Ardy Sixkiller Clarke, author of Encounters With Star People, vowed as a
teenager to follow in the footsteps of two 19th-century explorers, John L.
Stephens and Frederick Catherwood, who brought the ancient Maya cities to the
world's attention. Dr. Clarke set out on a seven-year adventure (from 2003
through 2010) through Belize, Honduras, Guatemala, and Mexico, collecting
stories of encounters, sky gods, giants, little people and aliens among the
indigenous people. She drove more than 12,000 miles, visiting 89 archaeological
sites (Stephens and Catherwood visited only 44) and conducted nearly 100
The result is an enthralling series of unique,
original, true stories of encounters with space travelers, giants, little
people, and UFOs. Sky People: Untold Stories of Alien Encounters in MesoAmerica may very well
change the way you perceive and experience the world.
This excerpt comes from Chapter 4.
There is a legend that when the man/god Quetzalcoatl left Tula, he walked
to a mountain and entered it, and it closed behind him. There are various
accounts throughout the indigenous world of Star Men who meld into solid
structures including mountains. In Peru, there are stories of gods who were
able to walk through walls to enter another dimension.
In this chapter, you will meet a witness who reports that Star Men often
come from space and visit the ancient temples. They have the ability to walk
through the solid walls of the temples and disappear inside mountains.
Alexandro Jean was the manager
of the small, boutique hotel where I stayed in Belize City. He was a short,
stout man with a bucktooth smile and curly black hair that always appeared as
though he had been caught in a wind storm. He wore a silver concho belt over
his tight, black polyester pants, a cowboy hat, and a long-sleeved, starched
white shirt that appeared out of place in the humid weather.
“I hear that you like stories,”
Alexandro declared as I entered the small hotel lobby on my way to the
restaurant. I nodded and he motioned me to the desk. “I have a personal story I
can tell you about UFOs,” he said in a stage whisper as he glanced around the
room as though watching for eavesdroppers. “I work day and night at the desk,
but in the early morning hours, there is no one around. Perhaps if you stop by,
I can tell you my story.”
“How did you know I collect UFO
stories?” I asked.
“Nothing escapes me, Doctor. It’s
my business to know about our guests. Our security guard overheard you talking
to your driver. He was curious that you were interested in UFOs. We don’t meet
too many people with such interest, mostly white men who have no respect. He
told one of the housekeepers who was his wife, about what you were doing, and
she told my wife, and that is how it got back to me. Words have feet in a small
hotel. We like to know all about our guests. I live many lives behind this desk
and travel the world without ever leaving through the lives of my guests. Doctor,
your life makes me very curious.”
“Why are you so curious?” I
“A woman alone. Traveling
through Belize looking for UFOs. That is curious.”
“I’m not looking for UFOs,
although I must admit, I would be happy to see one,” I said. “I am collecting stories
about UFOs. I am retracing, as much as possible, the footsteps of Stephens and
Catherwood, and along the way, I collect stories from indigenous people about
their encounters with UFOs. That’s my story.”
“I see. Stephens and
Catherwood, eh? I know them. They are dead dudes. Why would you follow two dead
“It’s a teenage promise from a
long time ago,” I said, offering him more information than I had planned.
“I see. You underestimate
yourself, dear lady. You are very curious. Few men have tried to follow
Stephens and Catherwood. Occasionally I see someone looking for stories about
UFOs, but they do not possess the methods needed to get the local people to
talk. You, on the other hand, seem to be able to touch people’s hearts and
souls. I see how everybody talks to you from the child on the street, the housekeeper,
the waiter, the beggar. I’ve observed you. People are curious about you, too. If
you run out of people to talk to, come see me.” He paused and handed a letter
to a guest before continuing. “If you want a true story, from an indigenous man—me—I will tell you a true one that I
experienced when I was a young man.”
When Buddy dropped me off shortly
after midnight the next evening, I made my way to the front desk. Alexandro
Jean was sitting behind the counter watching a small TV. He stood when I
“I’ve stopped by to hear your
story,” I announced.
Alexandro smiled and showed me
to two chairs near a large window that faced the street. “Could I get you some
coffee, tea, or a soft drink?” he asked as I pulled out my notebook.
“No. I really don’t need
anything. I just want to hear your story.”
