I was still a boy of twelve springs when I, with someone else, who was eagerly investigating the mysteries of the worlds beyond, decided to inquire and investigate the disturbing subject of spiritualism.
With the tenacity of a monk working in his cell I studied a large number of metaphysical works, by authors such as Luis Zea Uribe, Camille Flammarion, Kardek, Leon Denis, Cesare Lombroso, etc.
The first work of a series by Kardek appeared to be very interesting, but I had to read it three times so that I could understand it in its entirety.
I became a library mouse. I must confess that I developed a passion for “The Book of the Spirits”; afterwards I continued reading many other volumes full of interesting material.
With my mind closed firmly against anything other than this study, I used to shut myself up in my home or in the public library with an evident desire to search for the Secret Path.
Without pretending to be a renowned scholar in these matters, I intend now to show the results of my researches concerning spiritualism.
Mediums
Passive, receptive subjects that transfer their own matter, their own bodies, to the metaphysical ghosts from beyond the grave.
It is unquestionable that the karma associated with mediums is epilepsy. Clearly people who suffer from epilepsy were mediums in their previous lives.
Experiments
First
A certain lady, whose name I will not mention, constantly saw the ghost of a dead woman. This spirit whispered many things to her.
This lady fell into a trance during a solemn spiritualist séance. The ghost directed the lady to dig in a definite place in the house, because there—it said to her—she would find a large treasure.
The directions given by the ghost were followed, but unfortunately no treasure was found.
It is unquestionable that this fortune was only a mental projection of the subjective psyche of those present. It is obvious that these people were at heart very greedy.
Second
Far away in time and distance, very distant from my beloved Mexican country, I had to go into the state of Zulia, in Venezuela, South America.
I was a guest of my host at his country home, and I must assert that during that time I was eyewitness to an unusual metaphysical occurrence.
It is convenient to tell my readers now that my host was, without any doubt, a very humble person, of the coloured race.
It is unquestionable that this good man, though very generous with the needy, spent much on great banquets.
It was impossible for this good man to live in a hotel amid educated people, or to feel resentful towards somebody with any motive whatsoever. He certainly preferred to devote himself to his task, the hard misfortunes of daily work.
This gentleman appeared to have the gift of ubiquity, since he was seen all over the place, here, there, everywhere.
One of the many evenings I spent with him, he invited me with much secrecy to a spiritualist séance. I did not want to refuse such a kind invitation.
We were seated around a three-legged table, three persons together under the roof of the old country house.
My host, filled with immense veneration, opened a small box that he always took with him on his travels and from it extracted a native skull.
Later on he recited some beautiful prayers and called out loudly for the ghost of this mysterious skull.
It was midnight; the sky was overcast with black, sinister clouds, which were outlined against the tropical horizon. It was raining, and the region was badly shaken by thunder and lighting.
Strange knocks were felt from the inside of the box, and then, defying the law of gravity, mocking the old texts of physics, the table raised up from the floor.
Then most sensational thing happened: the ghost that had been called materialised in the room and passed next to me.
At the end, the table leaned towards me, and the skull, that was on the table, came to rest in my arms.
“Enough!” cried out my host. “The storm is very intense, and under these conditions such invocations are very dangerous”. At that precise moment a terrifying burst of lightning made the face of the conjurer turn pale.
Third
Wandering about one of those old alleys one day in the Ciudad de Mexico D.F. moved by a strange curiosity, I managed, with some other people, to enter an old house where a spiritualist centre operated.
There was an exquisite drawing room of great refinement and with many delicate, emotional and important people.
In a respectful manner I sat down in front of the stage; I was determined not to take any risks.
My purpose in going into this place was certainly not to get imbued with the spiritualist doctrines, or even less to have commerce with evil, pretending friendliness and false piety.
I only wanted to take some notes of all the details, trying to show flexible understanding and common sense.
It is not part of the spiritualist mentality to practise public speaking.
The sacred brotherhood of the mystery waited with longing for mystical voices and words from beyond the grave.
A gentleman of some age fell into a trance independently of the others and started to convulse as if he were having an epileptic fit; he then mounted the stage, occupied the platform and started to speak.
“Here, among you, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ”, the poor possessed soul announced in a loud voice.
During those terrible instants the stage—decorated with flowers and candles— started to shake horribly, and all those devoted people fell prostrate to the ground.
