The Death Defiers 1

Beckoned to Mexico

Some years ago when I was living in California, I had a dream wherein I was beckoned to Mexico by a shaman that lived there.

What I saw there was a gigantic desert valley before me between two parallel mountain ranges miles apart from each other. I was facing West and the sun was stunningly bright. But suddenly it became dim as if someone had pulled a pair of glasses over my eyes. Across the valley and the mountains, there appeared glittering points of light that I immediately knew were pieces of a meteor that had struck that valley long ago. And thus that valley was infused with that mystically beautiful, yet alien and outer-worldy energy.

The Old Shaman Offers a Gift

Suddenly about twenty miles to the south I perceived a man standing on top of the opposite mountain range intently staring at me. It was his piercing gaze that captured my attention. Suddenly he was next to me, and he had me look around. Atop this mountain where we stood, it was littered with pieces of the meteorite, which now glowed green as I gazed upon them. They looked like pieces of jade. I saw one piece that looked as if it had been carved. And upon picking it up I saw that indeed it was carved.

It was a belt ornament, an oval-shaped cone about 80cm long that had a slit on one side and the middle hollowed out so that you could slip the belt into the slit, and then turn the belt a quarter-turn to have the stone piece fit firmly, with its ornamentation facing outward on the belt. The outward part was carved with glyphs that looked Mayan. It was a power ornament.

The man said I could have it if I wanted it, but I detected something loaded behind his proposition. So I respectfully placed the stone back down onto the desert mountaintop.

He then showed me that the top of the mountain itself was terraced. I saw then that the stone terraces themselves had been carved out into parallel troughs and then filled in with soil. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought these were farming terraces, such as the kind used in Asia for growing rice – except we were here in the desert.

A Battery Chain of Life Energy

The old man showed me that these troughs had been carved into the mountain, and dirt filled in, to form a kind of “human battery” – which I’ll explain now. As if I had x-ray vision, I saw through the soil and stone, and saw that within the bottom terrace was buried an ancient shaman, resting flat on his back with the head-end of his body pointing to the space in the trough to the empty space directly adjacent to his head in the trough. Immediately above his head was the body of another shaman placed in similar fashion, with the feet of that shaman next to the first shaman’s head, with this second man’s head pointed to the next space in the trough. I saw then there were nearly twenty of these shamans buried in this fashion. When the trough came to an end at the precipice in the mountain, it curved into a half-circle and resumed its long trek one level higher to form a new mountain terrace, similarly filled with the bodies of other shamans.

This long trough stretched back and forth to form maybe three or four terraces leading to the top of this mountain, and it ended with the short stretch of trough at the top of the mountain. It was then when I realized why the man’s offer of a gift was loaded. I saw then the man’s true intention in inviting me to see this mysteriously beautiful land.

There were two places in the mountain trough left. One for him, and one (so he hoped) for me.

The men buried in the mountain trough were all buried in parallel battery fashion, like a string of batteries placed in series to compound their energy, which is exactly what these shamans were doing. All of them, every one, was still alive but buried, buried alive, in the mountaintop.

The Death Defiers

Although I never met the man, I was a literary apprentice of the mystic Toltec writer/shaman (famous in the 1960s) Carlos Castaneda. You can read about what I wrote of him previously here and here on this blog.

One fantastic story that Carlos wrote about was about the “death defiers” – shamans of the old world who endeavored to live forever, and actually found ways to do this. As defined by the linked site:

“The Death Defier was a human from long ago who, on becoming a shaman-sorcerer, used his powers to try and escape death. He managed to alter his form so he would more closely resemble inorganic beings. However, in the process, he was trapped by the lure of power from those same inorganic beings. Eons later he managed to escape. Existing on a thin threshold between the not-fully human and the inorganic he couldn’t eat, yet still needed energy. To evade his former captors and sustain his form, he needed to constantly search for energy. In the year 1725 AD the Death Defier, addicted to living and needing energy, down on power, in his last dying moments, cornered a then minor shaman from a long line of minor shamans by the name of Sebastian. In a noticeable weakened state he was able to extort energy from him – but only through a deal. To stay alive each generation of shaman-sorcerers in Sebastian’s lineage would give the Death Defier some of their energy in exchange for knowledge – knowledge and secrets gained or learned by the Death Defier over thousands and thousands of years. Thus the Death Defier “earned” the name tenant and by doing so, a new lineage was born. The secret is, in making the deal, the crafty Sebastian and those that followed, have given the the life-addicted Defier only enough energy to survive.”

So, I daresay the man I met was one such death defier, along with the men I saw still buried alive in that mountain. They had lived out their lives as shamans walking the earth doing what shamans do, but in the end their fear of death and their agreement to contribute their energy to this collective battery of energy is what kept them alive, although in a kind of passive stasis underground.

It goes without saying: It was fear that had driven them all to do this.

I chose not to join this man and his cohorts, as I didn’t wish not to throw in my lot in with such morbid practice.

And thus ended this “dream”.

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One comment

  1. Excellent!!

    “Until one has loved an animal part of their soul remains unawakened”

    Anatole France

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