Maize
A staple of the Ancient Maya diet and belief system
In the pre-dawn darkness, Gucumatz and Heart Of Heaven call on Fox, Coyote, Parrot and Crow to bring yellow and white maize from Paxil and Cayala, a mountain filled with seeds and fruits. Old Xmucane grinds the maize and, from the meal, the first four men are fashioned. Unlike the previous wooden race, these people of maize possess great knowledge and understanding and correctly give thanks to their creators. However, Gucumatz and Heart of Heaven are troubled; these corn men can see everywhere—through earth and sky to the limits of the universe. The creators decide that these people are too much like themselves and that their powers must be diminished. As though they were breathing mist on a mirror, the gods blurd the vision of the first people so that they can see clearly only what is near. In place of omniscience, the creators give the first men happiness by providing them with four beautiful wives to be their companions. With these four women, the first lineages of the Quiche’ are begun.
Popol Vuh (Sacred book of the Quiché Maya)
The word “maize” was adopted by the Spanish conquistadors because it’s the word the natives used to describe what we refer to as “corn,” the western European term for this grain. Maize was native to Mesoamerica, a staple by the Middle Preclassic (1000—400 BC). As early as Olmec times (1200-1500 BCE) the grains were “nixtamalized,” a word derived from the Aztec Nahuatl word nextli or “ashes” and tamalli meaning “wrapped,” to describe the process of boiling the kernels in crushed limestone to soften them for grinding, remove the clear husk and improve the flavor. Nixtamalizing maize enhances amino acids and niacin, making derivative foods such as tortillas and gruels more nutritious. Combined with beans it provides most of the proteins necessary for an average adult—and was capable of sustaining large populations throughout Mesoamerica for centuries.
Every kernel has a silk, which is the female part of the plant. The tassel is the male part that contains tiny grains of pollen, which in the wind, falls on the silk of neighboring plants. Each pollen grain pollinates the strand of silk it sticks to. After fertilization, a kernel grows at the end of each strand. And at the end of each silk is an egg. When the pollen reaches the egg it pollinates it and the egg becomes a kernel of maize. Inside the husk, hundreds of kernels grow into what we refer to as an “ear.” The ideal time to harvest is just before the silk turns brown. Growers leave some maize on the stalk until the brown silk dries. The kernels harden, and that becomes seed for the next crop.
In ancient Mesoamerica the ears of maize were much shorter than they are now, evolving from two inches to four, then six. White and yellow maize were used for everyday meals. Black maize was often prepared for ritual meals. Maize today has to be planted in quantity and close together because the stalks would break without the support of neighboring plants. Considering the dietary cornucopia of today, it’s hard to imagine a society where food “diversity” meant the different ways that one food could be prepared. But that’s how it was for the ancient Maya, and vestiges of it carry on today.
Ul (Atoli in Nahuatl)
Solid balls of white ground maize are mixed with water then cooked to reduce it into a liquid like a porridge or thick jelly depending upon the proportions. The gruel was drunk warm as the morning meal and consumed cold at mid-day. The ancients buried the dead with it for sustenance during their trip through the underworld. By adding whole grains of maize to it there was something to chew on. Today whole turkeys are cooked in atoli.
Keehel Uah (Tamalli in Nahuatl)
Nixtamalized maize dough is wrapped in leaves, then steamed or baked on or under the coals of the hearth. They were often smoked, sometimes for weeks, sprinkled with lime powder. Fillings included: beans mixed in with the dough, ground and toasted squash seeds, turkey, iguana, deer, turtle, fish and greens, especially chaya and chipilin. After filling, they are cooked with a little water and a framework of sticks so the tamales are steamed, not boiled.
In ancient times the dough, plain or with a filling, was wrapped in plantain or avocado or maize husks before cooking and tied with strands of the same material or cords. The white and yellow objects depicted on Maya vases may be firm tamales, made of white and yellow maize dough.
Tortillas
Tortillas originated in Central Mexico. They were introduced to the Maya in the Post Classic Period. The Maya shaped them on leaves and toasted them on a stone brushed with lime-water so they would puff up briefly. “Young Maize Tortillas” are shaped by the two-handed method of slapping the dough. The Lacandon Maya of Chiapas coated their cooked tortillas with a bean paste and then more maize dough, which was toasted again. Tortillas were made for travel by drying them in the sun until they become crisp. Spaniards reported that they needed teeth of steel to eat them. As with tamalles, there was/is a long (and similar) list of accompaniments.
Making tortillas. Tecpan, Guatemala 2008
Maize Made For Traveling
Zahina
Maize dough was made into kind of bread by adding it to water to make a gruel.
Keyem (Posolli in Nahuatl)
Normally, maize is ground three times using a metate. To make keyem, after the first grinding the dough was mixed with water to form one of several maize beverages. Balls of the dough were carried by travelers. They were kept in a special ceramic container and wrapped in leaves from previous bundles of keyem to provide a culture so bacteria, yeasts and molds could work on the dough. They lasted months until they became sour. The sour dough was mixed with water and drunk. It was reported to have a “sharp pleasant taste.” After the 2nd grinding, the dough is suitable for tortillas. After the third, it’s smooth enough to be made into atolli. When entertaining guests, they added honey.
Maatz (Pinole in Nahuatl)
To make this beverage, toasted maize powder was stirred into water. Chile powder was added to spice it up. And elites would substitute cacao powder. The Spaniards reported that water was seldom taken in its pure state.
Zahina (Posolli in Nahuatl)
Uncooked ground maize balls are formed into a solid. These are carried by travelers and mixed with water to make a gruel.
Sacul (Atole in Nahuatl)
Maize that has not been nixtamalized is ground with water until it’s grainy. It’s sweetened with honey and served in bowls. It’s reported to be “rather sandy in texture,” but it keeps well.
Beers
Twelve kinds of beer were reported, most of them maize-based. They were drunk before going to sleep and they were considered “the drinks of chiefs.”
Maize Dough
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 26)
THE NEXT MORNING I AWOKE EARLY AND TOLD MY MOTHER I was going for a walk and wanted to be alone. She didn’t even question me while wrapping maize dough nuggets for me to take along. While I waited, Butterfly passed the doorway with a tall jar on her head. Mother untied the leaves and was sprinkling chili powder onto the balls of maize dough when she glanced at me with watery eyes. I took it to mean that she was sorry for my being burdened with the truth that she’d kept from me.
Keyem
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 73)
I got my chance when he took me to an old quarry down by the New River. With the ensouling rites just two days away, he needed hearthstones to establish the heart of the house, the place where a spirit would enter. The three stones had to be a certain size and shape for cooking, so we used long-handled axes with wide flats to pull back the weeds, dig out the soil and expose a long section of white stone. The day was hot. Before we began to chop the stone itself, we sat on a ledge, wiped the sweat off our faces and took our keyem—a gruel made by stirring balls of maize dough in water. Mother spiced the dough with honey and chili powder, so I was eager for it.
Maize and Other Foods
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 125)
My muscles ached, my eyes burned and I was very thirsty. Women followed behind the warriors carrying blankets and clothing on their heads. Others had back-baskets, probably filled with maize, beans and avocados. One woman had live iguanas dangling from her belt. Another had a turkey hen tucked under her arm. White Grandfather patted me on the shoulder and pointed to Hummingbird coming with a bundle. Food. Although my legs were wobbly going down the steps, we met her at the long bench that faced the temple.
Father’s sister had brought kox-stuffed tamales, fried plantains, roasted squash seeds and persimmons. All I could manage were the seeds and some cold maize water spiced with chili. My hands seemed not to belong to me and I could barely feel my mouth, so I spilled some of the maize water down the front of me. (Kox is a small black bird).
Reference to humans being made of maize
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 254)
My brother went across the courtyard and stood on the steps above Red Paw and Pech. Dragonfly continued to translate. “What did the Makers do? They invoked Grandmother of Glory! And their thoughts came clear. Fox, Coyote, Parrot and Crow brought ears of yellow maize and white maize from the split place, from First True Mountain, Flowering Mountain Earth where Grandmother Of Glory ground the maize nine times. The water she used in rinsing her hands made fat—human fat. And with it Sovereign Plumed Serpent made the first humans, our Mother-Fathers.” With a swish of his robe, Comb Pace came down the steps and went to center. “The humans made from fat were different,” he said. “They made words! They praised the directions and they listened. They walked and they used their muscles. They offered their sweat, blood and smoke to the Makers and Modelers. Such was the making by First Grandfather and First Grandmother.”
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Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Ch’ulel: “Soul” or “Spirit”
The animating spirit within all things and people
Plumeria, San Ignacio, Cayo, Belize
For the Tzotzil Maya, ch’ulel is the inner, individual soul which has thirteen parts and is centered in the heart. This life essence that animates the person is placed in the embryo at conception by ancestral deities and is inherited from the grandfather, not the father, because, after a person dies, the soul remains at the gravesite for the same period of time as the person lived. And once the ch’ulel has been placed in the new grandchild, he or she becomes a k’ex “substitute” for the departed ancestor. In Tzotzil, the term is k’exolil.
