The Celestine Prophecy: An Adventure

by James Redfield

  “Almost,” she said. “But there’s one more thing. You understand how one person can uplift another. Now you’re about to see what happens in a group when all of the participants know how to interact this way.”

  I walked out to the porch and sat in one of the wrought-iron chairs. After a few minutes Julia came through the door and joined me. We had eaten a leisurely dinner without much talking and afterward had decided to sit outside in the night air. Three hours had gone by since Sanchez had gone to his room and I was beginning to feel impatient again. When Sanchez suddenly walked outside and sat down with us I was relieved.

  “Have you heard anything about Wil?” I asked him.

  When I spoke, he slid his chair around to face Julia and me. I noticed that he was carefully adjusting the position of his chair so that he was an equal distance from each of us.

  “Yes,” he said finally. “I have.”

  He paused again and appeared to be in thought, so I asked, “What did you hear?”

  “Let me tell you everything that happened,” he said. “When Father Carl and I left to go back to my mission, we expected to find Father Sebastian there, along with the military. We expected an inquisition. When we arrived we found that Father Sebastian and the soldiers had left abruptly several hours earlier, after receiving a message.

  “For a whole day we didn’t know what was going on, then yesterday we were visited by a Father Costous, whom I understand you have met. He told us that he was directed to my mission by Wil James. Apparently Wil remembered the name of my mission from his conversation earlier with Father Carl, and intuitively knew that we would need the information Father Costous was bringing. Father Costous has decided to support the Manuscript.”

  “Why did Sebastian leave so suddenly?” I asked.

  “Because,” Sanchez said, “he wanted to speed up the implementation of his plans. The message he received told him that Father Costous was about to expose his intention to destroy the Ninth Insight.”

  “Sebastian found it?”

  “Not yet, but he expects to. They found another document that indicated where the Ninth is.”

  “Where is it supposed to be?” Julia asked.

  “At the Celestine ruins,” Sanchez replied.

  “Where is that?” I inquired.

  Julia looked at me. “About sixty miles from here. It’s a dig the Peruvian scientists have excavated exclusively and with quite a lot of secrecy. It consists of several layers of ancient temples, first Mayan, then Inca. Apparently both cultures believed there was something special about that location.”

  I suddenly realized that Sanchez was concentrating on the conversation with unusual intensity. When I talked, he would focus totally on me, without breaking his gaze at all. When Julia spoke, Father Sanchez shifted his position to focus completely on her. He seemed to be acting very deliberately. I wondered what he was doing, and at that precise moment there occurred a lull in the conversation. They both looked at me expectantly.

  “What?” I asked.

  Sanchez smiled. “It’s your time to speak.”

  “Are we taking turns?” I asked.

  “No,” Julia said, “we are having a conscious conversation. Each person speaks when the energy moves to him. We could tell it had moved to you.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Sanchez looked at me warmly. “Part of the Eighth Insight is learning to interact consciously when in a group. But don’t get self-conscious. Just understand the process. As the members of a group talk, only one will have the most powerful idea at any one point in time. If they are alert, the others in the group can feel who is about to speak, and then they can consciously focus their energy on this person, helping to bring out his idea with the greatest clarity.

  “Then, as the conversation proceeds, someone else will have the most powerful idea, then someone else and so forth. If you concentrate on what is being said, you can feel when it is your turn. The idea will come up into your mind.”

  Sanchez shifted his eyes to Julia, who asked, “What idea were you having that you didn’t express?”

  I tried to think. “I was wondering,” I said finally, “why Father Sanchez was looking intensely at whomever was speaking. I guess I was wondering what it meant.”

  “The key to this process,” Sanchez said, “is to speak up when it is your moment and to project energy when it is someone else’s time.”

  “Many things can go wrong,” Julia interjected. “Some people get inflated when in a group. They feel the power of an idea and express it, then because that burst of energy feels so good, they keep on talking, long after the energy should have shifted to someone else. They try to monopolize the group.

  “Others are pulled back and even when they feel the power of an idea, they won’t risk saying it. When this happens, the group fragments and the members don’t get the benefit of all the messages. The same thing happens when some members of the group are not accepted by some of the others. The rejected individuals are prevented from receiving the energy and so the group misses the benefit of their ideas.”

  Julia paused and we both looked at Sanchez who was taking a breath to speak. “How people are excluded is important,” he said. “When we dislike someone, or feel threatened by someone, the natural tendency is to focus on something we dislike about the person, something that irritates us. Unfortunately, when we do this—instead of seeing the deeper beauty of the person and giving them energy—we take energy away and actually do them harm. All they know is that they suddenly feel less beautiful and less confident, and it is because we sapped their energy.”

  “That is why,” Julia said, “this process is so important. Humans are aging each other at a tremendous rate out there with their violent competitions.”

  “But remember,” Sanchez added, “in a truly functional group, the idea is to do the opposite of this, the idea is for every member’s energy and vibration to increase because of the energy sent by all of the others. When this occurs, everyone’s individual energy field merges with everyone else’s and makes one pool of energy. It is as if the group is just one body, but one with many heads. Sometimes one head speaks for the body. Sometimes another talks. But in a group functioning this way, each individual knows when to speak and what to say because he truly sees life more clearly. This is the Higher Person the Eighth insight talked about in connection with a romantic relationship between a man and a women. But other groups can form one as well.”

