The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge

by Carlos Castaneda

  Don Juan brought me a large saucepan. He placed it on the ground next to the wall. He also brought a little cup or can. He dipped it into the pan and handed it to me, and said I could not drink but should just freshen my mouth with it.

  The water looked strangely shiny, glossy, like a thick varnish. I wanted to ask don Juan about it and laboriously I tried to voice my thoughts in English, but then I realized he did not speak English. I experienced a very confusing moment, and became aware of the fact that although there was a clear thought in my mind, I could not speak. I wanted to comment on the strange quality of the water, but what followed next was not speech; it was the feeling of my unvoiced thoughts coming out of my mouth in a sort of liquid form. It was an effortless sensation of vomiting without the contractions of the diaphragm. It was a pleasant flow of liquid words.

  I drank. And the feeling that I was vomiting disappeared. By that time all noises had vanished and I found I had difficulty focusing my eyes. I looked for don Juan and as I turned my head I noticed that my field of vision had diminished to a circular area in front of my eyes. This feeling was neither frightening nor discomforting, but, quite to the contrary, it was a novelty; I could literally sweep the ground by focusing on one spot and then moving my head slowly in any direction. When I had first come out to the porch I had noticed it was all dark except for the distant glare of the city lights. Yet within the circular area of my vision everything was clear. I forgot about my concern with don Juan and the other men, and gave myself entirely to exploring the ground with my pinpoint vision.

  I saw the juncture of the porch floor and the wall. I turned my head slowly to the right, following the wall, and saw don Juan sitting against it. I shifted my head to the left in order to focus on the water. I found the bottom of the pan; I raised my head slightly and saw a medium-size black dog approaching. I saw him coming towards the water. The dog began to drink. I raised my hand to push him away from my water; I focused my pinpoint vision on the dog to carry on the movement, and suddenly I saw him become transparent. The water was a shiny, viscous liquid. I saw it going down the dog's throat into his body. I saw it flowing evenly through his entire length and then shooting out through each one of the hairs. I saw the iridescent fluid travelling along the length of each individual hair and then projecting out of the hairs to form a long, white, silky mane.

  At that moment I had the sensation of intense convulsions, and in a matter of instants a tunnel formed around me, very low and narrow, hard and strangely cold. It felt to the touch like a wall of solid tinfoil. I found I was sitting on the tunnel floor. I tried to stand up, but hit my head on the metal roof, and the tunnel compressed itself until it was suffocating me. I remember having to crawl toward a son of round point where the tunnel ended; when I finally arrived, if I did, I had forgotten all about the dog, don Juan, and myself. I was exhausted. My clothes were soaked in a cold, sticky liquid. I rolled back and forth trying to find a position in which to rest, a position where my heart would not pound so hard. In one of those shifts I saw the dog again.

  Every memory came back to me at once, and suddenly all was clear in my mind. I turned around to look for don Juan, but I could not distinguish anything or anyone. All I was capable of seeing was the dog becoming iridescent; an intense light radiated from his body. I saw again the water flowing through him, kindling him like a bonfire. I got to the water, sank my face in the pan, and drank with him. My hands were in front of me on the ground and, as I drank, I saw the fluid running through my veins setting up hues of red and yellow and green. I drank more and more. I drank until I was all afire; I was all aglow. I drank until the fluid went out of my body through each pore and projected out like fibres of silk, and I too acquired a long, lustrous, iridescent mane. I looked at the dog and his mane was like mine. A supreme happiness filled my whole body, and we ran together toward a sort of yellow warmth that came from some indefinite place. And there we played. We played and wrestled until I knew his wishes and he knew mine. We took turns manipulating each other in the fashion of a puppet show. I could make him move his legs by twisting my toes, and every time he nodded his head I felt an irresistible impulse to jump. But his most impish act was to make me scratch my head with my foot while I sat; he did it by flapping his ears from side to side. This action was to me utterly, unbearably funny. Such a touch of grace and irony; such mastery, I thought. The euphoria that possessed me was indescribable. I laughed until it was almost impossible to breathe.

  I had the clear sensation of not being able to open my eyes; I was looking through a tank of water. It was a long and very painful state filled with the anxiety of not being able to wake up and yet being awake. Then slowly the world became clear and in focus. My field of vision became again very round and ample, and with it came an ordinary conscious act, which was to turn around and look for that marvellous being. At this point I encountered the most difficult transition. The passage from my normal state had taken place almost without my realizing it: I was aware; my thoughts and feelings were a corollary of that awareness; and the passing was smooth and clear. But this second change, the awakening to serious, sober consciousness, was genuinely shocking. I had forgotten I was a man! The sadness of such an irreconcilable situation was so intense that I wept.

  Saturday, 5 August 1961

  Later that morning, after breakfast, the owner of the house, don Juan, and I drove back to don Juan's place. I was very tired, but I couldn't go to sleep in the track. Only after the man had left did I fall asleep on the porch of don Juan's house.

  When I woke up it was dark; don Juan had covered me up With a blanket, I looked for him, but he was not in the house. He came later with a pot of fried beans and a stack of tortillas. I was extremely hungry.