Because death was the result of serious loss of ch’ulel (“soul loss”)—caused by the gods, the death of the animal companion, the sale of the soul to the Witz’ “Earth Lord, or by accident or murder—the soul spends its time at the grave site gathering up the fragments of ch’ulel that had been spread over the landscape to reintegrate itself. When that’s done, it joins a larger “pool” of souls kept by the gods, to be used eventually for another person.
Another form of ch’ulel is referred to as wayhel, “dream spirit.” It animates animals and the forest, and is characterized as unruly, uncontrollable, wild impulsive. When the sun sets, the wayhel spirits can attack one another, resulting in illness and death of anyone close.
Breath was the rarified essence of ch’ulel, the conduit between the world and the living and world of the gods and ancestors. As essence, the breath of a person continues after death as the soul of the deceased person. It’s why, when a person or god or ancestor is portrayed in Maya art, a flower or jade bead is shown in front of or in the nose or mouth. It signifies the presence of their ch’ulel. There’s speculation that these were also placed there to absorb the “breath soul.” Further, it was believed that the gods and ancestors were nourished by the ch’ulel in the breath. And it’s the ch’ulel in blood that made it “precious substance,” the life force.
In the inscriptions, ch’ulel is symbolized by a white flower, likely the white plumeria. For example, these are expressions of death:
- Ch’ay u sak nik nal, “Diminished, his white flower.” Yaxchilan Stela 12.
- Iwal ch’ay u sak nik nal, “And then diminished, his white flower.” Copan stairway.
- K’ay sak nik nal, “Ended the white flower.” Copan stairway.
Sak Nik “White Flower”
Although the plumeria blossoms shown in the photograph below the header are not “white,” they show their size and shape.
The modern Tzotzil and Tzeltal peoples entered the highlands of Chiapas between 100 BCE and 300 CE. Before the Spanish conquest, they exported quetzal feathers and amber to the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. They also produced salt.
Ch’ulel And Identity
Excerpt From Jaguar Wind And Waves (p. 12)
IT WAS WELL KNOWN AMONG MY PEOPLE, THAT CHILDREN inherited their ch’ulel—the spirit that made them who they are—from their grandfathers. Just as a crop of maize replaces the previous crop, so our sons and daughters replaced their grandfathers, walk for them on the face of the earth. When we remember them, they are present in both our lives and the life of the caah, the community. As I was growing up I could see that this was true for everyone around me. It certainly was true for my brothers and sister. But it was not true for me. Although I knew my grandfather, respected him and laughed with him, I was my father’s daughter.
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The Ch’ulel Of Twins
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 76)
Thunder Flute picked up a stick and began peeling the bark. I got a smaller one and moved around to sit cross-legged in front of him. As he spoke he kept his eyes on the stick. “At Tollan the holy ones believed that twins share the same ch’ulel. They said the gods intended that one would serve the caah, and the other was to be sacrificed as a gratitude for Tollan’s bounty. When the twins came, the highest of the daykeepers came and told your grandfather it would be his privilege to offer one of them as an offering to the gods.”
“Which one did they want?”
“He let your grandfather decide. As my brothers grew, he and your grandmother saw that they did not share the same ch’ulel. Far from it. They had the same face, but they were different in many ways.”
“What did grandfather do?”
“He tricked the daykeeper. He said he would offer one of them to the gods, but in order to make the offering more pleasing, he wanted to wait until they became strong and stood as tall as a young maize stalk. The daykeeper not only agreed, he also petitioned someone and they were apprenticed at the Lodge of Builders—to put some muscle on their bones. That is where they learned the ways of building.”
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Ch’ulel Inherited From A God
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 88)
“You are more than you think, grandson. Much more. Your blood is precious because it contains ch’ulel inherited from Lord One Maize. You will not feel its lightning power until you are older, but it is there, asleep in your blood. With proper layering, it will awaken and you will recognize it. For now, all we can advise is that you seek your rightful path, walk it in truth and begin speaking the truth as you know it. If you do that, your layering will be greater than that of our brother who sits on the throne at Mirador adorned in jewels and feathers.”
“With respect grandfather, the prophet said my path was that of the jaguar. Can you tell me what it means?” He couldn’t. “What happens if I never find this path, my rightful path?”
“That cannot happen. For now, be as you are and follow your heart—.”
“That is what I hoped you would say. My heart tells me to live with my friends and apprentice myself to White Cord. Somehow, that is what will happen.”
“Just as the sacred substance within the sap rises in a tree, as you grow older the ch’ulel of the maize god will awaken in you and call out your courage. You will do more than you think you can do.” White Grandfather stopped and dragged the end of his staff across the sand to make a line in front of us. “On this side of the line, you stand as a sprout, questioning your path. You wonder if your ancestors are Rabbit or Macaw.” He pointed ahead. “On the other side of the line lies your true path. Standing here, you worry because the prophet said it leads to the Mat. But it is best to not look too far ahead. Winds can come and blow the sands away. Water can come and wash it away—.”
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
The following are links to Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Jade
The sacred stone of the Ancient Maya
Ear Ornaments
The Classic Maya ascribed a number of meanings to jade, including maize, centrality, and rulership, as well as a material embodiment of wind and the vitalizing breath soul. Because of its close relationship to the breath spirit, jade was an important component of funerary rites and the ritual conjuring of gods and ancestors. Carved in floral form, jade earspools were considered supernatural sources or passageways for the breath spirit, frequently portrayed as a bead or a serpent emerging from the center of the jade flare. A common Classic Maya death expression, och b’ih, pertains directly to resurrection of the soul through the symbolism of earspools.
Karl A. Taube, Archaeologist, epigrapher, ethnohistorian
While “jade” is the common term for the mineral the ancient Maya considered “most precious,” technically the stone is jadeite, a mineral composed of sodium, aluminum, and silicates. The colors varied including green, blue, lavender, white, and black. Green was highly prized by the Maya, a color derived from the presence of chromium and nickel. On Moh’s scale of hardness, jadeite ranks 6.5 to 7, relative to diamonds that are 10. The Motagua River valley in Guatemala is one of only six known jadeite sources in the world. It is rare because it forms under high-temperature and low-pressure conditions associated with a tectonic fault.
Headdress Ornaments
Worn only by the elite, jade identified the wearer as having esoteric and ritual knowledge. Besides their use as adornments, they were sacred objects used to conjure the gods and ancestors, and open portals to the underworld (beneath the surface of the earth) and the celestial world, home to sky deities. Jade was the most precious stone in Mesoamerica. The Aztec king, Montezuma, told Cortés that jade pieces he would send to the king of Spain were valued at more than two loads of gold each.
Jade carving of a Copan ruler
Because it was extremely hard, it took weeks, months and years, sometimes generations to carve a single piece of jade. Tools consisted of chert and quartzite that had a hardness of 7, and jade itself. To saw it, one person would keep abrasive dust particles on the line while another pressed into it with a string, which was only good for about eight to ten strokes. Incising was done after polishing, often using the string-saw technique. Drills consisted of either quartzite or chert blades, some turned by hand, while others used a pump drill like the kind used to drill fire.
The Second Largest Maya Jade Artifact
In 2015, archaeologist Jeffrey Braswell found a jade pendant in Nim Li Punit, a small site in southern Belize. Significantly, it’s unique in that it carries an inscription. The text reads: “This jewel was made for the king Janaab’ Ohl K’inich.” Its first use was in A.D. 672 for an incense-scattering ceremony. It talks about the king’s parentage, saying his mother was from Cahal Pech, a site in western Belize, and his father died before age 20, coming from somewhere in Guatemala. It also describes the accession rites of the king in A.D. 647 and ends with a passage that possibly links the king to the powerful and immense city of Caracol, also in Belize.
The Largest Maya Jade Artifact
The 6” tall, deep green and highly polished jade piece weighs close to ten pounds. Highly carved, it represents the head of the Sun God, K’inich Ajaw. In some legends he descends to the earth each day as a macaw, so the head features a prominent beak. Found in Structure B-4 at Altun Ha, a mid-sized city in Belize, it has been dated to between A.D. 600-650. In the tomb where it was found were the remains of an adult male, who was about 5’ 6” tall.
The Jade Death Mask Of King K’inich Janaab’ Pakal Of Palenque
Scroll down to see the jade mask and associated jewels. Imagine the time and labor investment in making all these pieces. And realize that for all the jade plaques to fit together in the round, there had to be a design that each of the lapidaries followed. It’s a staggering achievement. Notice how closely the sculptured head of Pakal, shown first on this site, matches the features of the jade mask. Pakal ascended to the throne at Palenque on July 29, 615 A.D. He died in 683 A.D. I highly recommend this site.