“You are all business, Doctor. So
I will keep to business.” He sat down, pulled a coffee table closer, and
propped up his feet. “I hope you do not mind,” he said, pointing to his feet. I
shook my head and he began.
“I will start at the beginning.
I did not always live in Belize City, but in a rural village about 60 miles
from here. I left for Belize City when I was about 20. My encounter occurred
the summer I was 18. There were four of us, my friends and me. We grew up
together. Albert was with me. He was my cousin. There was my best friend,
Javier, and his brother, Jean. There was an abandoned Maya city near our
village. It was small and the government never restored it. I think there have
been archaeologists working there the last couple of years, but when I was a
boy, it was deserted. We often left the village and went there with our
alcohol. We could get drunk and no one would stop us. Our mothers and
grandmothers did not like us to drink. If they caught us with alcohol, they
would beat us.” He paused and laughed about his remembrance.
“Are you telling me you were
drunk when you had your encounter?” I asked.
“No. I was not drunk. We went
there to drink, but we had not had anything to drink when we saw the space men.”
“Can you tell me exactly what
“The first thing I remember was
the smell. When we approached the site, there was a strange, unfamiliar odor. Jean
pointed it out immediately and we all agreed he was right. It was a strange
smell. Nothing familiar to us, and as we were discussing what it might be, we
came out of the tree canopy into the plaza. That’s when we saw the craft. It
was setting in the middle of the plaza.”
“Can you describe it?” I asked.
“It was a long, dull, dark
metallic craft. It looked like a tank and at first, we thought it was a tank,
but then we saw the space men. They were dressed in gray suits that matched the
craft. They were tall and thin and had light hair. They did not wear headgear
like modern astronauts. That’s what confused us at first. To tell you the
truth, my first thought was that they were Americans and we had stumbled upon
some secret operation by the American military. When you live in this part of
the world, we always hear rumors about American soldiers carrying out secret
missions. I don’t know how much is truth or fiction or a combination of the
two.” He paused when the phone rang and excused himself. I heard him call for
security, who appeared almost immediately. He directed him to take ice to the
lady who had rented the penthouse on the top floor.
“Sorry for the interruption,”
he said as he returned to the chair next to me. “We have guests who never
“You were saying that when you
first saw the space men, you thought they were U.S. military,” I said,
reminding him of his stopping-off point.
“Yes. Part of it was the color
of their hair and part was the uniforms. They wore very strange uniforms. They
were two-piece. The shirt was like a tunic that came down over the waistband of
the pants. The pants were tucked into boots. The strangest part about their
uniforms was that when they moved about, the colors changed to match their
environment. When they were close to their craft, the uniforms were dark gray
to match the craft. If they were near trees, their uniforms became green and blended
into the jungle. When they climbed the temple, they were the color of the
stone. My cousin, Albert, said it was a military secret, and they wore uniforms
to make them invisible to the enemy. We decided that only U.S. soldiers would
know how to do that, so we all agreed that this explanation sounded logical.”
Alexandro paused as two
inebriated men entered the hotel. They had their arms around each other to
steady themselves. When they saw us, they called out to Alexandro and offered
him a drink. Immediately, Alexandro moved to the desk and called security. When
a short, muscular man dressed in a navy blue uniform with an insignia on the
shoulder and a policeman-style hat appeared, the two doubled over in laughter,
steadied themselves, and saluted him. The security officer moved forward, took
their room key, and ushered them toward the hallway. “Jack will take care of them.
They’re harmless. They have been with us for two weeks. They are opening a hamburger
franchise here in Belize, and every night they go out and get drunk. And every
night, I call Jack and he puts them to bed.” I heard him give directions to
Jack in Kriol, a dialect that is spoken throughout the country, and then turn
to me again.
“So when did you decide that
the men you were observing at the ancient site were not from the USA?” I asked.
