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The Law of Recurrence

Now with a sequence of unusual accounts I wish to explain about the law of recurrence. This law was certainly never something strange or outlandish for me. In the name of that which is divine, I must affirm in a special way that I only know of this pragmatic rule through my uncommon personal experiences.To testify to all that we have really experienced directly is a duty to our fellow men.

I have never wanted to slip away, to escape intellectually from the many different memories relating to my three previous existences and those corresponding to my present day life.For the benefit of the great cause for which we are struggling intensely, I prefer to take on, to assume responsibilities, to pay for, to openly confess my errors before the solemn verdict of public conscience.

It is appropriate now to explain, authentically and in plain language, that I was the Marquis Juan Conrado, third grand lord of the province of Granada, Spain. Clearly, this was during the golden age of the famous Spanish Empire. The cruel conqueror Hernando Cortez, treacherous as none other, had pierced the heart of Mexico with his sword, while merciless Pizzaro, in Peru, had made a hundred thousand virgins flee.

In view of the fact that many noblemen and commoners, adventurers and the depraved in search of fortune, constantly embarked for New Spain, in no way was I an exception. In a fragile, light, and simple caravel, I sailed the tempestuous ocean for many months with the aim of reaching those American lands.

I must assert that I never intended to plunder sacred temples of august mysteries, to conquer villages, or destroy citadels. I certainly travelled those American lands in search of fortune. Unfortunately, I made some mistakes. To study them is necessary in order to know the parallels and to consciously verify the wise law of recurrence.

Those were my times as a fallen bodhisattva, and incidentally, I was no tame sheep. The centuries have passed and I have since awakened consciousness. I have never been able to forget such foolishness.

The first parallel that we must study corresponds exactly to my present physical body.

Having arrived from the mother country in that fragile craft, I settled down very near the cliffs on the Atlantic coast.

In the times of the Spanish conquest, there was that other unfortunate international trade that had to do with the infamous sale of African Negroes. And so, for better or for worse I met a noble colored family from Algeria. I still remember a maiden as black and as beautiful as a miraculous dream from The Arabian Nights.

If I shared the bed of pleasure in the garden of delight with her, it was actually because I was moved by the incentive of curiosity. I wanted to see the outcome of this racial mixing. It was not at all strange that out of this a mulatto offspring was born, and later on, a grandchild, a great grandchild and a great-great grandchild were born.

In those fallen bodhisattva times, I forgot the famous astral marks that originate in coitus, and which all the disincarnated carry in their karmasaya. It is clearly evident that such marks connect one with those people and blood associated with chemical intercourse. This is an opportune moment to mention that Hindustani yogis have already made detailed studies about this.

To assert that my present day physical body has evolved from the aforementioned metaphysical intercourse would not be irrelevant; in other words, I shall say that is how I came to be clothed in the flesh that I carry in my present existence. My forefathers were the descendants of exactly that sexual act of the marquis.

It is astonishing that our descendants, through time and space, become ancestors. It is marvelous that after centuries we will be sheathed in our own flesh, to become the children of our own children.

Endless journeys through the lands of New Spain characterized the life of the marquis, and these were repeated in my subsequent existences, including this present one.

Litelantes, as always, was by my side, patiently enduring all the stupidities of my times as a fallen bodhisattva. Upon approaching the autumn of life in each reincarnation, without beating around the bush, I confess I had always left with the “grave digger.” I refer to an ancient initiate for whom I always abandoned my wife and who in each and every existence accomplished her duty by giving me a Christian burial.

In the evening of my present life, this ancient initiate came to me. I recognized her immediately, but as I am no longer fallen, I gently rejected her, and she went away heartbroken.

Cloaked in that haughty and even contemptuous personality of the marquis, I started the return journey to my motherland after a rather disgusting row over a cargo of uncut diamonds extracted from a very rich mine.

For the benefit of many readers it would not be irrelevant to emphasize to a certain extent the unrefined assertion that after a short interval in the region of the dead, I entered the scene anew, reincarnating in England. I entered the bosom of the illustrious Bleler family, and I was christened with the pious name of Simeon.

