Spiritual Experiments

The Portal Truth

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Contents

My First Taste of the Cosmos

I was born in the hills of Neuquén, in Argentina, a province that uses, as a border with Chile, an imaginary clothesline strung between the snowy and amazingly high peaks of the Andes mountains. It is an area dotted with many crystalline glacier lakes, so pristine that you can see all the way to the bottom as they invite you to drink their pure waters, a place so magical that after one minute in its embrace your mind soars like an eagle.

I was raised there by a nanny, one of the Mapuches, a tribe of Argentinean Indians, and her grandmother, an Andean shaman, and I was brought almost every day to the Indian reservation to play and dance with the Indian children. We drank from magical mountain rivers, performed sacred ceremonies, sang, danced and in general celebrated life with great joy and enthusiasm. I recall the wise words of the grandmother, uttered with utmost sweetness: "My child, remember always to leave pride behind and let the wings of your heart open wide. Fly high, very high, my sweet one!" She would then spontaneously dance with her arms open, saying, "Look at me! I am a condor, flying free!" She was so beautiful!

Her husband, a shoe repairman and part-time medicine man of the area, began showing me how to prepare herbal remedies to counter what he called the three wolves: fear, anger and sadness. (Unfortunately, I do not remember the ingredients.) He believed that all human maladies sprung from those three internal demons, and that if we could only slash their throats with these remedies before they began to eat us, we wouldn't ever get mentally or physically sick, and could be forever happy.

I had many wonderful times with these extraordinary beings; it was truly an amazing childhood. They opened me up to the wonders of nature and the presence of Spirit in all of life, giving me subtle initiations into divine truth that few modern children are blessed with.

When I was six years old I received an extraordinary spiritual experience. It was a gorgeous, sunny spring day, the clear blue sky enveloping every tree and mountain peak. I was running down a path, and on each side, vibrant and abundant wildflowers covered the landscape as the far as the eye could see. The colors of the flowers were mesmerizing, especially in combination with the blue of the sky, which was streaked with gentle windblown clouds, as if God had breathed white into the sky to balance the sky's soft blue emptiness. I can still feel the icy wind that was caressing my face with its soft loving hands, making even my eyeballs cold, and filling my lungs with fresh mountain oxygen. Suddenly something caught my eye: a very large orange butterfly, her colors alluring and spellbinding. She captured my attention completely, and I ran after her, carefully following her with my eyes so I would not lose sight of the precious orange angel Mother Nature had blessed me with. I ran for a long time, seeking in her colors the freedom of the wind.

And suddenly my mind blossomed into splendor. I emerged from the cocoon of the illusory reality we're all used to, and the present moment became magical. Everything was happening instantaneously and spontaneously without any outline of expectation. The individual 'me' had blossomed like a flower, revealing a wide-open space where beauty poured forth like a fountain.

But where was that orange-winged angel who had given such a gift? The wind had changed direction and she had been swept away, the only clue to her continued presence being my newly blossomed, angel-kissed mind.

After some time I went back down the path to play with the other kids ... but even after rejoining them I found it wasn't possible. I had metamorphosed. Some unfathomable change was rapidly gestating within me. My perception was distorted: I felt somehow distant, otherworldly, for I had experienced a glimpse of what it was to be engulfed in bliss. While the other kids ran, laughed and played tag, I lay down on the ground, just enjoying my perfect state. All voices and sounds began to fade far into the distance, and I felt as if I were inside a vertical tunnel with no end. Although my eyes were closed, I could still see everything around me; it was as if I had thousands of eyes all over my body through which I could see everything in all directions. Each one of those eyes was linked by a thin and supple cylindrical tunnel that extended long distances through the infinite, transparent blue ether that I had become. This ether was my new body. I could see the inside and outside walls of this tube. It was translucent and covered by tiny capillary-like blood vessels which carried some kind of clear luminous fluid. It sprouted from the center of deep blue empty space, where an almondshaped nucleus of white light connected me to the earth dimension by crossing some kind of magnetic borderline where my eyes were located. I had no recollection of my physical body now; only those eyes existed.

I had always been a hyperactive and socially engaged child, so when one of the mothers watching us noticed me uncharacteristically lying on the ground, she came over and asked me if everything was alright. I was completely absorbed in my new reality and was unresponsive to her inquiry.

She panicked and dragged me to my nearby home. I couldn't speak or walk, and was unable to understand or relate to the physical body at all. My mother wasn't home at the time, but my nanny, Susana, called her immediately to describe what was happening.

