Art: Gigi

Hello Everyone, this reflection was primarily inspired by Aztec Mythology. The prophecy comes from the legends associated with Mictecacíhuatl, the Lady of the Land of the Dead and Protector of the Bones and Souls of her Children/Warriors. Mictecacíhuatl is responsible for protecting the bones of the fallen warriors on earth and the bones of the mundane. Mictecacíhuatl is simply a symbol, an archetype of death. While this piece of reflection focuses primarily on the different lively apparitions of the mother of the of light throughout centuries and its evolution, the polarity is also presented in the form of death, which is personified as Mictecacíhuatl from the Aztec culture. The Mexican Tradition known as “Dia de Los Muertos” extends from the prehispanic Aztec reverence to the Lady of the Land of the Death.

In the silence of the open skies, I stood praying for perception. And just like that, the lighting of the divine mother came down to crack the bones of my spine and my hands. She knew I was hurt. She came to awaken my serpent of creation. She knew exactly where to place her energy to heal my wounds. The emotional pain vanished. I am one with the cycles of life. And just like that, the physical ailments of my anatomy were once again in utter harmony with the natural ancient energies of vitality. A new beginning had come. The dawn of a new chapter in the book of life had just begun. A new set of empowering and devotional virgin eyes she gave me. I could see the pure hearts of the mountains covered in the dew of the crepuscule pulsating in synchrony with the blinking of my virgin eyes. I could hear the blue dancing feathers of the canaries in the currents of amazement. I could feel the toxic gasses and the daily stresses of the Whore of Babylon escaping through my breaths. A river of golden suns surrounded me. And in the river of the silver moons, she washed. And in the river of the silver moon, she was a siren of the light. A river of transparent energy enveloped me. My fears and worries exited my body. My apocalypse had come to a culmination. The morning had taken over the night. The clouds moved. The rooster welcomed the twilight of the moon. The room became brighter. I am an alchemist of my spirit, and with a gentle hammer, I craft my path in the fountain of wisdom with visions of acceptance, kindness, openness, and compassion.

I remember opening my eyes and seeing brighter than ever. The indigenous sacrament, the divine molecule of the all-seeing infinite mother traveled from the material world to the universal cells of my DNA. I could see the inside of myself. I could see everyone inside myself. The mother was in me as I am one with the cosmic egg of ever-lasting and ever-expanding love. She extended her crescent arms, and I could see her smile made of stars. The walls of my body were covered in blood-like red tapestry. I could see golden spirals carved within the walls of blood inside my body. I could see a universe within the fabric of my veins. And as I walked through the roads of my veins, I could see my life playing in the red tapestry all around me. The tapestry became screens of myself in different stages of my existence. Some were happy memories of the best moments of my life, but others were as dreadful as the killing of a sentient being. And in one of those screens, I found myself in the middle of a dark room lonely with no windows. My legs were atrophied. My smile was gone. My heart was an opalescent cemetery of dead roses. The hope was gone. Puddles of tears of blood surrounded me. I cried streams of sufferings. My cells were traumatized. My cells were imbalanced. My cells were no longer aligned with the rays of the omnipotent sun of my soul and the soul of the fountain of creation. I felt alone. The arms of my heart hugged the earth, and I bowed. The arms of my heart hugged the earth and I thanked her. I opened my eyes and I realized that this was only a peak to a possible and undesirable outcome. I saw a conceivable version of myself in the future. I saw a version that I chose not to become. I saw a version that today I happily choose to transform before it becomes a palpable reality. I saw a version of what the Whore of Babylon can do to myself should I choose to continue to walk through the illegitimate dark path that has been constructed right in front of me to provoke incessant agony and sorrow. I now have a voice. I am now in touch with my emotions. My heart is no longer a stone. My hair may turn gray in the wheel of life, but the scorching ashes of my virgin eyes will always be ready to illuminate life with the light of the universe.

