The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge Read online

  I protested for a while longer, trying to dissuade him. But he seemed to be convinced there was nothing else I could do but learn.

  'You are not thinking in the proper order,' he said. 'Mescalito actually played with you. That's the point to think about. Why don't you dwell on that instead of on your fear?'

  'Was it so unusual?'

  'You are the only person I have ever seen playing with him. You are not used to this kind of life; therefore the indications [omens] bypass you. Yet you are a serious person, but your seriousness is attached to what you do, not to what goes on outside you. You dwell upon yourself too much. That's the trouble. And that produces a terrible fatigue.'

  'But what else can anyone do, don Juan?

  'Seek and see the marvels all around you. You will get tired of looking at yourself alone, and that fatigue will make you deaf and blind to everything else.'

  'You have a point, don Juan, but how can I change?'

  'Think about the wonder of Mescalito playing with you. Think about nothing else: The rest will come to you of itself.'

  Sunday, 20August 1961

  Last night don Juan proceeded to usher me into the realm of his knowledge. We sat in front of his house in the dark. Suddenly, after a long silence, he began to talk. He said he was going to advise me with the same words his own benefactor had used the first day he took him as his apprentice. Don Juan had apparently memorized the words, for he repeated them several times, to make sure I did not miss any:

  'A man goes to knowledge as he goes to war, wide-awake, with fear, with respect, and with absolute assurance. Going to knowledge or going to war in any other manner is a mistake, and whoever makes it will live to regret his steps.'

  I asked him why was it so and he said that when a man has fulfilled those four requisites there are no mistakes for which he will have to account; under such conditions his acts lose the blundering quality of a fool's acts. If such a man fails, or suffers a defeat, he will have lost only a battle, and there will be no pitiful regrets over that.

  Then he said he intended to teach me about an 'ally' in the very same way his own benefactor had taught him. He put strong emphasis on the words 'very same way', repeating the phrase several times.

  An 'ally', he said, is a power a man can bring into his life to help him, advise him, and give him the strength necessary to perform acts, whether big or small, right or wrong. This ally is necessary to enhance a man's life, guide his acts, and further his knowledge. In fact, an ally is the indispensable aid to knowing. Don Juan said this with great conviction and force. He seemed to choose his words carefully. He repeated the following sentence four times:

  'An ally will make you see and understand things about which no human being could possibly enlighten you.'

  'Is an ally something like a guardian spirit?'

  'It is neither a guardian nor a spirit. It is an aid.'

  'Is Mescalito your ally?'

  'No! Mescalito is another kind of power. A unique power! A protector, a teacher.'

  ' What makes Mescalito different from an ally?'

  'He can't be tamed and used as an ally is tamed and used. Mescalito is outside oneself. He chooses to show himself in many forms to whoever stands in front of him, regardless of whether that person is a brujo or a farm boy.'

  Don Juan spoke with deep fervour about Mescalito's being the teacher of the proper way to live. I asked him how Mescalito taught the 'proper way of life', and don Juan replied that Mescalito showed how to live.

  'How does he show it?' I asked.

  'He has many ways of showing it. Sometimes he shows it on his hand, or on the rocks, or the trees, or just in front of you.'

  'Is it like a picture in front of you?'

  'No. It is a teaching in front of you.'

  'Does Mescalito talk to the person?'

  'Yes. But not in words.'

  'How does he talk, then?'

  'He talks differently to every man.'

  I felt my questions were annoying him. I did not ask any more. He went on explaining that there were no exact steps to knowing Mescalito; therefore no one could teach about him except Mescalito himself. This quality made him a unique power; he was not the same for every man.

  On the other hand, the acquiring of an ally required, don Juan said, the most precise teaching and the following of stages or steps without a single deviation. There are many such ally powers in the world, he said, but he was familiar with only two of them. And he was going to lead me to them and their secrets, but it was up to me to choose one of them, for I could have only one. His benefactor's ally was in la yerba del diablo (devil's weed), he said, but he personally did not like it, even though his benefactor had taught him its secrets. His own ally was in the humito (the little smoke), he said, but he did not elaborate on the nature of the smoke.

  I asked him about it. He remained quiet. After a long pause I asked him:

  'What kind of a power is an ally?'

  'It is an aid. I have already told you.'

  'How does it aid?'

  'An ally is a power capable of carrying a man beyond the boundaries of himself. This is how an ally can reveal matters no human being could.'

  'But Mescalito also takes you out of the boundaries of yourself. Doesn't that make him an ally?'

  'No. Mescalito takes you out of yourself to teach you. An ally takes you out to give you power.'

  I asked him to explain this point to me in more detail, or to describe the difference in effect between the two. He looked at me for a long time and laughed. He said that learning through conversation was not only a waste, but stupidity, because learning was the most difficult task a man could undertake. He asked me to remember the time I had tried to find my spot, and how I wanted to find it without doing any work because I had expected him to hand out all the information. If he had done so, he said, I would never have learned. But, knowing how difficult it was to find my spot, and, above all, knowing that it existed, would give me a unique sense of confidence. He said that while I remained rooted to my 'good spot' nothing could cause me bodily harm, because I had the assurance that at that particular spot I was at my very best. I had the power to shove off anything that might be harmful to me. If, however, he had told me where it was, I would never have had the confidence needed to claim it as true knowledge. Thus, knowledge was indeed power.

