His moist black nose sniffed the humid air as his large, funnel-shaped ears rotated back and forth seeking unusual sounds. Only the buzzing of insects and twitters of birds floated on the hushed forest air. The deer’s stubby white tail was half-raised; he would flash it just before bolting from danger. He could detect nothing threatening.
But he knew something was watching him.
The young buck was alone. He had been banished as a yearling when his mother gave birth to another fawn and she kicked and butted him from her range. He followed at the edge of her path for a while, but eventually gave up and ranged on his own. At times he cautiously grouped with other yearlings as they avoided the range of mature bucks.
Flicking his tail against flies, he rotated his large ears again, stamped his front foot then resumed grazing. After a few nibbles, he raised his head and looked from side to side. Though he could detect nothing, instinctively he sensed a presence. Something was drawing him, summoning him toward it. Something calm, quiet, peaceful. The deer walked toward a cluster of brush and peered inside. His eyes met another pair of eyes, dark as pools of obsidian and radiant as the night sun. Eyes of kindness and compassion, eyes of appreciation and admiration.
Unafraid, the young deer gazed at the brown-skinned creature seated on a cushion of leaves behind the shrubs. He did not recognize it among forest creatures, but it posed no threat and sat only as tall as his shoulder. Moving closer, he caught an unfamiliar scent and froze, tail raised in alarm. The creature made soft sounds, not unlike the deer’s mother once made to call him. Curious again, the deer relaxed and stepped closer. Time passed in complete stillness as they regarded each other.
Very slowly, in a fluid motion, the brown-skinned creature moved an arm upward and offered juicy Ramon berries. The delicious sweet smell of the forest delicacy beckoned the deer. Undecided, the deer glanced around and stamped his foot, flicking his tail repeatedly. More soothing sounds reassured him and he reached his wet muzzle to quickly gobble up the berries. Then he suddenly whirled, bounded a short distance and stopped to gaze back over his shoulder, still licking berry juice from his lips. After advancing to take berry treats several more times and then retreating, the deer felt satisfied and slowly walked off into the forest.
Pakal closed his eyes and recalled the High Priest’s teachings about how animals conserved, cultivated and utilized energies. The deer was a frequent example.
“Observe, Pakal, how the deer conserves energy when sleeping,” said Pasah Chan, High Priest of Lakam Ha. “When he sleeps, the deer curls his body, tucks his head next to his side and places a hoof against his anal opening. This closes off the two portals in the head and spinal base where energy enters and leaves the body. He avoids loosing vital energy this way. In humans, we use the technique of fixing closed eyes at the psychic center located between the eyebrows, filling the lungs to close the diaphragm and contracting the anal muscles to close the spinal portal. Doing this during meditation conserves our energy and balances the portals at the crown and base of the spine.”
Meditation brought the mind and body into perfect harmony, using breath and focus. When completely harmonious, one emanated peacefulness that put all other creatures at ease. Then animals would approach with no fear or aggression.
Pakal smiled inwardly. His mentor’s teachings had proven true; today’s experience with the young deer affirmed it. There were other important uses of energy to be learned from observing deer, the High Priest had told him:
“When the deer runs across the fields, he takes leaps and appears to float, his hooves barely touching the ground. Deer can leap over high bushes and across wide streams. What makes them so light, so able to float? It is because they can move their energy upward. When the deer runs, all his energy is in his extremities: the hoofs, tail and horns. Deer are very powerful. Through closing portals of the body, they maintain internal energy and circulate it where needed. Thus they can send great energy to extremities to allow leaping with ease and grace.”
Likewise, animals such as the jaguar had special abilities to move energy downward. The jaguar symbolized force captured in bones and tendons. It was relaxed, agile, and unconcerned. Every movement in its life was done without striving, lightly and softly, never awkwardly. Moving its energy downward, the jaguar used relaxed power and flexible joints, never forcing its actions or becoming exhausted.
