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eugzol в посте Metapractice (оригинал в ЖЖ)

Don Juan patiently listened to my complaints.
"You're too weak," he said. "You hurry when you should wait, but you wait when you should
hurry. You think too much. Now you think that there is no time to waste. A while back you
thought you didn't want to smoke any more. Your life is too damn loose; you're not tight
enough to meet the little smoke. I am responsible for you and I don't want you to die like a
goddamn fool."
I felt embarrassed.
"What can I do, don Juan? I'm very impatient."
"Live like a warrior! I've told you already, a warrior takes responsibility for his acts; for the
most trivial of his acts. You act out your thoughts and that's wrong. You failed with the
guardian because of your thoughts."
"How did I fail, don Juan?"
"You think about everything. You thought about the guardian and thus you couldn't overcome
it.
"First you must live like a warrior. I think you understand that very well."
I wanted to interject something in my defense, but he gestured with his hand to be quiet.
"Your life is fairly tight," he continued. "In fact, your life is tighter than Pablito's or Nestor's,
Genaro's apprentices, and yet they see and you don't. Your life is tighter than Eligio's and he'll
probably see before you do. This baffles me. Even Genaro cannot get over that. You've
faithfully carried out everything I have told you to do.
Everything that my benefactor taught me, in the first stage of learning, I have passed on to
you. The rule is right, the steps cannot be changed. You have done everything one has to do
and yet you don't see; but to those who see, like Genaro, you appear as though you see. I rely
on that and I am fooled. You always turn around and behave like an idiot who doesn't see,
which of course is right for you."
Don Juan's words distressed me profoundly. I don't know why but I was close to tears. I began
to talk about my childhood and a wave of self-pity enveloped me. Don Juan stared at me for a
brief moment and then moved his eyes away. It was a penetrating glance. I felt he had actually
grabbed me with his eyes. I had the sensation of two fingers gently clasping me and I
acknowledged a weird agitation, an itching, a pleasant despair in the area of my solar plexus. I
became aware of my abdominal region. I sensed its heat. I could not speak coherently any
more and I mumbled, then stopped talking altogether.
"Perhaps it's the promise," don Juan said after a long pause.
"I beg your pardon."
"A promise you once made, long ago."
"What promise?"
"Maybe you can tell me that. You do remember it, don't you?"
"I don't."
"You promised something very important once. I thought that perhaps your promise was
keeping you from seeing."

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