  Don Juan said then that every time a man sets himself to learn he has to labour as hard as I did to find that spot, and the limits of his learning are determined by his own nature. Thus he saw no point in talking about knowledge. He said that certain kinds of knowledge were too powerful for the strength I had, and to talk about them would only bring harm to me. He apparently felt there was nothing else he wanted to say. He got up and walked towards his house. I told him the situation overwhelmed me. It was not what I had conceived or wanted it to be.

  He said that fears are natural; that all of us experience them and there is nothing we can do about it. But on the other hand, no matter how frightening learning is, it is more terrible to think of a man without an ally, or without knowledge.

  3

  In the more than two years that elapsed between the time don Juan decided to teach me about the ally powers and the time he thought I was ready to learn about them in the pragmatic, participatory form he considered as learning, he gradually defined the general features of the two allies in question. He prepared me for the indispensable corollary of all the verbalizations, and the consolidation of all the teachings, the states of non-ordinary reality.

  At first he talked about the ally powers in a very casual manner. The first references I have in my notes are inteijected between other topics of conversation.

  Wednesday, 23 August 1961

  'The devil's weed [Jimson weed] was my benefactor's ally. It could have been mine also, but I didn't like her.'

  'Why didn't you like the devil's weed, don Juan?'

  'She has a serious drawback.'

  'Is she inferior to other ally po
wers?'

  'No. Don't get me wrong. She is as powerful as the best of allies, but there is something about her which I personally don't like.'

  'Can you tell me what it is?'

  'She distorts men. She gives them a taste of power too soon without fortifying their hearts and makes them domineering and unpredictable. She makes them weak in the middle of their great power.'

  'Isn't there any way to avoid that?'

  'There is a way to overcome it, but not to avoid it. Whoever becomes the weed's ally must pay that price.'

  'How can one overcome that effect, don Juan?'

  'The devil's weed has four heads: the root, the stem and leaves, the flowers, and the seeds. Each one of them is different, and whoever becomes her ally must learn about them in that order. The most important head is in the roots. The power of the devil's weed is conquered through the roots. The stem and leaves are the head that cures maladies; properly used, this head is a gift to mankind. The third head is in the flowers, and it is used to turn people crazy, or to make them obedient, or to kill them. The man whose ally is the weed never intakes the flowers, nor does he intake the stem and leaves, for that matter, except in cases of his own illness; but the roots and the seeds are always intaken; especially the seeds; they are the fourth head of the devil's weed and the most powerful of the four.

  'My benefactor used to say the seeds are the «sober head» — the only part that could fortify the heart of man. The devil's weed is hard with her proteges, he used to say, because she aims to kill them fast, a thing she ordinarily accomplishes before they can arrive at the secrets of the «sober head». There are, however, tales about men who have unravelled the secrets of the sober head. What a challenge for a man of knowledge!'

  'Did your benefactor unravel such secrets?'

  'No, he didn't.'

  'Have you met anyone who has done it?'

  'No. But they lived at a time when that knowledge was important.'

  'Do you know anyone who has met such men?'

  'No, I don't.'

  'Did your benefactor know anyone?'

  'He did.'

  'Why didn't he arrive at the secrets of the sober head?'

  'To tame the devil's weed into an ally is one of the most difficult tasks I know. She never became one with me, for example, perhaps because I was never fond of her.'

  'Can you still use her as an ally in spite of not being fond of her?'

  'I can; nevertheless, I prefer not to. Maybe it will be different for you.'

  'Why is it called the devil's weed?'

  Don Juan made a gesture of indifference, shrugged his shoulders, and remained quiet for some time. Finally he said that 'devil's weed' was her temporary name |su nombre de leche]. He also said there were other names for the devil's weed, but they were not to be used, because the calling of a name was a serious matter, especially if one was learning to tame an ally power. I asked him why the calling of a name was so serious a matter. He said names were reserved to be used only when one was calling for help, in moments of great stress and need, and he assured me that such moments happen sooner or later in the life of whoever seeks knowledge.

  Sunday, 3 September 1961

  Today, during the afternoon, don Juan collected two Datura plants from the field.

  Quite unexpectedly he brought the subject of the devil's weed into our conversation, and then asked me to go with him to the hills and look for one.

  We drove to the nearby mountains. I got a shovel out of the trunk and walked into one of the canyons. We walked for quite a while, wading through the chaparral, which grew thick in the soft, sandy dirt. He stopped next to a small plant with dark— green leaves, and big, whitish, bell-shaped flowers.

  'This one,' he said.

  Immediately he started to shovel. I tried to help him but he refused with a strong shake of the head, and went on to dig a circular hole around the plant: a hole shaped like a cone, deep toward the outer edge and sloping into a mound in the centre of the circle. When he stopped digging he knelt close to the stem and with his fingers cleared the soft dirt around it, uncovering about four inches of a big, tuberous, forked root whose width contrasted markedly with the width of the stem, which was frail in comparison.