“This ruling lord of animals has the most resistant bones, so strong that powder of its bones is powerful medicine. When descending mountains and heights, use the relaxed force of the jaguar to control your descent; when climbing high use the deer’s power to ascend without effort,” advised Pasah Chan. “Meditation will give you control of both these energetic forces, to enter deeply relaxed and highly concentrated states.”
Pakal learned many ways to meditate. He studied the fundamental principles of breath control, use of Ik or wind. To absorb energy from his surroundings, he would inhale sucking in the lower abdomen, and exhale while relaxing the abdomen. Upon inhalation, he inflated all his muscles by filling them with bubbles of light. These bubbles infused vital energy until he felt tickling heat running all through his body. When this tickling heat coursed through his veins, it was called “lightning in the blood” and signaled the presence of truth and healing powers.
He learned postures called K’u to regulate and control the direction of energy, accompanied by hand signs that added finesse to his purpose. With these postures and gestures, he could draw down the energy of Father Sun, command the elements, manifest things in the Middleworld, enter trance states that brought him to other times and places, send blessings or healing energies, harmonize with creative impulses from the cosmic center, call forth the presence of other beings, and initiate life cycle processes of birth, death and rebirth.
Among the first shamanic powers mastered by young Pakal was calling the wind. Doing this required a perfectly calm day, when no breath of air stirred. After preparing through meditation and concentration of energy, Pakal stood on a hilltop where a few trees dangled their leaves listlessly. To the east, the hill sloped down toward the plains. Pakal intended to call the wind from the east, the direction from which it usually originated during this dry season. Closing his eyes and focusing one-pointedly upon the wind, Pakal chanted an invocation:
“Come, Honored Ik’, natural force filling the universe.
Ik’ that exists in all things from the greatest to the smallest.
We find you in the sky, upon the land and in all living things.
Knowing you, we are in harmony with nature.
Come, Honored Ik’, blow across this hill.
I, Pakal, summon you.”
With eyes closed, Pakal began slow arm movements forming a circle from east to west. His hands cupped into the summoning gesture, fingers together and thumbs pressed against the edge of his palms. In rhythm with the arm circles, he moved his cupped fingers as if to grasp the wind and pull it toward the west. He added a swooshing sound by blowing softly out through pursed lips.
After some moments, Pakal felt a wisp of hair stirring against his sweaty neck. Opening his eyes, he intensified his motions and sounds. He watched the hanging leaves, which soon began to rustle and sway. In one final motion, he breathed out gratitude to the wind, Ik’. Gusts wafted across the hill making the leaves dance riotously and cooling his neck.
Summoning the rain was more difficult and complex. It required the Ch’a Chaak ceremony involving four young boys and several assistants to construct the altar, build the fire pit, make sacred breads and bring a sacrifice. During the dry season, Pasah Chan determined that Pakal was ready and arranged the ceremony. A wooden altar was built, held together by sapling poles and vines, and a fire pit dug nearby. Women of the assistants’ families ground corn into maize dough of various colors to cook in the fire pit, for the sacred breads must be layered like the three worlds. Ocellated turkeys were ritually killed and their meat prepared for the fire pit, and honey wine was brought to add to t
he altar.
After three days of prayers and preparation, the group converged at the altar site located at the edge of cornfields on the plain below Lakam Ha. They lit logs in the fire pit early in the morning, and when these became glowing coals, they placed the turkey meat wrapped in banana leaves into the pit and covered this with a thin layer of rocks. A flat stone was placed on top for cooking the maize cakes later.
When Pasah Chan judged the time was right, he lit copal incense and called all present to begin the ceremony. The four boys crouched beside the four poles of the altar, while the assistants stood nearby. As pungent copal smoke billowed, Pakal came forward to take the censer and conduct the ceremony. For a moment his eyes locked with those of the High Priest. Insecurity flashed across Pakal’s dark eyes. He was the youngest acolyte to ever perform the Ch’a Chaak, having passed only seven solar years. Pasah Chan kept his gaze opaque; this would be a real test of the boy’s abilities.