“The four of us remained hidden
and watched the scene unfolding before us. Alberto suggested we should leave
and go get the village men, but Javier thought we should stay and watch. Jean
agreed. I did, too, so we stayed. At first, they seemed to be checking their
craft. They walked around it, occasionally stopping and recording something in
a glowing tablet they carried. After a few minutes they walked toward the
temple, but they did not climb the stairs; they walked through the stairs. We
were all struck speechless. We could not believe what we had seen. We knew that
underneath the temple was a cave. The four of us had found the entrance when we
were boys, but we couldn’t walk through the stairs. They were solid stone, but
they walked through them like they were not there.” He paused momentarily, got
up, and returned with two bottles of Coca-Cola. Just as he started to sit down,
two men leaned against the large hotel window in front of where we were
sitting. He walked to the window and pounded on the glass. The unsuspecting men
jumped as though they had been shot out of a cannon. They turned and looked at
Alexandro, and let out a volley of curse words in English and Kriol before they
moved on. “Sorry, Doctor. That is the reason I must work all night. I must
protect the hotel from drunks. I sleep in the mornings and begin again at noon.”
“So tell me, what did you do
when the strange men disappeared inside the stairs?” I asked.
“We decided to go to our secret
entrance and sneak into the cave. We wanted to see what they were doing. We had
never told anyone about the cave and for some reason it felt like they were
invading our private property. Javier was particularly upset. There were
artifacts in the cave and he was afraid they would steal them. So we crept
toward the entrance, staying hidden by the foliage until we could conceal
ourselves behind some scattered remains of other buildings. That’s when they
reappeared. We heard them talking but their language was unfamiliar. It was not
English. We speak English like the Americans.”
“Did they have any of the
artifacts?” I asked.
“No, but it seemed to us that
they were looking for something.”
“How many men entered the
“There were four.”
“Were you closer to them at
“Yes. We could see their faces.
They looked normal except they had unusually high foreheads. I think it was
because they were going bald because their hair set back on their head and was
thin. We knew these men were not from the USA. They were foreigners. I think it
was Alberto who suggested they came from the stars. These were no ordinary
humans. As we were coming to that conclusion, they moved to the west. We
decided to follow. Behind the main plaza temple, there is a small mountain. It
was actually another temple but it was totally overgrown with trees and grass. We
watched as they walked through the mountain. We were totally shocked. At this
point, Javier decided he was going aboard the craft that was setting in the
plaza. He ran toward the craft. We followed. But just as we entered the edge of
the plaza, the strange men reappeared out of nowhere. Like a puff of smoke.”
“Do you mean they had the
ability to appear and disappear?”
“They must have. They just
“Did they see you?”
“At this point, yes.”
“Did they attempt to
communicate with you?”
“No. They disappeared again and
it was less than a minute when the craft moved upward and within seconds it was
gone. We watched it climb above the trees. It stopped briefly overhead as
though examining us, and then they were gone. Zip, zip, zip. Gone.” He made a
zigzag motion with his hand illustrating the craft’s movement.
“You said you felt as though
they were examining you? Were there windows or anything distinctive about the
“No windows. We saw no lights,
but it was the late afternoon. The sun was still bright. It was just a feeling.
They hovered above us. I assumed they were watching us.”
“Did you stay at the site for
your drinking party?”
“Jean said it was a sign. We
should give up drinking.”
“What kind of a sign?”
“A sign from God. He said they
could be angels.”
“Did you agree?”
“No. They came from the stars
and they returned to the stars. I think we scared them as much as they scared
“Have you had any other
experiences with Star Men?” I asked.
“I have seen UFOs several times.
I saw the one last night. Did you see it?” I nodded. “But I have never seen anything
like we saw that day.”
“Can you tell me anything else
about the experience?”
“It was so powerful that we
never went back there again. We never found a different drinking place, either.
In fact, we never had a drinking party after that. Maybe they were angels,” he
said laughing. “They sure made us give up our drinking ways.”
A day later, I checked out of
Alexandro’s hotel and moved to Belmopan. As I was leaving, he stopped me in the
lobby. “Be careful in your travels. It is a dangerous world out there, and don’t
let anyone ever say that you are not a curious woman. You are very curious.” He
reached out and embraced me, kissing me on my cheek. “Come back anytime,
Doctor. We can spend another night together. The next time, I give you the
penthouse suite at no extra charge.”
“What was that all about?”
Buddy asked as I joined him in the van.
“It was about men who walk
through mountains,” I replied.
