Sorcerers say that heightened awareness is the portal of intent. And they use it as such. Think about it.

You must reach the point where you understand what intent is. And, above all, you must understand that that knowledge cannot be turned into words. That knowledge is there for everyone. It is there to be felt, to be used, but not to be explained. One can come into it by changing levels of awareness, therefore, heightened awareness is an entrance. But even the entrance cannot be explained. One can only make use of it.

The natural knowledge of intent is available to anyone, but the command of it belongs to those who probe it.

Sorcerers believe that until the very moment of the spirit's descent, any of us could walk away from the spirit; but not afterwards.

The fourth abstract core is called the descent of the spirit or being moved by intent. It is the full brunt of the spirit's descent. The fourth abstract core is an act of revelation. The spirit reveals itself to us. Sorcerers describe it as the spirit lying in ambush and then descending on us, its prey. Sorcerers say that the spirit's descent is always shrouded. It happens and yet it seems not to have happened at all.

There is a threshold that once crossed permits no retreat. Every sorcerer should have a clear memory of crossing that threshold so he can remind himself of the new state of his perceptual potential. One does not have to be an apprentice of sorcery to reach this threshold, and the only difference between an average man and a sorcerer, in such cases, is what each emphasizes. A sorcerer emphasizes crossing this threshold and uses the memory of it as a point of reference. An average man does not cross the threshold and does his best to forget all about it.

Sorcerers say that the fourth abstract core happens when the spirit cuts our chains of self-reflection. Cutting our chains is marvelous, but also very undesirable, for nobody wants to be free.

What a strange feeling: to realize that everything we think, everything we say depends on the position of the assemblage point. The secret of our chains is that they imprison us, but by keeping us pinned down on our comfortable spot of self-reflection, they defend us from the onslaughts of the unknown.

Once our chains are cut, we are no longer bound by the concerns of the daily world. We are still in the daily world, but we don't belong there anymore. In order to belong we must share the concerns of people. And without chains we can't.

What distinguishes normal people is that we share a metaphorical dagger: the concerns of our self-reflection. With this dagger, we cut ourselves and bleed; and the job of our chains of self-reflection is to give us the feeling that we are bleeding together, that we are sharing something wonderful: our humanity. But if we were to examine it, we would discover that we are bleeding alone; that we are not sharing anything; that all we are doing is toying with our manageable, unreal, man-made reflection.

Sorcerers are no longer in the world of daily affairs because they are no longer prey to their self-reflection.