It was certainly adorning the landscape of my growth in awareness. In Latin, volute means spiral or scroll, and spiralis means spire or coil. My pranayam practice deepened my respiration (spirare = to breathe, in Latin) as I followed my Tantric spiritual path in order to further my personal evolution and humanity’s revolution.
According to author Tom Montalk, “Vortex symbolism and magical ‘objects of plenty’ … could materialize abundance or destruction depending on their use. The vortex represents a translation gateway between different realms.” He goes on to say that the Demiurge, as Soul of Creation, converts “higher metaphysical archetypes into physically manifest forms,” like “an hourglass vortex channeling and transforming material from a higher realm into a lower.”128 In the area of a vortex, matter, energy, and spacetime may be altered. I had felt this many times in power spots.
The spiral twisted round and round like a whirlpool boring into neighboring realms, and the center point connected the dimensions. From its center of gravity, it drew in the pilgrims, and they came from the four directions to this sacred place. Yupköyvi was the axis mundi, the cosmic axis, the world pillar for the ancients of this region, it seemed to me. Here at Chaco Canyon my prayers could easily travel the road between Heaven and Earth, as could visions and blessings from archetypal/interdimensional beings known as the gods and goddesses.
These many thoughts turned in my mind as Alex and I hiked above the canyon. We walked silently, battered by a scorching sun and steady drafts of parched air. I had brought an umbrella in case of rain, so he and I took turns shielding ourselves from the sun, but now and again gusts of hot wind collapsed the parasol. Even though my forehead poured sweat, it dried before it could soak my hatband. I trudged on, reminded of how hardship is part of pilgrimage. Alex understood this, too, and seemed to relish the challenge.
The Sacred Hoop
Native Americans created a culture that flowed in parallel with Nature. Western civilization, on the other hand, built itself up from the mind, to evolve into the noosphere. I realize that many native peoples disdain whites making generalized statements about them, and while I recognize the distinctive clans and tribes of the Americas, I find they share more fundamental similarities than differences. A 19th-century Englishman and Spaniard are very different, but they both would believe in a God in Heaven and think that time progressed from yesterday to today to tomorrow. Unlike the European, the American tribal, with his/her magic-mythic worldview, would instead conceptualize a Great Spirit present in every creature, plant, rock, breeze, and so forth, and think of time as cyclical or as a spiral, rather than linear.
Living in New Mexico, where centuries of tradition had people praying over the land, had more strongly cultivated in me the desire to pray over the land. It was as if the Earth was used to the practice of reciprocity and cooperation – ayni is what Fredy Viracocha had called it in Perú – and I should comply with the local custom. Fine with me. Whereas my scientific mind told me that the sun’s light would automatically increase after the winter solstice, it also made perfect sense to me that we should “chant the sun back” on that date, or beckon it with luminarias (huge bonfires) as the residents of Taos Pueblo did – and still do – at that time of year. In the Western mythos, Creation happened once, a long time ago. In the South and North American Indian mythos, Creation happened, and then it came around again and again, and not only that: we all have a part to play in the ongoing process of creation.
Faced with such a responsibility – to keep Creation happening – Native Americans had to align themselves with the forces of Nature, or else let the consequences of their sense of separation rain down upon them and their clans. American Indian author Paula Gunn Allen says in The Sacred Hoop that traditional Indian systems were based on cooperation, harmony, balance, kinship, and respect. “They did not rely on external social institutions such as schools, court, and prisons, kings, or other political rulers, but rather on internal institutions such as spirit-messengers, guides, teachers, or mentors; on tradition, ritual, dream and vision; on personal inclination … and leadership of those who had demonstrated competence with the foregoing characteristics.
“Thus to traditional American Indians, social and personal life is governed by internal rather than external factors, and systems based on spiritual orders rather than material ones are necessarily heavily oriented toward internal governing mechanisms.”129 No wonder the tribal/magical stage is considered the most stable of all the stages of development!
Because Native American clans and tribes counted on every member to fulfill their personal destiny in harmony with the greater good, they sought to identify the strengths of each child and develop them. Both males and females could apprentice as shamans, according to their talents and sensitivities. I imagined ceremonies in the Great Kiva led by priestesses as well as priests. Indeed the predominant year-round population of Yupköyvi would have been these medicine women and medicine men who aided the spiritual practices of the visitors.
For millennia the Americas have hosted a people whose paradigm was one of balance and interrelatedness. “Mitakuye Oyasin” (“All my relations!”) is a Dakota (Sioux) expression that extends kinship to everything, affirming that everything is connected. In Native American culture, the Feminine – and specifically the archetype of the Grandmother – provided the guiding principles for the society. In the Iroquois federal system, the Council of Matrons held executive power. The village, tribal, and confederate councils, in addition to the men’s and women’s councils, could make decisions as long as they were in alignment with those of the Council of Matrons. The Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) formed a confederacy in eastern North America consisting of the Mohawk, Onondaga, Oneida, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora tribes. English colonists took their inspiration from the Iroquois League when formulating the American federal government; unfortunately they skipped over the role of women and crones in the system. How different would the United States be if the Grandmother Council had the last word in policy-making?
