The Lesson of the Snail - Eden Saga

Oh l’escargot, quelle drôle de ‘tite bête! Que c’est rigolo ce qu’il a sur la tête!
Oh the snail what a strange lil beast! How funny it is, what it gets on its head!

In the nagualism of Castaneda, the anecdote of the snail occupies a prominent place. I have often alluded to it, let’s go further. Walking with Juan Matus, Carlos Castaneda picks up a snail on the trail and drops it off safely. Matus rebels: never does a warrior impose his ‘help‘ on anyone, even a snail.

Helping Can Harm

Helping someone is always imposing on them. Making them a debtor. Belittling them. Despise his ability to get by on his own, which is the only thing that matters.

Who are we to decide the fate of another being? By moving this snail, Castaneda stole a victory that would have made him better. Or he avoided a death that would have freed him.

–I will put it back where I took it, answers the sheepish apprentice.
–No, said Matus. The stupidity is done, don’t add a second one.

By moving this snail, Carlos Castaneda shows compassion. He therefore walks on the path with a heart, like his model Juan Matus. And yet the latter reprimands him.

Compass Ions

Systematic compassion is not a good program for a warrior of light. If we saw the compass, how to orient ourselves? The compass is not the map, but it points to the direction to follow. And compassion is unworthy.

She is often just a mask that hides superiority. By showing compassion, we send this signal: I am wiser than you. I see that you need help, and I see that you don’t dare to ask for it. I know more than you, I can help you, see: I’m already helping you.

It oozes smugness. It stinks of pretentiousness. How could I win the trust of my interns by behaving like this? Many gurus do it, but in this corner of the world, gurus are jerks. We must flee them like the plague.

Wait For the Request

The golden rule: never intervene without a prior request, duly detailed. It’s my rule and I stick to it. The request made by another, or for another, or the request made with half words is not enough. This recommendation is valid for healings, it is also valid for smaller things, such as moving a snail.

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.
Carlos Castaneda

But no logical study overcomes the irrational, the unknown, the superhuman that is the nagual. The works of Castaneda are as many gold mines. The study and description of the impeccable warrior, the man of knowledge, the merciless place, the path-who-has-a-heart, the human inventory, the art of dreaming have resisted since 1968 and have not finished enlightening the seekers of truth.

In practice, I do not just wait for the request, I check its merits. It sometimes takes several months before I respond to certain requests. And often I refuse the people concerned. They are not clear, they lack coherence, they are not ready, or will never be, alas!

Awakening is the goal, any premature attempt can forever cancel all hope to achieve it. The most extreme caution is therefore de rigueur.

Hurry Slowly

The snail teaches us patience in effort. It does not drag for pleasure. It activates. He is striving towards his goal, knowing that he will probably never succeed. The essential thing is not to succeed, but to start over. And restart avery time you’ve been stopped. Victory is won every second, if you know how to make it an eternity.

This pretty horned beast walks around its house on its back, but it’s a very fragile house. And if the house collapses, the beast is already dead. Respect the snail, don’t crush it, don’t move it, don’t play with the living being whatever it is. If you do, you are not better than the gods. All the living are worthy of the respect reserved for the dead. Must one die to deserve it?

Hurry, for we only have this life ahead of us. This life is the sum of all the others. The outcome. No one knows for sure where he comes from, no one knows where he is going either. Do we only know where we are? The warrior of light and the snail don’t care, they are quite right. They hurry with all their strength, tense in action, simply happy to exist.

Supersonic

But if a murderous hand arrives, what does it matter whether it kills us or moves us? These two ends are equal. We are also destroyed by both. No one escapes it, whatever the energy and tenacity they have shown, the hand of fate reduces their efforts to nothing.

A person often meets destiny on the road taken to avoid it.
Jean de La Fontaine

The space of a moment. Everything returns to nothingness. The space of a life. The infinite space that separates sleep from waking. The incommensurable space that separates us from ourselves. Know thyself, said Soandso. And you will know men and gods, adds finely Untel. A lot of people thought it, many wrote it, only one is known for that. All these people are dead, therefore eternal, frozen in the absolute of non-time.

