José
Agustín Ramírez Gómez (1944-2024) was a Mexican writer who met Carlos
Castaneda in 1972 through the playwright and translator Juan Tovar, who
translated Castaneda's first four books into Spanish.
Castaneda and José Agustín became friends.
José Agustín, in addition to reviewing Castaneda's work, also translated some of his books into Spanish, such as "The Eagle's Gift".
In 2004, host José Gordon interviewed José Agustín, who recounted his experiences with Castaneda.
You can see this interview in those two videos:
Part One
(minutes 3:10 to 10:30)
Second
(minutes 1:10 to 9:20)
I also transcribed them and added images to illustrate the conversation:
Gordon: We
are in Chalcatzingo, in the State of Morelos, in a place that could
practically look like a cover of Carlos Castaneda's books.
José Agustín, we would like to talk to you about the encounters you had with Carlos Castaneda right here on this site.
Agustín: Well,
yes, look, he knew Mexico remarkably well, although in his books his
favorite areas are: first Sonora and Arizona, and then Oaxaca. But in
reality, it's clear that he knew the entire country very well, and the
area around Mexico City, specifically the state of Morelos, was very
dear to him. So he loved Tepoztlán, he loved the Xochicalco area, the
Cuautla area, but very specifically Chalcatzingo here.
So,
on occasions when he was in Mexico and wanted to see me, he would call
me and say, "Hey, I'll be around your area." Sometimes he would come to
my house, but other times we would arrange to meet right here.
Gordon: You
meet Carlos Castaneda and have the opportunity to directly explore
certain knowledge that is perhaps hinted at in his books. Tell us a
little about that world you were exploring in your conversation.
Agustín: Precisely
because of Don Juan's ideas, Castaneda specialized in being
conspicuous, so he said that he had to wear a little suit like any
executive with his briefcase, not even very elegant.
But
you would sit down to eat with him and then, for example, you would see
that he ate fruit in a particular way; he would take certain parts out
of the papaya, place them as if with a certain ritual, and eat some
parts.
I
asked him several times, "Why are you doing that?" and he always
dismissed me as crazy and acted as if he couldn't hear me and didn't
want to answer those things.
Then
another day he was staying at a hotel in the Zona Rosa, so Jorge Ponce
and I went to pick him up, and he greeted us in a t-shirt. I had always
seen him fully dressed, but that time he was wearing a t-shirt like the
one Marlon Brando wore in the movie "A Streetcar Named Desire."
And
I was very surprised because Carlos Castaneda was incredibly strong, he
looked like he lifted weights, he had truly tremendous musculature. I
told him: "Hey Carlos, it's unbelievable, but you look like a
bodybuilder, you're incredibly strong."
He
replies: "Well, yes, Don Juan forces you to develop your physical
condition; if you had known me 20 years ago, back then I was an
intellectual hippie like any other, but with Don Juan's training my body
became like this."
And
then he said to me, "Look, I'm going to show you something else." Then
he lifted his pants and in that area here [below the knee] he had like
another muscle that had appeared, a lump, and he said to me, "Touch it."
And
I touched it and it was rock hard. And then he tells me, "This muscle
only develops when you practice the famous power step," which consists
of trusting in Don Juan's powers and running at night, almost raising
your legs as high as possible to your chest. Then the warriors run at
full speed in absolute darkness, and something guides them so they don't
fall into any gaps, they don't hit any rocks, they don't get caught on
branches, etc.
Gordon: We're talking about those walks potentially having taken place at this site.
Agustín: It's very feasible, of course, perfectly fine.
Gordon: What
distance did you find between what you assume a character is, when
you're reading it, what you assume the creator is, and when you finally
meet the real man, the person who created those books?
Agustín: It
was more of a character sketch I had of him. I never imagined what he
looked like physically, and then when I saw him in person, I thought,
"Well, yes, this is Carlos Castaneda; he corresponds very well to what I
assumed he would never be."
He
was relatively short in stature, he liked to wear suits that made him
look like an ordinary person, he had brown skin, a light brown, and his
hair was completely curly and very short.
Years later, I ran into him once in the United States and he said to me: "You won't recognize me because the nagual gave me a beating."
I said to him, "So, how are you?"
He
tells me: "Well, you'll see," and in reality he was the same as always,
the only difference was that his hair had turned completely gray, it
had become a little stranger because it was all white, like pure
dullness because since he was dark-skinned, the white hair made him look
like that; and then his face was rather square with features that
tended towards the square, his eyes were small, very lively, with an
intelligence and a sparkling quality that I have only seen in Juan José
Arreola, like a mix of mischief and hidden intelligence that doesn't
want to show itself, but is there behind it and cannot avoid manifesting
itself.
His
nose is straight, neither too big nor too small; his mouth is also of
average size. He had no fat, no marks, no wrinkles, at least not when we
met him, and even later, when he was older and his hair was gray, he
still didn't have many wrinkles.
Gordon: One
controversial point we must address is: who was Carlos Castaneda? Some,
such as Juan Tovar, considered Castaneda to be more of a creator of
fantastic literature than an anthropologist.
Agustín: Well,
it's understandable, he was such a good writer that I myself have said
that reading Carlos Castaneda's books is a bit like reading Mexican or shamanic " One Thousand and One Nights ".
