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 spiritual energy. This spreads the truth of our divine origin, so it maintains human hope, so the eagle is fed. That these words are engraved in your heart! Let them vibrate pounding throughout your life and the truth be revealed.

Snails began to sound in a subdued manner; they seemed bumblebees, but gradually, increasing their volume, to achieve an unprecedented force. Night Eagle's body began to vibrate, until the sound became light and spread throughout the Valley. He felt as all the millions of living beings, with the accord to join and conform it, expanded to cover the immensity. He ceased being him, to become part of all this huge space.

In mid-afternoon we woke up by the sound of a cricket singing a few inches from his eyes. He was at the shade of a tree and didn't know if the sound of the insect had resulted in his dream, or was the memory of something extraordinary, that happened to him. He had already learned that the most important thing in life is what is felt, not what one thinks. So rather than wasting efforts in finding the "truth" of what happened, he devoted himself to recover his spirits, to continue climbing up the holy mountain.

After ascending to the right side of the mountain, the road turned left side, almost reaching the top. When he arrived at the base of the buildings in the southern side, the trail again turned to the right. At that point he found an old man who was slowly walking up; he wore a headband with a heavy basket. Night Eagle respectfully greeted him and asked if he could help him.

—Don't bother boy, each carries in life what he can and wants to —said the old man, while staring at his face— we are about to get there. Allow me, insisted Night Eagle, taking the burden from the stooped man. When the boy felt the weight of the basket; his body fell towards the depths. As a meteorite, increasingly it became heavier and accelerated.