With the flowering of youth I moved to Spain, stirred by an inner desire to return to the Americas. This is how the law of recurrence works.

Obviously, the same scenes were repeated in space and time: identical dramas, similar farewells, etc., including, as is natural, the voyage across the stormy sea.

Intrepidly, I jumped ashore on the tropical coast of South America, peopled at that time by various tribes.

Exploring such wild regions inhabited by ferocious animals, I arrived in the deep valley of Nueva Granada at the foot of the mountains of Monserrat and Guadalupe, a beautiful countryside governed by Viceroy Solis.

Without a doubt, in those times I began, in fact, to pay karma that I owed from the years as the marquis.

Among the natives of New Spain, my efforts to obtain some well-paid work were in vain. Desperate because of the bad economic situation, I joined the king’s army as an ordinary private. At least there I found food, clothing, and shelter.

One holiday, very early in the morning, it so happened that his majesty’s troops were preparing to pay special homage to their commanding officer, and for this reason they were spread here, there, and everywhere carrying out maneuvers with the objective of organizing ranks.

I still remember a certain sergeant, ill-favored and argu-mentative, who, reviewing his battalion, yelled, cursed, struck, etc. Suddenly drawing up before me, he grievously insulted me because my feet were not in the correct military position, and then noticing insignificant details on my jacket, he treacherously slapped me. What happened next is not very difficult to guess: you cannot expect anything good from a fallen bodhisattva. Without thinking, awkwardly I thrust my bloodthirsty steel bayonet into the veteran’s chest. Mortally wounded, the man fell to the ground. Shouts of terror were heard everywhere, but I was clever, and taking advantage of that confusion, disorder, and astonishment, I escaped from that place very closely pursued by well-armed soldiers!

I travelled along many roads toward the steep coasts of the Atlantic Ocean; they were searching for me everywhere, and for this reason I always avoided passing the tax posts by making detours through the jungles.

On the highways, which were few at that time, carriages passed by me pulled by pairs of jaunty steeds. In such vehicles, people who didn’t have my karma travelled—moneyed people.

One day by the side of the road near a hamlet, I found a humble shop and I went in with a mind to have a drink. I wanted cheering up a bit.

Amazed! Confounded! Astonished! That is how I was when I discovered that the owner of the business was Litelantes. Oh! I had loved her so much, and now I found her married and mother to several children. What claim could I make? I paid the bill and left there with a broken heart...

I continued along the path when with some fear I realized that someone was following me: the son of the lady, a kind of rural mayor. Addressing me first, the youth said: “In accordance with article 16 of the Viceroy’s code you are under arrest.” In vain I tried to bribe him. That well-armed gentleman took me before the court, and obviously after being sentenced, I was imprisoned for a long time to pay for the death of the sergeant.

When I was released, I walked along the wild, terrible banks of the abundant Magdalena River, doing very hard manual labor wherever I had the chance.

As an interesting aside from this chapter, I must say that the Essence of that mayor, because of whom I had to go through so much bitterness locked up in a foul dungeon, came back with a female body. Now she is my daughter, and what is more, she is even a mother and has given me some grandchildren.Before her re-entry, I questioned this soul in the suprasensitive worlds. I asked her the reason that had induced her to pursue me for a father. The answer was the remorse she felt for the wrong she had done me and that she wanted to behave well with me in order to make good her mistakes. I confess that she is keeping her word.

At that time, after endless karmic bitterness, I settled on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, repeating all the steps of the contemptuous Marquis Juan Conrado... The best thing I did was study esotericism, natural medicine, and botany...

The noble aborigines of those tropical lands offered me their love in appreciation for my Galenic labor: I always healed them altruistically without asking for anything in return.

Something unusual happened one day: the spectacular appearance of a great nobleman from Spain. This gentleman told me of his misfortune. His ship carrying all his wealth was being followed by pirates. He wanted a safe place for his abundant riches. Fraternally, I offered comfort, and even proposed opening up a cave for the safekeeping of his wealth. The gentleman accepted my advice, but not without demanding beforehand that I solemnly swear honesty and loyalty.

