alking with your messenger doesnt mean asking ques- tions about the world of the spirits, Petrus said the next day. The messenger performs only one function for you: he helps you with regard to the material world. And he will give you this help only if you know exactly what it is that you want.

We had stopped in a town to have something to drink. Petrus had ordered a beer, and I asked for a soft drink. My fingers were abstract designs in the water on the table, and I was worried.

You told me that the messenger had manifested himself in the boy because he needed to tell me some- thing.

Something urgent, he confirmed.

We talked some more about messengers, angels, and devils. It was difficult for me to accept such a practical application of the mysteries of the Tradition. Petrus said that we are always seeking some kind of reward. But I reminded him that Jesus had said that the rich man would not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

But Jesus rewarded the man who knew how to make his master more adept. People did not believe in Jesus

just because he was an outstanding orator: he had to perform miracles and reward those who followed him.

No one is going to blaspheme Jesus in my bar, said the owner, who had been listening to our conversation.

No one is blaspheming Jesus, Petrus answered. People speak poorly of Jesus when they commit the sin of taking his name in vain. Like all of you did out there in the plaza.

The owner hesitated for a moment. But then he answered, I had nothing to do with that. I was only a child at the time.

The guilty ones are always the others, Petrus mum- bled. The owner went into the kitchen, and I asked Petrus what he was talking about.

Fifty years ago, in this twentieth century of ours, a gypsy was burned at the stake out there in the plaza. He was accused of sorcery and of blaspheming the sacred host. The case was lost amid the news of the Spanish civil war, and no one remembers it today. Except the people who live here.

How do you know about it, Petrus? Because I have already walked the Road to Santiago. We went on drinking there in the empty bar. The sun

was hot, and it was our siesta time. A few minutes later, the owner reappeared, accompanied by the town priest.

Who are you people? asked the priest.

Petrus showed him the scallop shells sewn to his knapsack. For twelve hundred years, pilgrims had passed along the Road in front of the bar, and the tradition was

that every pilgrim was respected and welcomed under any circumstance. The priest changed his tone.

How can it be that pilgrims on the Road to Santiago are speaking poorly of Jesus? he asked, in a tone that was appropriate to a catechism.

Nobody here was speaking poorly of Jesus. We were speaking poorly of the crimes committed in the name of Jesus. Like the gypsy that was burned there in the square.

The shells on Petruss knapsack had also changed the owners attitude. Now he addressed us with some respect. The curse of the gypsy is still with us today, he said

and the priest looked at him reprovingly. Petrus wanted to know how. The priest said that

these were stories told by the villagers and that the church did not approve of them. But the owner of the bar went on:

Before the gypsy died, he said that the youngest child in the village was going to receive and incorporate his devils. And that when that child became old and died, the devils would pass on to another child. And so on, for all the centuries to come.

The soil here is the same as the soil in the other towns around here, said the priest. When the other towns have a drought, we do, too. Nothing has hap- pened here with us that has not happened in the neigh- boring towns, too. This whole story is a fantasy.

Nothing has happened because we isolated the curse, said the owner.

Well, then, lets see it, answered Petrus. The priest laughed and said that that was no way to talk. The owner of the bar made the sign of the cross. But neither of them moved.

Petrus got the check and insisted that someone take us to the person who had inherited the curse. The priest excused himself, saying that he had been inter- rupted at something important and had to get back to his church. And he left before anyone could say any- thing.

The owner of the bar looked at Petrus fearfully.

Not to worry, said my guide. Just show us the house where the curse resides. We are going to try to rid the town of it.

The owner of the bar went out into the dusty street with us. The hot sun of the afternoon beat down every- where. We walked to the outskirts of the town, and he pointed to a house set off by itself at the side of the Road.

We always send meals, clothing, everything they need, he apologized. But not even the priest goes in there.

We said good-bye to him and walked toward the house. The owner of the bar waited there, perhaps thinking that we would pass it by. But Petrus went up to the house and knocked on the door, and when I looked around, the bar owner had disappeared.

A woman of about seventy came to the door. At her side was an enormous black dog, wagging his tail and

apparently happy to see company. The woman asked what we wanted; she said she was busy washing clothes and had left some pots on the fire. She did not seem surprised by our visit. I figured that many pilgrims, not knowing about the curse, must have knocked on the door seeking shelter.

We are pilgrims on the Road to Compostela, and we need some hot water, Petrus said. I knew that you would not refuse us.