The next time I returned to Belize, I stopped at the hotel and inquired
about Alexandro Jean. He had moved to Belmopan. The hours at the hotel had
taken a toll on his family life and his wife had given him an ultimatum: Either
he leave, or she leaves. The clerk did not have a forwarding address, so I was never
able to reconnect with Alexandro. But I have not forgotten the man who told me
about men from the stars who walked through mountains and made him and his
friends give up their drinking ways.
Dr. ArdySixkiller Clarke
brings to the field of Ufology degrees in history, English, psychology and
educational leadership and a background as a teacher, university professor,
administrator, licensed therapist and psychologist, and social science
researcher. As a professor emeritus at
Montana State University and director of the Center for Bilingual/Multicultural
Education, Dr. Clarke has focused on working with indigenous people. Her first book was the best-seller Encounters
With Star People. She lives in a mountain cabin at Big Sky, Montana.
live in an environment permeated by both natural and artificial sources of
electromagnetic energy, while we ourselves are electromagnetic beings. As we
continue to pollute and thereby alter our electromagnetic environment, we are
also altering ourselves. In particular, these changes infringe on the psychic
side of our being.
exciting and controversial new title shows how all things, from the mundane to
the mysterious, are tied together by a vast—and largely
invisible—electromagnetic web. It examines ESP, poltergeist disturbances,
psychokinesis, UFOs, spontaneous human combustion and other paranormal
phenomena from an electromagnetic perspective. It also reveals how the
artificial, alien energies we’ve been introducing into our environment shape
the way we experience the paranormal.
Please tune in for an interview with author Louis Proud.
Louis Proud is a writer and researcher specializing in anomalous phenomena. His articles have appeared in New Dawn, Paranormal, FATE, and Nexus magazines and he has been interviewed on such programs as VERITAS Radio, Paranormal Realms, and Whitley Strieber’s Dreamland. The author of Dark Intrusions and The Secret Influence of the Moon, he lives in Darwin, Australia.
Desperation, and its cousin desolation, are close kindred when it
comes to vernacular in the Appalachian Mountains. Each word denotes a singular
loneliness renowned for causing men to do terrible things; they gamble, and
sometimes desert their families. Some have even killed as a result of the fear
and suffocation that isolation can bring. Still others have escaped away into
the hollows, remaining hidden away for decades, perhaps, finding new life and
rejuvenation in the echoes of solitude that only nature can provide.
There are other things in those
hills, some will tell you—though to say it this way evokes more nostalgia and
pure camp than any sense of foreboding. Charles Pierce’s narration comes to
mind, perhaps, in his drive-in campfire story-come-to-life that became The Legend of Boggy Creek. In it, a
beast that is equally disturbed, as it was disturbing, terrorizes the simple
folk of Fouke, Arkansas.
A monster, they called it.
And yet, this monster walked on two
legs. How better to present difficulty in drawing clear distinctions between
the creatures of myth and shadow, and the monsters purported to exist around
the corner, perhaps in the very most remote and isolated areas of the modern
world. What are we to make of a monster that, in truth, is more human than it
is animal? Where are such distinctions successfully drawn, assuming that such a
“beast” does indeed exist… somewhere?
Even before his tour serving in
Vietnam, William Smith had no doubt wondered about this too. He returned from a
foreign war with a new idea about what monsters were… he had fought among them,
and perhaps, lived among them too. And yet, all along there had been something
else that occasionally caused him to wonder; something that caused him to
question where we, as humans, fit into all this.
He had been only thirteen years old
at the time, and heading off to visit his cousins for the weekend, a long
afternoon had already been spent outside playing under the hot sun in the
fields off near the lumberyard where his uncle worked. The scent of sawdust and
poplar sap had been strong in the air, and their clothes smelled of it as they
came in from the day, and began washing in advance of a Friday evening meal.
“Don’t wash just yet,” William’s
aunt Clara could be heard calling. “I need you boys to go up to the chicken
house and fetch me eggs for the biscuits I’m making.”
“How many?” William’s cousin Ernest
shot back at her.
“Several,” she said. “And any more
mouth out of you, and I’ll have ya out there to sleep with ‘em too.”
William and Ernest wandered down
the hallway toward the back porch, badly in need of repair, that leveled off
into the grass at the base of the hill in the back yard. The chicken coop
rested at the top of the broad hill, which sloped upward and entered a thick
band of birch trees that stood at the edge of the forest. The boys walked
along, when suddenly, Ernest took off running back toward the house.