I was taken to a hospital, where the doctors came to the hurried conclusion that I must have ingested some kind of pill from my parents' house, so they pumped my stomach. This made me very upset, and I cried loudly, as the frantic actions of the doctors and nurses ripped my attention away from my deep bliss and forced me abruptly back into a body that was being intentionally tormented. A vacuum had been forced down my throat and my arms were being punctured by one injection after another. Numerous other procedures were happening in frantic emergency-room rhythm.

Despite their best efforts, the doctors were unable to find anything foreign inside me, and could do nothing but keep me under observation in the hospital, semi-comatose, nourishing me via an intravenous drip until I snapped out of whatever was happening.

Still deeply absorbed in a peace beyond mind, I ignored the medical fiasco and floated free, seeing everything via omnivision, through my cylindrical tubes. From that perspective I saw medical staff transporting me on a gurney through the hospital corridors to a room. But it was all seen from a vast distance, for my personality had vanished. When the doctors had left and the tumult died down, I expanded throughout the empty blue universe, free from the emotions and uncomfortable sensations associated with the physical body. I had no sense of linear time, location or space. I had forgotten everything my personal identity was rooted in. From where I was, my parents had never existed, and neither had Matias the child. It's not that I felt like I was God; that word has too many nonsensical concepts attached to it. But if I were to try to elucidate that state I would probably use words very similar to those of New Age teachers describing the Supreme Reality: "Absolute Oneness, pure Consciousness, timeless Awareness untouched by the mind."

There was certainly no concern about whether or not I had any kind of divine power. In fact, although I was clearly all-powerful, there was no trace of ego attached to it. There was nothing special about being omnipotent; it was just the way things were. And it was not power in the usual sense of the word, for there was no one to exercise power over, because I was the only one. No one else existed, no one ever had and no one ever would, for all eternity. I am. That was all that could be said. I just am, and I am great, marvelous, magnificent and incredibly perfect. In that perfection, it didn't make any sense to change a single thing. Time simply didn't exist at all in that dimension.

From my parents' perspective in the hospital, however, time surely appeared very real, and their torment escalated as the days dragged on, while their only child lay in a mysterious coma!

On my tenth day in the hospital, my eyelids unlocked themselves and I felt something springing forth from my heart. It was me, Matias, the child! Finding that I could move my tongue and lips, I said, "Hi!" to my mother, who had all along been waiting in anguished prayer alongside my bed. She almost fainted, and then started repeating, "Thank you!" with tears streaming down her cheeks!

I gingerly got up, kissed my mom, and then began walking around the long hospital dorm room, which had multiple beds filled with sick people. I started talking to the other patients, asking their names, ages, the reason they were there, and other uncomfortable questions which six-year-olds are known to boldly ask.

No one could find a clear explanation for what had happened to me. Some of the doctors were speculating about an imaginary virus, but no one could prove or pinpoint anything specific. All they could really do was hope it would never happen again. I, on the other hand, wanted the experience again as soon as possible. I searched for that butterfly again and again in the days that followed ... but it seemed the angels had taken her home. And soon, being a child, I forgot all about the experience, and returned happily to the rambunctious realm of children. I wouldn't remember it again until an experience many years later, after a similar occurrence during a long fast. But I don't want to get ahead of my story!

A year later, in 1977, there was some political unrest in Argentina and the military took over the government by force. My father, a philosophy teacher, was persecuted by the new leaders, and along with many others we had to escape from Argentina. After a long and frightening journey across the Chilean border through the mountains, we managed to take an airplane to Mexico. In exile my parents were very stressed out, lost and confused; they had almost no money, and in a desperate struggle to keep us alive they would take any job they could find. While my parents were working during the day, a Mexican Huichol Indian would take care of me, showering me with love and sharing her humble knowledge. We then moved to Costa Rica, where yet another Indian woman, this time from Nicaragua, was my primary caregiver until I was 12 years old. I was profoundly influenced by each of these Indians, through their vibrations, teachings and love, and inspired by their stories and their lives. I believe it is due mostly to their influence that my life has been filled with spiritual visions and extraordinary experiences – that is, until my Guru, Mata Amritanandamayi, knocked down my mind and showed me emptiness.

There are no exaggerations in the stories I am telling here; I am just sharing my life, without trying to either be humble or build myself up. Although each soul is at a particular place in its evolution, nonetheless each of us is inherently divine, and therefore able to receive profound spiritual experiences, for we are all, in essence, Spirit. Although not everyone will be able to tread exactly in my footsteps, for my path has often been along a high cliff edge, nonetheless, if anyone wants to have visions, they are easily enough attained by fasting and meditation. It is my hope that in sharing my experiences here others will be inspired to make the necessary efforts to discover their deepest inner nature, by whatever path Spirit reveals for them.

