Wizards say that we perceive the world through a small luminous point, a kind of photo lens or cursor, they call PA. My PA is becoming highly fanciful these days. And when the PA roams around, it has a funny effect…
By this precise point, we assemble the ordinary world, and even the other worlds. The reality of this or that world depends only on the position of the point of assemblage.
The PA is not located in the physical body. It is located somewhere in our brightness, that of our aura. The word belongs to Castaneda’s vocabulary. Luminosity is the first layer of the aura, which I define as the first two energy bodies in my practice of Erquy’s reki, or neo reki.
According to Castaneda and his mentor Don Juan Matus, the point of assemblage is in our back, 10 cm behind the right shoulder blade. This is the standard position adopted by almost all of today’s humanity.
We all perceive the same world because all the PAs are located in the same place. With time, a small basin has been hollowed out in the brightness. It prevents the point of assemblage from changing position. As a result, we all assemble the same reality.
Before going further, read these two articles to better understand the follow-up.
The point of assemblage (PA)
Move the point of assemblage
I no longer have any control over my PA. Do I still have a PA? Only by intention. But by will, never again. Finished. It is the ‘chance’ of unconscious intention that allows me to achieve a goal, to heal someone, for example. The conscious will has never allowed me to dislodge my PA from its bowl. To assemble another reality.
Today’s humans have the PA stuck in a this energy basin.
Behind the right shoulder blade, the PA is housed in its single-seat bowl. Today, everyone has their PA in the same place. Which was not always the case, far from it. The current uniformity characterizes the end of the Kali Yuga, Iron Age or Dark Age, the shit. In previous ages, each people, each tribe, each being could have a PA fixed elsewhere in the brightness, or not fixed at all, like me, with my flighty PA.
I must specify what is to be understood by that. The tonal is the logical, rational mindset, the one shared by all humans. And all the beings that populate our galaxy, our universe, and the entire mutliverse. Tonal is the absolute rule…
He opposes the nagual, which could also be called controlled madness, which is the mindset of wizards. I spend most of my time in the nagual, which makes me difficult to understand and impossible to follow. I am aware of it and I deplore it, you are missing something. For my part, it suits me perfectly.
“The nagual is unimaginable. He is also our element, but he remains indescribable. We cannot define it because it does not belong to the mental world, to thought, to the logical spirit. We can only say what it is not.
The nagual is not real. It is located elsewhere, on a plane that can only be accessed through the force of intention. The astral. Domain of dreams. Dreams are said to be deceptive. Not at all. They always tell the truth. But upon waking, our brain produces an instantaneous dressing that makes them absurd, incomprehensible, totally unusable.”
Psychoanalysts work with these outfits. They do not have access to the hidden reality behind it. They do not have knowledge of real dreams. The dreams of an awakened person have nothing to do with those of psychoanalysis. They are the conscious experience of the nagual. They are more real than the false real where we are confined. They are beyond illusion.
Conscious thought, pure reason, logic, none of that matters anymore for a wizard of the nagual. He emptied himself of all belief, of all desire. But it’s only the beginning.
Then “the hardest remains to be done: move it by the sole force of intention. Superhuman task, inaccessible for those who are asleep. But an awakened person accomplishes it without thinking about it, effortlessly, endlessly. Awakening is beyond the mind. All awakened people have stopped thinking. Beyond the mind, he cut his head, according to the lovely formula of Lao Tzu.” (read more)
A warrior treats the world as an infinite mystery,and what people do as an unlimited folly.
The men of knowledge or warriors of the nagual managed to level this basin. It is no longer as hollow as that of other humans. Those who have the deepest bowl, with the steepest walls, are condemned to tonal for life. These are the basins in champagne flutes, or flute basins. Will they experience awakening? Little chance.
Those who have the flattest bowls are the regulars of the exceptional. These are the champagne cup bowls, or cuvettes coupes. They have great predispositions to the world of nagual. Those who have a good balance between the two are the wine glass bowls, or glass bowls. They may know the nagual although most often being related to the tonal.
There are ordinary men, creatures of the unique tone. There are more or less hollow basins. And there are the Naguals.
The nagual is not just a mode of perception, or a way to assemble other realities. When you put a capital letter, the Nagual becomes a wizard par excellence.
Master of the game, because this life is just a game. And this world is a fiction …
The Naguals have a secret: the absence of a basin. Not the slightest trace of the smallest hollow in their brightness. Result: the PA freely circulates all around a Nagual. Most often, he is installed in other realities. He enjoys other perceptions. He assembles other worlds.
How to achieve it? For my part, I had nothing to do, I am like that. From noùmbreuses people are born this way, perfect on the level of subtle energy. Awakened. But around the age of 3, a first engram blurs their brightness. Other engrams are added to this mother-engram, and the more we are engrammed, the less magical we are.
I had my chance to not know any engram. I kept my birth talents until the advanced age that I have now. During adolescence, however, I abandoned all magical practices, healer, telepath, diviner, etc. To devote myself to girls, fabulous objects of in-depth study that mobilized all the fibers of my being.
I had to adapt to these princesses, who most often camped in the half-light of the tonal. As a result of this disengagement, I lost my absence of a cuvette. I became a cup-shaped bowl, very flared, and around forty my old friend Flornoy gave me the vital boost. and the tone ended up rejecting me. I woke up. Or woke up…
I no longer have a cuvette. As a result, I no longer have any control over my PA. Over the years, the lack of control extends to the tonal, to all the activities one does without thinking and succeeds in every move. I fail in everything. The conduct requires extraordinary attention on my part, but I care about it. When you live away from the city, driving is a necessity for survival.
My point of assemblage has become volage. Itinerant. Unstable. Mobile. Slippery. Elusive. Escaped. Slippery. Free. My PA is free, I’m not.
