.jpg)
Mind States
When the Night Equals the Day
Experiencing the Raw Power of
Chichen Itza at the Autumnal Equinox
by Daphne Carpenter
“We’re going to the gates of heaven,” announced Mexican anthropologist Ignacio Duran over tequila at a small bar in Merida. He reclined back casually in his chair and spoke to our small group about Maya mythology as if the language was coming directly from his soul. “We’ll see the sky open up.”
Our waitress brought another order of tapas to the table. Duran helped her clear a space and said something about a “cosmic chord” under his breath.
“You mean, the ‘umbilical cord’ that attaches us to the galactic center of the universe?” I was referring to what a Maya elder had once shared with me about Maya spirituality. They believe we are connected to Hunab Ku—the galactic center of the universe, the Creator God—through our solar plexus, and that through this inter-dimensional portal, increased perception of harmony and harmonic order are realized.
Duran looked my way and smiled. “I think we’re in the same galaxy.”
He is a 29-year old-graduate student, a native of Merida who has lived amongst the Maya and who can, due to his rich background in botanical studies, point out the medicinal trees. He was our guide for the trip.
My interest in Maya cosmology has been long standing. I first came to the Yucatán peninsula with my family when I was in high school on summer vacation. I immediately felt a connection to the landscape as if I had “been there” before. There is something overwhelmingly beautiful about the Maya and their empires in the jungle. They were avid stargazers, paying much attention to shifting cosmic energies, and the effects they have over man and the brotherhood of man. The equinox is the time of year when the sun crosses the celestial equator, making the length of the day equal to the night.
On March 21 and September 23, thousands of people come to Chichen Itza to witness what the Mayas interpret to be the manifestation of the plumed serpent god Kukulcán/Quetzalcoátl. At these times of year, the sun’s rays, silhouetted against the terraces of the Temple of Kukulcán, or El Castillo, cast a shadow and create the appearance of a diamond-backed snake slithering down the “sacred mountain” to earth. The serpent god rides the waves of 13 triangular scales, seven light and six dark, corresponding to the Maya concept of 13 heavens. He connects his large snake head sculpture to the bottom of the pyramid.
Our group of four departed from Merida in the morning. We loaded our camping gear into the car and drove off onto the highway where we could absorb the scenery.
A light rain sprinkled down onto impenetrable jungle vegetation. The mass of trees seemed to be flowing alongside us as we advanced closer towards Chichen Itza, “the mouth of the well at Itza.”
The Itza (magicians of water) tribe, who dominated the northern peninsula at the height of the Maya empire, named the ceremonial site of Chichen Itza for its cenotes. These subterranean water sources—characteristic to the Yucatán Peninsula—are revealed after thousands of years of erosion. Naturally acidic rain dissolves away at the limestone ground surface, creating a hole in the soft rock below it. Then the cavernous pools of water are exposed.
According to Maya tradition, these pools are home to Chac, the god of rain, and are entrances to Xibalba, the underworld. This dreaded “Realm of Fright” was feared by the ancient Maya, who believed that a great majority of their own were destined for this dark place. Duran decided to make a stop at the Sac Muu Ja’ cenote, located half an hour south of Merida.
As we descended the wooden steps towards the fresh green water, the air become thicker. The deep cave was illuminated by a piercing ray of sunlight that slid down an interconnected set of giant tree roots. The optical illusion appeared as a waterfall, but the long, thick “waterfall” strands were actually ancient tree roots, spilling downward from a surface hole 120 feet above the pool of water. The roots were still connected to a living tree that we couldn’t see from the cave.
Children were splashing around and the sound of laughter echoed off the rocks. One little boy was learning to swim at his father’s side. I floated on my back through the ray of sun light and it felt like I drifted into another world. These waterholes are sacred to the Maya.
We arrived at noon to the campsite in Piste—the pueblo at the western side of Chichen —where a few artists and percussionists had already set up camp. As we unloaded our gear, we were approached by Guadalupe, a 25-year-old Yucatec Maya who was raised in Piste. He greeted us affectionately with “In’lakesh,” the Maya salutation for “I am another you,” welcoming us as if we had known each other for years. He told us how as a child, he would wander around Chichen Itza, guided purely by what he called “cosmic intuition.”
“The clouds will drift away, at least for part of the day,” he said, offering comfort to our concerns that the clouds had obscured the sun. He spoke with conviction, as if he knew something about the unseen nature of consciousness, and could predict weather patterns.
After setting up camp, I started off for Chichen with Michel, a law student from Tijuana who was traveling with us. We walked a kilometer eastward towards the site and encountered people from all over the world. Artisans promoted their work as we passed. I bought a delicious drink from some Mayas who were selling fruit water from under small huts.
Michel and I purchased our nine dollar tickets and then entered what felt like another realm. We walked past the majestic Temple of Kukulcán in a hypnotic flow of bewilderment as some yogis pressed themselves into brilliant body positions, then wandered into a sacred ceremony that was just about to start.
The groups who had organized the ritual were people who follow what they call a 13 Moon Calendar, which emphasizes harmony with natural time—something they say the Gregorian calendar has disrupted.
By 3:30 p.m., a massive crowd of international pilgrims had assembled on the lawn in front of the Temple of Kukulcán. With exhilaration, the crowds were mushrooming further out towards the other structures. In the “clap zone,” people were clapping their hands together to create a pitch which is said to resemble the sound of a quetzal bird.
Michel and I reunited with Duran and his companion. Duran explained why so many people were dressed in white for the occasion—because “white absorbs and reflects the energy of the sun.” People were standing up and extending their hands towards the sun, reaching out to the solar deity Kinich Ahau. Then I noticed that simultaneously, the image of a serpent, which was at first vague, began to sharpen at the side of the pyramid.
As the sun dipped west, the dynamic relationship the Maya had with astrology was revealed. In the mid-afternoon sun, amongst the splendor and energy of the equinox, Kukulcán made his appearance and a warm feeling of unity spread through the crowd.