  Don Juan looked at me and said the plant was a 'male' be— cause the root forked out from the exact point where it joined the stem. Then he stood up and started to walk away, looking for something.

  'What are you looking for, don Juan?'

  'I want to find a stick.'

  I began to look around, hut he stopped me.

  'Not you! You sit over there.' He pointed to some rocks twenty feet away. 'I will find it.'

  He came back after a while with a long, dry branch. Using it as a digging stick, he loosened the dirt carefully along the two diverging branches of the root. He cleaned around them to a depth of approximately two feet. As he dug deeper the dirt became so hard-packed that it was practically impossible to penetrate it with the stick.

  He came to a halt and sat down to catch his breath. I sat next to him. We did not talk for a long time.

  'Why don't you dig it out with the shovel?' I asked.

  'It could cut and injure the plant. I had to get a stick that belonged to this area so that, if I had struck the root, the injury wouldn't have bean as bad as one caused by a shovel or a foreign object.'

  'What kind of a stick did you get?'

  'Any dry branch of the paloverde tree would do. If there are no dry branches you have to cut a fresh one.'

  'Can you use the branches of any other tree?'

  'I told you, only paloverde and not any other.'

  'Why is that so, don Juan?'

  'Because the devil's weed has very few friends, and paloverde is the only tree in this area which agrees with her — the only thing that grabs or hooks onto it [lo unico que prende]. If you damage the root with a shovel she will not grow for you when you replant her, but if you injure her with such a stick, chances are the plant will not even feel it.'

  'What are you going to do with the root now?

  'I'm going to cut it. You must leave me. Go find another plant and wait until I call you.'

  'Don't you want me to help you?' 'You may help me only if I ask you!'

  I walked away and started to look for another plant in order to fight the strong desire to sneak around and watch him. After some time he joined me.

  'Let us look for the female now,' he said.

  'How do you tell them apart?'

  'The female is taller and grows above the ground so it really looks like a small tree. The male is large and spreads out near the ground and looks more like a thick bush. Once we dig the female out you will see it has a single root going for quite a way before it becomes a fork. The male, on the other hand, has a forked root joined to the stem.'

  We looked together through the field of daturas. Then, pointing to a plant, he said, 'That's a female.' And he proceeded to dig it out as he had done the other. As soon as he had cleared the root I was able to see that the root conformed to his prediction. I left him again when he was about to cut it.

  When we got to his house he opened the bundle in which he had put the Datura plants. He took the larger one, the male, first and washed it in a big metal tray. Very carefully he scrubbed all the dirt from the root, stem, and leaves. After that meticulous cleaning, he severed the stem from the root by making a superficial incision around the width of their juncture with a short, serrated knife and by cracking them apart. He took the stem and separated every part of it by making individual heaps with leaves, flowers, and the prickly seedpods. He threw away everything that was dry or had been spoiled by worms, and kept only those parts that were complete. He tied together the two branches of the root with two pieces of string, cracked them in half after making a superficial cut at the joint, and got two pieces of root of equal size.

  He then took a piece of rough burlap cloth and placed in it first the two pieces of root tied together; on top of them he put the leave
s in a neat bunch, then the flowers, the seedpods, and the stem. He folded the burlap and made a knot with the corners.

  He repeated exactly the same steps with the other plant, the female, except that when he got to the root, instead of cutting it, he left the fork intact, like an upside-down letter Y. Then he placed all the parts in another cloth bundle. When he finished, it was already dark.

  Wednesday, 6 September 1961

  Today, late in the afternoon, we returned to the topic of the devil's weed.

  'I think we should start with that weed again,' don Juan said suddenly.

  After a polite silence I asked him, 'What are you going to do with the plants?'

  'The plants I dug out and cut are mine,' he said. 'It is as though they were myself; with them I'm going to teach you the way to tame the devil's weed.'

  'How will you do that?'

  'The devil's weed is divided into portions [partes]. Each one of these portions is different; each has its unique purpose and service.'

  He opened his left hand and measured on the floor from the tip of his thumb to the tip of his fourth finger.

  'This is my portion. You will measure yours with your own hand. Now, to establish dominion over the devil's weed, you must begin by taking the first portion of the root. But since I have brought you to her, you must take the first portion of the root of my plant. I have measured it for you, so it is really my portion that you must take at the beginning.'

  He went inside the house and brought out one of the burlap bundles. He sat down and opened it. I noticed it was the male plant. I also noticed there was only one piece of root. He took the piece that was left from the original set of two and held it in front of my face.

  'This is your first portion,' he said. 'I give it to you. I have cut it myself for you. I have measured it as my own; now I give it to you.'

  For an instant, the thought that I would have to chew it like a carrot crossed my mind, but he placed it inside a small, white, cotton bag.

  He walked to the back of the house. He sat there on the floor with his legs crossed, and with a round mano began to mash the root inside the bag. He worked it over a flat slab which served as a mortar. From time to time he washed the two stones, and kept the water in a small, flat, wooden dugout basin.