His name was Elly. Well, it was much longer than that, but I can’t pronounce it and Elly fits just fine. We manifested him standing there beside the road, looking to catch a ride.
At five o’clock that morning the three of us piled into the car and headed south into the Zona Maya with the intention of finding a Maya shaman. We wanted to do some investigating in the jungle and we thought it might be prudent to start by getting the blessing of the Maya since we would be digging into their history, their culture, their ancient secrets. Noe said he thought we would not find the shaman, at least not at first. He said shaman's do not want to be found. He thought we would probably find the shaman’s apprentice and that person would lead us to the one we were looking for.
He was right.
We turned off the highway onto Route de Las Inglesias, just a few minutes into the Zona Maya, about an hour south of Tulum. Dense jungle crowded both sides of the road and pot holes occasionally threatened to swallow the car. A man on a three-wheeled bicycle--two wheels on the front and one on the back with a long, covered seat across the front-- appeared like an apparition from between the trees and started peddling down the road. Soon, the jungle began to break and small traditional Maya buildings make from sticks supporting grass roofs popped up here and there.
Noe rambled on about how we were looking for someone who did not want to be found and he drummed up all sorts of advice on how to ingratiate ourselves into the community in order that we might discover a lead. I told him not to worry. These things unfold like magic.
The out-buildings and simple homes became a bit closer together and we passed a delicate man and his wife standing close to the road. I slowed. “Do you think they want a ride?” I asked as I stopped, threw the car into reverse, and backed up down the mostly deserted road. I had the feeling we had almost missed the gift The Universe was sending us. Noe rolled down his window and asked the couple in Spanish if they needed a lift.
Yes, they did.
They were going into town.
Noe climbed in the back with Jen and Eliadoro (Elly) and his wife squished together in the front seat. It was only a minute before we were chatting with them. Elly had lived there all his life. It was a totally Maya town and most folks didn’t even speak Spanish. Yes, he knew the local shaman/priest. In fact, he was studying under him and would one day take over the position himself (shaman's apprentice). Yes, he could take us to him, in fact, he would be happy to. Of course, would could gain a Maya blessing. And would we also like a private tour of the cave and cenote nearby?
When the stars align and your heart is open, the force of love that is the building blocks of creation swirls around you and what you are looking for manifests almost instantly before your very eyes. Elly took us into his village and into his heart. He opened doors to Maya life and invited us in. We received our blessing, but that was only the beginning. The real blessing was the hours we spent absorbing story after story. It was Elly’s tears as he talked about his grandfather who lived to be 130 years old and how he had survived the Caste Wars. It was the explanations of the link between Maya religion and a very alive and conscious Earth. It was standing at the entrance of the extensive, 130 km cave that provided protection for a fleeing Maya people and listening to the collected drops of condensed humidity drip from newly formed stalactites and hit the earth. It was climbing down the unfinished stairs with the help of strong Maya arms and clinging to the roots of a ceiba tree for support while descending on an unstable ladder for the last ten feet as a water filled cenote opened beneath us. It was the lunch of grilled chicken, red beans and rice, pickled red onions and coleslaw. It was the baby pig running, practically tumbling from excitement, along the side of the road and the baby chickens scooting underfoot in the restaurant. It was the beatific look on Elly’s face as he stretched his hands above his head, opening and closing his fists and describing the feeling one gets from connecting with the elemental beings that are living manifestations of Nature in all her glory. It was the window he opened for us into a world so ancient and sacred and filled with pain and love and vibrant energy and mystery.
Mystery.
Pain.
Love.
Elly is still connected to his past. Connected as if it all were happening simultaneously, as if time had no substance and all things were occurring together, right now, in the present. The Maya are experts at understanding time. And yet for Elly, it was as if time did not exist. He feels everything his ancestors feel. It is almost overwhelming. And, of course, he knows what happened to the ancient cities in the past. Of course, he knows where his people went when the great cities were deserted. Of course, he understands fully why they were deserted. How could we think a people so in touch with their history, their predecessors, and with time itself could have lost information so important as the total collapse of their society? Of course, Elly knows. "They didn’t go anywhere," he explains. "They were transformed."
More to Come,
laura