It was a ‘heady’ time in my life. I knew I had some insights that would be helpful from history and I knew something big had happened and was in process spiritually.
Here I was ‘head over heels’ with a young woman who was teaching me about empathy and demonstrating her willingness and ability to grow, as much as I could have hoped for. I was ‘in tune’ and waiting for the next ‘event’. Barbi and I headed for Cancun, where I could take a side trip and see my first Pyramid, at Chichen Itza. I expected something big to happen! And I could remember the re-incarnated Mayor of Old Sacramento who I had met some twenty years earlier. He said he had discovered many Mayan sites in his previous life.
The trip was prepaid, including hotel, but when we arrived at the Mayaland Hotel they had no record of our reservation. Barbi was upset which can easily happen if you expect efficiency in México. I on the other hand, began to feel my body hair ’stand and quiver’. Fate was smiling on me but Barbi wasn’t. My explanations about what was ‘intended’ just added to her frustration. She commanded that I should, “Get the owner! And straighten this out.”
It was no problem except that they had no rooms at The Mayaland that evening. The owner was quite pleasant and said she’d arrange a place for us at the ‘Club Med’ property up the road. Barbi wanted to be sure we could come back for the entertainment at the Mayaland and asked if I had ascertained how this had happened? I replied that it wasn’t anyone’s fault and that she would soon see we were the better off for it. I didn’t need any intuition to feel her mounting disgust with my arrogant certainty that it was about to happen. There had been other events of synchronicity and weirdness in our time together for the previous thirteen months and I had told her that her energy had been very important all of these things that had happened. I was ‘in the flow’ and she couldn’t relate to my elation. The ‘Villas Archaeologique’ was the place that the people who had excavated the site a hundred years or so ago, had stayed in.
Upon walking into the courtyard, I was even more certain something ’special’ was going on! The place was like a museum in a jungle gazebo and even smelled the way it should. I was looking at all the artifacts and carved rocks in their displays or among the plants. The earlier statues were much more refined and Greek looking. Why had no one mentioned this in any of the literature? I was absolutely ’stoked’! The more recent Mayan statues had this gargoylish long-tongued creature that Barbi had told me during the week in Cancun that reminded her of me. I was so sure anyone could easily see the degradation of a society over many millennia. Barbi said it could have been her Greek ancestors who had come to Central America. The dates on the statues would make that fit my ‘traveler’ theory as well.
I was certain that anyone could see the work of Churchward and MacDari might be vindicated by this art alone. Churchward claimed Mu had a higher culture and technology and Barbi had to agree the older artistry was in every way superior. “I wish MacDari and Churchward had met here to compare their notes.” I enthused. “Just as the Kelts (Toltecs) and Lemurians did.”
“Well if they met here they probably met in the Indus and became the Phoenicians as you say, too. But we need to get to the temple or pyramid, Bob!”
I was trying to ‘feel’ the presence of ‘The Red-Headed League’ (of Megalith Builders) that my early-life literary friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes had turned me on to. The scientific branch of their unified organization or original League of Nations called the Tuatha de Danaan seemed more likely the makers of these fine works of art. I forget how long it was before Barbi took me by the hand and brought me back to the reason we were there in the first place. She was into that almost as much as I was grooving on the Etruscan/Phoenician or Mu/Kelt connection to this part of the world. It had taken me by surprise but still I felt there was more, and off to the room we went. It was cooler in the small room, and as we freshened up I pestered Barbi for a celebration.
“Bob, we don’t have time for all of that.”
“Just a ‘quickie!” I pleaded.
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.” She joked as she ran away from me and out the door.
As we rounded the first corner of the courtyard I saw the manager in front of us, talking to a group of ‘turistas’. I waited anxiously as Barbi tried to push or pull me towards the exit. At what appeared to be an ‘opening’ in their conversation I brazenly asked, “Can you direct me to what is really important here? I’m not interested in the ‘official’ Mexican government position that the tour provides!?”
He responded in his best English combined with a calming French type accent. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir?!”
“I mean I know the Mexicans and their Franciscan forbears aren’t interested in having the Mayan people of Chiapas and elsewhere getting to know the degree of pride they should have in their heritage.”
He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Barbi tugging on my arm. I was sure he knew more than he was allowed or willing to tell me. I was convinced I wasn’t going to get any encouragement from him, so I followed Barbi who was into her ‘mall walk’ that I always joked about. Her small legs were quite powerful and when she wanted she sure knew how to use them, like when shopping.
“You know, I might learn more if we took the tour.” Barbi said in a half-hearted manner with full knowledge that I was not going to listen to their lies which included the Mayans not having existed before the time of Christ. Barbi remarked with conviction. “You know everyone isn’t into the same things you are.”
Many people would agree with her criticism of my often intense social behaviour. “I make no apologies for being willing to question authority and act in a right and growth oriented or ‘open’ manner. You are getting pretty good at it yourself lately, you know!” I said as I squeezed her hand.
At that time Barbi and I were living apart, but we had lived together for about six months during the time we had known each other. Her sexual abuse issues had been faced but the character and programming of behaviour that had been her life for so many years were still being evaluated. She had just turned twenty five and I was forty three years old.
I had read about the buildings on the site more than once and I was most interested in seeing the ‘Pelota’ where they had played a game with a big ball. The winner of this game got to choose who would die! Thus I figured, it was likely that sometimes the winners chose death. You wouldn’t imagine that a team with ten players would make this kind of decision without some major motivation. I told Barbi that the Persian roots of the game Parcheesi were not necessarily the real origin, by saying. “The early MesoAmerican Indians played a game just like Parcheesi that some historian/anthropologists said was Persian.”