We both came to an understanding with the fragrance of sincerity and the perfume of courtesy. Afterwards, I gave orders to my people, a very select group of aborigines. They dug a hole in the ground.

When the hole was ready, we very carefully lowered a large trunk and a much smaller chest containing solid gold ingots and precious jewels of incalculable value.

By means of certain magical exorcisms, I cast a charm over the “guarded jewels,” as Don Mario Roso de Luna would say, with the intention of making them invisible to unpleasantly greedy eyes.

The gentleman rewarded me very well by generously handing over a bag of gold coins. He left those parts, proposing to return to his homeland in order to bring back his family, since he wanted to establish himself majestically in those beautiful lands of New Spain.

The hourglass of destiny is never still; days passed, months, and years and that good man never returned. Perhaps he died in his country, or fell victim to the pirates who infested the seven seas then, I do not know.

There are sensational cases in life: one day during my present reincarnation, while far from my country, Mexico, I was talking about this subject with a certain group of Gnostic brothers and sisters, among whom was Master Gargha Kuichines, outstanding for his wisdom. It was then that I received a tremendous surprise. With mystical amazement, I saw the Sovereign Commander Gargha Kuichines rise to emphatically corroborate my words. That master informed us that he personally had seen such an account written in golden verse. He spoke to us about a dusty old book and lamented having loaned it out. God and Virgin Mary, help me! Yet, I had never heard about such a book.

Old traditions from antiquity tell us that many people from those Caribbean coasts were searching for Bleler’s treasure.

It is curious that those noble aborigines who had long ago buried that rich fortune are again reembodied, forming a S.S.S. (Summum Supremum Sanctuarium) group. This is how the law of recurrence works.

I clearly recall that after my stormy existence with the aforementioned English personality, I was constantly invoked by those persons who are dedicated to spiritualism. They wanted me to tell them the spot where the delightful hidden gold was to be found, greedy for Bleler’s treasure. However, evidently, faithful to my oath in the region of the dead, I never wished to part with the secret.

Repeating the steps of the insolent Marquis Juan Conrado in my subsequent existence I reincarnated in Mexico. I was baptized with the name Daniel Coronado, born in the north, in the outskirts of Hermosillo, all places known to me in other times as the marquis. My parents wanted everything good for me and as a youth they enrolled me in the military academy at a very young age, but it was all in vain.

One of those days, I used a weekend badly in feasting and drunkenness with madcap friends. I still confess with some shame that I had to come home with the cadet’s uniform soiled, torn, and degraded... Obviously, my parents felt betrayed. Obviously, I never returned to the military academy. Undoubtedly, from that moment on, my bitter path began...

Then, luckily I found Litelantes again. She had been reincarnated with the name Ligia Paca (or Francisca). Fortunately, she married me...

Writing the biography of any life is, in fact, a very difficult and substantial task, for this reason I only emphasize certain details with an esoteric purpose.

Without question, I did not enjoy a comfortable situation, I earned our daily bread with difficulty. Many times eating on Ligia’s miserable salary. She was a poor, rural school teacher, and to make matters worse, I even tormented her with my execrable jealousy. I did not wish to look favorably upon those of her colleagues in the teaching profession who offered her friendship...

Still, I did something useful at that time: I formed a fine esoteric Gnostic group in the middle of Mexico City. Students from that congregation return to me in my present existence in accordance with the law of recurrence...

During Porfirio’s bloody regime, I had a very disagreeable post in the rural police. I made the inexcusable mistake of prosecuting the famous “Golondrino,” a dangerous bandit who lay waste to the region. Clearly such an unsavory character was executed... In my present existence, I met him again, reembodied in a female body, suffering from the fear of prosecution, frightened of being imprisoned for theft. She struggled to loosen herself from imaginary ropes, believing she was about to be executed... Obviously, I wrote off my debt by curing the malady. The psychiatrists had failed lamentably. They were not able to heal her...

