My father's bookcase was one of the magical portals that allowed me to escape to almost anywhere with the wide range of topics contained within it. When I was a kid growing up in Upstate NY there was a set of book covers that fascinated me the most... Particularly this one:
Doing deliveries on the Whiteriver Apache tribal grounds this morning I drove by a garage sale with a rack of books. I wondered what that rack contained when I slowed down, put the truck in reverse (dousing the neighborhood with the annoying reverse alarm shattering the sound of wind in the ponderosa pine trees) and parked on the side of the road in front of the house having the garage sale.
Normally, my parking in front of a home with my box truck is a bad omen to the house I pulled in front of, particularly when I'm visiting accounts that are severely past due.
I received a few glares but I strode directly to the rack to see what was available. Nothing like book shopping at garage sales, definitely one of my favorite activities.
I noticed the book with the cover above and secured it in my palm. It would be coming home with me for surely I had enough in my pocket to cover the cost of a garage sale book. Besides, my sister had 'adopted' the book many years ago so here was my chance to reclaim it.
I scanned the other books and picked up a great TIME picture book of authentic photos of WWII with many excerpts written by Winston Churchill himself and the complete works of Homer in a book way overdue from the Pinetop public library.
When the homeowner requested a quarter per book, I put 2 one dollar bills in his hand and told him to have a nice weekend.
Later on, after the kid's little league game, I plopped down on the couch and opened the Castaneda book that I have read so many times before that I could recite the words before my eyes reached them. I also relived the sensations of the first time I read those words so many years ago.
His stories always amazed and reminded me of the possibility of worlds beyond imagination that exist right in front of our apparently primitive eyes. If only we could SEE
. His books were an expose' of those worlds as described by the Yaqui shaman Don Juan.
The stories contained an amazing psychological journey (especially my favorite volume, Journey to Ixtlan
) that took me down different roads to reality each time I reread them.
Anyway, with the Apache Tribe holding its annual Pow Wow in the Pines
only a few blocks from the garage sale that I rediscovered one of my favorite books, it was hard not to notice the obvious connections that were happening in front of my very eyes. The Spirit works in mysterious ways. Not to mention the fact that I now live very near the area these books were supposedly written in, and about.
No folks, there are no coincidences.
In my regalia I decided to do a video search of the author to see what was new in Castaneda's world and I came across an in depth BBC documentary from the "Tales from the Jungle" series that got to the nitty gritty of Castaneda's physical world.
While some of the details of the end of his life were quite disappointing and even very creepy- considering the ethereal promises of his book's philosophies, it still did not take away from the magic that it had been instilled deep within me as a young man. My good friends know of the journals I kept of the writings that fascinated me the most.
The video I found is an hour long so I don't expect anyone other than those familiar with Castaneda to spend the time to watch it but it was no doubt interesting if not anti-climatic.
Anyway, that was my day in a nutshell... now it's time to pack up the fishing pole and see if I can focus my INTENT
to attract fish to my hook. If not, no big deal because the magic of the manipulation of Intent will always live in my heart... and secretly I will always desire to be a Nagual