Apparently around 1600 CE, when the warriors had gotten the upper hand, the women of the tribe repudiated lovemaking and childbearing, proclaiming they would produce no more potential warriors (i.e., children) until the decision to go to war rested with the mothers. A sex boycott! Aristophanes explored the concept in his comedy Lysistrata. Unlike the fictitious Greek play, however, the Iroquois women won in reality. The power to declare war, name chiefs, and determine use of the land was then firmly anchored in the Council of Matrons, according to the Iroquois Constitution (also called the White Roots of Peace). Peace did prevail, and Indian anthropologist D’Arcy McNickle states that 70% of American tribes were pacifist.130 The tribes he cites based themselves on “feminine” values, one of which was submission of personal will to the mandate of the group. In point of fact, paltry evidence of warfare or violence has been found in Chaco Canyon.131
Centuries of the white man’s religion and colonialism have undermined tribal women’s status to the point that many Native American tribes are now predominantly patriarchal in nature. Such a philosophical conquest would have been deemed necessary by European invaders offended by “feminine-valued” Indian customs, such as honoring many gods (instead of monotheism), sharing land (instead of owning private property), universal social responsibility (instead of class privilege), respect for the Earth (instead of exploitation), and the politically powerful Grandmother Councils. Especially repugnant was the free and easy sexuality of the American “savages.” A wide diversity of sexual expression was accepted, to the extent that gays, lesbians, and transgendered individuals (“Two Spirits”) were honored and likely to become spiritual leaders (shamans/winkte/lhamana), effeminate men filled women’s roles, and dykes (for example, women who excelled at the bow and arrow) could become warriors. With the Conquest, Allen asserts, “Virtually all customary sexual customs among the tribes were changed – including marital, premarital, homosexual, and ritual sexual
practices, along with childhood and adult indulgence in open sexuality, common in many tribes.
“Colonization means the loss not only of language and the power of self-government but also of ritual status of all women and those males labeled “deviant” by the white Christian colonizers.”
Women were not allowed in the kivas at Taos Pueblo, and I wondered if women had always been excluded from that aspect of ceremonial life there or if this was a patriarchal overlay.
Paula Gunn Allen, speaking for Native American feminists, writes: “So we acknowledge that the violation of the Mothers’ and Grandmothers’ laws of kinship, respect, balance, and harmony brings about social, planetary, and personal illness and that healing is a matter of restoring the balance within ourselves and our communities. To this restoration of balance, of health, and wellness (wealth) we contribute our energies. For we are engaged in the work of reclaiming our minds, our gods, and our traditions. The sacred hoop cannot be restored unless and until its sacred center is recognized.”
Venus and Her Lover’s spotlight on the Goddess’ image and its message of balance were sinking their roots into American soil. Despite the dominator empire running amok in the United States, the partnership culture of the first Americans inspirited our vision.
Ritual Spirals to the Center
The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us.
~ Black Elk
Through stony terrain the colors of terra-cotta and amber and buckskin and ashes, Alex and I ascended the geological record until we reached the mesa top and trekked through low scrub brush and cactus. Our destination was an excavated site that had a kiva. Out of respect for the prohibitions of the native peoples and the National Park Service, I would not presume to enter the thousand-year-old ceremonial grounds of the principal Great Houses, but here in the backcountry of Chaco Canyon, it was from the land that I would request permission. At long last, Alex and I stood at the entrance of the site, asking the spirits of the place if we could enter. As I felt a yielding in the space, I stepped down into the kiva. This excavated kiva had long ago lost its roof, so we stood under the arching blue sky.
There were niches in the kiva walls, and one became the place to set an altar. Setting down my backpack to pull out my mesa cloths, I laid out our offerings: local cornmeal and tobacco, coca leaves and water from the ruins of Sacsayhuamán in Perú, sand from the beach at the Sacred Palm Grove in Puerto Rico, and seeds from Hawai’i. I lit a bundle of sage, blowing on the fragrant smudge stick until it billowed smoke. Alex and I stood facing each other.
“I brought this condor feather from Perú,” I said, showing him the rounded black feather wrapped in beaded woven cords dangling a chakana cross pendant, crystal, and small speckled piece of granite from Machu Picchu. “From the Land of the Condor to the Land of the Eagle, may the balance be restored.”
Then I fanned the sage smoke up, down, and around Alex’s tall body, saying, “With this smoke may your mind, heart, and actions be purified. We come to this place with clean intentions.” Then Alex did the same for me.
