"Again in this instance, you behaved just like in the case of the power plants. You needed more than was necessary. A few of the nagual's onslaughts should be enough to dismantle one's view. But even to this day, after all the nagual's barrages, your view seems invulnerable. Oddly enough, that's your best feature.

"All in all then, Genaro's job has been to lead you into the nagual. But here we have a strange question. What was being led into the nagual?"

He urged me with a movement of his eyes to answer the question. "My reason?" I asked.

"No, reason is meaningless there," he replied. "Reason craps out in an instant when it is out of its safe narrow bounds."

"Then it was my tonal" I said.

"No, the tonal and the nagual are the two inherent parts of ourselves," he said dryly. "They cannot be led into each other."

"My perception?" I asked.

"You've got it," he yelled as if I were a child giving the right answer. "We're coming now to the sorcerers' explanation. I've warned you already that it won't explain anything and yet..." He paused and looked at me with shiny eyes. "This is another of the sorcerers' tricks," he said.
"What do you mean? What's the trick?" I asked with a touch of alarm.

"The sorcerers' explanation, of course," he replied. "You'll see that for yourself. But let's continue with it. Sorcerers say that we are 'inside a bubble'. It is a bubble into which we are placed at the moment of our birth. At first the bubble is open, but then it begins to close until it has sealed us in. That bubble is our perception. We live inside that bubble all of our lives. And what we witness on its round walls is our own reflection."

He lowered his head and looked at me askance. He giggled.

"You're goofing," he said. "You're supposed to raise a point here."

I laughed. Somehow his warnings about the sorcerers' explanation- plus the realization of the awesome range of his awareness- had finally begun to take their toll on me.

"What was the point I was supposed to raise?" I asked.

"If what we witness on the walls is our own reflection, then the thing that's being reflected must be the real thing," he said, smiling.

"That's a good point," I said in a joking tone.

My reason could easily follow that argument.

"The thing reflected is our view of the world," he said. "That view is first a description, which is given to us from the moment of our birth until all our attention is caught by it and the description becomes a view.
"The teacher's task is to rearrange the view, to prepare the luminous being for the time when the benefactor opens the bubble from the outside."

He went into another studied pause and made another remark about my lack of attention judged by my incapacity to make an appropriate comment or question.

"What should've been my question?" I asked.

"Why should the bubble be opened?" he replied. He laughed loudly and patted my back when I said, "That's a good question."