But
I do believe he was an anthropologist, a very good anthropologist
indeed, with his doctorate, with all the recognition due and yet to
come, and that's why he initially gained academic prestige.
Initially,
all the great minds interested in the subject of hallucinogens, such as
Richard Evans Schultes, Roger Ham from Paris, Roger Wasson the great
mycologist and his wife Valentina, or Peter Furts, the author of the
book "Hallucinogens and Culture," all gave him their full support and
were fascinated by Castaneda's work.
Because if you recall, in his first book, very cleverly after the narrative part that he called a sui generis
autobiography , he ends it with a structural anthropological study that
is the most arid in the field of anthropological expression.
The
academic world liked him a lot and greatly boosted his popularity among
that public, but afterwards, as a result of some letters that Roger
Watson sent him and which Charles did not answer, his prestige among the
intellectual elite gradually declined.
Octavio Paz withdrew his support, Evans Schultes also
withdrew his support, and then some relegated him to the realm of
charlatanism, in the style of Lobsang Rampa, or of people who are
profiting from the spirit.
But
many more people saw him as a writer because he had an incredible
narrative talent, a gift for storytelling, and literary skill.
Translating his work reveals how his books are constructed, and they are
masterfully crafted.
But
I've always said that it can't be merely made up, because if it is,
then we're dealing with one of the most incredibly imaginative minds in
the world, who also has the discipline to physically support all the
fantasies he's inventing. Having particularly well-developed muscles,
being incredibly strong—evidently, the man was working with his body to
support a supposedly shamanic fallacy or a mere fiction.
So
I've always said that what terrifies me most is the idea that he's a
writer who invented all that, because it seems to me a work of
monumental scope in the field of literature, one of the finest and most
ingenious literary games ever written, and so as a writer he has an
incredible stature.
That's
why I prefer him to be an anthropologist, I prefer that Don Juan
existed, because it seems more normal and more accessible to me.
So I believe that in what he says, there is at least 60 to 70% reality with 30% personal embellishment.
Gordon: Augustine, tell us about the paradox of the public man who is also an unknown person.
Agustín: Castaneda
specialized in appearing when you least expected him, like when Juan
Tovar suddenly stood up to greet Castaneda, even though Tovar was still
eating with his spoon in one hand and his beer in the other.
Suddenly
someone would knock on the door, and it would be Castaneda, when you
least expected it. He would arrive unexpectedly, we would chat, or go
somewhere, anything at all. Then everything was subject to him. That was
part of his fundamental strategy: to be completely free.
He
was what he called "a rider of absolute freedom," and to ride well
towards freedom you need to protect yourself in a thousand ways, and one
of them was that nobody knew anything about you, that they didn't know
your story, that they had no expectations of you.
And
Castaneda achieved that wonderfully; he managed to get people to
respect his privacy because he was in countless places with so many
people. I could have taken out my camera without him noticing and taken
pictures of him, but it never crossed my mind to do that; he was
respected.
And
that allowed him to do wonderful things, for example, I had the
opportunity to present his book "The Gift of the Eagle" at the
University Club. The place was packed with people from the esoteric
world; his new followers were from the Ferrier group, who had split off
because of The Teachings of Don Juan, and everyone was gathered there.
I
was speaking after other presenters had spoken, and suddenly I see
Carlos Castaneda in the doorway making faces at me and greeting me.
Only
someone like Castaneda can be in a place where people are talking about
him, where everyone would like to meet him, and he is there and nobody
knows he is there, nobody knows it is him.
Then
I got down from the table to hug him and chat with him for a while, and
perhaps with that someone realized that the real Castaneda was there.
Gordon: We're
talking about that need or desire we all sometimes have to disappear,
to vanish into anonymity. How do you relate that to the whole life of
this project, which involves being so publicly visible, as you are
through your books, while at the same time trying to go unnoticed?
Agustín: That
is his great achievement, because if we talk about celebrities, Carlos
Castaneda's has been one of the most extraordinary of the end of the
millennium since he was a man who sold millions of books.
Personally,
people from Europe and Asia have come to me just to see if I could put
them in touch with him. Now imagine how many people on their own set out
to meet him personally; there must have been thousands.
But
nobody knew where he was, nobody knew what he looked like, nobody could
locate him if he didn't want to be located; and at the same time he
could afford to go to Mexico, Europe or the United States and give great
lectures to hundreds or even thousands of people.
He
liked to spread ideas, he had a prodigious ability to communicate, a
great facility with words, great wit, and he was very funny, he had you
laughing your head off all the time.
So
that was something he liked to cultivate; he couldn't live in complete
anonymity. But at the same time that he was in the world's brightest
spotlight, he was also shrouded in absolute mystery.
Nobody
could reach him for half an hour; he'd disappear, and there was no way
to find him. So that was a wonderful achievement in his life, and if you
don't know how important it is at times to manage to stay out of
people's expectations, because people think they know you and have a
false idea of you, and based on that false idea, they demand things,
they expect things from you.
And
if you don't comply with them, or if you comply with them in any way,
you're not doing what you're supposed to do, you're doing what others
think you're supposed to do.
So the only way to do what is truly your responsibility, he said, is by creating a fog around your identity.
Gordon: José Agustín, we thank you very much for this spoken portrait of that fog called Carlos Castaneda.
.

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