Jade Obtained In A Raid
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 30 )
NINE HEAVILY LOADED DUGOUT CANOES PADDLED BY FIVE MEN each cut through the fog and pre-dawn darkness that blanketed Ahkha. The traders had gotten an early start in order to present Lord Flint Axe Macaw, the eight-year-old ruler of Ahktuunal, with the tribute he required in order to trade in his markets.
For a full season, the merchants had traveled down swift and muddy rivers, paddled through flooded, snake-infested jungle and had managed backbreaking portages around treacherous rapids. The challenge going south had been to trade perishable and household items—herbs and dried chilies, cording, logwood and other vegetal dyes, turtle carapaces, sharks teeth, and conch shells, fish hooks, sea-salt and honey from the north—for more durable goods and items of fine workmanship.
In addition to a sizable quantity of figurines, incised ceramic wares, and hand censers, the traders took on high-status items intended for the noble lords and underlords, ministers, holy men and chiefs. These included ceremonial items: copal incense wrapped in maize leaves and tied with a thin blue cord; dried tobacco leaves tied with hemp two hundred to a bundle. Toucan, parrot, macaw and hummingbird feathers were rolled in barkcloth and tied. Jade earplugs, tubes, and flares, including necklaces, carved beads and pendants were all kept in a bundle at the master’s feet. For noblewomen, there were shell bracelets and necklaces, incised tortoiseshell containers, bone needles and textile dyes, all packed with protective palm fronds, bound in wicker, and carried in back baskets fitted with forehead straps. The larger textiles hung over poles. Smaller ones were folded and carried in cotton stuffed with kazcat, an herb that protected them from moths and mildew. Heavier items including ceramic wares, censers and stone tools were tied securely to bamboo litters carried on the shoulders of two men.
For the highest-ranking lords, ministers and holy men the merchants traded for bloodletting instruments including bone lancets, shell perforators and stingray spines wrapped in strips of cotton and knotted at the ends. Tongue- and ear-piercing thorn-cords used in ancestor conjuring rites were coiled inside ceramic bowls and bundled in broadleaves for protection. Their most delicate and precious cargo, aside from jade and red shell beads acquired along the slopes of the great western sea, were the long and delicate blue-green quetzal plumes bound in lots of twenty and carried in bark tubes.
Ahktuunal, the largest settlement on the southernmost leg of their journey, sat on the eastern shore of a lake shaped like a turtle shell. Although it was a small center and ruled by a young underlord, it was the best place to acquire the finest, most colorful embroidered cotton in the region. In its market merchants could find the greatest variety of clothing and textiles and acquire them at favorable exchanges.
As the fore and aft torches penetrated the fog, Thunder Flute called to his men. “All boats! The ruler may be a sprout, but do not underestimate his power. He is the third son of Jaguar Tooth Macaw, Lord of Kaminaljuyu, one of the most powerful rulers who ever lived.”
A turtle pendant
A Jade Turtle
Excerpt from Jaguar Rising p. 37
From a heavy basket, one of the raiders dumped a number of green stones onto a blanket. Thunder Flute wanted to get a closer look so he motioned for Pech to stay where he was while he went around to the back of the residence. Crossing to the council house under the cover of streaming black smoke, he crouched behind a stairway and watched as three of the raiders examined the green stones with their leader. Thunder Flute counted six hand-sized ceremonial celts, at least ten equally long belt danglers, two jade tubes as long as a finger, four jade earflares shaped like flowers, a dark greenstone the size of a fist and scores of jade bead necklaces. When an assistant held one up with the bulbous head of the sun god at the bottom, the leader snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it into his already bulging pouch. From another warrior, he snatched a jade turtle shell the size of a fist, a magnificent piece with three red spots painted on the carapace. With great force, he hurled it down the plaza. Thunder Flute gasped as it hit the pavement and rolled into the smoke.
After dumping some thorny oyster shells, red shell beads, and shell perforators onto a blanket, a warrior with a jagged scar down one arm gathered the ends and slung it onto his back. His brother warriors gathered up the other goods and the leader followed, all the while looking to see if there would be any resistance. There was none. Along the way, he stepped onto the back of a fallen Ahktuunal guard and struck a victory pose with his axe held high. Several of his men imitated the gesture, and together they howled like coyotes.
Thunder Flute took advantage of the distraction. He ran behind the retaining wall to where Pech was watching. Beside him, an assistant pointed to the temple of the Great Turtle. Through the smoke, high on the third terrace and hiding behind a fallen censer stand, a scout was signing: god bundle burned—six guards down. Warriors gone.
Gather their weapons, Thunder Flute signed. Return to the canoes. He whispered in Pech’s ear, “I want a man on the far side of the council house—to see where they will go. The leader threw a jade turtle down the plaza, a big one. I want it.”
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Prophecy And Order
That which happened in the past, the future will bring
Prophecy was a prominent feature in all the known ancient cultures. Feeling at the mercy of the gods who represented the forces of nature, complex societies needed a way to understand their behavior so they could brace themselves for the next god-made flood, drought or other catastrophe and hope the gods would yield to the petitions and bargaining sacrifices of their kings and holy men.
Maya kings established order by relying on observations of the motions of the sun, moon and other heavenly bodies. Remarkably, because their daykeepers kept at it for hundreds of years, they achieved precision down to decimal points of modern calculations. What they observed was the order and predictability of celestial deities, and it gave rise to the Maya conception of time as “rounds” of days, periods of 20 days, 365 days, 7,200 days (20 years), 144,000 days or 394 years, an alawtun of 63,080.082 years—and likely more. That the gods repeated their “journeys” in cyclical rounds, meant the circumstances and characteristics of a particular time-carrying god would come around again and bring with him the same influences—much the way astrology functions today.
In most indigenous cultures shaman-priests communed with the gods in a trance state in order to predict the future. The Maya kings relied heavily on “Daykeepers” and other specialists who maintained and integrated their “sacred” calendar of 260 days with a “solar” calendar of 365 days. Together, various “calendar rounds” allowed these specialists to predict the future based on the influences of the gods in the past. Because the deities had personalities, past “behaviors” that resulted in hurricanes, floods, illness, death and so on, were likely to repeat. Not always, of course, but having some idea of what to expect can be comforting.
One example is contained in the 16th Century Book Of Chilam Balam Of Mani (Chilam Balam in English is “Jaguar Speaker” or “Jaguar Prophet”). It specifies days and the conditions likely to appear on them.
- 12 Kan Bad day for those of royal blood, for there will be illness and death.
- 1 Cimi Bad day. Truly the demon’s day.
- 10 Men The burner brings the fire. There is thunder.
- 13 Eznab If there is rain from the west one may plant early.
- 12 Ahaw This is a day on which wise men and writers are born.
- Wayeb days: Misfortunes, snake bites, quarrels, and dissensions.
- 5 Ben A good day for deer hunters. Hurricane winds with rain.
From the same period, an entry in The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel predicts—
“When thunder is heard in the east on March 21, it is a sign that in coming years there will be many evils such as quarrels, misfortunes, and envy. If the thunder is heard in the south, or if there is an eclipse of the sun or moon, it is a sign that there will be deadly epidemics throughout the world. The bad will come from all directions; it will be an evil period.”
A Prophecy Scene
Excerpt from Jaguar Rising p. 55
White Grandfather opened his arms and waited for the crowd to quiet. “The prophecy said the destiny of the House of Cloud—and the challenge to its rulers—was to raise temples to Lord K’in and One Maize that reach to the clouds. It said that when this is fulfilled there will be many seasons of abundance, but first, there would be trials—to determine if the people living in the Cloud territories are deserving of such abundance. Further, he said there would be two long seasons when the skin of the earth and skins of the people dry up. There will be too much water and then not enough. A mingling of strong winds from the east and west will bring black smoke, a blanket of death. It advised that we, along with the rulers, make offerings of blood and incense—and stand tall through the trials.” White Grandfather walked closer to the shelter’s roof. “Already, we have raised temples that reach the clouds. Now, if we stand tall—like a forest around our Great Tree—offering our sweat and patience to the gods, the abundance will come.”
A young warrior raised his feathered spear and called from the middle of the crowd. “With respect, did the prophecy come from the Cloud ancestors—or from the gods?”
“Our ancestors gave the prophecy that we might understand what the gods want,” the old man said.
“What do they want?” An older warrior standing beside him asked.
Rather than answer, White Grandfather removed his three-leaf headdress and held it out. Mother whispered in my ear. “Remember what tell—about Those Born First?”
“How they wore three maize leaves in their headdresses?” I answered.
She nodded. “Tipped with jade beads.”
“I forget what they were for.”
“Listen,” she said, pointing to White Grandfather.