With a show of irritation, the woman opened the door. We went into a small room, clean but poorly fur- nished. There was a sofa with its stuffing coming out, a bureau, and a Formica-topped table with two chairs. On the bureau was an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, some saints, and a crucifix made of mirrors. Through one of the two doors in the room, I could see the bed- room. The woman led Petrus through the other door into the kitchen.

I have some water boiling, she said. Let me get you a container, and you can both get going.

I was there in the living room, alone with the huge dog. He wagged his tail, docile and contented. The woman came back with an old can, filled it with water, and held it out to Petrus.

There. Go with Gods blessing.

But Petrus did not move. He took a tea bag from his knapsack, put it in the can, and said that he would like to share the little he had with her in appreciation for her welcome.

The woman, clearly upset now, brought two cups and sat down at the table with Petrus. I kept looking at the dog as I listened to their conversation.

They told me in the village that there was a curse on this house, Petrus commented boldly. The dogs eyes seemed to light up, as if he had understood what had been said. The old woman stood up immediately.

Thats a lie. Its an old superstition. Please finish your tea, because I have lots of things to do.

The dog sensed the womans sudden mood change. He remained still but alert. But Petrus continued to do what he was doing. He slowly poured the tea into the cup, raised it to his lips, and put it down on the table without drinking a drop.

Thats really hot, he said. I think I will wait until it cools off a bit.

The woman did not sit down again. She was visibly uncomfortable with us there and clearly regretted having opened the door. She noticed that I was staring fixedly at the dog and called him to her. The animal obeyed, but when he reached her side, he turned to look at me.

This is why he did it, my friend, Petrus said, looking at me. This is why your messenger appeared yesterday in the child.

Suddenly I realized that I was not just looking at the dog. As soon as I had come in, the animal had hypno- tized me and had kept my eyes fastened on him. The dog was staring at me and making me do as he wanted.

I began to feel weak, as if I would like to lie down and sleep on the torn couch; it was really hot outside, and I did not feel much like walking. The feelings all seemed strange to me, and I had the impression that I was falling into a trap. The dog continued to looked fixedly at me, and the more he looked at me, the more tired I felt.

Lets go, said Petrus, getting up and offering me the cup of tea. Drink a bit of tea, because the lady wants us to get going.

I hesitated, but I took the cup, and the hot tea revived me. I wanted to say something, ask what the animals name was, but I could not get my voice to work. Something inside me had been aroused, some- thing that Petrus had not taught me but that neverthe- less began to manifest itself. I felt an uncontrollable desire to say strange words, the meaning of which I didnt even know. I thought that Petrus had put some- thing in the tea. Everything began to blur, and I heard only very faintly the woman repeat to Petrus that we had to leave. I was in a state of euphoria, and I decided to speak the strange words that were coming to my mind.

All I could see in the room was the dog. When I began to say those strange words, the dog started to growl. He understood what I was saying. I became more excited and continued to speak, louder and louder. The dog rose and bared his teeth. He was no longer the docile animal I had seen on arrival but something awful

and threatening that could attack me at any moment. I knew that the words were protecting me, and I began to speak even louder, focusing all of my energies on the dog. I felt that I had a different power within me and that it could keep the animal from attacking me.

From that point on, everything began to happen in slow motion. I saw the woman come toward me, shrieking and trying to push me out of the house. And I saw Petrus holding the woman back. The dog paid no attention at all to their struggle. Snarling and baring his teeth, he continued to stare at me. I was trying to understand the strange language I was speak- ing, but each time I stopped to think about it, my power would weaken and the dog would start coming toward me; he was growing stronger. I began to scream, giving up my attempt at understanding, and the woman began to scream, too. The dog barked and threatened me, but so long as I continued speaking, I was safe. I heard raucous laughter, but I did not know if it was really occurring or if it was in my imagina- tion.

Suddenly, a strong wind swept through the house, and the dog howled and leapt on me. I raised my arm to protect my face, shouted something, and waited to see what the impact would be.

The dog had thrown himself upon me with all his strength, and I fell onto the couch. For a few moments, our eyes were locked on each others; in the next second, he ran from the house.

I began to cry hysterically. I thought of my family, my wife, and my friends. I experienced an enormous feeling of love and, at the same time, an absurd happi- ness, because all of a sudden I understood everything about the dog.

Petrus took me by the arm and led me outside, as the woman pushed us both from behind. I looked around, and there was no sign of the dog. I hugged Petrus and continued to cry as we walked along in the sunlight.