I found comfort in the silence of the night. I am an alley cat and the night is my shadow. I follow the moon, and the horizon is clearer than ever. I cultivate the light, and galloping through the earth I go planting moons and stars in the dawn of the veins of the earth. To heal the internal mother is to heal the whole. To heal the mother is to heal the planet. The cleansing began the minute the mother molecule of the infinite of nothingness made contact with my organic self. As I blink multiple times, my vision adjusted. I could see the luminous rays of the sun in every particle around me. I can still vividly see the pure auras of every object come to life. The glow was marvelous. The glow was magic in the first light of my virgin eyes. The glow was love in the eyes of my gentle heart. “I am light. I am no darkness. I am light. I am not darkness,” I screamed to the four winds. A voice inside me whispered “eres luz y nada mas” “eres luz y nada mas.” A voice inside me whispered, “You are light as you are the shadow. You are light as you are a shadow.” And with both of my hands, I pushed the sphere of dirt and the muddy waters and the dying flames and the weakening turbulent winds of my past. I needed to be purified with the sacred energy of the void. And with both of my hands, I pushed the fiery ball of hate and anger out of my body, mind, and spirit.

The void persistently empowers us to nurture our energy and the energy around us. The void empowers us to heal ourselves and those around us. The void empowers us to face our authentic and inherent self. She empowers us to celebrate the paradise, earth, the sanctuary of life that she has given us to explore our polarity. She empowers us to become the best of us. Her contemplating eyes are everywhere. She has no name, but her children have constructed many identities. She goes by none of the names for she is adept to reading the frequencies of her creatures. She is the bones of the emerging Aya-Knights of the sun. She is the rainbow light of my eyes, and she is ready for new sovereignty. Her home is in the oceans and in the rivers and in the lakes of evergreen trees. She is a spider and in the web of life, she moves. She is a Mayan Goddess. She is an Aztec Warrior. She is a wondrous gypsy of the sacred lands. She is a high priestess of Atlantis. She is Iris. She is Abundia. She is Ishtar. She is Venus. She is the mother of the Ravens. She is Athena, the sage and guardian of the sacred mysteries of the tree of life.

She has always been there facing the ageless horizon. And there she was walking naked through the deserts. And there she was naked with her long hair twirling in the wind. In her purple eyes, I could see the golden dawn of a new age. In her black hair the perfumes of the past could still be heard. Owl wings she had, and in the sands of the universe, she wrote her name. The oceans sang as her feet touched the primordial waters. Owl wings she had, and in the sands of the universe, she wrote her name. She was no ordinary being. She is the light of the first and the last twilight. She is the crystal shadow of the void. And in the fertile sea, she plants her knowledge. And in the wind she plants fire. And on the earth she plants water. And the sun, and the moon, and the stars are the loyal witnesses of her transformation. In the fertile sea, she is an epic whale. In the skies, she is a dragonfly. And on the earth she buries herself. And in the darkness of the earth, she waits patiently to bloom. In the fire, she is my breath. She is the so-called mother of demons. She is the so-called Queen of Hell. She is the monkey of life. She is the so-called Satan’s consort. She is the so-called huntress of men. Her name is Lilith and she is the muse of my heart. Her name is Mary and she is also known as Tonatzin. She is the mother of the serpents. She is Yemanja of the ancient waters. She is Mu, and in her hands, she carries the torch of enlightenment. She is Inca Shipiba and pyramids of knowledge she builds on earth. She is Sabina and sharing cosmic wisdom is in her nature. She is the mother of the night. She is Mictecacíhuatl, the Lady of the Land of the Dead and protector of the bones and souls of her children. She is Mictecacíhuatl and humility is reflected through her eyes. She is the protector of emerging Aya-Knights of the sun. She is Mictecacíhuatl and through the universe, she travels collecting the bones of the fallen warriors. And through the oceans and the lands and the skies, she goes collecting the honor and sacrifice of her children. And stronger she gets until she is ready once again to give birth to a generation made from the bones of our ancestors fused with the morning rays of the sun. This time they are known as Aya-Knights and the living death runs in their blood. They are the warriors of the earth. They are the protectors of life.