“This is what they want,” he said. He pointed to the leaves and named them in turn: “Beauty—Respect—Gratitude. To your eyes, they look like maize leaves painted white. To our eyes, they are the seeds that, when sown in the hearts of men, flower into the coming abundance. When we make beauty in our houses and fields, when we show respect for the gods, ancestors, Our Bounty, our brothers and sisters of the caah—all that lives, when we have gratitude in our hearts for what we have been given, the gods will be satisfied. When they see the seeds of beauty, respect and gratitude growing in each of us and in the caah, they will be eager to sustain us, continue the world for another round and bring the promised abundance.”
White Grandfather gestured to the guards to stand aside so the people could get to the food. “Orderly now!” he shouted. They ignored him, pushing with such force that Mother had to pull me off my perch before the benches and crates in front of us fell over. When I looked back, despite the warriors trying to control them, people were grabbing at baskets of fish, snails, beans and squash, honey logs and manioc. Limes, palm nuts, nance, wild jicama and papayas went sprawling, and people were chasing after them. We’d been told about the drought, but having enough to eat ourselves because of Father’s trading, I finally understood how bad it was.
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
A Lineage House And Temple
Where Maya kings held council and conducted shamanic rituals
Cerros is a gem! It’s one of my favorite sites and home to Fire Eyes Jaguar, the protagonist in my novel, Jaguar Rising.
Overlooking Corozol Bay, this small-to-mid-size Late Preclassic site of 140 structures is located within two miles of the New River. With proximity to an even longer river, the Rio Hondo, and given the evidence of certain trade goods, scholars believe that Cerros may have been established by the “Snake Kings” of El Mirador—111 miles northwest—as a trading port where cargo from sea-going canoes could provision her and other large cities to the west. Goods would be transferred from large sea-going canoes into smaller river canoes destined for Lamanai, Becan and other cities to the south and west. At its height, it’s estimated that approximately 2000 people lived in and around the Central District of Cerros, which was encircled by a broad canal where traders transported their goods around the city and into the river and lagoon.
David Freidel was the lead investigator at Cerros in the late ‘70s. At one of the Maya Meetings at the University of Pennsylvania, I asked about the significance of Structure 5C-2nd. “I’d call it a We Chok Te Nah a Lineage House,” he said, “a place where you had the founding of kingship at the site. It’s a succession house and the place where kings held council. It was a temple as well as all the above. Its primary function was to serve as a spatial context for shamanic royal ritual with the focus for action upon its long stairway.”
The above photo doesn’t show the masks that were on both sides of the stairway because they were covered over to protect them. At the Cerros website you can see them beautifully reproduced. Click on the arrow at the bottom of the page to see more of the site.
In a later paper, Dr. Freidel identified the faces as representing the Maize God and Itzam Yeh, the Principal Bird Deity who fancied his powers equal to the sun. For a variety of reasons, including finds of unique trade goods, ceremonial caches and ceramics, he advanced the idea that “Preclassic kingship may have evolved more directly out of shamanic orders than out of lineage patriarchies and matriarchies.”
Consistent with the shamanic attribution, in Jaguar Rising I refer to Structure 5C-2nd as “White Flower House” because the soul or spirit conjured there is depicted in Maya art as a white flower. To ensure this association in my story, I indicate that the temple was built by White Grandfather, a displaced shamanic ruler from the enormous city El Mirador. It’s there where he counsels pilgrims, conjures gods, speaks prophecy and dances as the Maize God. A scene in the temple’s upper room has White Grandfather guiding Fire Eyes Jaguar on a drug-induced journey to the upper world as part of his initiation into manhood.
White Flower House
Excerpt from Jaguar Rising (p. 121)
ASIDE FROM LINGERING PURPLE STREAKS OVER THE WESTERN canopy, the sky was dark and clear. At my teacher’s request, the sentries who greeted him at White Flower House took their torches and stood at the east and west corners of his temple. Twenty paces out from the central stairway there was a mahogany bench, which he led me to. But we remained standing.
“Have you eaten anything?”White Grandfather asked. I shook my head. “Have you touched a female or let them touch you?”Again, I answered truly that I had not. “Then we begin your second trial. Do as we do and repeat our words.”He faced east and crossed his arms over his chest. I did the same. “We honor Lord K’in’s coming out place, the place where he rises from the underworld.” We turned and faced the remaining hint of purple where a severely bitten moon followed a lone bright wanderer making his ascent. “We honor Lord K’in’s going in place, the place where he makes his descent.” Turning again we honored the gods of the other directions, North and South. We offered our gratitude to the Thirteen Lords of Life above and the Nine Lords of the Night below. Finally, we bowed and spoke words of praise to Itzamnaaj and his spirit companion, Itzam Yeh, the great bird who dispenses life from his perch at Heart of Sky. Turning full around with open hands, I repeated my teacher’s words: “Here we stand, ordered and blessed at the center of all that is.”
The steps at White Flower House were wide and had short risers. The fifth step was actually a landing about eight strides long. I thought it strange, but we sat cross-legged on the pavement—the very spot where, at the first rite of the rainy seasons Laughing Falcon Cloud revealed himself as the maize god in both his Sky-Bearer and World Partitioner aspects. Months later, when the all-day rains stopped, he revealed himself as Itzam Yeh wearing a green feathered cloak and a helmet with the life-sustaining, twisted cords hanging from his beak.
White Grandfather pointed to the stuccoed face of the sun god in the middle of the roof. “Fix your gaze on Lord K’in there. Now look above the roof, about seven fingers—to the dark place between the three bright stars, where there is only darkness. Do you see it?”
“Just the blackness?”
“There grandson, that is Heart of Sky. Life begins there and comes down from there.” He pointed to the tall beams that rose above the temple’s roof at both ends. “If you sight the stars long enough against one of the beams, you will see how the gods and ancestors honor Heart Of Sky by circuiting around it. All that is Seven Maize, everything we know, began there and comes from there.”
Sitting cross-legged on the cold landing and in the dark talking like that was pleasant. After all that had happened that day, I didn’t even mind the sorcerer’s talk. “Is Lord Itzam Yeh really up there—perched in Heart Of Sky?”
“Dispensing his life-sustaining substance, Seven Maize. Because we cannot see it—. There is so much we cannot see, even with your young eyes.” The old man ran his finger across the bright path in the sky that Mother called The Great Serpent Way. There is the White Flower Serpent,” he said. “The path the brightest wanderers take—serpent lords entwined like vines, making one life-giving cord.”
“Where does it lead, Grandfather—the Serpent Way?”
“No one knows. But the sky gods and their brothers, our ancestors, have journeyed along that path since the beginning. Round after round.”
I’d heard that before. Mother didn’t like to think of it as a cord of entwined snakes. She preferred to think of it as the cord that carries life between a Mother and her seedling, or the cords tied to a roof beam that some women hung from to give birth. “This is how the ancestors plant their ch’ulel in us,” my teacher said. “This is why we cannot resist the way of our blood.”
I saw his trick but ignored it. When I helped him up he called for a sentry to bring a torch and he took me up the remaining steps. “With respect, grandfather,” I asked at the doorway. “If I could watch you make the journey into the upper world first, I could do it better.”
“Are you not ready for this trial, grandson?”
“I just want to do it properly. What if I do it wrong or cannot come back?”
“Did you ever dream wrong, not awaken from a dream? Journeys to the other worlds are like that. Your ch’ulel goes through the portal, but your body remains here. The ancestors show you what they want you to see, and then you return. This is how they teach us about All That Is and How Things Are.”
Inside the temple, White Grandfather set the torch in a holder on the wall and tied back the doorway drape a little to remove the thin veil of ash that lingered in the air. Following his gesture, I sat on an ocelot pelt with my back against a side wall. Painted black on the wall across from me was a medallion, a large circle with inset corners that framed the cross-eyed, shark-tooth face of Lord K’in. Taking fire from the torch with an ocoté stick, he lit some tinder in a censer. When it flamed, he added the stick and three others before setting it in front of me. He took a blue-painted calabash from under the medallion and nodded for me to take one of the many rolled-up leaves it contained. Inside the leaf was a cigar. “We wrap them with bits of copal bark,” he said, and scrapings from the backs of frogs.” It releases the ch’ulel to go through the portal.”
For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions—
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Jaguar Wind And Waves: A novel of the Early Classic Maya
Jaguar Sun: The Journey of an Ancient Maya Storyteller
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My other sites—
Love And Light greetings.com: A twice-weekly blog featuring wisdom quotes and perspectives in science and spirituality intended to inspire and empower
David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com: Black and white and color photography
Contemplative Photography: A weekly blog where a fine-art photograph evokes a contemplation
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Kenep
A delicious tropical fruit favored by the ancient and current Maya
My guide at the Maya site of Cerros, Belize picked up a small unripe fruit that had fallen from a very tall tree. There were dozens, lying all around. “This is kenep,” he explained. “It’s a local name. It ripens in the warm summer months and becomes bright orange—very tasty. Some of them get twice this size. You peel away the shell and suck on the fruit until the flesh is gone, then you spit out the stone. Kids pop ‘em like candy and make necklaces from the seeds. Believe me, it’s one of the best, most delicious tropical fruits there is. The ancients—and still today—people eat a lot of it.”