At the outbreak of rebellion against Don Porfirio Diaz, I resigned the inauspicious post with the police. Then with lowly workers with picks and shovels, poor laborers enticed away from the estates of their masters, I organized a battalion. This brave handful of humble people was certainly admirable, scarcely armed with machetes because no one had enough money to buy firearms. Fortunately, General Francisco Villa welcomed us into the North Division, and there we were given horses and rifles. There is no doubt that in those years of tyranny we fought for a great cause; the Mexican people groaned under the heels of dictatorship.

In the name of truth, I must say that my personality as Daniel Coronado was certainly a failure; the only things of worth in that troubled life were the esoteric group in the capital city and my sacrifice in the revolution.

To my comrades in the rebellion I say: I deserted the ranks when I became seriously ill. In my last days of tortured life, I roamed the streets in the capital city, barefoot and in tattered rags, hungry, old, ill and begging... With deep distress, I frankly confess that I died in a filthy hovel. I still remember the moment when the doctor, seated on a chair after examining me, shook his head and exclaimed, “This is a lost cause,” then left. What happened immediately after was frightful: I felt terribly cold, like the ice of death. Screams of desperation reached my ears, “Saint Peter! Saint Paul! Help him!” cried the woman whom I called “the grave digger.”

Strange skeletal hands seized me by the waist and took me out of my physical body. It was obvious that the angel of death had intervened. Resolutely, the angel cut the silver cord with the sickle and then blessed me and went away.

Blessed death! How long I had awaited you. At last you came to my aid, so bitter was my existence!

After immeasurable grief, I rested happily in the superior worlds. Certainly the human pain of mortals also has its limits, beyond which reigns peace. Unfortunately, that repose in the deep bosom of eternity did not last for long: one day, one of the shining lords of the law very softly came to me and said: “Master Samael Aun Weor, everything is ready; follow me.”

I answered immediately: “Yes, venerable master, fine, I shall follow you.” Then together we travelled to several places, and finally entered a stately house, crossing the courtyard and passing through a drawing room; then we went into the bedroom of the lady of the house. We heard her groans as she underwent labor pains... This was the mystical moment in which I watched with amazement the silver cord of my present existence psychically connected to the infant about to be born. Moments later, that baby eagerly inhaled the prana of life: I felt drawn into the interior of its small organism, and then I cried with all the force of my soul. Around me I saw some people smiling, and I confess that my attention was especially drawn to a giant who gazed at me tenderly: my earthly father.

I must emphasize that in medieval times during the age of chivalry the author of my days was a nobleman I had defeated in a bloody battle. He had sworn to take revenge, and as is clear, this he fulfilled in my present existence. At a very young age, provoked by painful circumstances, I abandoned my home, and I travelled to all the places where I had been in previous existences. The same dramas were repeated, and the same scenes: Litelantes appeared again on my course. I met up with my old friends again. I wished to speak to them but they did not recognize me; my efforts to make them remember our past times were fruitless.

However, something new happened in my present reincarnation: my real inner Being made desperate, terrible efforts to bring me back to the straight path, from which I had deviated for such a long time.

I confess openly that I dissolved the ego and that I raised myself up from the mire of the soil.

It is obvious that the ego is subject to the law of recurrence. When the me, myself, is dissolved, we acquire liberty; we become emancipated from the aforementioned law.

Practice has taught me that the different scenes of diverse existences are processed within a cosmic spiral, always repeated, in due course, in higher or lower spirals.

All the marquis’ deeds, including his innumerable journeys, were continually repeated, in successively lower spirals, during the three subsequent reincarnations.

In the world there are people of precise, automatic repetition, people who are always reborn in the same town and within the same family. Clearly, such egos already know their role by heart and even enjoy the luxury of making prophecies about themselves. It is evident that constant repetition does not allow them to forget events. That is why they seem to be prophets. These people astound their relatives by the accuracy of their predictions.