'Does it teach as Mescalito does?'
'No, it is not a teacher as Mescalito is. It does not show the same things.'
'But what does the smoke teach, then?'
'It shows you how to handle its power, and to learn that you must take it as many times as you can.'
'Your ally is very frightening, don Juan. It was unlike anything I ever experienced before. I thought I had lost my mind.'
For some reason this was the most poignant image that came to my mind. I viewed the total event from the peculiar stand of having had other hallucinogenic experiences from which to draw a comparison, and the only thing that occurred to me, over and over again, was that with the smoke one loses one's mind.
Don Juan discarded my simile, saying that what I felt was its unimaginable power. And to handle that power, he said, one has to live a strong life. The idea of the strong life not only pertains to the preparation period, but also entails the attitude of the man after the experience. He said the smoke is so strong one can match it only with strength; otherwise, one's life would be shattered to bits.
I asked him if the smoke had the same effect on everyone. He said it produced a transformation, but not in everyone.
'Then, what is the special reason the smoke produced the transformation in me?' I asked.
'That, I think, is a very silly question. You have followed obediently every step required. It is no mystery that the smoke transformed you.'
I asked him again to tell me about my appearance. I wanted to know how I looked, for the image of a bodiless being he had planted in my mind was understandably unbearable.
He said that to tell the truth he was afraid to look at me; he felt the same way his benefactor must have felt when he saw don Juan smoking for the first time.
'Why were you afraid? Was I that frightening?' I asked.
'I had never seen anyone smoking before.'
'Didn't you see your benefactor smoke?'
'No.'
'You have never seen even yourself?' 'How could I?'
'You could smoke in front of a mirror.'
He did not answer, but stared at me and shook his head. I asked him again if it was possible to look into a mirror. He said it would be possible, although it would be useless because one would probably die of fright, if of nothing else.
I said, 'Then one must look frightful.'
'I have wondered all my life about the same thing,' he said.
'Yet I did not ask, nor did I look into a mirror. I did not even think of that.'
'How can I find out then?'
'You will have to wait, the same way I did, until you give the smoke to someone else — if you ever master it, of course. Then you will see how a man looks. That is the rule.'
'What would happen if I smoked in front of a camera and took a picture of myself?'
'I don't know. The smoke would probably turn against you. But I suppose you find it so harmless you feel you can play with it.'
I told him I did not mean to play, but that he had told me before that the smoke did not require steps, and I thought there would be no harm in wanting to know how one looked. He corrected me, saying that he had meant there was no necessity to follow a specific order, as there is with the devil's weed; all that was needed with the smoke was the proper attitude, he said. From that point of view one had to be exact in following the rule. He gave me an example, explaining that it did not matter what ingredient for the mixture was picked first, so long as the amount was correct.
I asked if there would be any harm in my telling others about my experience. He replied that the only secrets never to be revealed were how to make the mixture, how to move around, and how to return; other matters concerning the subject were of no importance.
8
My last encounter with Mescalito was a cluster of four sessions which took place within four consecutive days. Don Juan called this long session a mitote. It was a peyote ceremony for peyoteros and apprentices. There were two older men, about don Juan's age, one of whom was the leader, and five younger men including myself.
The ceremony took place in the state of Chihuahua, Mexico, near the Texas border. It consisted of singing and of ingesting peyote during the night. In the daytime women attendants; who stayed outside the confines of the ceremony site, supplied each man with water, and only a token of ritual food was consumed each day.
During the first night of the ceremony, Thursday 3 September, I took eight peyote buttons. They had no effect on me, or if they did, it was a very slight one. I kept my eyes closed most of the night. I felt much better that way. I did not fall asleep, nor was I tired. At the very end of the session the singing became extraordinary. For a brief moment I felt uplifted and wanted to weep, but as the song ended the feeling vanished.
We all got up and went outside. The women gave us water. Some of the men gargled it; others drank it. The men did not talk at all, but the women chatted and giggled all day long. The ritual food was served at midday. It was cooked corn.
At sundown on Friday 4 September, the second session began. The leader sang his peyote song, and the cycle of songs and in— take of peyote buttons began once again. It ended in the morning with each man singing his own song, in unison with the others.
When I went out I did not see as many women as had been there the day before. Someone gave me water, but I was no longer concerned with my surroundings. I had ingested eight buttons again, but the effect had been different.
It must have been towards the end of the session that the singing was greatly accelerated, with everybody singing at once. I perceived that something or somebody outside the house wanted to come in. I couldn't tell whether the singing was done to prevent 'it' from bursting in, or to lure it inside.
I was the only one who did not have a song. They all seemed to look at me questioningly, especially the young men. I grew embarrassed and closed my eyes.
Then I realized I could perceive what was going on much better if I kept my eyes closed. This idea held my undivided attention. I closed my eyes, and saw the men in front of me. I opened my eyes, and the image was unchanged. The surroundings were exactly the same for me, whether my eyes were open or closed.
Suddenly everything vanished, or crumbled, and there emerged in its place the manlike figure of Mescalito I had seen two years before. He was sitting some distance away with his profile towards me. I stared fixedly at him, but he did not look at me; not once did he turn.
I believed I was doing something wrong, something that kept him away. I got up and walked towards him to ask him about it. But the act of moving dispelled the image. It began to fade, and the figures of the men I was with were superimposed upon it. Again I heard the loud, frantic singing.
I went into the nearby bushes and walked for a while. Everything stood out very clearly. I noticed I was seeing in the darkness, but it mattered very little this time. The important point was, why did Mescalito avoid me?
I returned to join the group, and as I was about to enter the house I heard a heavy rumbling and felt a tremor. The ground shook. It was the same noise I had heard in the peyote valley two years before.
I ran into the bushes again. I knew that Mescalito was there, and that I was going to find him. But he was not there. I waited until morning, and joined the others just before the session ended.
The usual procedure was repeated on the third day. I was not tired, but I slept during the afternoon.
In the evening of Saturday 5 September, the old man sang his peyote song to start the cycle once more. During this session I chewed only one button and did not listen to any of the songs, nor did I pay attention to
