The Song_A mysterious tale of the Mayan spirit world and the Mayan calendar

by Joseph Arnold

  Sarina looked around the gallery and wondered why she had been nudged into this particular space. She was about to leave when she kicked something small on the floor. The piece was beautiful, made of copper that was patinaed with age. It was about six inches across, three inches thick, and was heavier than she might have guessed. The container was strikingly smooth and narrow as though it was designed to fit into an overcoat or raincoat pocket, looking more like a large liquor flask than an urn. It was a bit small for all of Ann’s ashes to fit, but Sarina fell in love with it immediately and checked in with her inner being, which offered no resistance. As she held the urn, Sarina felt a sense of connection with it. She thought she had seen it somewhere before, but she wasn’t able to remember exactly where or if the memory was even true. No matter, it intuitively felt like the right piece.

  The urn triggered memories of Sarina’s father from so many years ago. She was silently remembering his workshop as it was just after he had left so many years ago. It was cluttered with so many boxes of documents and articles related to the Mayan calendar. He also had relics and trinkets he’d collected to support his work when he wrote and did his research. She wasn’t completely sure why he had them. She suspected they were used for inspiration or something like that. She wondered if her father’s workshop was where she had seen a flask similar to this one, but she had only been in his workshop a couple of times.

  She let the thought go, which made room for other thoughts to enter her consciousness. She looked around the store and saw other containers scattered around with flowers in them. One vase had meadow flowers just like the ones she used to see near her house in Idaho.

  As she gazed at the flowers, she recalled a dream of being in a meadow with these exact flowers all around. She was 14 and yet the dream was like it happened yesterday. The flowers were like nothing she had ever seen. They all turned toward her and shined a brilliant copper color and were singing to her. The image soothed Sarina and she remembered that she saw a bright light from above shining onto the flowers that then reflected the light onto her face. She actually felt its warmth over her face.

  Sarina was pulled out of the reverie by the shopkeeper’s passing reference to the old piece she now held in her hands, which he had made about thirty years earlier. He went on, “I remember a man had come into my store and told me a story about an ancient civilization … Mayan, I believe. I woke up the next day and had an inspiration, maybe from a dream, maybe from that man, I’m not sure but I simply formed it into its shape. I seem to remember that the dream involved flowers in a meadow. They were quite enjoyable to watch as they swayed in the breeze. I also recall seeing a girl, maybe in her teens laying in that meadow basking in the light shining from those flowers. It was all so surreal.” The shopkeeper was looking directly into Sarina’s eyes as she returned an astonished gaze.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Oh nothing … it’s just that … well, my father was here in San Francisco about thirty years ago. He had a collection of artifacts related to his research about …,” she paused.

  “About what?” he asked.

  “About the Mayan calendar.” Sarina was staring full force into the shopkeeper’s eyes.

  He stared back at her. “I don’t generally subscribe to supernatural things, but I just felt a shiver run up my spine.” He looked down at the piece in Sarina’s hands. “It’s been here ever since. Quite a lovely piece, if you ask me.” He paused. “I’ve always wondered why it hasn’t sold. In fact, I had lost sight of it. I don’t remember it even being on the floor and yet there it was.” The man removed his hat, held it in his fingers and scratched his head. “It was as if my hand was guided as I was working in my studio. I have never had that happen since.”

  Sarina collected herself after a moment and said, “I do enjoy a good mystery.” Sarina was reflecting the mystery in which she now found herself entangled. “I love this piece. I plan to use it to hold my sister’s ashes. How much?” Sarina held the piece out towards the shopkeeper.

  The owner sensed a similarity between Sarina and the young girl from his dream and was so moved that he gave it to her as a gift of remembrance of her sister. The man’s sister had died as a little girl when he was 10 and he felt that relatives, especially siblings, ought to be honored, and it was clear to him that Sarina was honoring her sister and so insisted she take it as a gift. Sarina thanked the man and walked out towards home shooting one last glance at the shopkeeper who was crying and shaking his head.