“Where are you headed?” William
called to him.
“I forgot the damned basket, how
the hell are we gonna carry any eggs if we don’t have it? Be right back.”
William kicked his foot around in
the dirt between two thick tufts of grass while he waited. It was just after
sundown, and as the sky wilted into pale strands of blue and pink, he felt a
chill come over him while he watched the soil turn under the toe of his shoe.
The wind, he thought, without really thinking much.
There had been no wind, however,
only that incessant knocking from up the hill. The chickens could be heard
parading around in their coop, although the knocking seemed to be coming from
something else. William looked up the hill, shifting his right foot away from
the depression he had made in the upturned earth, and as his first step landed,
The animal—it must have been a
bear—was already halfway into the coop, the door torn partly off its hinges. He
could see the thing moving back and forth, as it pawed at the eggs, and the
chickens, within the narrow wire box.
“Hey!” came the sound of Ernest’s
voice. “Make some noise, Bill! Or that damned thing will have all our eggs!”
William didn’t hesitate as he started shouting at the beast, hoping to scare it
away. It was large, but it couldn’t be a full-grown black bear; while the color
was right, it’s shape was far too thin.
Suddenly, as the sounds of the
boys’ shouting wafted up the hill, the creature sprang out of the coop, and
standing up straight, somehow rose head and shoulders above it. The boys, maybe
twenty yards away by now, stopped in their tracks as the animal stood glaring
at them, which lasted only seconds before it ran off into the forest, dropping
eggs as it went.
William would tell his story
occasionally to family and friends, describing for them what he had called “the
sloth.” It would be several decades before I ever learned of what he had seen,
and arranged to meet him one afternoon, to talk about the animal that went
after his aunt’s eggs that evening.
“It was just after sundown,”
William remembered. “Ernest and I had gotten about halfway up the hill before
we saw it. The thing had been bent over inside the coop, reaching around so
that we couldn’t see it.
“I thought for sure it was a bear,”
William told me. “We started making noise, and then the thing stood straight
up. If that chicken coop was about six feet tall, I’d guess, this thing
probably stood another foot and a half above it. Then, it took off running, and
we watched, but it never dropped to all fours. It ran away on two legs.”
The creature had appeared covered
in black hair or short fur, while the face and hands were light colored, and
“I’ll never forget its hands,”
William told me. “They looked crooked, or disjointed.” I asked him to describe
these crooked hands again, or to
elaborate. “They just looked so odd, and they were turned inward, with these
long fingers, that it was holding those eggs with as it turned to run off.”
“Did you see a Bigfoot?” I asked
him. William paused, and I watched his eyebrows as they lowered for just a
moment, then raised again.
“I don’t know what it was,” he
finally said. “For all I know it was some crazy old man.”
Madison County is the area of
Western North Carolina where William saw the thing, whatever it was, for what
would be the first, and the last time. There are local legends around the
nearby Sunburst community that tell of the “Boojum,” borrowing its name from
the writing of Lewis Carroll. Similar tales extend back further among the
Cherokee Indians, who spoke of savage men of the mountains they called the Kecleh-Kudleh. Though seldom
reported, similar beings are still seen
in the more remote parts of the Appalachian Mountains even today, representing
an animal that is one half beast, and one half something else, if not a man.
There are occasional whispers that
arise from time to time, of things that should not exist like this, but seem to
be persistent enough in our imaginations that it causes us to wonder. Perhaps
they are not imaginary at all… but if real, what are they? Are they man, or are
they beast? Or, could they be something else entirely, which challenges our
every conception of the separation we presume to exist between civilized
mankind, and the beasts that haunt the shadows of the wooded hills and hollows?
In Sex, Sorcery, and Spirit, Jason Miller draws upon his training in Eastern and Western mystery schools to produce a frank, comprehensive exploration of sexual sorcery and spirituality. In clear language he will show you how to take your magic to the next level. Today we start with a story from the east.
stories are important. Stories and myths have an ability to convey meaning on
multiple levels at once, as well as place sometimes odd beliefs and practices
into a useful context within our particular culture and the world at large.