“Is that the game like hook and ladders?” She replied as she saw some Greek looking columns up ahead.
I had read Carlos Castaneda a lot and always had wondered about his teacher/brujho’s claim that he was the last Toltec. I presume he was claiming to be the last pure Toltec and since the time I was at Chichen Itza I have discovered more sources that indicate they were not indigenous people but most likely Ovates of the Keltic tradition. The teachings of Don Juan as reported by Carlos and then performed by him, include dimensional shifts and time or immortality issues, that I felt were connected with this game in the ‘Pelota’. Barbi had heard my theory a few times I guess and wanted to have ‘fun’ egging me on to explain why some teams of winners might choose death.
Carlos Castaneda had been a UCLA anthropology student when he began his association with the ‘cult hero’ Don Juan and his sorcerer friends like Don Gennaro. The rumor was that Carlos did no longer exist in this physical frame of reference and that the journalists who waited to interview him at his publisher’s offices had always been frustrated. He would deliver his books from time to time and the journalists or paparazzi would chase after him. When he would duck into a stairwell and they would converge on him from above and below he wouldn’t be there anymore. I didn’t think any journalist who really understood his work would be interested in being a journalist once he was an adept. The Castaneda debunkers have their position that they understand everything he writes but I am sure they don’t.
It requires a great deal of right thought and attunement to shift physical dimensions or dematerialize. Barbi and I had been watching a cable access show called Tootlevision after its host Harry Tootle. We had seen Al Bielek describing his work as a physicist dealing with the nature of Time and its seven levels of a helical nature. The universe seems to expand, with the logical progression from lesser to greater cardinalities playing the role of time. I knew that ‘viewing’ time through the Philosopher’s Stone had given many people like the priestly Michel Nostradamus the insight to his confusing quatrains. The work of David Ovason in Secrets of Nostradamus is the best I have found on that matter.
I had met some people who had more than just premonitions and I had had a couple of them myself. It seemed to me that parallel or alternate universes had a part to play in the confusion. I think deja vu is a very common time frame feeling that is at the earliest stage of the helical structure of time.
The pyramid that you always see pictures of, in reference to Chichen Itza, dominates a plaza or field of immense proportions with large spaces between each of the main buildings. The Observatory or Caracol was being worked on and was unavailable for entry at the time of our visit. I found the Parthenon like columns of interest after having seen the statues at the ‘Villas’, and we walked among them first. It was getting hotter by the minute and it was very humid.
“Bob, I’ll race you to the top of the Pyramid!” Barbi called to me as she came running up beside me. It wasn’t going to get any cooler and August in Mexico is always hot. I guess I would have asked her to do it herself and tell me what she was able to see from the small altar room at the top, if she hadn’t challenged me in this way.
“When have you ever beaten me at anything physical, Short Stuff?” It didn’t matter to me, whether this was the famous Kukulcan jaguar cults’ pride and joy or not, by the time I reached the top. It was my primary concern to not breathe too hard so that my younger lady wouldn’t think I was too old or something like that. She was excited and rushed to me with news that she had gone under the altar and had been able to see the original temple structure below.
The Popul Vuh is the Bible of the Mayan peoples, or I guess I should say what the Bible purports to be. The historical and legendary traditions and laws of their ancestors; had mentioned the current temple was built around an earlier one that the jaguar cult of Kukulcan had built. It says that three brothers from across the ocean to the west; designed and led their ancestors to build this structure.
I think the very existence of the Mayans had been presented as a no longer existing factor at some time in the twentieth century: it was because they intended to wipe them out. I know in Mexico that many in the government wishes that were the case, and I know the Mayans had successfully kept away from the Spanish for many centuries since the Franciscans came to rob and ridicule them. Their mercenary brethren like Cortez had tried their damndest to ‘make it so’. At this time I was not sure I had really met a Mayan except at Fritz’s once, a few months earlier. I found out more about these things later in an extended visit that included living in Belize for about five months. The Mayans had been much more than their primitive Aztec conquerors. In fact the Aztecs held the Mayans in very high esteem and basically plagiarized the Mayan calendar and anything else they could. The Mayan still have a racial purity that makes them look like their original ancestors from the Orient or Mu.
As I re-energized, Barbi and I hugged in the presence of a vista once shared by a priesthood of austere and unproven origin who I was sure we could learn a lot from. The Mayans have a saying that can be expressed in many different ways that goes like this: “Don’t put yourself in front of your Self!” The soul is our true nature for sure; I mused as I saw Barbi’s wide-eyed excitement and shared her awe of this beautiful view. I felt vindicated in my zeal or often apparently ludicrous pursuit of something others only gave a modicum of care about; but much more was ‘in store’ for us that wonderful and ‘freaky’ day.
“Bob, I actually feel that I am somewhat responsible for bringing some of these things into your life. The truth is you bring them or make them a reality for me, in ways that no one else could. I don’t tell you that I love you enough, do I?”
“Yes, Barbi, you do. But, I always love to hear it.” We kissed before beginning the more difficult journey down the side of the pyramid.
It was so steep going down that it was amazing to both of us that they allowed old and infirm tourists to do it alone. Barbi probably made some crack about me having to do it on hands and knees some time in the near future. There were some old people and even some who weren’t so young who did this at some tricky points on the descent to ‘terra firma’. I was still naive enough to think the Mexican government and its fifty extended Spanish families that owned everything, had some kind of ethic. This illusion was rudely and totally corrected in my next visit to this land where might is still right.
We headed directly for the ‘Pelota’ after reaching the ground. This building was ominous, and we saw the royal box looming high above the field where the ‘little people’ played out their life and death game or struggle.