Mayan Fire

I met the elder, Carlos, and his wife, Shaman A, in the Fall of 2011 in a strange series of events. It was a moment where time slowed for a while to create an opening for important connections. The opening of a door.

I was seeing a new homeopath for help with some longstanding health conditions, and that homeopath had just called me to let me know that Carlos was in town.

“A Mayan elder is in town from Guatemala. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but there were some wild last-minute changes to his travel plans so he will be here for the weekend. He’s offering a talk tonight on the 2012 transition. I’m calling because I sense that you may be interested, and I’m planning to go.”

I had never received that sort of call from one of my healers before, but he was correct I was definitely interested. The Mayans had been an interest of mine since a childhood book report project. I was fascinated by the ancient ruins and how they were constructed in line with natural events.

In college, I chaperoned a high school trip to Mexico where I got to see some of the Mayan ruins. It was there that I met an American man who had been adopted by the Mayans and was living with them in the Mayan way. When I returned home, I looked for study abroad opportunities with an anthropology professor of mine that ultimately went nowhere. It just wasn’t my path.

But now, the Mayan connection came knocking again. “Sure, I’d love to go,” I responded to my homeopath’s invitation. I had no plans for the night, and I had been dealing with my own transitions over the past couple of years that were propelling me towards making sense of things in a new way.

I had recently left my live-in boyfriend who had a drug problem that was spiraling out of control. And I had exchanged the two jobs I had taken to support us a couple to being a graduate school student with a travel job that I considered the job of my dreams. I was living free and meeting people all over the world, but now on my employer’s dime. I was in my early 30s, and I felt like I was entering a prime period of my life. There was plenty of joy and amazing opportunities, but I could also feel a strange and uneasy energy shift in the world, in myself, that I could not articulate.

The homeopath and I agreed to meet at the location where Carlos would be speaking that night. I was delighted for the connection.

Carlos warmly greeted the modest crowd in a local community center. He was a tall, thin, man, was wrapped in a red shawl and wearing a colorful hat. Carlos spoke of how the scientists have mis-read the Mayan calendar and created a bunch of hype around the 2012 transition.

“We have many calendars, actually. And the scientists didn’t know how to read them. 2012 is not the end of the world, but a transition. The transition started some years ago already, so many of you have been feeling it in your lives. We are moving from times where the energy has either been masculine or feminine to the energy of ether, where it is neither masculine nor feminine. Since we have been in a time of masculine energy, the transition will bring more balanced energies between the two.”

I was intrigued. While I had heard some of the 2012 hype from a distance, it felt a lot like the Y2K hype I had heard about some years prior. And it wasn’t the first time the tools of a native nation had been picked apart by those who thought they knew better.

Carlos continued his teaching.

“We are the first civilization to live to 2012. The previous civilizations; the Lemurians and the Atlanteans, for example, killed themselves off prior to their 2012. The Lemurians were physically stronger than we are, and the intellect and spirituality of the Atlanteans was far greater than our civilization.”

“I have no idea why WE are the civilization to make it to 2012, but here we are,” Carlos said with a shrug.

“There will be a transition, yes, but nothing more. I’m more concerned about the year 2025. There will be some challenges then and some important decisions to be made.”

Carlos had written a book about 2012 and one of the Mayan calendars and I grabbed a copy as the group was shuffling out at the end of the night. The homeopath and I chatted about all that we had learned during Carlos’s talk that night and we made some connections to other experiences we had encountered.

“Carlos will be giving some training in Mayan healing techniques over the weekend. I have been invited. Would you like to go with me?” the homeopath asked enthusiastically.

“Are you kidding?! I’d love to go!” I quickly responded, barely letting him finish his sentence.

We agreed to meet at a holistic healing center that was hosting the event the next day. As we entered to register for the day’s class, Carlos and his wife, Shaman A looked on. Carlos asked me a question implying that me and the homeopath were “together.”

“No, we are not together,” I informed him. “Why would he think that?” I wondered. The homeopath was almost old enough to be my father.

The day of Mayan healing teachings was incredible. The techniques are based on accessing and healing energy systems through the use of acupressure points on the body. One uses their thumb to press firmly against these points in a circular motion in a certain direction, for a precise number of rotations. The numbers are very important in the technique. The Mayans are masters at understanding numbers and their energies.

Mayan healers also use stones, specifically quartz, rose quartz and obsidian. And they use rose water to clean them. Carlos gave us instructions about how to activate various stones by tapping them. Each stone has their own unique energy and healing properties, so each has a specific number of taps required to awaken their energy.

I frantically scribbled notes in my notebook while we all practiced the techniques on each other. I didn’t want to forget a word of his instruction. All of us there had our own health challenges and stories. Typically, the people I meet at these kinds of functions are searching for something. Something that mainstream health systems are not able to repair or relieve. Ancient traditions offer a new perspective, and there is always a great sense of gratitude in these groups of people when these perspectives are shared with us.

“Tomorrow I will offer healings for anyone who is interested. There will be a sign-up sheet near the door as you leave tonight. Also, tomorrow there will be a fire ceremony at a nearby state park. You are all welcome to attend” Carlos stated as he closed the day of teachings.

“I’m signing up for a healing” I said turning to the homeopath who was smiling widely at me.

“I’m not able to attend tomorrow, but I think it would be a good experience for you,” he said. “Would you like to join me for dinner before you head home?”

“Sure,” I replied. I had grad school homework to do, but I didn’t want to return so quickly to the chair I sat in behind my computer screen. Still swollen with joy for the learnings of the day, I looked forward to being able to discuss the things I’d learned with a man who was a healer for his profession.