  The shopkeeper suddenly remembered something and yelled out to Sarina as she was walking down the street. “Be aware that opening that flask requires a special …”

  Sarina didn’t hear him. She was out of ear shot as she walked down the street now lost in her own thoughts.

  As she had thought, the copper urn was too small to hold all of Ann’s ashes, but that turned out to be a blessing because Sarina got the idea to sprinkle the remaining ashes into San Francisco Bay. Ann loved the water and Sarina believed Ann’s final resting place ought to be in the bay of the region she had called home. Sarina filled the copper flask, which was no larger than her purse, with as much as Ann’s ashes as it could hold. She would cast the remaining ashes into the bay later with a ritual of some kind. She thought that she might invite Riley and hurried home.

  The flask’s seal was remarkably tight and required a special twist to properly close. She played with the urn for a while trying to figure out how to close its lid. She was just about to give up but gave one last try. This time she centered herself, closed her eyes, and focused on the feel of the lid and like a safe cracker listened and felt the lid as she moved it; once to the left and then press down and again to the left, with one final press and a twist to the right and CLICK, it worked. Sarina let out a HOORAY! This was very cool.

  The flask felt slightly warm, which may have been due to the twisting and pressing Sarina had just completed with her warm hands. She noticed a small compartment in the bottom about half an inch thick and hollow in the shape of the urn. She wondered what that compartment was for, no more than two or three inches in diameter, about the size of a woman’s wrist. The door was open and she was able to see inside. Nothing unusual. The small door had hidden hinges. Once closed there it was very difficult to see the door except for a small depression in it now that it was concealed.

  When Sarina returned to her apartment, she set the flask on one of the many shelves where it blended right in with other vases and bowls and artifacts that were in her apartment when she rented it. She had always had a niggling feeling that something was missing. The flask’s placement reminded her of the feeling of satisfaction she got when she placed the last piece of a puzzle to complete the image. She was not sure what the image was but the feeling was palpable. However, she couldn’t linger over this. It was almost one o’clock and she rushed right out to meet Riley at Pluto’s for lunch.

  He was waiting for her when she arrived, reading some notes he had put together to share with her. Sarina slid in next to him and hugged him hello with a kiss on his cheek. They ordered their respective drinks and some food.

  Riley spoke first and told Sarina about his night’s sleep and how refreshed he felt and his clarity. He explained how he had sped through his paper work like a superhuman and how great it felt to have most of his backlogged cases cleared up so he was able to spend more time on this one.

  Sarina smiled and appreciated Riley. Remembering Dana’s comment about Riley, she realized how much she had come to trust him these last couple of days and she felt a warmth move through her as she let out a light sigh.

  This stopped Riley as his worry machine engaged and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Sarina laughed and said, “Nothing, I just had a wonderful sensation of warmth flow through my body. I really love this restaurant. In my astrological chart, Pluto is my planet of transformation.”

  “Oh,” he said. “That’s nice; did the collection of your sister’s ashes go well?”


  Sarina just looked at Riley with dejected eyes in response to his lack of comment about astrology.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I used to be a believer in astrology but not so much any longer. I have a hard time accepting what it means anymore. I lost a good friend who loved astrology. It’s still painful for me. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “Thank you, Riley, for letting me know. I wandered through the market place to find a container for her ashes and stumbled into an ironworks gallery and found a beautiful copper flask to hold a portion of her ashes.” Sarina went on to tell Riley how she had been looking for a ceramic piece and how the artist gifted her the copper flask when she told him what it was for.

  Riley nodded in approval and said that it felt right to him as well, given her story behind its discovery and the alike dreams she and the shopkeeper shared. Copper was his favorite metal and as she described it, he more and more liked the image of the patinaed piece.