Later on, I discovered that the tree is in the soapberry family native to South and Central America and parts of the Caribbean. They can grow up to 80 ft. tall and their flowers have four petals. It’s not unusual to see them along roadsides in Belize, planted as an ornamental tree. The fruit is known as “quenepa” in Puerto Rico where it’s so abundant and appreciated, in the municipality of Ponce, they have an annual celebration called “The National Genep Fruit Festival.” Next time you’re in Belize, Cerros is a wonderful site to visit. And ask someone there to point out a kenep tree. If you live in Belize and know of this fruit, please let me know. Was my guide right about it?
Reference to the Kenep tree in—
Jaguar Rising (p. 347)
We arrived dusty and parched, eager to set our burdens down and put our feet up. Judging from the smoke on the approach, the entire region looked to be on fire due to construction. At least eight limestone kilns were pouring out smoke and fire around the central district. Slaves carried water, plaster, stucco and paint to men on scaffolds wearing wide brimmed hats to shade their faces. In one place there was so much white powder in the air we had to cover our faces to keep from choking. The limbs on many trees were bent under the weight of it.
While the women waited in the shade of a tall kenep, a sentry led us to a compound cluttered with scaffold poles, beams, cording, piles of rock and broken tools. The person in charge, a huge man with a gruff voice, introduced himself as Hammerstone Turtle. He was surprised, even befuddled, that there were so many of us. His supervisor, the minister of construction who’d visited with White Cord at Cerros, had told him that three brothers could be coming from there, possibly with their wives—but it was not likely.
White Cord’s suggestion that I wear black body paint with red over my shoulders, eyes and mouth in the manner of an unmarried hot blood turned out to be a good one. I had been standing back when this Hammerstone asked about me. Following White Cord’s gesture, I stepped forward. “I am honored to introduce my assistant,” he said. “This is Young Lord Fire Eyes Jaguar Macaw, fourth son of Lord Jaguar Tooth Macaw, the Great Tree of Kaminaljuyu. We invited him to come with us because he is on his way home—and he is an accomplished conjurer.” Although that wasn’t true, it felt good to be introduced that way. Hammerstone, whose belly was nearly as bulbous as his head, scrunched his eyebrows and looked at White Cord to see if he was joking. Seeing that he was not, he got down on one knee, touched his shoulder and gestured for the men watching to do the same.
I acknowledged their respect and released them to stand. “I am only here to assist my friends,” I said. “It appears that Uaxactun is building out as well as up—so many scaffolds and kilns, so many men.”
“With respect young lord, considering what needs to get done, we could use about a hundred more men.” After that, his words to White Cord were a bit more respectful and accommodating. As they talked, I was beginning to feel like a jaguar in a dog pen so I went outside. Several men came and went, one of them wearing an owl feather in his headband. When White Cord came out with his brothers, he said that Hammerstone had sent the messenger to the minister of construction and we had to wait for the reply.
Across the patio, some sprouts were up in the kenep dropping the sweet red fruit to friends. They offered us some, asking only that we spit the pits into a hat so their sisters could make necklaces. Immediately, it became a game to see who could spit a pit into the hat from the farthest distance. Walks In Stonewater beat everyone and we had a good laugh.
For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions—
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Jaguar Wind And Waves: A novel of the Early Classic Maya
Jaguar Sun: The Journey of an Ancient Maya Storyteller
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My other sites—
Love And Light greetings.com: A twice-weekly blog featuring wisdom quotes and perspectives in science and spirituality intended to inspire and empower
David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com: Black and white and color photography
Contemplative Photography: A weekly blog where a fine-art photograph evokes a contemplation
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ancestor Substitution
Balance and order are maintained in the cosmos and in the families that mirror it
Concepcion, Guatemala: A shaman and his mother converse with my guide
The Tzutujil Maya who live around Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, use the term k’ex “substitute, exchange” to reference various ways in which the universe maintains balance or equilibrium. The perceived order in the cosmos has to be maintained on Earth—as above, so below.
Substitution applies to generations. For instance, a child is considered a “substitute” for a deceased parent or grandparent. People are exchanged for one another through repetition, the same basic personality or temperament, even souls reoccurring through reincarnation. One person leaves, another enters. Balance.
Bringing a newborn into this world requires a replacement in the world of the dead: in this case, the deceased ancestor destined for the underworld is the k’ex for the newborn child.
Karl Taube, Maya Ethnohistorian
The shaman’s mother and grandchildren
K’ex can reference daily activities as well. Trade involves the substitution of one item for another. Anciently, the ritual calendar is a process where one deity substitutes for another in carrying the “burden” of various time periods, and crops replace the previous year’s crop.
Among the Kiché Maya, children often take the names of long-deceased grandparents, a custom not uncommon in modern American and European societies. The Zinacantan Maya of Chiapas, Mexico replace the saints and flowers on their household shrines every fifteen days. In healing, an offering of tobacco or a maize-based drink is considered a substitute for a sacrificial offering. The god receives the soul of the liquid rather than the life of the healer’s patient.
Hieroglyphic inscriptions contain references to k’ex in the context of rituals. For instance, human sacrifice was an exchange to ensure the rebirth of the cosmos. And the blood sacrifices of kings, considered the most precious gift they could offer to the gods, were substitutes for the continuing survival and prosperity of their subjects.
When a child was born, something had to be given in return, often to the gods of death and the underworld, offerings of food, copal incense and animals were considered k’ex. In Maya art, infants being carried by jaguars are likely k’ex offerings, as are infants placed in offering bowls.
A pit under Copan Altar Q contained the remains of 15 jaguars—the number of Copan kings, all k’ex offerings. And famously, the ruler of Palenque, K’inich Janaab’ Pakal, is depicted on his sarcophagus lid as sitting in an offering bowl. His is a k’ex offering of self-sacrifice, an exchange that ensures the survival of his lineage. In all things, at all times everywhere, there must be balance.
Reference to Generational Substitution
Jaguar Wind And Waves (p. 12)
IT WAS WELL KNOWN AMONG MY PEOPLE, THAT CHILDREN inherited their ch’ulel—the spirit that made them who they are—from their grandfathers. Just as a crop of maize replaces the previous crop, so our sons and daughters replaced their grandfathers, walk for them on the face of the earth. When we remember them, they are present in both our lives and the life of the caah, the community. As I was growing up I could see that this was true for everyone around me. It certainly was true for my brothers and sister. But it was not true for me. Although I knew my grandfather, respected him and laughed with him, I was my father’s daughter.
Apart from the little tattoo of a jaguar paw on my cheek, the hair on Father’s upper lip and the differences in how we wore our hair, our reflections on the water were much alike. Both our foreheads had been flattened, shaped to look like maize cobs. We both had long noses, broad cheeks, deeply folded eyelids, and our skin was the color of brown maize. Another difference, one I kept secret, was a white spot, about the size of a small lime, on my left side, under my ribs.
I delighted when visitors to the palace spoke of the likeness between my father and me. I hoped it went beyond our appearance and that, when I became a woman, I would have his manner of walking and talking, especially his determined yet kindly manner in battling the everyday storms that rained down on the Mat and flooded palace life. Although I’d seen him stern and demanding in the audience chamber, I knew him as a gentle and playful father. He carried me on his shoulders, danced to entertain me at court, and planted the thought in my head that, when I came of age I would make a “grand contribution” to our beloved Tikal.
Among foreign dignitaries, long-distance merchants, and his underlords, Father’s courage and ferocity as a warrior earned him the title, “Torch and Storm.” But at his accession to the Mat, he took the name, “Jaguar Paw.” Our lineage was Jaguar Paw. Twenty years later, celebrating his accomplishments on the completion of his first k’atun—twenty years on the Mat—the jaguar prophet introduced him as “Great Jaguar Paw.” Although he and Mother had seven children, only five survived. He also had a daughter by another woman. They sat with us at court.
We never knew Mother’s first born because he took the dark road four months after his arrival. My sister came next. She was introduced to the court as “Lady Dream Paw,” a name that suited her because her manner was soft and her steps small, making it seem like she floated across the floor, particularly when we wore long ceremonial robes. When my brother, Flint Dancer, touched the earth, the ancestors said he had the spirit of a warrior. He became one and distinguished himself as a first spear. I arrived after another son who only stayed on earth for three days.
