Temples of the Mist: Mayan 6th Sun

AN EPIC OF FAITH AND LOVE The ancient Mayan amulet opened a door that couldn't be closed at my whim. The visions were frightening - from the Mayan lady at Chichen Itza with her premonition, to the woman and child forced to jump to their deaths into the Sacred Well. I was 17 years old and had just been told about my parents' freak airplane accident in the Lacandon Jungle of Chiapas, Mexico. It devastated me beyond belief. The only bright star was hope that she was alive somewhere, and that I would find her. My other bright star was Dune - a guy who seemed to read me like a book and whose sparkling eyes took me to a special place. It was that place where every girl wanted to go. I lost my breath and grew warm all over at the sight of him. Butterflies and tingling usually followed every time he touched me. He was the only one that seemed to help me overcome the overwhelming grief. My journey to find her would force me to face evil head-on, and I would see the worst in people; but I would also find genuine kindness and love from friends and strangers. The powerful and beautiful spotted jaguar that followed me around would guide me on that journey of self-awareness, love, and knowledge that could save mother earth before it was too late, but to get there I would have to travel back in time and face unspeakable horrors. There was a heavy mist making the visibility difficult as the Lacandon Jungle canopy came up over the horizon. It was damp, green, full of life, sounds and smells. Just over the next mountain were the most precious of Mayan cities and the ruins that had withstood time.

From the Back Cover

My last thought of Dune was when I was leaving and he accompanied us to LAX. He carried my suitcase all the way to the check-in desk. I wasn't quite sure how to react when he turned and faced me with tears in his beautiful green eyes. He hugged me so tight I thought I would lose my breath. "I'll be here for you always, Cali. I'm so sorry about your parents," he said as he took off without looking back. I could tell he was a little embarrassed at this show of emotion. For a guy I guess it would be traumatic. Wow, I thought it was so hot that he showed he cared. When we got to Chichen Itza, the first thing that hit me like a tidal wave was the heat, but when I saw the Pyramid Kukulcan, the heat seemed a small price to pay for the sheer beauty and mystical energy surrounding me. I lost my breath and swallowed hard at the tingling sensation I felt. The guide told us the temple was built around 850 AD, at the height of the classical era of the ancient Mayans, and was believed to have been used as a large solar calendar. He took us inside the temple and up a steep stairway to a room where you could see the King's tomb. "This is freakin' awesome," I murmured to Aunt Bette. "You can say that again," she replied. We were both whispering and weren't sure why. "Beautiful ....," said Aunt Bette breathing heavily, as we made it back down. We headed north to the Well of Sacrifice.It was the size of a ball stadium, and crater-like with formations of rock on its huge sides. There was a deep drop to the murky green water below. What should have been a beautiful cenote - a sacred well with clear water - seemed ominous and toxic. The guide explained that in ancient times people were thrown into the Well of Sacrifice, about 100 feet down, for sacrifices to the Gods. Skeletons of men, women and children had been found in its depths. As he talked, I suddenly had a horrifying vivid vision of an ancient time, and a Mayan woman and child being pushed into the Well by two men dressed in loincloths prodding them from behind with their lances. The woman turned her head and looked straight at me with a desperate and pleading look in her eyes, and then jumped to her death with her child. It lasted for a minute, but it was enough to send shivers up and down my body. I shuddered and felt faint as I grabbed on to Aunt Bette's arm, tears streaming down my face. "Are you okay, dear?" asked Aunt Bette taking a look at my very pale face. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't like it here," I said wide-eyed, trying to hide my fear and maintaining my composure. "This place gives me a bad vibe," I said as I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I took a long swig of water from my water bottle, and I tried to keep my eyes away from the Well and that horrible vision. "Cali, why don't you walk around, take some pictures, and pick up some souvenirs? You can go ahead of us and I'll stay here with Marsh. We can later meet up at the ball court, but stay close," she warned as she looked at me sternly. "Don't talk to strangers and answer your cell phone if I call." "Thank you Aunt Bette. I promise I will." It's just what I wanted to hear. The Well of Sacrifice was making me literally sick and I was finding it hard to breathe. I was haunted by the face of that woman right before she jumped in the Well with her child. I had to get out of there. Once I walked away from the Well area, I felt the change immediately and could breathe better. It was a bit of a trek back to the main site, but I got lost in thought walking through the pathway lined on both sides with vendors selling every Mayan artifact you could think of - ashtrays, blankets, jewelry. I stopped to buy a little replica of the great Temple of Kukulcan we had just visited, and a pretty little doily with the words "Recuerdo de Chichen Itza" embroidered in pink letters. Every dusty step that took me away from the Well made me feel better. I gently took my new camera out of my backpack. Besides my other interests, I had dreamed of becoming a photographer some day. Maybe I could work at mom's newspaper and be the photographer who would go out on the field with her. The camera was a gift for Christmas from mom and dad. I grew terribly sad and nostalgic as I looked down at the black digital Canon with a zoom lens and remembered Christmas morning. I'd gotten up tired and hungry, and there was a camera lying on my pillow with a red ribbon around it - no box or anything, just a little note from mom and dad, To our beautiful daughter. May you capture the beauty that surrounds you. I felt a tear drop fall, slowly roll down my check, and land on my camera. "God, I totally took them for granted and now they're not here to enjoy this with me." I felt miserable and missed them so much it hurt. It was a chore getting motivated at the thought of them. The pain still came and went like waves hitting me in a churning ocean. There was also the guilt of having fun when I should be grieving. I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand and let the pain slowly ebb away as I started walking around the incredible ruins taking pictures. I was glad I had made the extra effort when I marveled at the temples and platforms, and at humankind and its ingenuity. "What an astonishing place," I was blown away at the sheer artistry as I took pictures of everything that captivated me. To think I had almost forgotten the camera when I went running out of the house. I'd grabbed it last minute off my night stand, almost forgetting it in the haste to get packed and out the door. I gazed at the statue of the Chac Mool and the Platform Venus. Then I worked my way to the Temple of Jaguars where I saw the stone jaguar and feathered serpent columns and murals. You had to really study the murals, as many of the carvings had worn through the years, but once your eye focused on an image, it was unbelievable - it was like you were deciphering a message from thousands of years ago. It was hard to believe the Mayans chiseled the hieroglyphs and constructed the site without any machinery. Everything in this place had been worked on with primitive tools. There were lots of stories to be told here. I could feel it right down to the core of my being. I was sure plenty of things had happened in this city at the height of its time. Kings had made important decisions here in what was considered the capital of the Mayan civilization, and gruesome sacrifices were also made. Just the fact that the city had been built in this location due to the Sacred Well was proof of that.

About the Author

Julia Maganini graduated from Florida International University with a Bachelor of Science Degree in mass communications, and she lives with her husband and daughter in Florida (previous works published in the Miami Herald and South Florida Business Review)

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