Before we delve into the factual history, theory, and practice of sex magic I
want to share two stories that illustrate the role and importance of erotic magic.
One story is from the East and another one is from the West, and each has had a
deep impact on the mystery traditions of its respective hemisphere. (Part 2)
Story from the West
are that unless you are entirely new to the concept of sex magic, you know that
Aleister Crowley practiced it as part of his religious and philosophical system
known as Thelema—a Greek word meaning “will and desire.” Crowley was inspired
by Francois Rabelais, who wrote about an Abbey of Thelema in his book Gargantua and Pantagruel nearly 400
years before Crowley established his own version of such an abbey in Cefalu,
Sicily, in 1920. What fewer people know is that Rabelais’s use of the term was
most likely inspired by a chapter within one of the most enigmatic books of Western
literature: The Hypnerotomachia Poliphili,
which translates as “Polifilo’s Strife of Love in a Dream.”1 This
book was printed anonymously in Venice in 1499 and uses a very difficult linguistic
style that is a combination of Italian, Greek, and Latin. It is attributed to Francesco Colonna because the first
letter of each chapter spells out POLIAM
FRATER FRANCISCVS COLVMNA PERAMAVIT, which translates as “Brother Francesco
Colonna has dearly loved Polia.”
Most believe that this reveals the
author to be a Dominican monk who preached at San Marco Cathedral during the
time that the book was published. Some scholars believe that the book was
written by a different Colonna who was a Roman Governor at the time, and yet
others attribute it to the famous Lorenzo de Medici.
book recounts the tale of a man named Poliphilo, which can loosely be
translated as “lover of all things,” and his search for his true love, Polia,
or “all things.” The quest takes him through ancient temples, secret lakes and
alcoves, enchanted forests, and mysterious portals. All through the book he
marvels and waxes poetic about the beauty he finds not only in the many women
and nymphs he meets, but also in the architecture, landscape, and sculptures he
encounters. Truly a love of all
things. At one point he encounters the Queen Eleuterylida (loosely translated
as “free will”), who instructs him to choose between three portals to continue
his quest. To lead him to these portals, the queen assigns two nymphs:
Logistica (reason or logic) and Thelemia (will or desire). A long journey
ensues, during which Logistica offers lots of explanation and advice to
Poliphilo, while Thelemia says little by comparison. Eventually they arrive at
an impenetrable pass where three brazen portals are carved into the side of the
living rock. Each portal is marked with an inscription in Arabic, Hebrew,
Greek, and Latin.
first portal is marked with the words Gloria
Dei in Latin, Theodoxia in Greek,
Tif’eret ha-El in Hebrew, and Jal Allah in Arabic. These all translate
to “Glory of God.” The three travelers knock on the portal and a shriveled old matron
dressed in rags comes out to greet them. The road through this portal is stony
and covered in thorns and brambles. Logistica, seeing that Poliphilo was not
interested in this portal, tried to encourage him to take it, saying, “This
path is not known until the end is reached.” Thelemia, however, advised him, “O
Poliphilo, the love of this laborious woman is not yet for you.”
knock on the second portal, which is marked with the words Gloria Mundi in Latin, Cosmodoxia
in Greek, Tif’ret ha-Olam in Hebrew,
and Jal Ad-Dinya in Arabic. These all
translate to “Glory of the World.” They are again greeted by a matron, but this
time she is strong, with powerful arms, and holds a golden sword with a crown
and palm branch suspended from it. She and her maiden attendants radiate the
strength that is only developed after prevailing in combat and trial. Logistica
begins to sing a song in praise of this path: “ O Poliphilo, do not shrink from
the manly combat of this place, for when the labour is past, the reward remains.”