After me came Knotted Tail, who, perhaps because he almost didn’t survive or because his skin was lighter than ours, was a worrier. He was afraid of everything. But by the time he was nine, he could outrun and count faster than any of us, except for Father. When we were just sprouts, he and I sat with some of the vendors to talk and learn how trading was done. That’s how it happened that at ten, I was the only flower in our family who could sum, place, and takeaway numbers as high as twenty-four thousand, the number of kakaw beans that Father received twice a year as tribute from his underlords.
Twelve days after I was born, Father named me Infant Jaguar,” after the twelfth ruler of Tikal. Mother said that when I began to say words, he started calling me “Palm Flower,” for the odor that was said to take a person to other worlds. At four, when it came time to present me at court, he gave me the house name in honor of the palace he’d just had constructed. At the dedication he introduced me as “Lady Jaguar Paw.”
Between my sister and me, I was the fearless one, more determined than my brothers to have my way and make Father proud. It wasn’t until he sent me to Tollan in fulfillment of his alliance with the lords there, that I took the title I came to share with my husband, Spearthrower Owl. When they raised him to “Supreme Anointer, Land of the Quetzal People,” they made us both, together, custodians of K’awiil, the lightning god who conveyed the authority to rule. From then on, because it fell to me to serve as the custodian of the living K’awiil scepter, I was sometimes introduced as Lady Jaguar Paw, Custodian of K’awiil.” I didn’t know it then, but that title—and the office and rituals that came with it—gave birth to the dark clouds that would grow into the thunderhead that took me down.
According to Mother, when the daykeeper read the seeds, beans, and crystals to divine my birth prophecy, it came clear to him—definite, and without hesitation. The ancestors said my path would be “the path of the jaguar,” and that “amidst powerful winds and waves,” I would battle “a mighty demon.” Father said that, unlike my wild temperament, the path of the jaguar was a path of listening and watching before pouncing. He said this would be my strength, and like the jaguar, I would “roam free and without fear in the forest of men.” As for the demon, neither the daykeeper nor my father knew what he would be like, but on the long journey to Tollan to take a husband, I kept an obsidian blade in my litter—the knife Mother used to cut the shell from my waist-cord when I became a woman of Tikal. As it happened, not even Father could have dreamed that the man he sent me to marry would unleash the demon.
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com
Jaguar Rising A Novel of the Preclassic Maya
Jaguar Wind And Waves: A Novel of the Early Classic Maya
Jaguar Sun: The Journey of an Ancient Maya Storyteller
_________________________________________________________________________________________
My other sites—
Love And Light greetings.com: A twice-weekly blog featuring wisdom quotes and perspectives in science and spirituality intended to inspire and empower
David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com: Black and white and color photography
Contemplative Photography: A weekly blog where a fine-art photograph evokes a contemplation
Maya Shamanism
There’s continuity between the ancient and contemporary practices
A shaman in his workshop. Catarina, Guatemala.
Shamans were specialists in ecstasy, a state of mind that allows them to move freely beyond the ordinary world, beyond death itself, to deal directly with the gods, demons, ancestors and other unseen but potent things that control the world of the living.
David Freidel, Archaeologist
The perception that everything in the cosmos is imbued with the life force and interconnected, gave rise to the practice of contacting the spirits of ancestors and gods in altered states of consciousness, asking for guidance, favors and prophecy. We can imagine that, early on, certain individuals came to rule because they were shaman. Other shaman would have been embraced by kings who wanted to take advantage of their power. For certain, shamanism became the foundation for Classic Period religious and political validation.
The shaman’s altar and offering plate (bottom left).
Maya shaman “worked” the cosmos, which they perceived as multi-layered. The nine levels of the upper world were the realm of deceased ancestors and beneficent deities. As the realm of light and life, shamans journeyed there to petition the gods for favors and appeal to them on behalf of others for healing. The thirteen levels of the underworld contained demons and malevolent gods. Being the realm of darkness and death, shamans would visit there to break evil spells or petition the demons to stop creating havoc—hurricanes, drought, flooding—in the world.
The techniques for altering consciousness included prayer, sacrificial offerings, drumming, dancing, pain, sensory deprivation and the taking of hallucinogens. Among these were Nicotiana rustica, a strain of tobacco, peyote, the Morning Glory flower and a poison from the gland of a Bufo marinus toad. One of the ways this was taken was to insert secretion from the toad’s back into a cigar that was then smoked. (Below, in a scene from Jaguar Rising, Fire Eyes Jaguar smokes his way through a portal to the underworld).
Bufo Marinus
Among the ancients and yet today, some Maya shaman believe they’re aided by their nagual, an animal companion spirit. These spirits, taking the form of a powerful animal, carry them into the other worlds. For the Maya, this was often the jaguar. Native American cultures favored the eagle and bear. A related phenomenon was shapeshifting, the projection of consciousness into an animal form itself. On the imaginary level, a shaman used the animal’s body to journey into and around the spirit world.
George Fery, writing in Ancient Origins, says of shapeshifting: “The selected animals are dedicated to specific tasks that are related to their shape, color, and behavior. What is seen is not the animal in a zoological sense, but principles and qualities considered by shamans to be embodied by these animals. These principles or qualities may be flight, speed, sharpness of sight or hearing, ability to undergo metamorphosis to camouflage, to simulate death, or to live in two worlds, such as frogs, turtles, and other amphibians. For the Yanomami of the Upper Orinoco, river otters are auxiliaries of women shamans and protectors of the tribe’s womenfolk.”
Whatever the culture, these specialists most always carry a badge of identification. Among the Zinacantan of Highland Chiapas, Mexico, a shaman-in-training travels to the lowlands to cut a bamboo staff that he’ll always carry in his left hand as a symbol of office—and a protection from dogs that might guard his client’s house. The staff is buried with him when he dies. Female shamans carry a different species of bamboo.
Today, when a Maya shaman dies, tradition says his or her soul joins the souls of other shaman at the lineage shrine where they offered their services. As the souls accumulate, the shrines become known as Warab’alja, “Sleeping Places,” and they take on increasing power. Among the K’iché of Highland Guatemala, lineages have four such shrines built in the form of small stone boxes where prayers are offered on calendar days to commemorate births, deaths, marriages, plantings and harvest.
Fire Eyes Jaguar’s Hallucinogenic Journey
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 139-141)
Inside the temple, White Grandfather set the torch in a holder on the wall and tied back the doorway drape a little to remove the thin veil of ash that lingered in the air. Following his gesture I sat on an ocelot pelt with my back against a side wall. Painted black on the wall across from me was a medallion, a large circle with inset corners that framed the cross-eyed, shark-tooth face of Lord K’in. Taking fire from the torch with an ocoté stick, he lit some tinder in a censer. When it flamed, he added the stick and three others before setting it in front of me. He took a blue-painted calabash from under the medallion and nodded for me to take one of the many rolled-up leaves it contained. Inside the leaf was a cigar. “We wrap them with bits of copal bark,” he said, and scrapings from the backs of frogs.” It releases the ch’ulel to go through the portal.”
Sitting next to me, White Grandfather removed his headgear and re-tied the three-leaf headband so it fit snug on his forehead. After adding another stick and some copal nuggets to the censer, its sweet smoke replaced the acrid smell of burnt ash, and it wafted to a hole high in the back wall. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I noticed a round feather-standard leaning against the wall next to the doorway. Tied to crossed lances in front of it was a ceremonial shield with the face of a laughing falcon on it. Beside me, arranged on a reed-mat, were ceramic cups, an incense bag and an offering bowl containing strips of cotton and square leaf-packets that were tied with string and painted red. Next to my teacher was a bundle of ocoté sticks, an incense bag, a carapace drum, rattle, grinding stone and two gourds with stoppers.
White Grandfather took one of the burning sticks from the censer and lit a cigar. “This is the holy portal,” he said, puffing to get it lit. He handed it to me and told me to take several strong puffs, each time breathing it in. I’d smoked cigars with Thunder Flute and my uncles before, even inhaled, but this was very different. It was thick and tasted like a combination of tree sap and burnt thatch. The smoke stung my nose and bit my tongue. White Grandfather set the drum, rattle and incense bag in front of him. “Keep breathing it in, grandson.” I did, but I kept coughing. “Blow some smoke to the medallion,” he said pointing. “That is the place of entry, the doorway.” I noticed that it was shaped like the bottom part of a turtle shell, rounded except for inset corners. And it seemed to have been painted blue. “Fix your eyes on it,” he said, tapping the little drum with a thin white bone. Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap. On and on, always three taps and a pause. “Breathe it in, grandson…”
My teacher chanted in a whispery voice, words having to do with good sight, good happenings and good remembering. I passed him the cigar but he shook his head. “We remain behind—to guide you. Do what we ask, answer our questions as you journey along. All will become clear. There is nothing to fear.” He chanted again, louder, adding some rattle sounds in the pauses between taps on the drum. This went on so long, twice he bumped his knee against mine—hard, probably to keep me from dozing off.