  Their food order arrived and they ate and shared their day in more detail. Riley pulled out his notes and Sarina commented on his handmade journal and how beautiful it was. Riley told Sarina how he had found it used in an art gallery and was immediately drawn to it. The artist who created it lived in a small community in North Carolina. The artist’s name escaped him but he said that he was an older man who lived near an art school where he taught journal-making classes.

  Sarina nodded quickly in excitement while she clapped her hands together at Riley’s ability to recognize such artistic detail and at his apparent appreciation of fine arts as well as a shared connection. “Hey!” Sarina exclaimed. Riley jumped at her apparent enthusiasm. “I knew the artist who created your journal,” as she reached out for it. “May I see it? He was a close friend of mine when I lived in North Carolina.” Sarina was barely able to contain herself at her revelation.

  “Sure.” Riley handed her his journal hoping she would be gracious enough to not leaf through the pages. “You seem to recall him fondly.”

  “YES! He was one of the reasons, maybe the primary reason I moved to that area!” Sarina was so excited that Riley thought she might explode.

  “Is he still living?”

  Sarina became emotional. “No, he died a couple of years ago and I miss him a lot. This is such a beautiful piece.” Her eyes were welling up as she remembered her friend. With the loss of her sister and the conversation with the shopkeeper of ironworks and her father and now remembering her deceased friend, Sarina could no longer contain her emotions and tears rolled down her flushed cheeks.

  Riley took Sarina’s hand to comfort her. The electrical charge pulsed in their joined hands. Riley used his free hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.

  They paused for a moment to honor the artist’s remembrance.

  “I am sorry for all your losses.”

  “Thank you Riley. You are very sweet.” Sarina handed the journal back to him.

  Riley took his journal and recapped his notes from the beginning of this mysterious journey, which led to their connection and said, “I find it odd how just a few days ago I was sifting through piles of paperwork and how I was given the call about Ann among all the other detectives. Was it chance?” he asked. “Or was it fate? I’m a believer of circumstance and fact. Astrology and numerology are one thing, but the supernatural and the demonic are not part of my daily experiences. The only mystery I believe in is one that can be solved.”

  “In my experience few things are left to chance. I believe there is meaning in everything. I believe in synchronicity. All things: relationships, events, and paths crossing are less about fate and more connected to each person’s destiny. I also believe in mystery for the sake of mystery and not something to be solved.”

  “You are truly a special person, Sarina. You’ve shown me things I’ve never experienced.” Riley gazed into Sarina’s eyes and smiled.

  They finished eating and Sarina asked, “Riley, what’s our next move?”

  “It may be time to meet with Dana.” Riley mentioned the encounter with the owner of Yumma’s and his comment about Dana. “Who is Dana?” he asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Sarina recounted her brief meeting with him. She recalled how Dana said to call her when she was ready, how he instructed her to trust Riley, and how much she had grown to do just that. “I do trust you, Riley. I am so grateful you are with me on this journey.”

  It was Riley’s turn to let out a gentle sigh and feel the same warmth Sarina experienced flow through his body. “Do you feel the time is right to meet with Dana?” he asked.

  “I do,” she responded.

  Riley reached over to Sarina and again took her hand in his. The electrical impulse was there and he was used to it by now. “Do you want me to meet Dana with you?” he asked.

  “I need you to be with me if you are up for it.”

  “I am at your service, my dear. When shall we meet him?”

  “I am free now. Are you?”

  “I tied up all my loose ends this morning; so I see no reason not to meet with him now. Call him and set up the appointment.”

  “Okay.”

  While Sarina was reaching for her phone, it sprang into life. The caller ID was strange. I read incoming call from “Xbalanque.” She looked at the phone in disbelief, showed it to Riley, and answered, “Hello, Dana?”

  “Perfect, Sarina,” Dana said. “I wanted to test you to see how far along you have come hence the caller ID on your phone. Shall we meet in 30 minutes at the same coffee house as before?”

  “Er, yes and I have a request …”

  “Please bring Detective Holden along. Good-bye.” Dana hung up.

