1. Nearly all “illness” can be understood as a lack of Consciousness, and that the “cure” consists of authentically becoming one’s true self.

All illness comes from orders received in childhood that forces us to do what we don’t want to, and a prohibition that forces us not to be that which we actually are. Ill health, depression, and fear result from a lack of awareness, from a forgotten beauty, from the tyranny of family, and from the weight of a world of outdated traditions and religions.

2. The intellectual center wants to be and becomes in silence. The emotional center wants to love and arrives at loving through indifference. The sexual center wants to create and arrives at creating by learning to fail. The physical center wants to live and lives by learning to die.

As a mystic, I have but one aim: to know God. Not the God talked about everywhere, but this incredible thing that moves the universe. Further still: to dissolve myself calmly into that. This is my purpose, and for that, I do not need to be a guru. or a visionary, or any sort of paper doll.

“The true master is invisible: no flowers, no necklace, no photos, no school, no disciples. But to the true master, all of humanity is the disciple. In an unguided way the master lets wellness slip in and subtly introduces knowledge that can raise another’s level of consciousness. To be a master, neither school or ambition is needed. A master obeys a superior universal will. ‘’

3. “I eliminated from my heart all types of discrimination; I expelled from my soul the unforgiving judge who wielded a morality based on poorly translated and poorly interpreted religious texts. For the duration of these consultations, I forgot myself and concentrated totally on the person in front of me. I opened my mind, motivated only by the desire to be useful and to offer a loving ear, to accept any rejection with kindness, seeing it as an important part of the healing process.”

4. “When I began to study genealogy trees, I discovered many abuses that my consultants refused to face. They ask me to make their suffering disappear in general, but not the deep cause of their discomforts: they clung to their pain because it conferred their identity. I, however, explained to them, “to heal is to become that which one is, not to become that which others want.”Since childhood orders and prohibitions were imposed on us. We had to do things we didn’t want to do, and not do what we desired. We sustained abuse that little by little became embedded in our spirits and in our behavior, which we took as our identity. In adulthood we impose on ourselves what was previously imposed on us, and we reject what we were refused. And why? Because the clan does not accept us unless we correspond to the vision it has for us. Even if these knots inflict maiming, painful repressions, we consider them essential and something that binds us to the family. If we cut these blind knots, if we expel that which is artificial in order to develop our authentic being, we risk losing the pathological union that we confuse with love——a “love”for the child that is now alive, to nourish, to shelter, and protect him. We think that if we change we will be expelled from the clan, that we will be condemned to solitude, and that we will be exposed to all dangers. And even more, we fear that our rebellion will cause the members of the family irreparable harm, even their deaths.” p. 434

“Why these repetitions? Because in reality the abused child, a being thirsty for tenderness and attention, becomes an adult obsessed with a need to be acknowledged. Familial abuse becomes the only known link, the only way to connect with those whom one hopes to receive love from. The child, thinking he deserved all that was inflicted on him, integrates the abuse with his own identity since it is the only way he knows how to belong to the clan. If the abuse is the main relationship that he had with a parent or a loved one, it is both unbearable and oppressive——unbearable because Consciousness knows he was cheated, but oppressive because repetition of the abuse has provided it a lasting place in the parental archetypes, and it is indispensable to his psychic balance.” “Our inner “father”and “mother” is this violence, trouble, rage, dissatisfaction, ban, pain, or invasiveness that we tend to repeat. Repetition is both reassuring (nothing changes, and the childhood atmosphere is not disturbed by any agonizing innovations)and painful, because it is accompanied by feelings of guilt and shame.”

“All abuse obeys more or less the same mechanism: what we did we continue to do, and what was prohibited to us we continue to prohibit.” p. 450

“Children who are loved and well treated have no difficulty leaving the home of their parents, while people who were badly treated in childhood have all the difficulty cutting ties. This apparent paradox is due to the fact that we all tend to hope the failings of childhood will one day be resolved in adulthood, so we reproduce an infantile situation in a hopeless attempt to see the past change.”

5. “The mature human being is capable of putting himself in another person’s shoes and of taking either the lead or a secondary role according to the demands of a specific situation. Simultaneously, the mature person is indifferent to criticism or praise and is independent of the old judgments that his genealogy tree imposed on him in childhood. He is as capable of expressing himself clearly as he is able to expertly and attentively listen without criticism. The general tone of his existence, in spite of failures and obstacles, is a deep joy of living, independent of circumstances. This person knows gratitude and practices generosity but is capable of defending himself and preserving his dignity if someone unjustly attacks him. This person feels a sense of responsibility toward everything in his environment, including social and planetary concerns. The person is capable of not encroaching on the space of others and accepts the need to bend to circumstances rather than to his all-powerful desires. This person does not need to exploit or possess another and does not base his superiority on others being dragged down. This person does not compare himself to others, has replaced competition with emulation, and strives to embrace an appreciation of the diversity in human experiences as much as possible.”
6. “The Conscious being defeats identification with words, and in his mind reigns silence: he knows how to be. In his emotional center, objective judgment replaces criticism: he knows how to love. In his sexual center, passions are well channeled and dissatisfaction is defeated: he knows how to create. In controlling his useless needs he reduced them to the essential, and he does not self-destruct: he knows how to live. He has ceased to think that to take action is to triumph over another. He pushes his limits endlessly and without rest. He adds trance to his rational capacities: he does not lose consciousness in the awake state, but he allows it to be possessed by his essential Being, impersonal because it speaks the sacred madness that inhabits its spirit. The Conscious being ceases to be his own witness, no longer observes, is an actor in the pure state, an entity in action. His daily memory stops recording facts, words, and fulfilled acts. The island of reason expands and unites with the ocean of Unconscious. In this Supraconscious state he does not fall and is not provoked by accident. He does not conceive of space, he becomes space. He does not feel time passing. In this extreme state of lucidity each gesture, each action, is perfect. He can not deceive because he has no project and no intention; he experiences pure action in the eternal present. He is not afraid to free his instinct, no matter how primitive it may be. For him, going beyond the rational does not mean denying mental strength; he remains open to the poetry of intuition, to flashes of telepathy, to voices that do not belong to him, to the words that come from other dimensions of spirit. These words join together in the infinite extension of feelings, of inexhaustible creative forces bestowed on him by his sexual energy. He experiences his body not as a concept of the past but as a subjective and vibrant reality of the present.

Rather than being dominated by rational concepts, he allows himself to be moved by forces that belong to sublime levels: by the totality of reality. An animal in a cage has movements similar to rational perception; the free movement of an animal in nature is comparable to trance. The prisoner animal must be fed at fixed hours; the rational, to act, must receive words. The wild animal feeds himself and never feeds incorrectly. The being in a trance is moved not by what he has been taught, but by that which he is, and he searches not for the truth but for authenticity.”