Alejandro Jodorowsky - The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky - The Creator of El Topo

“That is the first root of your organ. It goes up to the summit of your skull, and there it absorbs the nourishing energy pouring down from the heavens.”

Then she returned her finger to the urethra, took several moments to re-create the intense point, and moved her finger down the lower part of the glans and penis, passing over the barrier of the foreskin to the testicles, down the perineum, then up between the buttocks to the sacrum and the spine, up the vertebrae to the back of the neck, and finally, again, to the crown of the skull.

“The first root absorbs luminous energies, but the second one enters into the night that dwells in your back, arriving at the will constructed in the back of your neck and finally meeting up with the other root at the highest point, which links you to the stars. These two are the main roots, but I also want you to feel the multiple other sexual roots embedded in different parts of your body.”

Tirelessly, Magdalena now began to trace out lines all over my body, always beginning at the head of the phallus. They went to the palms of my hands, the soles of my feet, my ribs, the base of my throat, my eyes, my ears, my forehead. . Little by little, I perceived that between my legs was something like a tree, with powerful roots passing through my body and leaving through my feet and my head to reach to the center of the earth and every star in the universe.

“My beloved soul child, a woman does not need to search for her roots, for she feels them already at her birth. Instead, she needs to make them branch, pushing from the ovaries, in order to grow a labyrinth of energy toward the vastness of the world. In order to be in union with his sexual organ, a man must make it move its roots toward the primordial seed, whereas a woman must make hers spread into branches that reach toward the ultimate fruit. Just like your phallus, you have been living apart from the roots of your body. You believe that ultimate freedom is liberation from the flesh, detaching consciousness from the body as we remove a hand from a glove or a sword from its scabbard. At first, of course, the body, with its mysterious life, its sensations, its uncontrollable urges, appears like a heavy curtain blocking contact with the light of the soul. But are you merely flesh that possesses consciousness — a consciousness exuded by that flesh? Are you not also consciousness that exudes flesh? The sky symbolizes spirit, the earth symbolizes body. Between sky and earth is the human being, like the god Set of ancient Egypt, separating sky and earth at the beginning to realize finally that the stars above and the roots below are part of the same tree. Certain energies decrease as others increase. If there is no individual self after death, then consciousness and the body are an ephemeral unity that must accept the marriage, the coagulation, with joy. When you meditate, sitting motionless, you go toward the branches. When you abandon yourself to my massage, you enrich your roots. But is this body you offer me a whole or a fragment? Recognize that you have been living it as a fragment. You concern yourself with the matter you can feel, but never with your aura.

“Now come, stretch yourself out on the ground. Concentrate. Feel all your matter, push down from under your skin, move through it, spread out upon the ground like an invisible pool of blood. I begin by massaging your chest and move toward the ribs. Feel how my hands follow the energy down to the floor, caressing it, because your aura is also stretched out there, about six feet out, though you cannot yet feel this. Refine your sensitivity. If my pressure on your invisible body is prolonged, it means you are feeling it, and this will bring you serenity. By entering into the invisible pool of your aura, I feel knots, confusions, and tensions. It feels like tangled hair that has not been brushed for years. Now stand up. I am going to comb your aura so that it will be smooth and orderly.”

Using her hands like combs, Magdalena passed them repeatedly all around me. Though she never once touched me, I felt my mind coming more and more into order and harmony. Old resentments dissolved and disappointed hopes were dispersed. My habitual, constant state of anxious expectation — as if my life were always in the future instead of now — was calmed. Like a squid floating tranquilly in the ocean, my mind surrendered to the present, to the world that is instead of the world I thought.

“Now that your aura is well combed, I shall have to wash your shadow.”

She opened the only window. The afternoon light flooded in. She had me stand with my back to the light so that my shadow was projected inside the brilliant rectangle of light on the floor.

“My son, stand very still and do not move for any reason. Here you see your companion, the one who — though you never condescend to listen to it — tells you what you actually are: a sundial. Every instant, your body tells the time — and this is important, because every hour has a soul, a different energy, that demands that you use it in a different way. If you force your hours by doing what does not suit them, then you live badly and you become ill. Most people care nothing for their shadow, dragging it around as if it were a dirty animal. This poisons their steps.”

Magdalena was now kneeling and washing my shadow vigorously with lavender-scented water and soap. She brushed it, wiped away the water and suds with a sponge, dried it, and then seemed satisfied. But still she forbade me to move, inviting me to look at my shadow as if at a work of art.

“There — it’s all clean now. Look how beautiful it is! Now return home while there’s still plenty of sunlight, so you can feel your shadow. I’m sure you’ll notice the change.”

As I walked with the sun to my back, I felt my shadow as a pleasant companion. Even more, I began to see it as an ally worthy of respect. It pleased me to watch it, to observe how this black stain flitted like an immaterial bird over objects, people, and walls, leaving an invisible trace that bestowed purity and joy upon the tortured material of the city. I saw that the other pedestrians were totally unconscious of their own shadows. This neglect made their shadows seem like heavy, black rags, filthy and sad, dragging on the steps of their owners, adding more impurities to the objects they fell upon.

My experience with Magdalena lasted forty days. With patience and devotion, she overcame my resistances little by little, showing me different ways of massaging the body.

“Darling child of my soul, you don’t live in a body; you live in a unique wound. In order for you to feel the spiritual matter that you truly are, I must give priority to healing you. You remind me of one of those blackened shrimps they sell at the taco stand down below. You are enveloped with suffering — not just yours, but that of your parents, your brothers, your uncles, your grandparents, and distant ancestors. It is the carbon that hides your diamond. I shall heal you. I am woman and I am serpent. I can give to you not only with my hands, but with my whole body.”

And Magdalena began to undulate in waves, adhering to me, wrapping herself around me, slithering from my feet to my head, rubbing me with her hair, her face, her breasts, her back, her belly, her legs, her feet. Using precise pressure, she focused on certain points and then joined them to other points, covering me with meridians and circuits. I had the sensation of becoming like a tightening net, with each node linked to all the others. She pressed her lips upon these points one after another, sucking at them and then vigorously spitting out some mysterious, toxic energy. Then she blew upon each point with such extraordinary intensity that her stream of air cut like a knife. After rendering them extremely sensitive by biting them with her teeth, she used a sweet and powerful voice to inject them with words from the Mayan language. Were these the names of their androgynous gods or words of love? It made no difference.