Inhaling deeply, Pakal focused inward and breathed to absorb energy. Determination welled upward, filling his body with tickling heat. Holding the censer firmly, he raised his voice in the Chaak chant and began moving counterclockwise around the altar. At first, the chant seemed stuck in his throat and came out in quavering notes. Pakal swallowed and cleared his throat, eyes darting toward his teacher. Pasah Chan stood rigidly, aloof and distant, gazing across the cornfields.
Pitching his voice into a higher octave to show proper respect, Pakal chanted clearly to Lord Chak, the rain god, calling for his assistance to bring rain from the cloudless sky.
“Ch’a Chaak, Ceremony to Bring the Rain, let us call, let us seek,
Lord Chak, Thunderstorm-Lightning of Four Directions,
Green Thunderstorm of Fifth Direction,
Carrier of Rain Clouds upon his back.
Here he is at the first corner; White Thunderstorm, a turkey is his offering.
Here he is where the day ends, Black Thunderstorm, the blood of a tree, sacred copal is his offering.
Here he is at the Great Door, Yellow Thunderstorm, drumming is his offering.
Here he is where the day begins, Red Thunderstorm, fire is his offering.
Perhaps Thunderstorm is there on the green earth, Green Thunderstorm, dripping water through his fingers on top of sprouting corn.
Perhaps Thunderstorm is there, nesting in the sky, growing fruit in the sky.
Perhaps Thunderstorm is there, compressing the air with his hands on a mountaintop.
Perhaps he really is there, stopping to rest on Thunderstorm Mountain.
Lord Chak, Thunderstorm, is there under the sky and the rain comes day and night.
Lord Chak, Thunderstorm, is stooping as he goes along.
The rain has arrived.”
Pakal circled the men and boys each in turn, gesturing them to begin their performances. The four men made roaring sounds of thunder with their voices – ruum-ruum-ruum, clapping small wooden mallets together, beating wooden drums and sprinkling water from gourds onto the boys who crouched beside the poles. The four boys enacted frogs awakened by the rainstorm, croaking the frog call uuoo-uuoo. They imitated insects of the night by chirping, made hoots of owls and high-pitched bat squeaks. All these sounds were amplified when the land and forests were saturated with wetness. Their performance replicated the earth and sky during rainstorms.
Pakal approached the altar and grasped a sapling pole, shaking it as wind would shake the thatch roof of houses. He signaled for assistants to bring offerings and the men carefully removed maize cakes and banana leaf wrapped meat from the fire pit. As the offerings were placed on the altar, Pakal chanted and again called Lord Chak to bring rain. Eyes open only a slit, he raised his face to the sky and lifted his arms, cupping hands into the summoning gesture. After several repetitions, Pakal dropped his arms into the gesture for bringing forth or birthing. Both upper arms were held close against his sides, left hand lifted to shoulder height and right hand extended below waist, both open palms facing outward. With the left hand he drew the creative power of Lord Chak down from the sky, with the right hand he birthed Chak’s storm power into the Middleworld. Holding this gesture, Pakal fell into a trance, communing directly with the rain and storm deity.
All activity around the altar ceased. The participants waited, anxiously glancing skyward. Pasah Chan held his breath, for this was a critical moment. Had the boy made successful supplication; was his power enough that the Lord Chak would respond?
The late afternoon air hung heavy and still, expectant, infused with tension. For what seemed an eternity, nothing stirred. Suddenly from a distance came the deep rumble of thunder. A cool wind slid across the plains and rustled leaves on the altar vines. White clouds formed above the eastern horizon, skittering rapidly over the plains and boiling into dark-bellied heralds of rain. As the clouds passed over the ceremonial altar, fat raindrops spattered the ground and hissed on the fire pit coals. All lifted their faces and smiled as cooling droplets trickled on warm skin. In particular, Pasah Chan smiled wryly to himself. This boy was truly extraordinary.
The rain was light and short, the clouds quickly dissipated. But, Pakal had successfully called the rain; he petitioned correctly and Lord Chak responded. Pasah Chan bowed and clasped his shoulder in acknowledgement, then invited all to partake of the altar offerings in celebration.
Pasah Chan instructed Pakal on the cyclic essence of reality.
