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E-Book Course "Stopping the World," by Kevin Wikse.

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   For centuries, the Toltec tradition has spoken of warriors — men and women who reject ordinary perception, silence their inner dialogue, and pierce the veil of consensus reality. In The Warrior’s Path: Stopping the World, internationally acclaimed occultist and dream explorer Kevin Wikse presents the first volume of the Dream Warriors series: a practical and unflinching manual for breaking through the tonal and confronting the Nagual. This book reveals: Holding Back the Flow of Time — how to enter suspended awareness and taste freedom from ordinary perception. Seeing Cracks in the Energy — perceiving fissures in reality where the tonal breaks down. Opening a Crack in the Energy — widening these seams and stepping through into other states and dimensions. Inserting Intentions — planting commands into the fabric of reality itself. The Gaits of Power — walking techniques that generate energy, sharpen perception, and prepare the warrior for lucidity. Speaking to Power — ...
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We all suffer by Kevin Wikse.

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"Put a rusty nail in it!" Obsidian Knife chastised me as we drilled some rough-and-tumble skills for controlling the opponent's inside. My thumb stab to his ear drum wasn't yet weaponized enough for him. My grave error of affording my enemy a moment of safety would not go unpunished. He kicked at me as he further berated me and my Twinkie-flavored white-bread culture. I laughed in response but minded those bullwhip front kicks. His kicks were lightning-fast. He had a habit of obliterating an opponent's knees on the trajectory up to their nutsack with his rocket-powered foot. In addition, he could cover far more distance than you might guess by exploding forward off his back leg.  His kicking skills contained a wicked "rusty nail.: An opponent never has the luxury of safety. That is a commodity for which we are perpetually out of stock. Now, severe injury, maiming, permanent disfigurement, crippling, and, of course, straight-up death, on the other hand...well,...
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A Fleeting Moment of Chance by Kevin Wikse

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Snapping my Dream Journal shut hard with his hand, he shot me a defeated but vengeful glance, then looked away with a long, annoyed sigh. I knew he had conceded to my argument and his conditions, concessions I am confident he never thought he'd have to make, were about to follow. I've kept a dream journal for decades, and from 1999 to 2004, my dreams were preoccupied with Global Cataclysms, Large-scale UFO events speaking with Crystal Skulls, and what had become the Nahali, or Toltec Tradition.  In one dream entry, in particular, a lucid dream, I detailed my delivering the soul of recently passed-over Carlos Castaneda out of captivity, freeing him from the clutches of "inorganic beings." In our escape from the penumbral labyrinth, I was almost captured. Carlos Castaneda returned the favor, and together, we watched each other's backs as we opened doorways to our proper and respective abodes. Before he left, Carlos told me.  "My line is broken, my unit failed, ...
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You have little time left and none of it for fuckery by Kevin Wikse

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Obsidian knife felt my hand speed was not up to snuff. To fix this, he gave me one simple directive. In the space of the next five minutes, I was to touch the tip of his nose no less than ten times.  He pointed to my hands and said, "You are an immobilizer; you latch on, rip, and shred, like your namesake (Gila Monster). You don't care if you must eventually let go or if your prey luckily wrenches free. The damage is done. You stalk it down and finish it."  "This is fine, but I don't want you to get too firmly stuck in that modality. You may one day need to stay fluid and detached physically and emotionally; let the cut and thrust of your knife be the fangs of a snake; hide your body behind it." He lunged and nicked me on my forearm with his knife.  "Blood makes for a great exclamation mark for the points of my teachings."  It was a smarting pain. The wound was topical and superficial, but the hot desert air and salt from my sweat mingling in my wo...
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Order of the Dead Dog: I first heard about him while I was in Las Cruces by Kevin Wikse.

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I first heard about him while I was in Las Cruces. He was an old Apache knife fighter and Brujo, still honing his edge and blooding his hands in the desert. Based on a rumor, I spent a week trekking up and down the Rio Grande searching for him but learned from his friend in Mesilla that I'd missed him by a few months. It was in Lordsburg that I caught up with him, a short and round man with eight or nine rattlesnake heads circling his hat band.  He flatly denied he was who I was looking for. I wasn't buying it, so I lunged at him after a couple more protests that I should go away. He had a knife as fast as a rattlesnake's strike, the tip pressing firmly into the skin under my chin. I smiled as he rolled his eyes. He'd blown his cover.  That evening, we shared a pack of Pall Malls and a 12-pack of Modelo in the alley behind his house while candles to Jesus Malverde and Saint Jude flickered in the darkening shadows. We told stories about hunting down our common enemy when...
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The stories of the sorcerer Don Juan had carried me this far by Kevin Wikse

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The stories of the sorcerer Don Juan had carried me this far. I set the spirit of his apprentice free, helping him escape the inorganic beings. Within the tale, there was truth, no matter how small or skewed. I would enter the non-ordinary reality or die trying.  When the desert grew its darkest and I was sure death stalked me, the world exploded with color, and fear fell to its knees before me.  -Kevin Wikse. 
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Follow my footsteps for long enough by Kevin Wikse

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"Follow my footprints for long enough. You will discover sun-bleached bones, blood-stained sand, and animal-gnawed remains —each a demarcation in my evolution of human predation—milestones in my journey toward Heaven and Hell. Irrefutable proof that the desert is a magical place to do awful things to evil people." -Gila Monster Kevin Wikse
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