The Scarlet Letter
Volume IV, Number 4 | December 1997
Chichen Itza Through the Eyes of a Magician
By Sr. Oalimn
Noon was approaching, and we had agreed early on to drop at this time. We found a roadside shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe on our entrance to yet another village. We both felt that this was the perfect place to taste the elixir of insight. This being done, we had about thirty minutes to enjoy the present state of mind before proceeding to the next. We continued forward, anticipating our arrival at the ruins. We finally arrived around 1:30 p.m. It was very commercialized and there were tourists all around us. This was not what I had expected when packing the rubbers and lube earlier. Some quiet time with my lover was clearly not going to be an option.
We paid our pesos and proceeded into the site. At this point, I was well on my way up, but managed to keep my mind very focused. I knew this was going to be the experience of a lifetime. The sun emerged from the pillow of white clouds. As I looked ahead I could see a very large pyramid of stone. I took a minute to honor the spirits that were obviously present and assure them that I came in peace to enjoy the magnificent monuments to their presence.
We began to ascend the great stone steps. A feeling of pride and excitement filled every fiber of my body. As we continued upward, a strong current of magical energy flowed over the stone steps. It seeped from the crevices and cracks. I could touch it with my soul. My entire body of light was energized with it. I was back in time when this shrine was active. I was so alive that I felt I might explode. We had reached the top.
From the mouth of the shrine emerged a dark presence. I knew I was very receptive at this time, and proceeded with caution. I felt neither good nor evil from it, but a strong sense of accomplishment. Walking in this holy place made me feel very overdressed. We walked around the top of the pyramid, people were hugging the walls in fear of the great height. My heart was pounding loudly, but not out of fear. It was more from the exhilarated feeling at being on top of this summit of the earth. This was truly a gateway of some sort, and many souls had journeyed through the cycle of life and death here. I looked out to encompass the total view of the site. It was like nothing I had ever experienced in this life. Jungle stretched out over the horizon, mingled with stone structures of temples, markets, and playing fields. If I looked clearly I could see the Maya going about their daily activities. Their residue was concrete, and I reveled in the vision of children playing and others selling their wares. I could also hear the screams of the captives as they were tortured until death became a welcomed ally. I meditated on the southeast corner of the summit, feeling the overwhelming presence of the Mayan gods—their bodies taking form in the clouds above. It was a beautiful vision to behold.
I could have sat in that place for hours. It was so tranquil and hypnotizing that I did not want to look away from its loveliness. However, I was finally drawn into the shrine where the priests must have spent most of their time. The walls unfolded the story of the past. The old blood revealed to me the priests with their matted blood-stained hair and clothing. The lust for spilled blood was in their eyes. They were ready to sacrifice. Then the wall changed and a vision of kings, festivals, and rituals emerged into a colorful collage. There were too many mundane bystanders to permit me to appreciate this vision for long, and we moved on.
Our journey next brought us to the old original temple of this site. My senses were assaulted with the overwhelming presence of death! I could feel the hair on my neck standing straight up. A cold chill ran down my spine and I could not shake the pain and suffering impressed upon me. Columns of stone stood aright in the front of the shrine. Walking between them, I could feel the torture that the captives had endured. I could see the captives chained to the columns left out for the sun to bake their tender flesh. Trenches of stone were placed between some of the columns. These were used to catch the entrails that spilled from the captives. It was all very morbid. I wanted to climb to the top, but it was not permitted. So I wandered to a spot where I could climb partway up the side. Something urged me on to get a closer look at this dismal place. I approached an opening in the pyramid. It was dark and evil. An overwhelming vibration of ill came from within this space. Suffering and anguish flooded this area. I had enough of this evil feeling, but I urged my lover to have a look. He felt it too—something not very pleasant. We took seats in the shadow of the steps of this powerful shrine, Chac Mool overlooking us from the top of the pyramid.
My lover indicated a few thoughts concerning death and our daughter Cymoril. Tears welled in my eyes in happiness that she did not suffer and in sadness over my own selfishness for wanting her here. It was very cleansing. I could not imagine how such an awful place could bring this peace I felt with her death. But it did, and I cannot explain it fully.
We did not dwell long; it was time to continue on to the far side of the shrine. There were many great columns in rows of three. I felt that this place must have been a sort of jail. I walked in the place of the black guard who would whip the captives just to hear them moan or to see them bleed. The thought made my skin crawl. I was struck with a realization that Revelation in the Bible is connected with this place. My interpretation was prompted by the overall feeling of war, conquest, and sacrifice, and I believed that I was putting pieces of the puzzle together. Vibrations of energy entered my feet, and I could feel it all the way up to my crown chakra. It was not a pleasant feeling, and as I proceeded forward, pictures of blood pouring from the mouths of stones entered my vision. I urged myself forward even though my senses were overwhelmed with nausea. The next place we approached had a slightly different feeling. Captives tortured here were raped and even split apart through their lower orifices. I wanted to go behind this stone structure, but I was paralyzed with fear—for their were unspeakable events that had taken place here.
Rows of columns stretched out to our right and in front of us we came to an enclosed structure. Some archaeologists indicated that this was some sort of market area, and others took it for an administrative plaza. A very powerful force was present; it seemed many souls cried out for release here. I decided this is where I could do a little ritual, and commenced with the Star Ruby. Perhaps if this was a place of government, then this would be where captives were judged to see what sort of death awaited them.
Our next visit was to the ball court. From my impression of this playing field, it would have been better to name it a "massacre court." I pictured captives tortured and made to do activities that eventually resulted in their deaths. Blood sports took place to entertain and walls were encrusted with old blood from this pastime.
I should point out that these visions and impressions were my own subjective experience. Others might have very different encounters with this place. The people of this culture were very serious about their worship of the gods. Their way of life, although very foreign to me, commanded my respect. I felt revulsion at the indications of torture and bloodshed, but their temples and monuments are enduring witnesses of a true form of higher intelligence. I would encourage any magician to make such a pilgrimage to Chichen Itza. Someday I will go back, since the weather didn't permit us to finish our explorations. Perhaps on that journey I will find more expressions of life than the cold hands of death that I experienced this time.