“All in nature is a cycle. The pathways of the sun, the journey of the moon in the sky, the life of flowers. All life follows the seasons of the year. When the flowers open, the birds unite to procreate. In the heat of summer they raise their young and prepare them to survive the chilling rains or migrate to warmer lands. Every year, Pakal, you must be attentive and follow the seasons of your life. Now you are in the season of flowering, a young bud just opening. As you grow your force will increase. When the summer of your life arrives, you will be strong, vigorous. Cultivate your interests in this time, explore everything to satisfy your desires but do so with moderation and within moral boundaries. Conquer and defeat that which is evil, push forward toward the good.
“When the winds arrive and leaves fall to coat the forest floor, youth recedes and you come to the horizon of your life. You will then plan the remainder of life and the route to take. Then will appear the consequences of your past actions, so choose those actions well. It will be time to slow the pace of life, to make more tranquil its rhythms. It will be time to teach others, to transmit what you hold in your heart and mind. This leads into the time to prepare for your leaving.
“Finally will arrive the days of cold and snow, the closing of the cycle. Your hair whitens and your step slows. Be tranquil and at peace. Meditate and contemplate the significance of your life. In this time, prepare for physical death. It brings close the time of liberating your spirit, when you will show to your people the continued cycle of being. Many are afraid of death, but death is merely transformation. Life does not cease, it only changes, like the butterfly transforms within its cocoon. Those too attached to life cannot imagine the wonder that awaits.
“You cannot be in the temple and the forest simultaneously. You cannot wear two sets of clothes at the same time. The shell that is your body remains upon the earth, to make you lighter for a grander reality. The body shell you can use, break and destroy. But the spirit is indestructible. Go forth in this knowledge that you have a marvelous destiny in the dwelling of the immortals.
“Those afraid of death have much hidden from them. You have great wisdom to give our people, remember to use your powers to serve others. You must overcome all obstacles, including both self-aggrandizement and all personal fears. Become the master of your body and mind.”
Pakal learned to control his thoughts and feelings, to regulate the activity of his body and mind. The latter presented the greatest challenge, for the mind was a trickster always finding ways to circumvent his techniques. He became the observer of his mental landscape, watched beliefs, fears and emo
tions play out without reacting or grasping. These wafted across his awareness and dissipated, rose and fell, ultimately resolving into nothingness. He focused until his mind became empty, a clear field of calmness, and entered the blissful state of pure awareness. He simply was.
3
Pakal’s long legs took two steps at a time as he bounded up the tiered stairways leading to the Temple of the High Priest. He was late for his favorite lesson; studying Mayan hieroglyphs inscribed in fan-folded codices with the old calendar priest Ah Kuy. Wending his way through vaulted hallways and across the wide central plaza, he quickly ascended the final set of stairs and entered the western chamber that held thousands of codices. Passing through several interconnected rooms, he found the old priest seated on his raised platform with a codex in place on the wooden display box.
Pakal bowed deeply, clasping left shoulder with right hand.
“It is my regret to be late, honored Ah K’in. Now am I before you for teachings.”
Ah Kuy turned his cloudy owl-like eyes toward the boy, wrinkled lips held tight. He paused just long enough to make Pakal uncomfortable, and then gave a toothless grin. The boy relaxed and smiled back.
“The young are always busy.” Ah Kuy’s voice was high and reedy but conveyed an ease of command that Pakal instinctively recognized. He intended to develop that quality in his voice as it matured.
“The old, as am I, never busy themselves but savor each moment life still gives them.” Ah Kuy appeared wrapped in deep contemplation. Pakal stood respectfully and waited until the old priest spoke again.
“Let us resume study of this divinatory almanac based on the original hearthstone event. Do you remember when this calendar began?”
“At our last session you said it began at the end of the previous count of thirteen bundles, when the hearthstone stars rose at midnight and reached the middle of the sky at dawn,” Pakal replied eagerly and with perfect recall.
“It is as you say.” Ah Kuy was pleased with the boy’s memory. “And which are the hearthstone stars?”
The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) Page 6