You and I, we are here and now. It is our prison. So try to be everywhere and always, you will see what I mean. Our limitations are unbearable for me. Our limits nail me to the pillories. So is it: to die slowly? Lose a little more every day, every minute, every second? Grow old at the speed of the sonic snail?

The Prison Map

Do we have other choice? Not the least. Ending life? That’s part of it too. It’s part of the prison plan. Only the guardians have it in memory. Normal. They live there for much longer than us, mixed snails that we are. Difficult to imagine a new solution, we who live a century at best, in front of our masters who collect the millennia?

We do not have the plan for the prison. Nor the strength to break our chains. Nor the energy of flying out of time, of cutting off image and sound, of stopping space. I do it constantly, in vain. Always I come back. I am tall, I fly and everything is beautiful. I travel through infinite worlds, jumping from galaxy to galaxy, without moving from the chair where the nap seized me.

You have to dance in chains.
Friedrich Nietzsche

We have the compass, no compassion. But we don’t know how to use it. And why do it? What’s the point of aiming for one goal or another, ultimately we never get out of the prison of the body. Even after death. At least if I remember correctly.

The fear of dying makes us live when the fear of living kills us.
Lao Surlam

Infinite Expectation

Time snail, I lived some earthly lives that I remember in my still dreams. And I also experienced the infinite waiting of the soul between two incarnations. Beyond time, it only knows an eternal moment. She can only live by incarnating. But it is not her who decides. Outside a body, she is forced to a fate worse than death. The waiting beyond time can last a very long time. We must bring back to mind the lessons of the snail.

Patience and length of time are more than strength or rage.
La Fontaine

But this expectation is not one. Everything is stopped, even our soul rests, immobile, unchanged for fractions of eternity. The soul is a fragile snail that never takes its house on its back. Does the soul have only one back?

If yes, I would like to go on a soul ride. Between two lives, between two bodies, between two eras, there is only emptiness, ether, the interstellar screen.

Boredom was born one day from uniformity. (Jean de La Fontaine)

But no, the soul is never bored. Like an infant, it waits patiently between feedings. But feedings will only come with a new baby’s body.

The snail is infinitely patient. The ventral cretation occupies him quite a bit, otherwise he moves his antennas to receive his favorite shows on RTE, Radio Télé Escargot.

The snail is both male and female, it is called mixed snail. Like the cargo ship of the same name, it doesn’t only have goods in its shell, it also takes passengers.

Not much, and no hurry ones. The others will go faster on foot.

A Little Encyclopedia

The term snail is a vernacular name which refers to shell-bearing gastropods, generally terrestrial and also called molasses, or slowcoaches as opposed to slugs. The smallest snail measures a few millimeters, while the largest reaches 20 centimeters. A giant.

Less Cargo Rap

Laisse cargo. Leave the snail alone. Because for you, buddy, the climb screwed up. When Casta broke you, you pushed, rested, freaked you out? Wazza man? It’s rap, it scrapes, it’s not rastaman. Are you kicking? I laugh, snail. I watch you struggle on the steep slopes. Have you smoked pies? Are you recovering? Are you exclaiming? Wazza, are you off-label? Enough, you need to recover. You need to swap your chewy face for a roquet’s face that comes to the stall. Your antennas are flirtatious but it’s hard to fuck. Your shell cracked when Casta pushed you away.

Leave, let the snail sealed.

Jesus Son of the Snail

Jesus was on a good day. He gave a speech. What you do to the least of mine, it is to me that you do. Castaneda also felt in a playful mood. He took this Jesus by the thumb and forefinger and get rid of him. Son of God or not, this boy Jesus kept silent. He took the clé des champs and never returned it.

Oh l’escargot, quelle drôle de ‘tite bête! Que c’est rigolo ce qu’il a sur la tête! Oh the snail what a strange lil beast! How funny it is, what it gets on its head!