Without wishing to disturb anybody in the performance of his or her duties, I started calmly to study the medium by means of my sixth sense. Full of anguish, I was able to verify with certainty the crude reality of that unusual metaphysical event. Obviously it was a sinister impostor of the left-hand path who exploited the credulity of these people by pretending to be Jesus Christ.
I saw with my clairvoyant powers a black sorcerer dressed in a tunic as red as blood.
The grim ghost inhabiting the physical body of the medium tried to speak in a Christian tone of voice when giving advice to the people in the audience so that these fanatics did not find him out.
At the end of this horrible séance I left the place with a strong wish to never go back.
Fourth
It is romantic to live with your family, and work in peace and quiet, as if by magic, on your own land.
Sometimes, however, it is impossible to avoid taking risks, if it is with the objective of obtaining all the possible good for others.
Bounded by many intellectual walls, my desire was to acquire wisdom, and for this purpose I travelled when very young to many places of the world.
Far away in time and distance, in the distant remoteness of a South-American region known by the typical name of Quindío, I, being very flexible with understanding, had the opportunity to meet a spiritualist medium working as a blacksmith.
Without getting involved in discussions of any kind, the workman worked placidly in his red forge.
He was a strange spiritualist, a mystical lord with a bronzed figure, an athletic monk.
Good Heavens! I saw him in a sinister mediumistic trance, possessed by Beelzebub, Prince of all Demons.
I still remember those dark words with which the power of darkness closed the session:
“Bel tengo mental la petra i que a él le andube sedra, vao genizar le des”.
Then he signed: Beelzebub.
Blacksmith, paradoxical hermit. The day following the spiritualist meeting of the left-hand-path I found him very contrite, and he swore in the name of the living God that he would never again lend his body to the hideous being of darkness.
I used to see him sometimes at his forge consulting in a very sincere manner the spiritualist prayer book of Kardec.
Later on, full of mystical enthusiasm, he invited me to many exhaustive séances, in which, with infinite longing, he called forth Juan Hurtado “the Senior”.
Without exaggerating, and for the good of my beloved readers, I must assert that this ghost, speaking through the medium, boasted of being able to manifest himself through one hundred and fifty mediums at the same time.
It is certainly normal to conclude with a speech (to someone) in rhyming words. However, at the time it appeared to me astounding to be able to pluralise himself into one hundred and fifty simultaneous, different discourses.
It is unquestionable that at that time of my life I still had not analysed the subject of the plurality of the Ego, of the Myself.
The Ego
Without wishing to overextend myself by deviating from my main subject in any way, I wish to emphasise very sincerely those matters, which I have experienced in a direct way.
The Ego mentioned above totally lacks any qualities, which are divine, self- exalting and dignified.
Let us be allowed to disagree with those who presuppose the existence of two Egos: one of a superior type, one of an inferior class.
We can certainly certify without any inconsistency the tremendous fact that for each person there is only one Ego, pluralized and terribly perverse.
This deep conviction is based on the experience lived by the author of this Esoteric Treatise.
In no way we need to publish immature ideas. We would never make the awful mistake of asserting absurd utopian propositions.
Our assertion has a copious documentation in every sacred text of ancient times. As a living example of our assertion, we can remember the bloody battles of
Arjuna against his beloved relatives (the Egos) in the “Bhagavad Gita” (The Song of the Lord).
It should be clear that these subjective, psychic aggregates evidently personify the entire set of psychological defects which all of us carry inside.
Rigorous experimental psychology indicates that the Consciousness is bottled up inside these subjective Egos.
What continues beyond the grave therefore is the Ego, a pile of Egos -Devils, the psychical aggregates.
The identification of such psychical aggregates in spiritualist centres is obvious and evident.
It is notoriously evident that these Egos-Devils, because of their multiplicity, can enter into many mediumistic bodies—as in the case of Juan Hurtado, “the Senior”—in order to achieve manifestation.
From a state of ecstasy, any Master of the Samadhi would be able to give clear evidence of the following: those who manifest themselves through spiritualist mediums are certainly not the souls nor the spirits of the dead, but their Egos-Devils, the psychical aggregates which continue beyond the grave.
We have been told with much emphasis that during the post–mortem state mediums continue being possessed by the devil, or by some devils. It is unquestionable that after some time they end up divorcing themselves from their own Divine Being; then they join the submerged involution of the infernal worlds.
Samael Aun Weor