Spiritual Breakdown

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of being.

~ Carl Jung

Ups and downs are as predictable in spiritual life as in any other endeavor. Blissful moments are almost always followed by what feels like a crash. Eventually, a sincere aspirant may experience what seems to be a huge fall, a 'dark night of the soul' where everything he or she has relied on previously, such as prayer, contemplation and meditation, collapses completely, leaving a feeling of utter desolation and spiritual suffocation. But when the seeker perseveres through the dark night, it will inevitably be followed by the dawn: a revelation of that which is untouched by mind, the Silence of the Self, the vast empty space residing in everyone's heart. When this amazing and beautiful awakening happens, the soul will surely rejoice ... but the ego-mind will consider it a horrible turn of events, for it no longer has a leg to stand on. When the Self is revealed, in terms of ultimate truth the mind loses its relevance, for the Self is beyond the mind. At such a juncture we may begin to experience a kind of psychological breakdown, as a process of depersonalization gradually takes place. Everyone has to go through this at some point. The vastness of the true Self simply cannot and will not accept the ego, so it must be dissolved until no trace remains.

When I was nine years old I began to practice martial arts in a small school in Costa Rica. When I was twelve my parents and I moved back to Argentina, and I started searching for a good dojo where I could continue my training. I walked beneath chilly grey skies through the big city of Buenos Aires, trying to find the various martial arts schools I had noted down from the yellow pages. Finally I found one on the periphery of the city. Outside there was a very small sign: Kobudo Okinawense. It was in an old city house, Buenos Aires style, with a corridor which had apparently been tiled in the 1940s. As I entered I realized that the corridor had no roof; it was more like a sidewalk that connected the two rooms of the house. Not very nice during cold winters, I thought.

At the end of this hallway there was a large rustic room, apparently built by someone with no experience in construction: the ceiling was absurdly low, and there were no windows at all. Behind a desk sat a very strong Japanese man, with a stoic face and penetrating eyes. He told me that his name was Shigeo Nakazato. He shook my hand with force and impetus. I was impressed by his energy, and told him I wanted to learn from him.

He said I was welcome – on one condition. "In this school," he said, "we teach the real Kempo Karate and Kobudo. These teachings are beyond the physical body. They integrate mind, body and spirit." He said that if I wanted to join I had to accept his way of training. "You must promise to accept our ways," he said. "It is a huge commitment." I was moved by his words, and said I would love to practice that way. "I promise," I said, reaching again for his hand.

"All right, then," he said, as we shook on it. "Come to class tonight at 6:00pm on an empty stomach."

He trained us very hard, even hitting us with bamboo poles to teach us pain resistance! No wonder an empty stomach was required! We learned how to use ancient Okinawan swords, called katanas, and actually sparred with them. He taught us to detach from pain, and in the face of it scream, "I am not the body!" He said, "Resist everything, even what seems impossible to resist!"

My mother witnessed one practice session and said she couldn't believe I was going to such a crazy school! But I loved it. I was deeply attracted not just to the martial arts training, but to the Zen ambiance that permeated everything we did there. When someone is swinging a katana towards your head, concentration is imperative!

Here I learned my first breathing techniques, which we used to increase the Ki force, or Chi as Chinese masters call it. I loved one technique in particular, that consisted in breathing fast and inhaling deep, and when the lungs are full, packing more and more air into the lungs with force, by taking short inhalations. After ten of those extra inhalations you then hold your breath for as long as you can. It is a very powerful exercise, which we were told should be done only three times a day; any more than that could be dangerous.

Well, being a bit of a rebel, I ignored the warning and soon became addicted to the sensation this practice was producing in me. I started doing it whenever possible, often 100 times a day or more, keeping my secret hidden from the teacher.

When I was 19, I went back to Costa Rica, where I was living by selling jewelry to hippies like myself. All the while I had continued with this breathing exercise, and often felt inspired to do 200 repetitions or more every day. I didn't bother with the other techniques we'd learned, which are meant to balance out the effects of this practice.

One day, after beginning a session of this breathing, I felt like a switch suddenly turned on in my brain. I even heard a click. My eyes were closed, and although it was still afternoon, even the subtlest trace of inner light disappeared; I felt like I was in a pitch-black room. For one brilliant second, a blazing light was fired up in my inner vision, and was then switched off again.

Imagine being in a forest eternally devoid of light. You've never been able to see a thing, not even for six inches around you. And in one second, lightning cascades through the sky, and for the first time you can see the forest! The impact that image has on you is breathtaking. So it was with that flash of blazing light: a whole new realm had been glimpsed. Together with that flash came something unnamable, and unknowable with the mind, but that ran through my veins like molten lava.