  After we had finished eating and were resting he asked me to tell him all that had happened to me the night before. I related my experience in great detail and as accurately as possible.

  When I had finished he nodded his head and said, 'I think you are fine. It is difficult for me to explain now how and why. But I think it went all right for you. You see, sometimes he is playful, like a child; at other times he is terrible, fearsome. He either frolics, or he is dead serious. It is impossible to know beforehand what he will be like with another person. Yet, when one knows him well — sometimes. You played with him tonight. You are the only person I know who has had such an encounter.'

  'In what way does my experience differ from that of others?'

  'You're not an Indian; therefore it is hard for me to figure out what is what. Yet he either takes people or rejects them, regardless of whether they are Indians or not. That I know. I have seen numbers of them. I also know that he frolics, he makes some people laugh, but never have I seen him play with anyone.'

  'Canyou tell me now, don Juan, how does peyote protect…'

  He did not let me finish. Vigorously he touched me on the shoulder.

  'Don't you ever name him that way. You haven't seen enough of him yet to know him.'

  'How does Mescalito protect people?'

  'He advises. He answers whatever questions you ask.

  'Then Mescalito is real? I mean he is something you can see?'

  He seemed to be baffled by my question. He looked at me with a sort of blank expression.

  'What I meant to say, is that Mescalito…'

  'I heard what you said. Didn't you see him last night?

  I wanted to say that I saw only a dog, but I noticed his bewildered look.

  'Then you think what I saw last night was him?'

  He looked at me with contempt. He chuckled, shook his head as though he couldn't believe it, and in a very belligerent tone he added, A poco crees que era tu — mama [Don't tell me you believe it was your — mama]?' He paused before saying 'mama' because what he meant to say was '/к chingada madre', an idiom used as a disrespectful allusion to the other party's mother. The word 'mama' was so incongruous that we both laughed for a long time.

  Then I realized he had fallen as
leep and had not answered my question.

  Sunday, 6August 1961

  I drove don Juan to the house where I had taken peyote. On the way he told me that the name of the man who had 'offered me to Mescalito' was John. When we got to the house we found John sitting on his porch with two young men. All of them were extremely jovial, They laughed and talked with great ease. The three of them spoke English perfectly. I told John that I had come to thank him for having helped me.

  I wanted to get their views on my behaviour during the hallucinogenic experience, and told them I had been trying to think of what I had done that night and that I couldn't remember. They laughed and were reluctant to talk about it. They seemed to be holding back on account of don Juan. They all glanced at him as though waiting for an affirmative cue to go on. Don Juan must have cued them, although I did not notice anything, because suddenly John began to tell me what I had done that night.

  He said he knew I had been 'taken' when he heard me puking. He estimated that I must have puked thirty times. Don Juan corrected him and said it was only ten times.

  John continued: 'Then we all moved next to you. You were stiff, and were having convulsions. For a very long time, while lying on your back, you moved your mouth as though talking. Then you began to bump your head on the floor, and don Juan put an old hat on your head and you stopped it. You shivered and whined for hours, lying on the floor. I think everybody fell asleep then; but I heard you puffing and groaning in my sleep. Then I heard you scream and I woke up. I saw you leaping up in the air, screaming. You made a dash for the water, knocked the pan over, and began to swim in the puddle.

  'Don Juan brought you more water. You sat quietly in front of the pan. Then you jumped up and took off all your clothes. You were kneeling in front of the water, drinking in big gulps. Then you just sat there and stared into space. We thought you were going to be there forever. Nearly everybody was asleep, including don Juan, when suddenly you jumped up again, howling, and took after the dog. The dog got scared and howled too, and ran to the back of the house. Then everybody woke up.

  'We all got up. You came back from the other side still chasing the dog. The dog was running ahead of you barking and howling. I think you must have gone twenty times around the house, running in circles, barking like a dog. I was afraid people were going to be curious. There are no neighbours close, but your howling was so loud it could have been heard for miles.'

  One of the young men added, 'You caught up with the dog and brought it to the porch in your arms.'

  John continued: 'Then you began to play with the dog. You wrestled with him, and the dog and you bit each other and played. That, I thought, was funny. My dog does not play usually. But this time you and the dog were rolling on each other.'

  'Then you ran to the water and the dog drank with you,' the young man said. 'You ran five or six times to the water with the dog.'

  'How long did this go on?' I asked.

  'Hours,' John said. 'At one time we lost sight of you two. I think you must have run to the back. We just heard you barking and groaning. You sounded so much like a dog that we couldn't tell you two apart.'

  'Maybe it was just the dog alone,' I said.

  They laughed, and John said, 'You were barking there, boy!'

  'What happened next?'

  The three men looked at one another and seemed to have a hard time deciding what happened next. Finally the young man who had not yet said anything spoke up.

  'He choked,' he said, looking at John.

  'Yes, you certainly choked. You began to cry very strangely, and then you fell to the floor. We thought you were biting your tongue; don Juan opened your jaws and poured water on your face. Then you started shivering and having convulsions all over again. Then you stayed motionless for a long time. Don Juan said it was all over. By then it was morning, so we covered you with a blanket and left you to sleep on the porch.'