The next part of the journey is a blank; I only came to my senses later at a fountain, where Petrus was throwing water in my face and on the back of my neck. I asked for some to drink, and he said that if I drank any- thing then, I would vomit. I was a little nauseated, but I felt good. An immense love for everything and every- body had invaded my being. I looked around me and sensed the trees along the edge of the Road, the small fountain where we had stopped, the fresh breeze, and the bird song from the forest. I was seeing the face of my angel, as Petrus had told me I would. I asked how far we were from the womans house, and he said we had been walking for about fifteen minutes.

You probably want to know what happened, he said.

Actually that was not important to me at all. I was just happy about the feelings of love that permeated me. The dog, the woman, the owner of the bar, everything was a distant memory that seemed to have nothing to

do with what I was feeling now. I told Petrus that I would like to go on walking because I was feeling so well.

I got up, and we returned to the Road to Santiago. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, I said almost nothing, delighting in the agreeable feeling that seemed to fill me. I still thought that perhaps Petrus had put something in the tea, but this was no longer important.

We arrived at a hotel at eight oclock that night, and I was still in this state of beautitude, although it had diminished somewhat. The owner asked me for my passport so that I could register, and I gave it to him.

Youre from Brazil? Ive been there. I stayed at a hotel on Ipanema Beach.

That absurd message brought me back to reality. There, along the Jacobean route, in a town that had been built centuries ago was a hotel keeper who had been to Ipanema Beach.

Im ready to talk, I told Petrus. I have to know what happened today.

The sense of beautitude had passed. Reason took its place, and my fear of the unknown, along with an urgent need to get my feet back on the ground, had returned.

After we eat, said Petrus.

Petrus asked the hotel owner to turn on the televi- sion but to leave the sound off. He said that this was the best way for me to hear everything he said without asking a lot of questions, because part of me would be

watching the television screen. He asked me how much I remembered of what had happened. I answered that I remembered everything except the part where we had walked to the fountain.

That part is not important to the story, he answered. On the television screen, a film having something to do with coal mines began. The actors were dressed in turn- of-the-century clothing.

Yesterday, when I sensed the urgency in your mes- senger, I knew that a battle along the Road to Santiago was about to begin. You are here to find your sword and learn the RAM practices. But every time a guide leads a pilgrim, there is at least one situation that goes beyond the control of both of them. It represents a kind of prac- tical test of what is being taught. In your case, this was the encounter with the dog.

The details of the battle and the explanation for the many devils that can be present in an animal I will explain later. What is important now is that you under- stand that the woman was already used to the curse. She had accepted it as normal, and the attitudes of the world were fine with her. She had learned to be satisfied with very little.

When you exorcised the poor old womans demons, you also unbalanced her universe. The other day we talked about the cruelty that people are capable of inflicting on themselves. Often, when we try to demon- strate that life is good and generous, such people reject the idea as if it came from the devil. People dont like to

ask too much of life because they are afraid they will be defeated. But if someone wants to fight the good fight, that person must view the world as if it were a marvel- lous treasure waiting to be discovered and won.

Petrus asked me if I knew what I was doing there on the Road to Santiago.

I am searching for my sword, I answered. And what do you want your sword for? I want it because it will bring me the power and the

wisdom of the Tradition. I felt that he was not too happy with my response.

But he continued, You are here, searching for a reward. You are daring to dream, and you are doing everything possible to make your dream come true. You need to have a better idea of what it is that you are going to do with your sword; this has to be clearer to you before we can find it. But there is one thing in your favor: you are looking for a reward. You are walking the Road to Santiago only because you want to be rewarded for your effort. I have noticed that you have applied everything I have taught you; you have been looking for a practical outcome. That is very positive.

The only thing missing is your learning how to combine the RAM practices with your own intuition. The language of your heart is what is going to determine the best way to find and use your sword. If you cant bring the two together, the exercises and the RAM prac- tices will become simply a part of the useless wisdom of the Tradition.

Petrus had told me this before, in a different way, and although I agreed with him, it wasnt what I wanted to hear about. There were two aspects of the experience that I could not understand: the strange language I had spoke and my feeling of love and happiness after having evicted the dog.

The sensation of happiness occurred because your action was suffused with agape.

You talk a lot about agape, but you havent really explained to me what it is. I have a feeling we are deal- ing with something that relates to a higher form of love.

Thats exactly right. In a little while, the time will come for you to experience that intense love the love that consumes the one who loves. Meanwhile, be happy knowing that this love has manifested itself freely in you.

I have had this sensation before, but it was brief, and different somehow. It always happened after a pro- fessional triumph, a win, or when I felt that Lady Luck was being generous with me. But when the feeling arose, I always pulled back; I felt frightened of experi- encing it too intensely as if the happiness could cause envy in others or as if I were unworthy of it.