  Father Sanchez’s words made me think of Father Costous suddenly, and of Pablo. Had this young Indian finally changed Father Costous’ mind, leading him to now want to preserve the Manuscript? Was Pablo able to do this because of the power of the Eighth Insight?

  “Where is Father Costous now?” I asked.

  Both individuals looked mildly surprised at my question, but Father Sanchez quickly replied, “He and Father Carl decided to go to Lima to speak with our church leaders about what Cardinal Sebastian seems to have planned.”

  “I guess that’s why he was so adamant about going to your mission with you. He knew there was something else he was supposed to do.”

  “Exactly,” Sanchez said.

  A lull developed in the conversation and we looked at one another, each of us waiting for the next idea.

  “The question now,” Father Sanchez finally said, “is what are we supposed to do?”

  Julia spoke first. “I’ve had thoughts all along about being involved with the Ninth Insight somehow, of getting hold of it long enough to do something … but I can’t quite see it clearly.”

  Sanchez and I gazed at her intensely.

  “I see this happening at a particular place …” she continued. “Wait a minute. The place I’ve been thinking about is at the ruins, at the Celestine ruins. There is a particular spot there between the temples. I’d almost forgotten.” She looked back at us. “That’s where I need to go; I need to go to the Celestine ruins.”

  As Julia finished, both she and Sanchez shift
ed their gaze to me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been interested in why Sebastian and his people are so against the Manuscript. I found out it’s because they fear the idea of our inner evolution … but now I don’t know where to go … those soldiers are coming … it appears that Sebastian is going to find the Ninth Insight first … I don’t know; I’ve been thinking I’m involved somehow in convincing him not to destroy it.”

  I stopped speaking. My thoughts went to Dobson again and then abruptly to the Ninth Insight. I suddenly realized that the Ninth Insight was going to reveal where we humans were going with this evolution. I had wondered how humans would be acting toward each other as a result of the Manuscript, and that question had been answered with the Eighth Insight, and now the logical next question was: where is it all going to lead, how will human society change? That had to be what the Ninth was about.

  I knew somehow that this knowledge could also be used to ease Sebastian’s fears about conscious evolution…If he would listen.

  “I still think Cardinal Sebastian can be convinced to support the Manuscript!” I said with conviction.

  “You see yourself convincing him?” Sanchez asked me.

  “No … no, not really. I’m with someone else who can reach him, someone who knows him and can speak at his level.”

  As I said that, Julia and I both spontaneously looked at Father Sanchez.

  He struggled to smile and spoke with resignation. “Cardinal Sebastian and I have avoided a confrontation over the Manuscript for a long time. He has always been my superior. He considered me his protégé and I must admit that I looked up to him. But I guess I always knew that it would come to this. The first time you mentioned it, I knew that the task of convincing him was mine. My whole life has set me up for it.”

  He looked intensely at Julia and me, then continued, “My mother was a Christian reformer. She hated the use of guilt and coercion when evangelizing. She felt that people should come to religion because of love, not out of fear. My father, on the other hand, was a disciplinarian who later became a priest, and like Sebastian, believed adamantly in tradition and authority. That left me wanting to work within church authority, but always seeking ways it should be amended so that higher religious experience is emphasized.

  “Dealing with Sebastian is the next step for me. I’ve been resisting it, but I know I have to go to Sebastian’s mission at Iquitos.”

  “I’ll ride with you,” I said.

  THE

  EMERGING

  CULTURE

  The road north wound through dense jungle and across several large streams—tributaries, Father Sanchez told me—of the Amazon. We had risen early and said a quick good-bye to Julia, then left in a vehicle Father Sanchez had borrowed, a truck with raised, oversized tires and four-wheel drive. As we traveled, the terrain rose slightly and the trees became more widely spaced and larger.

  “This looks like the land around Viciente,” I told Sanchez.

  He smiled at me and said, “We’ve entered a fifty mile stretch of land about twenty miles wide that is different, more energized. It runs all the way to the Celestine ruins. On all sides of this area is pure jungle.”

  Far to the right, at the edge of the jungle, I noticed a patch of cleared land. “What is that?” I asked, pointing.

  “That,” he said, “is the government’s idea of agricultural development.”

  A wide stretch of trees had been bulldozed and pushed into piles, some partially burned. A herd of cattle grazed aimlessly amid the wild grasses and eroded topsoil. As we passed, several looked our way, distracted by the sound. I noticed another patch of freshly bull-dozed land and realized the development was moving toward the larger trees we were traveling through.

  “That looks awful,” I said.

  “It is,” Sanchez replied. “Even Cardinal Sebastian is against it.”

  I thought of Phil. Maybe this was the place he was trying to protect. What had happened to him? Suddenly, I thought of Dobson again. Connor had said Dobson intended to come to the inn. Why had Connor been there to tell me that? Where was Dobson now? Deported? Imprisoned? It did not escape my notice that I had spontaneously perceived an image of Dobson in connection with Phil.