  He stopped there and looked at the other men who were obviously trying not to laugh. He turned to don Juan and asked him something. Don Juan smiled and answered the question. John turned to me and said, 'We left you here on the porch because we were afraid you were going to piss all over the rooms.'

  They all laughed very loudly.

  'What was the matter with me?' I asked. 'Did I…'

  'Did you?' John son of mimicked me. 'We were not going to mention it, but don Juan says it is all right. You pissed all over my dog!'

  'What did I do?'

  'You don't think the dog was running because he was afraid of you, do you? The dog was running because you were pissing on him.'

  There was general laughter at this point. I tried to question one of the young men, but they were all laughing and he didn't hear me.

  John went on: 'My dog got even though; he pissed on you too!'

  This statement was apparently utterly funny because they all roared with laughter, including don Juan. When they had quieted down, I asked in all earnestness, 'Is it really true? This really happened?'

  Still laughing, John replied: 'I swear my dog really pissed on you.'

  Driving back to don Juan's place I asked him: 'Did all that really happen, don Juan?'

  'Yes,' he said, 'but they don't know what you saw. They don't realize you were playing with «him». That is why I did not disturb you.'

  'But is this business of the dog and me pissing on each other true?'

  'It was not a dog! How many times do I have to tell you that? This is the only way to understand it. It's the only way! It was «he» who played with you.'

  'Did you know all this was happening before I told you about it?'

  He vacillated for an instant before answering. 'No, I remembered, after you told me about it, the strange way you looked. I just suspected you were doing fine because you didn't seem scared.'

  'Did the dog really play with me as they say?' 'Goddammit! It was not a dog!'

  Thursday, 17 August 1969

  I told don Juan how I felt about my experience. From the point of view of my intended work it had been a disastrous event. I said I did not care for another similar 'encounter' with Mescalito. I agreed that everything that had happened to me had been more than interesting, but added that nothing in it could really move me towards seeking it again. I seriously believed that I was not constructed for that type of endeavour. Peyote had produced in me, as a post-reaction, a strange kind of physical discomfort. It was an indefinite fear or unhappiness; a melancholy of some sort, which I could not define exactly. And I did not find that state noble in any way.

  Don Juan laughed and said, 'You are beginning to learn.' 'This type of learning is not for me. I am not made for it, don Juan.'

  'You always exaggerate.' 'This is not exaggeration.'

  'It is. The only trouble is that you exaggerate the bad points only.'

  'There are no good points so far as I am concerned. All I know is that it makes me afraid.'

  'There is nothing wrong with being afraid. When you fear, you see things in a different way.'

  'But I don't care about seeing things in a different way, don Juan. I think I am going to leave the learning about Mescalito alone. I can't handle it, don Juan. This is really a bad situation for me.'

  'Of course it is bad — even for me. You are not the only one who is baffled.'

  'Why should you be baffled, don Juan?'

  'I have been thinking about what I saw the other night. Mescalito actually played with you. That baffled me, because it was an indication [omen].'

  'What kind of — indication, don Juan?'

  'Mescalito was pointing you out to me.'

  'What for?'

  'It wasn't clear to me then, but now it is. He meant you were the «chosen man» [escogido], Mescalito pointed you out to me and by doing that he told me you were the chosen man.'

  'Do you mean I was chosen among others for some task, or something of the sort?'

  'No. What I mean is, Mescalito told me you could be the man I am looking for.'

  'When di
d he tell you that, don Juan?'

  'By playing with you, he told me that. This makes you the chosen man for me.'

  'What does it mean to be the chosen man?'

  'There are some secrets I know [Tengo secretes], I have secrets I won't be able to reveal to anyone unless I find my chosen man. The other night when I saw you playing with Mescalito it was clear to me you were that man. But you are not an Indian. How baffling!'

  'But what does it mean to me, don Juan? What do I have to do?'

  'I've made up my mind and I am going to teach you the secrets that make up the lot of a man of knowledge.'

  'Do you mean the secrets about Mescalito?'

  'Yes, but those are not all the secrets I know. There are others, of a different kind, which I would like to give to someone. I had a teacher myself, my benefactor, and I also became his chosen man upon performing a certain feat. He taught me all I know.'

  I asked him again what this new role would require of me; he said learning was the only thing involved, learning in the sense of what I had experienced in the two sessions with him.

  The way in which the situation had evolved was quite strange. I had made up my mind to tell him I was going to give up the idea of learning about peyote, and then before I could really make my point, he offered to teach me his 'knowledge'. I did not know what he meant by that, but I felt that this sudden turn was very serious. I argued I had no qualifications for such a task, as it required a rare kind of courage which I did not have. I told him that my bent of character was to talk about acts others performed. I wanted to hear his views and opinions about everything. I told him I could be happy if I could sit there and listen to him talk for days. To me, that would be learning.

  He listened without interrupting me. I talked for a long time. Then he said:

  'All this is very easy to understand. Fear is the first natural enemy a man must overcome on his path to knowledge. Besides, you are curious. That evens up the score. And you will learn in spite of yourself; that's the rale.'