Side by side, standing out amongst many, are the three foul mouths of that vile worm which pierces the heart of the world: Judas, Brutus, and Cassius.

So, to return onto the misdeeds of Rome and to discover Brutus, marked by the hand of God with a knife, to refer back to those origins, to savor that sweet poison, is indeed not at all pleasant, but it is imperative that we draw out certain painful memories from the depths of the centuries.

In anguished grieving, without any boasting and in a novel state of alertness, I clearly retain the vivid recollection of my Roman reincarnation known by the name of Julius Caesar.

At that time I had to sacrifice myself for humanity, setting the scene for the fourth sub-race of this our Fifth Root Race.

Bless my soul, oh God, and Hail Mary!  If ever I committed a very grave error in that ancient period of time, it was when I became a member of the Order of the Jarretera.  However, it is obvious that the Gods wanted to pardon me.

To elevate oneself to the highest point above one’s acquaintances is in truth not easy, but evidently I managed it to the surprise of the Roman aristocracy.

I do not feel vain in relating this because I well know that only the ego likes to boast, to climb to the top of the ladder, to make itself feel as such, etc.  In narrating this, I am carrying out my duty, that is all.

When leaving for Gaul, I begged my beautiful wife Calpurnia to send our two sons to meet me on my return.

Brutus was dying of envy remembering my triumphant entrance into the eternal city, yet he seemed to have purposely forgotten my dreadful sufferings on the battlefields.

The right to govern that empire was certainly not given to me as a gift.  The divine and humans alike well know how much I had suffered.

I could have saved myself from that treacherous conspiracy if I had known to listen to the old astrologer who visited my mansion.

Unfortunately, the demon of jealousy tortured my heart.  That old man was very friendly with Calpurnia and this was not much to my liking.

On the morning of that tragic day when I rose from the nuptial bed with my head wreathed with laurels, Calpurnia told me of her dream.  She had seen a night vision in which a star had fallen from the heavens to Earth, and she warned and begged me not to go to the Senate.

My wife’s pleading was in vain.  “Today I will go to the Senate,” I responded imperiously.

“Remember that family friends have invited us for a meal today in the outskirts of Rome; you accepted the invitation,” retorted Calpurnia.

“I cannot attend that meal,” I objected.

“Are you going to leave the family waiting, then?”

“I have to go to the Senate...”

Some hours later, accompanied by a charioteer, I was on my way to the capitol of the Roman Eagle Empire in a chariot of war.

I soon arrived there amidst the tremendous cheering of the enthusiastic crowd.

“Long live Caesar,” they shouted...

Some of the city’s notability surrounded me in the atrium of the capitol.  I answered their questions, clarifying some points, etc.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the old astrologer appeared before me, he who had previously warned me about the terrible dangers of the Ides of March.  Discreetly he handed me a piece of parchment upon which were written the names of the conspirators...

The poor old man wanted to save me but all was in vain.  I did not listen to him.  Besides, I found my attention too occupied by so many illustrious Romans...

Later, feeling invincible and invulnerable, with that Caesarian attitude which characterized me, I advanced in the direction of the Senate, passing the Olympian columns of the capitol.

But alas, the conspirators were waiting in ambush behind those heroic pillars; the sharp blade of the murderous dagger ripped my back...

Accustomed by many battles, instinctively I tried to grasp my sword, but I felt faint.  I saw Brutus and exclaimed: “You, too, my son?”

Then... terrible fate bore my soul away.

Poor Brutus... The ego of envy had devoured his insides and the outcome could not have been otherwise.

I had two more reincarnations in the august Rome of the Caesars and later several varied existences with magnificent Dharma in Europe during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.

During the time of the terrible Inquisitor Tomas de Torquemada, I was reincarnated in Spain, and this is another very interesting story...

Speaking about the aforementioned Inquisitor and the “Holy Office” is certainly very disagreeable; however, it is now fitting to do so...

I was then a much celebrated Marquis, who unfortunately had to come in contact with that execrable Inquisitor, as perverse as the other one called Juan de Arbuses.

At that time I encountered the traitor Brutus again, reembodied within a new human organism.

What an incisive count, offensive and ironic!  He mocked me. What insults!  What sarcasm!

I wanted no involvement whatsoever in new controversies and had no appetite for anger...

The coarseness, vulgarity and lack of culture of that nobleman displeased me frightfully, but I did not want to criticize him.  It seemed a good idea to avoid new duels, and for that reason I sought the Inquisitor.