  Sarina and Riley looked at each other and Sarina seemed to be in a bit of shock. “What did he say?” Riley asked.

  “He said to meet in 30 minutes at Tart to Tart on Irving Street, about 10 minutes walk from here, I think. Oh, and he told me to bring you along ...”

  “Wow! How do you think he knew we were just thinking about meeting him?”

  Sarina just rolled her eyes and cracked a slight smile. “Come on Riley, surely by now you know that the Mind Body or ego wants to know what is happening and cannot process what the Spirit Body understands. The Mind Body always seeks a logical explanation, which is not a part of the Spirit Body’s make up. Don’t fight it; just go with it and see where it leads us. Come on now, we have a mystic to meet.”

  Riley laughed as they got up to leave. “Sarina, tell me more about Dana and what he means for you.”

  “Well,” she said. “Dana appears to be his human name, but I suspect he has deeper connections with the spirit realm, kinda obvious since the phone revealed a different name when he called.”

  “Yeah. What was that about?”

  “Hmm. You know how cameras can reveal an image that the human eye can’t see?”

  “Uh Huh ...”

  “Well maybe the phone somehow sensed Dana’s real name and revealed it to us.” Sarina waited for a response as if testing Riley’s ability to let go of his logical mind.

  “Well ... Uh ... I’m not sure I buy that.”

  After realizing that Riley was not able to take that leap she said, “It’s just a thought. I can’t explain it. What do you make of it?”

  “I'm not sure but ...” Riley was fighting himself for a logical answer, with no luck.

  “Riley, this may one of those moments where it is best to simply let it be.” They continued walking. “The dream I had when this journey began was shrouded in green mist and the chanting was odd. It was soothing and peaceful at first but then it climaxed into a frenetic shouting of names. I recognized my own name and Ann’s, but then strange names came through that were unknown to me, like Dana’s caller ID on the phone, Xbalanque.” Sarina paused in thought. “Then there were the other names, Dana, Jack, and your name, Riley. I’ve pieced together Dana, the mystic we are now going to see; Jack, my father; and you. The first connection I understood when I met Dana. He was the mystic in my dr
eam. The next connection was when I realized that “Jack” was my father’s name. Then it was Dana who told me that I needed to trust Detective Riley Holden. That was when I realized that your first name is Riley. I was able to place the first five names in my dream to people I have known or met.” She stopped.

  “What is it, Sarina?” He asked.

  “The other names are still a mystery to me, but I think I received a clue from Dana when he called. The name that appeared on the phone as an incoming call was Xbalanque. This is likely Dana’s real name in a different dimension, maybe a non-human dimension. Somehow that name was put in my phone so that I noticed it when he called! That way I was able to make the connection.” Sarina gave Riley a solid punch on his shoulder. “I’ve been researching indigenous cultural information for my upcoming trip to Guatemala, which was the heart of the Mayan world. Dana’s real name must be an ancient Mayan name. Maybe a god of some sort.” She looked Riley in the eyes, who was rubbing his shoulder. “I’m a research editor for Earth Based Publishing, here in the city, and I’ve traveled around the world interacting with indigenous cultures learning their customs, myths, and artistic expression compiling information for various projects. My work in expressive arts has helped me integrate into these cultures quickly.”

  Sarina was talking so fast that Riley found himself holding his breath. “Okay, slow down,” Riley said. “First, great deduction about the name on your phone. You have a gifted mind. Second, are you saying that art is somehow part of this mystery?”

  “Well, yes and no. I discovered that all cultures express themselves artistically in one way or another. In ancient or indigenous culture, art is crucial to their ways of expressing their lives. The people use illustration to document their culture and my art background is very helpful in translating these ancient images. When I combine my art and intuitive experiences, their stories emerge effortlessly. I am able to gain their trust using these tools. I suppose I would say I am more of a mystical artist through expression. My innate intuitive skills help me to see or feel their messages for the planet and the need for humans to constantly pay attention to the interconnectedness of every culture.”