“The MEDALLION IS QUIVERING, GRANDFATHER.”
“Fix your gaze on the dark center, grandson. Relax and allow yourself to go through.” The tapping stopped and I felt a damp cloth, first on my brow and then on the back of my neck. “Close your eyes now.” As I did, he tied the cloth over my eyes. Amazingly, faintly, I could still see the quivering medallion, only now it was definitely blue turning purple with blackness growing in the center. “Keep puffing, grandson. Breathe in the smoke.” More and more of the medallion was becoming black. Suddenly, I felt something in my hand. Wood. “What do you see, grandson?”
Suddenly I saw my Little Owl. “My canoe, Grandfather!” The loudness of my voice startled me. After that, I whispered. “I see Little Owl—clearly as when I painted her feathers.”
“Look around. Where are you?”
White Grandfather’s voice seemed to be coming from inside me, the sound filling me like a hollow jar. “In the canoe, in Little Owl.” What I said is not right. I am not in the canoe, I feel like I am the canoe.
“What is happening?”
“Floating—smooth—on a black river. Waterlilies all around. Maybe sky wanderers.”
“There are others with you.”
“As he said this they appeared. “Paddlers,” I reported. “One in front, one in back. They paddle slowly, but we are moving fast. Shining black water. Floating white flowers. Fast but smooth—like a pond at night.” With each comment there seemed to be two of me, one watching the canoe and whispering as if from the sky, the other looking ahead at the river of stars in the distance as we approached them.
“You know the paddlers.”
The one at the bow had his back to me but I knew who he was. “White Cord! My uncle.” It made no sense, how could he be there? Suddenly I felt like I was myself, the river, the canoe, the paddlers and their paddles all at once. No difference.
“White Cord has jaguar ears and paws, does he not?”
I hadn’t noticed. “He does—and black spots on his body.”
“The paddler behind you is old, is that so?”
I knew without even turning. “Very old. Without teeth. Red eyes.”
“A stingray spine through his nose?”
“And wrinkled skin.”
“Look ahead, grandson. What do you see?”
“Ayaahh! Faster now, much faster but still smooth. Passing through waterlilies. The sky all around is green, bright green streaming down and waving like curtains. In the distance there is a tall tree—of stars. Everything is quivering. Approaching the tree, the quivering—Ayaahh! The branches are snakes!”
“Beyond the tree—what do you see?”
“A great forest of starry trees—all quivering. Blue, yellow, green—they move together, like in a dance. Their colors, they are so—”
“The colors are holy breath, grandson, streaming out from Heart Of Sky—all that you see is alive there—one living thing.”
“Slowing now. The forest—the trees are headless serpents, hundreds of them, all quivering and rising up like a curtain—uncountable serpents—green and red and purple. It feels like something is holding us back. Now they have heads—pointed like spear points and with big red eyes, all of them coming up, streaming up, out from a sea of blackness—heads to tails that seem never to end. Even these, seem to be me. “Ayaahh! An armadillo with bright white eyes! Enormous! Coming through the curtain of—now they are flaming feathered serpents, still quivering. In front of them is the armadillo—rising big as a tree—glaring at me.”
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback novels and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Ancient Maya Color Symbolism
I’m standing in front of Rosalila, a life-size replica of a 6th century shrine, the centerpiece of the museum at the Copan, Honduras Archaeological Park. Although the structure was completely buried, it was found whole and in excellent condition with much of the original paint.
Inside, there were ceramic incense burners containing charcoal, two of which were resting on sculpted, stone jaguar pedestals. There were offerings of flint knives for sacrificing, nine elaborate ceremonial scepters wrapped in a deep blue bundle, carved jade jewelry, conch shells, stingray spines (for bloodletting rites), shark vertebrae, jaguar claws and the remains of flower petals and pine needles. The themes depicted in stucco around the structure are cosmological, emphasizing K’inich Ahau, the sun god, patron of Maya kings and namesake of K’inich Yax K’uk Mo’, founder of the Copan dynasty.
By the Late Preclassic (200 BC), the colors being used on architecture, monuments and clothing had clearly defined symbolic meanings.
- Red = East, sun, blood, sacrifice
- Yellow = South, food (maize)
- White = North, resplendent
- Black = West, Venus, water, regeneration
- Green = Precious, life-force
- Blue = Sacredness, divinity, sacrifice
Blue
Indigo. Pieces are ground into a power. The blue color deepens each time it’s exposed to the air.
The paint color referred to as “Maya Blue” eluded scientists for many years. Finally, it was determined to be part of the indigo-attapulgite clay complex. In pre-Columbian times it was mined at Sacalum, about 45 miles south of Merida, Yucatan. By mixing white palygorskite clay with the indigo-attapulgite they were able to create seven tones of blue ranging from ultramarine to Caribbean Sea blue. Even after centuries, the color barely faded. It defies exposure to acids, alkalis and solvents, and resists natural biodegradation. The color was used on gods, beads, serpents’ bodies, feathers, thrones, staffs, mirrors, mat motifs and depictions of divine infants, dwarfs and human sacrifices.
Yellow
Yellow was made by grinding iron oxide into a powder. The color could also be made from hematite. Both minerals are rare in the Maya area, found exclusively in the mountains of Guatemala and Honduras. Yellow was used on depictions of jaguar tails and spots, certain god elements and cross-hatched areas on sculptures and vases.
Cream
This color was derived from plants. In addition to red and black, cream colors were commonly used on the exterior of Middle Preclassic buildings. At Palenque the color was made by adding bark extract to thinned lime plaster to retard its curing.
White
As a symbol of royalty and purity, white was only worn by elites. On buildings, it was used as a base coat to prepare the surface for color. Lime stucco made from dolomitic limestones (most of the geology of the Yucatan Peninsula) provided the white. Its brightness was altered by the purity of the lime source and by mixing additional materials into it. High-fired lime was used as the final priming surface for color. An alternative source for white was grinding mollusk shells (calcium carbonate) to make a paste.
Green
Green paint was made by glazing Maya Blue with yellow iron oxide. Malachite was used to produce green in murals, and there were five different tones of it. Green was mostly used to paint quetzal feathers that were strictly reserved for the headdresses of rulers.
Black
Black was derived from carbon—charcoal and burnt bone. Both permanent and stable as a pigment, it was used to paint obsidian weapons and outline the red of certain buildings. Mixed with other colors on murals and sculptures it denoted hair and jaguar spots. Black was the dominant color of hieroglyphs on all surfaces, including the written records—codices.
Red
Red was considered the color of life (blood). It was associated with the middle world. The paint was made from either hematite or iron oxide from ant hills. Hematite can produce colors from dark orange browns to bright reds. Found in the volcanic highlands of Guatemala, it was an expensive import for the lowland sites. Small amounts of hematite produces an intense color that’s chemically stable.
The brightest red came from cinnabar, which is also found in the highlands, specifically in volcanic veins. Archaeologists often find royal remains covered in the powder. Symbolically, cinnabar provided the deceased with spiritual blood for the afterlife. An amazing example of this is the Tomb of the Red Queen at Palenque. In today’s terms, the value and use of cinnabar would be equivalent to completely covering a corpse in gold dust.
Cochineal. The insects are toasted and dried in the sun
To color textiles they used cochineal, derived from colonies of bacteria that live on prickly pear cactus. The dye has excellent light and wash fastness and produces a powerful range of fuchsias, reds and purples.
In the Late Preclassic (200 BC—200 AD), the combination of red and black was most common, symbolizing the path of the sun from east (red) to west (black).
Purpura patula.
Purple
A highly prized and colorfast deep purple for both paint and dye was obtained from a Pacific mollusk called purpura patula. Today in Mexico, the Mixtec and Oaxaca’s still search the seashore for this wide-mouthed shell. They squeeze juice from the glands onto yarns and return the shell to its home, to be used again the following season.
Holtun, Guatemala (1000—300 BC). After walking four yards into this looter’s tunnel I went another ten yards on hands and knees.
What I came to were several pieces of painted sculpture. They were too difficult to identify, but given the location they were likely part of a large frieze on the front of a temple. It would represent a king and perhaps references to his human and divine ancestors.
Fire Eyes Jaguar Paints a Shrine to the Ruler’s Son
Excerpt From Jaguar Rising (p. 433-434)
Lord Tapir dismissed Charcoal but he asked me to stay. The steward was still standing behind the throne with a baton in his folded arms, and the scribe made creases in a length of bark paper. And as always I could feel Blood Shark standing behind me. Every flick of the lord’s fly sweep made my insides tighten, wondering if he’d learned the truth about Thunder Flute and me.
“Fire Eyes Jaguar—.” His tone was unusually friendly. “Charcoal Conjurer tells us you know how they made the paint used on the shrine walls at First True Mountain—the bright red. Is that true?”