One day, early in the morning, I made my way to the palace of the Inquisition.  I had to find an intelligent solution to my time-worn problem.

“Ah! My dear Marquis!  It is a wonder to see you here!  How may I be of service?”

That was the answer to my greeting given by the monk who was always in the doorway of the palace where the duties of the Holy Office took place.

“Many thanks, your reverence,” I said. “I come to request an audience with my Lord, the Inquisitor...”

“Today there are numerous visitors, my dear Marquis, but because it is you, I shall procure an audience immediately.”

Once said, the friar disappeared, to return moments later... “Come in, my dear Marquis, I have arranged your audience,” he called.

“Many thanks, your reverence,” I replied.

I crossed the courtyard and entered a hall which was in complete darkness. I went to another chamber and found that one in gloom also. Finally, I entered the third room and above a table shone a lamp... there I found the dreadful Inquisitor Torquemada.

That cenobite resembled a saint, of course.  What an expression!  What a beatific attitude!  Such a pious posture!  Upon his chest a crucifix glittered.

All that sanctimony, my God! What extremely horrifying hypocrisy... It was obvious that the Pharisee ego was strongly established in that blue monk...

After many greetings and bows in accordance with the customs of that time, I sat before the table next to the friar...

“How can I be of service, Marquis?  Speak up...”

“Thank you very much your Lordship... The fact is that Count so-and-so has made my life impossible, he insults me because of envy, ridiculing me; he slanders me, etc...”

“Oh!  Don’t worry about that, Marquis.  We have already had many complaints against this Count...

“I will give orders for his arrest immediately.  We will imprison him in the martyrs’ tower; we will pull out his fingernails and toenails and pour molten lead on his fingers to torture him.  Then, we will sear the soles of his feet with burning coals and finally burn him alive on a bonfire.”

But, for God’s sake!  Had that monk gone mad? I never planned to go that far. All I sought in that Inquisitorial house was a Christian admonition for the Count who had reincorporated those values which were formerly ingrained in Brutus’s personality.

That blue monk, seated before the sacred table with his penitent countenance, the attitude of a pious anchorite, a crucifix hanging from his neck...

That singularly beatific figure, so devout and cruel, so sweet and barbaric, so sanctimonious and perverse...

Such evil, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, awoke something in the interior of my Consciousness, I know not what.  I felt that what I possessed of bodhisattva was rebelling, protesting, groaning.

An inner storm erupted in me; lightning, thunder, did not delay in appearing, and then...

Oh God!  What had to happen, happened...

“You are perverse,” I told him. “I did not come here to ask you to burn anyone alive; I came only to request that this nobleman be admonished; you are a murderer, and that is why I do not belong to your sect,” etc.

“Ah!  So that is it, dear Marquis?...”

Infuriated, the prelate vehemently rang a loud hand bell, and then, as if by magic, some knights appeared armed to the teeth.

“Arrest him,” exclaimed the abbot.

“One moment! The rules of chivalry must be respected; remember that we are among knights.  I have no sword, give me one and I will fight each of you...”

One of the men, faithful to the code of chivalry, handed me a sword, and then...

I attacked him like a lion.  My reputation as a swordsman was not in vain (those were my times as a fallen bodhisattva).

Just as frozen snowflakes fly through the air at the gust of the ethereal north winds, strong resplendent helmets, convex shields, heavy breast-plates and ash-wood lances scattered within the inquisitorial enclosure.

Its splendor rose up to Uranus and certainly the earth laughed, illuminated by the brilliance of bronze, trembling under the feet of the fighters, amongst them myself, struggling in a tough battle against the other knight...

Just as a light ship is smashed when the waters of the sea, swollen by the winds which rush vehemently from the clouds assail it, covering it completely with surf whilst the wind howls through the sails, frightening the sailors with approaching death, so fear was destroying the hearts in the chests of those knights who were watching the battle...

Obviously, I was victorious in the uproarious clash of steel, and all that was missing to put that fighter out of combat was my best thrust...

Terrified by the inevitable proximity of the terrible sovereign Fates, the knights forgot all rules of chivalry, and then as a mob they attacked me...

I did not expect that; it was too hard for me to defend myself against that well-armed throng...

I had to struggle until I was exhausted, weakened, and beaten, for they were many...

What took place afterwards is easy to guess; I was burned alive on a bonfire in that very courtyard of the palace of the Inquisition...