  “How far away is Sebastian’s mission?” I asked.

  “About an hour,” Sanchez replied. “How are you feeling?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how is your energy level?”

  “I think it’s high,” I said. “Lots of beauty here.”

  “What did you think of the talk we three had last night?” he asked.

  “I thought it was amazing.”

  “Did you understand what was happening?”

  “You mean, the way ideas were bubbling up in each of us at different times?”

  “Yes, but the greater meaning of that.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it. This way of consciously relating, in which everyone attempts to bring out the best in others rather than to have power over them, is a posture the entire human race will eventually adopt. Think of how everyone’s energy level and pace of evolution will increase at that point!”

  “Right,” I said, “I’ve been wondering how human culture will change as the overall energy level rises.”

  He looked at me as if I had hit on the exact question. “That’s what I want to know, too,” he said.

  We looked at each other for an instant and I knew we were both waiting to see who would have the next idea. Finally he said, “The answer to that question must be in the Ninth Insight. It must explain what will happen as the culture evolves forward.”

  “That’s what I think,” I said.

  Sanchez slowed the truck. We were approaching a crossroads and he seemed undecided about which route to take.

  “Do we go anywhere near San Luis?” I asked.

  He looked directly into my eyes. “Only if we turn left at this intersection. Why?”

  “Connor told me Dobson had been planning to come through San Luis on his way to the inn. I think it was a message.”

  We continued to look at each other.

  “You were already slowing down at this cross-roads.” I said. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know; the most direct route to Iquitos is straight ahead. I just felt hesitant for some reason.”

  A chill shot through my body.

  Sanchez raised one eyebrow and grinned. “I guess we had better go through San Luis, huh?”

  I nodded and felt a rush of energy. I knew that stopping at the inn and making contact with Connor was taking on more meaning. As Sanchez turned left and proceeded toward San Luis, I watched the roadside expectantly. Thirty or forty minutes passed and nothing happened. We rode through San Luis and still nothing of note occurred. Then, suddenly, a horn blew and we turned to see a silver jeep roaring up behind us. The driver was frantically waving. He looked familiar.

  “Tha’s Phil!” I said.

  We pulled to the side of the road and Phil jumped out and ran to my side of the truck, grabbing my hand and nodding at Sanchez.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he said, “but the road ahead is full of soldiers. You’d better come back and wait with us.”

  “How did you know we were coming?” I asked.

  “I didn’t,” he said. “I just looked up and saw you pass by. We’re about a half mile back.” He looked around for a second, then added, “We’d better get off this road!”

  “We’ll follow you,” Father Sanchez said.

  We followed as Phil turned his jeep around and headed back the way we’d come. He turned east onto another road and quickly parked. From behind a group of trees, another man walked out to greet the vehicle. I couldn’t believe my sight. It was Dobson!

  I climbed out of the truck and walked toward him. He was equally surprised and hugged me warmly.

  “It’s great to see you!” he said.

  “Same here,”
I replied. “I thought you were shot!”

  Dobson patted my back and said, “No, I guess I panicked; they simply detained me. Later, some officials sympathetic to the Manuscript let me go. I’ve been running ever since.”

  He paused, smiling at me. “I’m glad you’re all right. When Phil told me he had met you at Viciente and then was arrested with you later, I didn’t know what to think. But I should have known we would run into each other again. Where are you headed?”

  “To see Cardinal Sebastian. We think he intends to destroy the last Insight.”

  Dobson nodded and was about to say something, but Father Sanchez walked up.

  I quickly introduced them.

  “I think I heard your name mentioned in Lima,” Dobson said to Sanchez, “in connection with a couple of priests that were being detained.”

  “Father Carl and Father Costous?” I asked.

  “I think those were their names, yes.”

  Sanchez only shook his head slightly. I watched him for a moment, then Dobson and I spent several minutes describing our experiences since being separated. He told me he had studied all eight insights and seemed anxious to say something else, but I interrupted to tell him that we had met Connor and that he had returned to Lima.

  “He’ll probably be detained himself,” Dobson said. “I regret I couldn’t get to the inn in time, but I wanted to come to San Luis first to see another scientist. As it turned out I couldn’t find him, but I did run into Phil and …”

  “What is it?” Sanchez asked.

  “Maybe we ought to sit down,” Dobson said. “You won’t believe this. Phil found a copy of part of the Ninth Insight!”

  No one moved.

  “He found a translated copy?” Father Sanchez asked.

  “Yes.”

  Phil had been doing something inside his vehicle and was now walking toward us.

  “You found part of the Ninth?” I asked him.

  “I didn’t find it, really,” he said. “It was given to me. After you and I were captured, I was taken to another town. I don’t know where. After a while, Cardinal Sebastian showed up. He kept probing me about the work at Viciente and my efforts to save the forests. I didn’t know why until a guard brought me a partial copy of the Ninth Insight. The guard had stolen it from some of Sebastian’s people, who had apparently just translated it. It talks about the energy of old forests.”