“With respect, it is.” Paint? He wants to talk about paint?
“Could you make that paint here?”
“If I had the ingredients.”
“What would you need?”
“They use a greater quantity of red hematite. To make it thick so it adheres better they put in powdered mollusk shell. To make it shine after it dries, they make a mixture of powdered mica with some clay powder and the juice of a certain orchid that grows on trees with morning sunlight. I know it when I see it. Also, there is a trick to adding the blood and mixing it.” Through my description he kept nodding.
“We can arrange for it, the blood as well. As the place where we will conjure the ch’ulel of our first son, the paint must be delectable to the gods. Do you understand?”
With all the grinding and mixing I’d done for my uncles I knew their secrets, so I assured the lord that I could make the paint delectable. “With respect Lord Tapir, may I ask if Charcoal Conjurer knows about this?”
Distracted by a squawking parrot, he ignored my question. “Construction of the conjuring house should be completed in three moons. That gives you less than twenty k’inob to gather what you need and make the paint. You will paint the walls inside and conjure our ancestors on the outside. It must all be completed before the first rains.”
“There will be conjuring?”
Lord Tapir gestured to the scribe with his fly-sweep. “This is how it shall be—Charcoal Conjurer will give the conjuring house its outer skin in Tikal red. Fire Eyes Jaguar will give the interior walls a skin of bright red, the one used in the shrines at Uaxactun. He will also conjure four of our ancestors, one on the four outside corners of the shrine. The circle of conjurers will provide the ingredients, tools and brushes. Fire Eyes Jaguar and his attendants will gather the rest. We will provide the sacrificial blood.” Lord Tapir waited for the scribe to catch up.
“After the first drop of color touches the chamber walls, only those with ancient blood may enter. Fire Eyes Jaguar alone will build his scaffolds and paint the interior. When that is completed, he alone will remove the scaffolds and broadleaves—and anything else.” He paused again.
I see now, he wants me to do the inside walls because my blood is hot.
“Before Fire Eyes Jaguar begins his conjurings on the outside corners, Charcoal Conjurer will conjure a Precious Night sky-band around the medial molding. He is not to enter the chamber and there will be no torches inside. No sandals. No food or women. When the skins are dry inside and out, Fire Eyes Jaguar—he alone—will conjure the ancestors, showing them standing guard in clouds of holy breath. Until we perform the fire-entering and dedication rites, Charcoal Conjurer and Fire Eyes Jaguar are the only ones permitted up the steps. Sentries will be posted to ensure that our words are carried out. This is how it shall be.”
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback books and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Ancient Maya Ancestor Veneration
The continuation of wisdom and support
The old men used to say that when men died, they didn’t perish, they once again began to live. . . They turned into spirits or gods. — Alfred Tozzer, American anthropologist
This is likely a noble ancestor depicted on the frieze of a council house at Copan, Honduras.
Among the ancient Maya, evidence of ancestor veneration shows up around the first century B.C. At that time, decisions were being made about the inheritance of land use. Land was not owned, but the right to use it was handed down. The principle of first occupancy gave preferential access to a man’s descendants because his house was built over his deceased ancestors who came to be regarded as guardians of the house and proximate fields and forests. When the ancestor was the founder of a lineage and a pyramid-temple was of raised on the site, it would be called his nah “house.” And the entire site would be considered “the home of…”
Ancestor veneration ultimately is not about the dead, but about how the living make use of the dead; it’s a type of active discourse with the past and future, embodying the centrality of Maya understanding of death and rebirth.
Mark Wright, Anthropologist
While ancestor veneration provided the rules of inheritance, it often created conflict between household heads and their heirs. Maya anthropologists observe that ancestor veneration promotes and perpetuates inequality and alienation from resources within the household as well as the polity. In times of hostility, the tombs of royal ancestors were plundered. Naranjo Stela 23 (Guatemala) records the desecration of the tomb of a Yaxha Lord.
Kings often venerated their ancestors by having their heads float above them on monuments, facing down at the top of the composition. Piedras Negras Stela 5 shows the king’s ancestor beneath the Principal Bird Deity at the top. The Maya regarded the human head as the place from which breath, the vital force, emanates. A Maya text confirms this —
Each ancestor guards the boundaries of his land. When the spirit leaves (the body), the head goes with the spirit, just down to his shoulders. His strength and his head and his heart go wherever they want to. The head and face confer honor as well as being honored.
In the Classic Period, ancestor veneration was politicized, used to sanction elite power and authority. Kings would enter their ancestor’s burial vault and perform ceremonies involving fire and the sprinkling of blood and incense. This is depicted on Piedras Negras Stela 40 and Tikal Alter 5.
In some places the kings deified their ancestors. This, of course, meant they inherited divine blood. And it put them on a trajectory toward becoming deified after death. Further, a king could make the case to his royal household that his ancestors—and later themselves—would protect them and guard them against usurpers when “they took the dark road.” Died. When several generations of ancestors were buried in the same location, a pyramid-shrine could be built over it, and continuously expanded. This made the place sacred, in some cases a pilgrimage destination.
Idols of the apotheosized ancestors were often the recipients of sacrificial offerings. Made of wood and painted blue, these figures were heirlooms that were passed down through the generations. Spanish chronicles indicate that these idols were carved during the Maya month of Mol’ and the preferred wood was cedar.
They made wooden statues and left the back of the head hollow, then burned part of the ancestor’s body and placed the ashes in it and plugged it up… kept in their houses… great veneration… made offerings to them so they’d have food in the other life.
Frey Diego de Landa, Spanish priest
Not all dead relatives were venerated, only lineage heads and people of position. Their remains were treated preferentially. Both men and women were candidates for ancestor status. Because the bones of deified ancestors were sacred, they were kept in bundles with other sacred objects. Considered relics that contained power, these objects frequently appear beside kings seated on thrones depicted on painted vases.
Vase rollout photo courtesy of Justin Kerr
Here, the bundle containing ancestor relics sits on the throne behind the king, under the feathers being presented to him. Below the throne is a vase containing tamales dripping with sauce, perhaps chocolate.
Maya iconographer Carl Taube observed that “Only kings or other high nobles could look forward to resurrection and a return to this diurnal paradise and dwelling place of the gods and euhemerized ancestors, called Flower World or Flower Mountain. Flower Mountain is depicted in Maya art not only as the desired destination after a ruler‘s death, where he would be deified as the Sun God, but also as the paradisiacal place of creation and origin. Evidence for the belief in Flower Mountain dates to the Middle Formative Olmec (900-400 B.C.) and is also attested to among the Late Preclassic and Classic Maya as well, from about 300 B.C. – A.D. 900.”
Maya communities today maintain lineage shrines that go back many generations.
The source for much of this information is A Study of Classic Maya Rulership by anthropologist Mark Wright’s 2011 Dissertation.
A Healer’s Advice: Gather Your Ancestors Around You
Excerpt From Jaguar Wind and Waves (p. 141-142)
Whenever your husband—or anyone else—says or does something that ruffles your leaves, stand tall and watch. Let it blow past you. The amaté neither blames nor scolds the wind. It thinks not of lashing back. It knows it has deep roots. It trust that it will hold.”
“By roots you mean my ancestors?”
She nodded. “Call out to them by name. Ask them for strength when the winds blow strong, when the waves threated to drown the real you. You were brought up trusting and revering your ancestors, were you not?”
“I was. But I was also taught to speak up, not let a man treat me like a dog.”
“The greater part of standing and watching is knowing who you are and what you stand for. The warrior has his shield, the turtle has its shell, the house has its roof. Human beings hold to the truth of who they are in order not to be crushed.”
“I have become so busy with the household, my children, and my husband’s torments, I have lost the truth of who I am. That is what I want back. So whatever he says or does, you want me to just stand and watch? Say nothing? Do nothing?”
Lady White Gourd nodded. “For now, until your flower is whole again. When he sings a song or dances a dance that offends you, stay steady inside yourself. Allow it and listen. You do not have to be offended or hurt by anyone. Choose not to be hurt. Let the winds blow past. Offer no resistance. Just stand firm. Remember your roots and say to yourself: ‘stop, drop and endure.’ No resistance, not even in thought. Put away the part of you that wants to resist. And let the wind and wave pass. Then, as quickly as possible, remove yourself to a quiet place where you can be alone. Gather your ancestors around you like a blanket, and offer words of gratitude for what they have given you. Name it—what you received from them. And ask them to calm the storm.”
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For a brief description of The Path Of The Jaguar novels: Go to the Home Page—Novels
Links To Amazon.com for paperback novels and Kindle Editions
Jaguar Rising: A novel of the Preclassic Maya
Jaguar Wind And Waves: A novel of the Early Classic Maya
Jaguar Sun: The Journey of an Ancient Maya Storyteller
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Ancient Maya Cultural Traits 