Her song is so vehement that Poliphilo is ready to walk through this portal and
face whatever trial awaits. Thelemia caresses him and gently reminds him, “It
seems sensible, Poliphilo my pet, that before you stay here you should at least
look at the third portal.”
third portal is marked with the words Mater
Amoris in Latin, Erototrophos in
Greek, Gidul ha-Ahava in Hebrew, and Um el-Mujaba in Arabic. The meaning of
these is “Mother of Love” or “Nurturer of Love.” Once in the portal they are
met by a joyful young woman whose wanton gaze captures the attention of
Poliphilo immediately. The path behind her is a voluptuous garden overflowing
with abundant beauty, food, drink, and of course nymphs. Logistica warns
Poliphilo not to be sucked in by “a feigned and cosmetic beauty, deceitful,
insipid, and vain.” She warns that there will be heartbreak and pain and death
and all manner of disappointment and poison if he takes this path. Logistica
goes on and on like this for some time, but Thelemia simply glances at him and
makes a gesture that he should not listen to Logistica. Logistica gets angry,
throws down her Lyre, and runs off. Thelemia assures Poliphilo, “This is the
place, Poliphilo, where it will surely not be long before you find the thing
you love most, the thing that is yours, the one thing in the world which your
obstinate heart unceasingly thinks about and hopes for.”
Poliphilo, led by the coquettish women, passes through this portal, where,
after a short rest, he resumes his quest. Eventually he finds Polia, who
rebukes him, causing him to die. Polia is then encouraged by the Goddess Venus
herself to love Poliphilo, so she returns and kisses him, which returns him to
life. She and Poliphilo resolve to devote themselves to love and the works of
love. They embrace, Polia disappears, and Poliphilo wakes up from his dream.
story represents the first use of the term Thelema
to indicate a path that represents the personal will, as opposed to the will of
an external god as a spiritual path.2 It specifically rejects the
idea that one needs to choose between a life of renouncing passion and pleasure
to know god, represented by the Theodoxia gate, or a purely material life
driven by success, power, and conquest, represented by the Cosmodoxia gate.
Instead one can embrace passion and pleasure and eventually come to know Polia—All
two stories represent a subtle teaching on the philosophy behind sexual magic,
and the place it holds in the greater scheme of spirituality. Both stories
represent a path that can lead to realization faster than paths of renunciation
and asceticism. They also represent paths that can be hazardous: Logistica was
not wrong about the dangers of the third gate, and there is a reason that the
Buddha was not teaching the Guhyasamāja Tantra widely in India, or even to the
500 Arhats that accompanied him.
the dangers, though, in Indrabhuti the Buddha saw a sovereign who could handle
the teaching and really could attain enlightenment in no other way. Thelemia
saw the same in Poliphilo. There are many who feel that the old ways of
religious asceticism are no longer the most appropriate method of spiritual
expression for our planet. Simple materialism has also failed us, and seems to
bring us further and further from real fulfillment and realization as a
species. The first and second gates have failed. Perhaps it is time to walk
through the third.
has devoted the last 23 years to traveling the globe and studying practical
magic in its many forms. He is the author of Protection and Reversal Magick,
The Sorcerer's Secrets, and Financial Sorcery. He also runs the
Strategic Sorcery Training Course and Strategic Sorcery Blog. He lives with his
wife and children in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, where he practices and
teaches magic. His popular blog can be found at www.inominandum.com/blog.
The discovery that your
body (not your mind) is listening to you will transform your life. Your mind
runs old programs, "defaults" to all that is familiar in your life,
even when what’s familiar is pain. The Alchemy of Self Healingwill
show you how to tap into your body wisdom that craves health and joy. To get started with understanding your
relationship to your body we’ve shared an excerpt from Chapter 1: The Alchemy
The goal of life is to make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe, to match your nature with Nature.
Everything is held together with
stories. That is all that is holding us together, stories and compassion.
question to ask yourself is whose stories are holding you together? Did you
choose those stories or are they your ancestors’ stories, an inheritance by default?
Are they your childhood shame stories, your “I am less than” stories, your “otherness”
stories? If your answer is “I don’t know,” the truth is this: Part of you does
know. There may be resistance to knowing, and in Cranial Alchemy work we honor
resistance. But let me repeat: Part of you knows. And that awareness can lead
to relief when you realize that, cellularly at least, you actually do know it
Cranial Alchemy process offers keys to keep you from being triggered and
signposts for tracking the changes you yearn for in your life, whether those changes
are physical, metaphysical, or metaphorical.
by entertaining the idea that a part of you, in each moment, knows what you
need can be a powerful first step. Next time you catch yourself saying “I don’t
know,” I encourage you to add “right now.” That’s a truer statement.