She is Sabina and she welcomes even the dark ones who devour the flesh of our ancestors. She is perceptive. She has lost children before. She has been hated by many for revealing the secrets of innocence. She has been ostracized but she has also touched the glory of the morning. She has also gifted her creatures with the ability to know themselves. She is the archetype of the healer. She is the archetype of the grandmother. She has been burned on stake by many in previous centuries, but she has learned to speak with the fire. She has learned to connect with the fire because fire radiates from her spine. She has been deceived by many. She has been lured with mortal sounds. She is at the center nothing but innocence. She has been raped and accosted. She has been tricked, stabbed, dragged, and poisoned. Yet, she continues to evolve and to transform in peace and every day she gets stronger because the Aya-Knights support her vision.

She leaves her ruins, her pyramids, and her precious antiquities behind in the hope that future warriors of the bones of her illuminating sun will not make those same mistakes. She leaves her knowledge buried in the earth. She leaves her mysteries behind with the purpose of guiding alchemists back to their essence. She is water and in the waters of my eyes, she swims like the siren that she is. She is a tigress and a lioness of the black moon. She is a peacock and with her feathers, she cleanses herself and the parasitic creatures on her flesh. She is a teacher and the wisdom of the owls she protects. She is a peacock of the rainbow and in the sacred waters of the stars, she gives birth to the Amazonian sirens of the light. She is apocalyptic as she is the dawn of a new age. She is the mother of the emerging Aya-Knights of the sun blooming from the cracks of the cemented streets. She is a spider and her beauty weaves imagination. She is a peacock and in her feathers, she carries the eyes of transformation.

“Breath, quiet the mind, and follow my icaros,” she whispers. I realize once again that the past, the present, and the future are one. I realize that to heal in the present is to heal the past. I realize that to heal in the present is to heal the future that is yet to be constructed with our perception in the present moment. We write our odyssey across the sand of the oceans with the blood of our veins. There are rivers of energy all around us. The light is omnipresent. Our blood is the earth of the skies. The earth is the life of the blood. Visions are painted. Profound sadness you feel. The crying begins and my salty tears cleanse the space around me. I breathe and my fears escape my body. I breathe and my worries run to the rivers of energy all around us. The energy around purifies us. The energy around us cannot be and nor will be controlled, but it can assist us to reconcile our relationship with the earth. She is nature and nature is all around us. She is love and compassion she feels towards her self-destructive creatures. She is a Creatrix and her magic can be seen in her authenticity. She is a creatress and not only with her vagina she crafts life. She is a Creatrix and she creates with her dreams and with her thoughts, and with her praying, and with her silence, and with her soul and with her words, and with her presence. She is the seed of life that waits in the darkness to ascend towards the light. Pachamama is as profound and repetitive as the waves of the ocean but never the same. She is cosmic vitality as she is at the center of the Creatrix. She is a symbol of virility and from her body men, women, and cultures are born. She is a symbol of fruitfulness and her image shapes civilizations and the different modalities of thought. She is as indigenous as she can and will always be. She is sophisticated and refined for she has done it all and perfection she has mastered. She is the precious chalice of transformation. She offers no more than the truth. She offers the understanding of birth, death, and rebirth for she is La Fruta Madre de La Luz y la Sombra. She is the one that decides when to cut the umbilical cord. She is a singularity.

The archetype of the mother welcomes you to the heart and soul of your sanctuary. She reminds us to explore our history and to connect with our ancestral lineage. Megalithic societies of the past were matrilineal. Women placed at the apex of the civilization were birth-givers. The cosmic mother appears over and over throughout history. She is sometimes a vulture. She is sometimes the moon. She is sometimes a serpent. Always living. Always transforming. Always dying. She is never the same yet she is the Mother of the Bronze Age as she is the Mother of the 21st Century. Follow her cyclic frequency and feel the earth-altering love and compassion of her wondrous soul! You are the clay. You are the crafter. You are living art. Metamorphosis runs in our blood. Her Neolithic wisdom is and will always be you.