In Oaxaca, Don Juan spent hours looking at mundane, trivial things, the faded color of walls, the shape of distant mountains, the pattern on cracked cement, the faces of people.
Then we went to the square and sat on his favorite bench, which was unoccupied, as it always was when he wanted it.
During our long walk in the city, I had tried my best to work myself into a mood of sadness and moroseness, but I just could not do it. There was something festive about his departure. He explained it as the unrestrainable vigor of total freedom.
..Freedom is like a contagious disease,” he said. „It is transmitted; its carrier is an impeccable nagual.
People might not appreciate that, and that’s because they don’t want to be free.
Freedom is frightening. Remember that. But not for us. I’ve groomed myself nearly all my life for this moment. And so will you.”