The Alchemy Quiz: Rate Your Relationship
with Your Body
old, negative stories lodged inside is the key to bridging the disconnection
between your body and your mind. Creating that bridge will enable you to create
your life, business, and relationship in ways you might only imagine for now.
yourself eight questions to help you track how integrated you are with your body
at the moment. Your body is instant messaging you all the time!
part of your body do you love without reservation?
long did it just take you to answer question number one?
of the following best describes how that loved body part feels?
A) Flowing like a waterfall, B)
glistening like sap on a tree, C) smooth as a rock, D) sparkling like a crystal,
E) other, please write it in.
4. Now, what body part frustrates you most?
long did that question take to answer compared to question one?
you could have a conversation with the part you’re frustrated with to explain
your feelings, what would the conversation sound like? Give a voice to that
part and flesh it out (excuse the pun) with as much detail as possible. Does it
have an accent? (One unforgettable example: a workshop client’s neck had a
French cartoon voice.) Does it have a lot to say or very little? Give yourself
three to five minutes and see what comes up for you, if anything. Which of the following fit? A) A
loud argument, B) a tearful monologue, C) it’s lost in translation, D) a gentle
whispered hello, how’s it going in there conversation, E) I can’t do this.
daily level of stress is: A) Off-the-charts high, B) medium, C) low, D) stress?
my spine was an animal, I imagine it would be: A) A quick, gliding fish, B) a
buzzing bee, C) a fossilized turtle, D) an octopus, E) other, please describe.
My tally system is as non-linear as I could create it. The value of this quiz is
not in the tallied number but truly
in your experience of the inquiry.
points for being able to identify a body part you love without any “buts.”
Deduct five points if you chose your heart. There’s a chance this is a cop out.
Answering “heart” can come from social conditioning, a safe answer that might
not allow a more authentic and unique truth to bubble up. You’ll know when you
re-take the quiz in 30 days. At that point, if “heart” is your true answer, you’ll
get your five points back.
you answered question one right away, 10 points. Less than a minute, five
points. Up to five minutes and you’re still not coming up with a part you love,
zero points. (But all that will change after you’ve read this book.)
you were able to easily give a description to question three, give yourself 40
points. If this was challenging, great. No points, but we’ll work on that.
whether you jump to an internal part or an external part. Either way, add five
points. The practice of noticing can be healing.
points if it took you a long time to answer this (three to five minutes), zero
if you answered right away, and five points if you had to think for a minute.
points if you didn’t draw a blank.
much everyone taking this quiz is A or B. Five points for either answer. Eight
points for C. If you answered D, you get 10 points for irony. Employing your
sense of humor while taking a quiz is both healthy and creative.
points for any answer and for gifting your spine with imagery. And if you were
a fossilized turtle spine, there is a self-help exercise for that in Chapter 6.
points or over—The Fluid Alchemist
than most people, you are in touch with your body, your creativity, and your
ability to create. Cranial Alchemy can help you refine the tools you already
have and will deepen your connection to the metaphorical, unseen support that
surrounds you. You’ll enjoy accessing your internal Direction of Ease so you
can create your life, health, and relationships in a powerful and juicy way.
done some inner work but have either a lack of internal focus or a scattered
focus in terms of how you “show up” for yourself and your projects and maybe
what you believe is possible in your life. You could use some reliable new
tools for whatever transformation you desire. Realizing that you have a
treasure trove to search inside yourself is key. Pay close attention to the metaphorical
level discussions. Be certain to give extra attention to those exercises that
seem most foreign to you.
40—The Inner Apprentice
with the exercises in this book and watch yourself grow deep connective roots
to the natural world, as well as gain the knowledge to shift perspective and
calm your nervous system so you can reach your goals!
Jeannine Wiest is an advanced
certified craniosacral therapist, Reiki master, and holistic coach in Los
Angeles, California. She has danced on Broadway, dissected a human cadaver, and
has clients ranging from corporate escapees to Oscar winners, from billionaires
to chronically ill children in Bali.
received a BFA from Purchase College and holds craniosacral certification from
The Upledger Institute, where she has been a longtime teaching assistant.
Wiest is a leading
expert in combining craniosacral therapy concepts and creative principles. Her
mission is to open people’s eyes to the significance of having a nature-based
and metaphorical relationship with one’s own body.