I have overly embraced the inner world of those who love me, those whom I help to free their PA. I have become mimetic. Without effort I become this or that at the risk of taking myself for each other. I no longer know who I am.
What I constantly experience is what the beginner actor who plays a series of small roles, the ‘wigs’, feels. Constantly changing his character and appearance, he no longer knows who he is, who he loves, who he hates, where his life ends and where the role begins. I suffer from the same ailment. It’s the wig-maker syndrome.
I sometimes immerse myself in several films at the same time. A little of this one, a little of that one, and a lot of a third. And I can watch five movies / day when I am low. When I am no longer me. When I don’t live there anymore.
It doesn’t come back to me. Comedy movies make me cry. They make me as stupid as their bogus plots, as empty and superficial as their faddish actors. I enter the salacious life of a fake comedian. I see his debts, his blocked destiny, I have to blow my nose. Instead of laughing at his tired jokes, I cry like a calf, I pray like a devotee.
Clowns make me panic. Home movies are my favorite. They all look the same, I happily mix them up, my wig syndrome is getting uncontrollable, I stop eating film and go out in the garden. The ravens giggle as they look down at me. I fall on my knees. The faithful garden plays tricks on me too. I am no longer here. Neither elsewhere. Nor alive. Neither outside nor inside. Like Adam, j’ai la dent. The mordant. Ram Adam. Without ramdam, don’t scare away the ladies.
My body is a guest house. I receive in me so much and more! Death and experience, melodrama or sex, I can’t take it anymore, I’m lost.
Do like the bird
Fais comme l’oiseau
Do like the bird
It lives on clean air and fresh water, a bird
A little hunting and fishing, a bird
But nothing ever stops him, the bird
To go higher
In truth, I am master of nothing at all. Certainly not master of the game. The game is played within me, I contemplate it and I appreciate it, period. They thank me, but what did I do? Consciously, nothing. My intention acts on its own, my subtle energy supports those who need it, but who is free? My PA, not me. Who is the real master of the game? Not me either.
With my free PA, my mimetism has taken on serious proportions. Uncertainty about my self is turning into worry. When I watch a movie, I immediately enter each character. I become one of the protagonists, then his rival, then his wife, then someone else… It starts to change so quickly that I feel like vomiting. In the literal sense, if I may say so. The matter of my body sublimates and becomes pure energy.
Over the years, the monthes, the days, the hours, my lack of control extends to the tonal, to all the activities one does without thinking and succeeds in every move. I fail in everything. Constantly I bump into others myself who break my balls. They shower me. They touch me. They block me. They put me down. They blow my nose. The more shady they are, the harder they get.
By constantly working alongside the other reality, I exist less and less here and now. I prefer elsewhere and tomorrow. Or the day before yesterday… L’homme conduit comme il se conduit. The man drives as he behaves, it is said. I drive better than I direct me, at home I bump into all the furniture. In my car, I apply myself and I roll so softly. Driving my car requires extraordinary attention, but I do care about it. When you live away from the city, driving is essential for survival.
When I go down to the village, I gather all my forces to join the tonal. Appear normal. Again, the control is meticulous. Automatisms are evaporated. Reflex gestures have also disappeared. It is necessary to think of all the nerves, all the muscles that allow walking. Running, no, it’s over for a long time. I have internalized once and for all the snail syndrome.
That’s why I talked about it there is hardly any.
Controlled Madness
Ordinary Madness
Jung and Divine Madness
Finally, it’s only here that I feel good. In front of my screen, looking at you through the eyes. Through the heart. I know you, you know, differently. As if we had met often, rubbed shoulders for a long time, and very vividly. Blithely. Nothing surprising: I am at home in the farthest past as well as in the vows of tomorrow. I see what comes. A part of me is already there.
Here and here, the elsewhere is banished.
I see you as you will be tomorrow, in you I am treating a smouldering, undeclared bobo that you still ignore. I know you tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, until your death if needed. Your past, I disown it. That would be indiscreet. The concern to see your future is to want at all costs to help you achieve these virtualities of awakening that you carry within yourself. And in doing so, I betray the first rule of the wizard:
Sorcerers can never build a bridge to reach the people of this world. However, if people wish to do so, they must build a bridge to join the sorcerers.
But I will come back to it soon.
In my work of writing, layout and illustration I reconnect with my deep nature. I worked as a publisher for years, for a large publishing house and then on my own. This profession and its multiple related professions have been my reason to live and learn. It has become my second nature, the only link I have left with my past in this life, and with the tonal, your tonal, this world that I do not like and in which you all live. Almost all. With a few exceptions.
I know that I am not a writer like the others. Vain writers. Who seek nothing but themselves, the poor. Or who are looking for dirty money. When I had my advertising agency, it’s true, I collected big money. But I didn’t do it on purpose. My clients were rich, they spoiled me. Oh I took advantage of it, needless to say the opposite. I distributed some too, and a lot. And the distribution continues despite my meager income.
Don’t think I’m setting an example for myself. Not so crazy. Who would find it good to imitate me? We cultivate the talents we receive at birth. And we try to avoid the defects that we received at the same time.
I don’t like this world that I am about to leave… The anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss thought like me. What I notice are the current ravages. It is the frightening disappearance of living species, plant or animal. Due to its density, the human species lives under a regime of internal poisoning. And I think about the present and the world in which I am ending my existence. It is not a world that I love.” (source)
Terrible testament… And the astrophysicist Hubert Reeves gives it a layer. “The earth is infested with humans,” he writes. Infested! As if we were vermin, woodlice or rats. And Bob Marley says the same thing:
Isn’t it a disgrace
To see the human race
In such a rat race?
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