We carpooled to a nearby Laotian restaurant and sat at a small table in the front. The homeopath ordered food for us using a technique he uses to test which foods were best for our bodies at that moment. I wasn’t sure what to think of the technique, but we ate marvelous food and drank fabulous tea as he told stories about his life and work.

“I should really get back to my homework,” I said somewhat reluctantly. While I loved my studies, the timeframes often had me feeling chained to my computer and lacking much for breathing room.

We made our way to my car and I drove us back to the holistic center where the teachings had been held. It was getting dark and there were no longer the lines of cars parked along the street. We talked for a bit in the car, before I pressed that I really needed to head home.

The homeopath grabbed me and pulled me close to him, trying to kiss my neck.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted.

“We are supposed to be together. I want you to be a part of my life when I leave my wife and move to my cabin in the woods.”

“But I’m not interested in you like that!” I shouted, trying to push him away from me.

“Of course you are!” the homeopath stated. “I tested it earlier. We would be good together”

I was able to push him away from me enough to open my car door and get out. There was no one on the street, but I stood outside of my car waiting for him to exit, willing to leave him there in my car and run if necessary.

The homeopath exited my car and quietly walked toward where his car was parked.

“Why must I pay dearly for every one of these great opportunities,” I wondered as I got back into my car and drove home. I knew I wouldn’t see that homeopath again for my healing. While he was considered one of the best, the cost was now too great. I would need to find another source of help for my chronic health issues. That reality left me feeling both empty and helpless.

On my way home, I called my father to invite him to the Mayan fire ceremony the next day. My father had become a recluse after his release from incarceration. We were not close, but we did share a connection around spiritual pursuits. My father was happy for the invite and committed to drive down and pick me up the next evening for the fire ceremony.

That night, my sleep was restless. Another man had put his hands on me without my permission. And my newest boyfriend chose to respond by blaming me for going to the event with the homeopath in the first place. As if socializing with a man was my crime. As if I deserved the experience simply because I was there.

The next day, I arrived at the holistic center for my scheduled healing. It was in the same place where the Mayan healing techniques teaching had occurred the day prior. I parked my car and stared at the street where the homeopath had assaulted me the night before. Shaking my head, I made my way into the building to look for Carlos.

The large room of the center that had been filled with my classmates was now empty. There was only one woman at the door who greeted me and showed me to an area in the back of the large room that had been sectioned off for Carlos. She instructed me to get up on the table and wait until Carlos was ready.

Carlos entered the room quietly. He stood at my head for a long while, seemingly in some kind of meditation before he began pressing on some of the acupressure points that I had just learned about the day before, vigorously pressing them as he worked them in a circular motion. My body began to shake wildly and my eyes started watering so much that tears streamed down my face.

Carlos placed obsidian stone on my chest and continued the healing. My body continued to shake and twist. Eventually, it calmed, Carlos removed the obsidian stone, and placed rose quartz on my chest. He ended by spraying me with rose water.

“What happened?!” I asked, puzzled, as I made my way off of the table after the healing session concluded. My body felt different, lighter even, as if there was literally less weight to it. I took a few steps away from the table before he responded.

“Not nice sexual experience,” Carlos said in broken English as he looked at me softly.

“Of course,” I thought. I thanked him and left the holistic center to ponder my experience. It was then that I realized that memories are not in the brain as I was taught, but they are in our cells. Each one remembers, as witnesses to the events of life. Recordings that are always playing in the background, creating strength or vulnerability as we move through our lives.

My father picked me up later that day to drive to the state park for the fire ceremony. He too had all sorts of memories stored in his cells that influenced the way he moved through the world. I wondered what would happen if he were able to resolve some of them. Would he be less of a recluse? Would he have better connections with those who love him?

My father eagerly listened to my account of the Mayan teachings and the healing that I received, saying little in response, but I could tell he was in deep contemplation. I told him of what I had learned about Carlos and his wife, Shaman A; that Carlos was a distinguished Elder and Shaman A once had a corporate job that she left to spend 10 years alone in the jungle. The fire ceremony we were going to that night was based on the Mayan Cholqiq calendar, and Carlos said that Paulo, an amethyst skull from the ancient Atlanteans, would be there.

We arrived at the park and found the group campsite that had been designated for the event. I introduced my father to Carlos and Shaman A, and I took a picture of them together, hoping that it would remind my father of the good things out there when he has moments of forgetting them. Carlos introduced us to the amethyst skull, called Paulo, that was on loan to him from a wealthy person who “owned” him.

“If you shine a flashlight down on the top of Paulo’s head, holograms appear out of his eyes,” Carlos smiled as he cradled Paulo in his lap.

Carlos and Shaman A began the ceremony starting with the first Cholqiq calendar sign, inviting all of us to come and walk counter-clockwise around the fire when our sign was called. There were beautiful offerings of flowers and candles arranged along with other things that were symbolic of each sign. Each Cholqiq sign was called in a beautiful procession.

When the sign Iq (wind) was called by Shaman A, she held her right hand high in the air and beckoned the wind with her hand. Seconds later, a strong wind blew out of nowhere.

“Woah!” my father shouted as we sat marveling all that is greater than us.

Late in the evening, the ceremony concluded and we all got into our cars quietly, leaving the state park with great gratitude for an experience that we were still working to comprehend, but not wanting to end as we returned to our mundane realities. That’s how it always happens.

A window of experience, an opening of a door, happens at precisely the time that it is needed, and only for as long as it is needed. And that which determines the coming and going of such doors is what determines the timing. Our part is only one of receptivity. Are we open to the doors that present?

Life is full of precious gifts, doors that we have been granted that have shaped us and grown us, as they become memories in our cells, fueling the fire of our spirits with knowledge, strength, and resilience.

May we open to the doors that nourish our inner fires.

©Cardinal Speaks