All of us, before we learn about agape, act that way, he said, with his gaze on the television screen.

I asked him about the strange language I had spoken.

That was a surprise to me. That is not a practice of the Road to Santiago. It is a divine grace, and it is one of the RAM practices for the Road to Rome.

I had already heard some things about the divine graces, but I asked Petrus to explain them to me.

They are gifts from the Holy Ghost that manifest themselves in people. There are a number of different kinds: the gift of curing, the gift of miracles, the gift of prophecy, among others. You experienced the gift of tongues, which is what the apostles experienced at Pentecost.

The gift of tongues is related to direct communica- tion with the Holy Ghost. It is used in powerful oratory, in exorcisms as was your case and in wisdom. Your days on the Road and the RAM practices not only led to the danger that the dog represented for you but also by chance gave rise to the gift of tongues. It wont happen again, unless you find your sword and decide to walk the Road to Rome. In any case, it was a good omen.

I watched the silent television screen. The story of the coal mines had been transformed into a succession of men and women talking and arguing. Every so often, an actor and an actress would kiss.

One other thing, said Petrus. It may be that you are going to meet up with that dog again. Next time, dont try to invoke the gift of tongues, because it wont come back. Trust in what your intuition is going to tell you. I am going to teach you another RAM practice that will enhance your intuition. With it, you will begin to learn the secret language of your mind, and that language will be very useful to you for the rest of your life.

Petrus turned the television off, just as I was begin-

ning to get involved in the story. He went to the bar and asked for a bottle of mineral water. We each drank a little, and he took what was left outdoors.

We felt the fresh air, and for a few moments neither of us said anything. The night was quiet, and the Milky Way overhead reminded me again that my goal was to find my sword.

After some time, Petrus taught me the Water Exercise.

Im tired; Im going to bed, he said. But do this exercise now. Call up your intuition again, your secret side. Dont be concerned about logic, because water is a fluid element, and it does not allow itself to be con- trolled easily. But water, little by little and in a non- violent way, is going to build a new relationship between you and the universe.

And before he went through the door of the hotel, he added, It is not often that someone gets help from a dog.

I continued to enjoy the freshness and the silence of the night. The hotel was out in the country, and there was no one there with me. I remembered the owner, who had been to Ipanema; he must find it absurd to see me there in that arid place, burned by the sun that shone down with such ferocity day after day.

I was getting sleepy, so I decided to do the exercise right away. I emptied the remaining water onto the cement and a small puddle formed. I did not have any image or shape in mind, and I wasnt seeking one. I

The Arousal of Intuition (The Water Exercise)

Make a puddle of water on a smooth, non- absorbant surface. Look into the puddle for a while. Then, begin to play with it, without any particular commitment or objective. Make designs that mean absolutely nothing.

Do this exercise for a week, allowing at least ten minutes each time.

Dont look for practical results from this exercise; it is simply calling up your intuition, little by little. When this intuition begins to manifest itself at other times of the day, always trust in it.

swirled my fingers through the cold water, and I experi- enced the same kind of hypnosis that one feels when staring into the flames of a fire. I thought about noth- ing; I was just playing playing with a puddle of water. I made some streaks at the edge of the puddle, and it seemed to become a wet sun; but the streaks quickly rejoined the puddle and disappeared. With the palm of my hand, I batted at the center of the puddle; the water splashed away, covering the cement with droplets, black stars on a gray background. I was completely lost in that absurd exercise, an exercise that had not the slightest purpose but was delightful to do. I felt that my mind had stopped working almost completely, a feeling I had previously achieved only after long periods of medita- tion and relaxation. At the same time, something told me that down deep, in places that my mind could not reach, a force was being born and becoming ready to manifest itself.

I stayed there for quite a while playing with the puddle, and it was difficult to give up the exercise. If Petrus had taught me the water exercise at the beginning of the journey, there is no doubt that I would have found it to be a waste of time. But now, having spoken in strange tongues and having exorcised devils, that puddle of water established a contact however fragile with the Milky Way above me. It reflected the stars, created designs I could not understand, and gave me the feeling not that I was wasting time but that I was creat- ing a new code for communicating with the world. It

was the souls secret code the language that we know but so seldom hear.

When I came back to myself, it was late. The lights at the door had been turned off, and I entered the hotel quietly. In my room, once again I invoked Astrain. He appeared more clearly, and I spoke to him for a while about my sword and about my goals in life. For now, he made no answer, but Petrus had told me that as the invocations continued, Astrain would become a live and powerful presence at my side.