I was mercilessly lashed to a stake over green wood which blazed with a slow fire; I felt pain that is impossible to describe in words. Then I saw how my poor incinerated flesh fell off into the flames...

But, human pain, no matter how severe, also has a well defined limit beyond which there is happiness.

It is not so strange that at the end I experienced a certain happiness; I felt about me something very pleasant, as if a refreshing and beneficent shower had fallen from the sky...

It occurred to me to take a step.  How light I felt!  I left the palace walking very slowly... very slowly... I weighed nothing.  I was disembodied.

So, this is how I died during the dreadful period of the “Holy Inquisition.”

The Arcanum Fourteen from the golden book (the Tarot) teaches us how the water of life flows from one amphora to another...

It is not so strange that after that tempestuous reincarnation, with so many noble titles which were of no avail before the terrible Inquisitor Thomas de Torquemada, I returned to take a physical body...

At that time I was called Simeon Bleler and I travelled through New Spain.  It is not my purpose to speak about my new life in this chapter, nor about my previous existence in bygone porphyritic Mexico; I only wish now to tell of my present-day reincarnation.

Life’s Nemesis had to renew my contact with those values which were formerly re-incorporated in the personality of Brutus.

I permitted a certain gentleman, who returned with such values, to do a particular job in the temple.  Many people listened to him and he even seemed to be full of sincerity.  He spoke of Gnosis and the people applauded...

But suddenly something unusual happened. One day he entered the sanctuary with an aggressive attitude...

He stormed!  He thundered! He flashed! He became an insulter. At that time, I confined myself to forgiveness and blessing.  Later, he menacingly withdrew...

That ego had returned to its old deeds with its well-known slanders and threats.

Such absurdities and unfounded defamation had as its background certain baseless dreams in which he saw me in very dark streets committing fabricated crimes.

It is manifestly clear that the perverse spirit which he saw in his absurd dreams was an ego he created himself in ancient Rome...

This ego of Brutus assumed my very own form and figure under his subconscious impulses.

It is fitting to comment that one of his other egos assumed a Jesus Christ-like form and entrusted him with a mission to assassinate me.  This he publicly declared in the square...

In order to be freed from such an ancestral enemy, it was necessary to put the matter into the hands of Anubis, the head of the Lords of Karma...

Since then Brutus has become estranged from me, and it has been a long time since I have seen him in this physical world.

From what has been said about Brutus and his dream-like visions, it is clear that nobody can really become a competent investigator of life in the superior worlds until they have dissolved the psychological “I” and all the subjective elements which condition perception.

Ungrateful to his benefactors, with much work as a knight, nonetheless, Brutus accepted Gnosis and the Sahaja Maithuna...

Without restraining himself in the knowledge of a cause, but turning his back on the Guru (Master), he worked in Vulcan’s fiery forge in vain because Devi Kundalini never rewards treason...

Even if one works very seriously with Sexual Yoga , the igneous serpent of our magic powers will never ascend the spine of traitors, murderers, adulterers, rapists and perverts...

Devi Kundalini never becomes an accomplice to crime; the sacred fire ascends in accordance with the merits of the heart.

Sexual Magic is essential, but without sanctity, spiritual achievement is impossible...

Brutus was lamentably mistaken in thinking Kundalini to be mechanical; the Divine Mother is very exacting...

For the unworthy all doors are closed, except the one of repentance.  Unfortunately, Brutus did not wish to knock on that door, and instead of rising up through the spinal canal, the sacred fire was cast down from the coccyx transforming itself into the abominable Kundabuffer organ: Satan’s tail...

One starry night in the superior worlds, while talking with my great friend the radiant Angel Adonai, who now has a physical body, I received an extraordinary piece of news.

“That man (Brutus),” said the Angel, “has awakened in evil and for evil.”

I confirmed this some days later upon encountering him in the superior worlds...

We will conclude this chapter with the words heard in ecstasy by Daniel, the eternal prophet, and which refer to the end of time...

And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.

And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.

But you, oh Daniel, shut up the words and seal the book, until the time of the end.  Many shall run to and fro and knowledge shall be increased. - Daniel 12:2-41

The Mystery of the Golden BlossomThis chapter is from The Mystery of the Golden Blossom (1971) by Samael Aun Weor. The print and ebook editions by Glorian Publishing (a non-profit organization) are illustrated to aid your understanding, and include features like a glossary and index. Buy the book, and you benefit yourself and others.

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