Next we called in the powers of the directions. “Let’s see, where’s north?” I wondered aloud.
Alex laughed. “Mom, here’s one place you can’t go wrong. Just line yourself up with the square walls over there.”
Of course. As I peeked over the circular stone walls of the kiva, the four directions were clearly discernible. Turning sunwise, we invoked and honored the four directions, as well as the Above, Below, and Center. Then we separated. Alex would do his devotions; I needed to focus on my own.
Circumambulating the interior of the kiva, my spiral path led me to the center where I sat down and crossed my legs. No sooner had I closed my eyes than a forceful energy leaped from the Earth, up through my yoni, and all the way to my skull. My head filled with a high-pitched sound. Not unpleasant at all, it was like two flutes of different tones trilling a soprano song of the Earth. Already familiar with the Taos Hum, I thought: this must be the tone of Chaco. It was all the more strange because outwardly my ears were hearing an overwhelming quiet, the only sound a steady whooshing of wind.
Right after that, the wind stopped. It no longer fluttered the brim of my hat nor brushed against the hairs of my arms. Eyes still closed, I sat suspended in a realm of noiseless tranquility. No definitions, no ego, no self, no other, no Earth, no Heaven. No Mother, no Father. No thoughts, no time, no mind. I existed as pure presence. For how long, I do not know.
At some point, I found myself taking a deep breath and realizing that a breeze was caressing my face. Reluctant to open my eyes, I rested blissfully in the arms of Yupköyvi as the spirit of the place infused my body with its energy, and on some unconscious level, its knowledge. At long last, I bowed in gratitude and stood up. White puffy clouds were sailing grandly over the khaki-colored mesa. The soaring blue of the sky crowned the Earth. Alex stood by our altar, and I joined him there.
Standing face to face, I said, “Alex, I want to thank you for coming to me in this life, for being my son, for gladdening my soul the way you do. Thank you for choosing to serve the Earth. We are support for one another in that way. I love you and appreciate who you are more than words can express.”
With his steady brown eyes gazing into mine, he said, “I feel the same way about you, and I’m so glad you’re my mom.”
Tears began to moisten my eyes as a riot of emotions collided in my suddenly very human heart. Alex was brimming with the idealism of youth, undaunted by the enormity of the planetary crisis that his generation faced. He keenly followed the latest in environmental news, challenging himself to think outside the box for solutions. At his age, I had been idealistic, too, but humanity had more time then... and look where we had gotten... Would he be able to fulfill his dreams? Would he be able to make a home, have a family, live safely... survive at all?
Alex spoke. “You know I feel I have a destiny to fulfill. I want to integrate a consciousness of sustainability into our culture, and that includes spirituality and social justice and peace as much as environmental protection. I want you to know that what you and JB have done with Venus and Her Lover is just as important a mission, I think; it’s sustainable relationship. We need all the pieces to make a whole, functional world.”
“What a lovely dream,” I said.
“Growing up in our family taught me to believe in my dreams. Thanks for that, Mom.”
Tears filled my eyes. How I will miss him when he’s away! He pulled me into a hug, and I rested my head against his beating heart. How did my little boy grow into such a tall man, and wise beyond his years?
The ancient stones who had witnessed the long history of Chaco Canyon now received the enfolded love of mother and son, both declared servants of our Great Mother Gaia. With that soulful embrace, we concluded our ceremony, and then walked in search of shade to eat our picnic, since we were both hungry. There were no trees whatsoever, so we headed toward a ruined wall, hoping it would cast a shadow substantial enough for the two of us.
As we hiked away from the kiva, Alex said to me, “Did you notice when the wind stopped? That was so weird – it just stopped.”
Glaring at him for this confirmation of my experience, I answered, “Yes, I noticed! What an energy this place has!”
“It’s like the Indians that used to be here installed some kind of time machine – no, a timelessness machine!” he said.
Myth and ritual are portals for us into the Great Mystery, which is where we reside and of which we are made. Joseph Campbell recognized religion as identification with the Divine, which would naturally open up into the Infinite. If instead a mythological character that represents the All
(such as Yahweh) defined himself to the point of being finite, Campbell warned that consequently you have “mythology as petrafact, something dead and not working,” and you end up with a “religion of worship.”132 For Campbell, the personal experience of mystical transcendence was key for a living mythos. Achieving this through ecstatic dance was what I had learned through Dudaka.
My encounter with ultimate silence and timelessness in Chaco Canyon was venturing a toe into the ever-flowing waters of the Great Mystery, which could have passed me by had I entered with an agenda or dogma. A wise man once said about mythic action, “You don’t miss because you don’t aim.”
Our myths shape our worldview, as well as our framework for time. Our rational mindset structures time to be linear and measurable; we can spend it, waste it, save it, lose it, and budget it... like money. It seems modern people are always trying to outrun it, striving for greater and greater speed and efficiency, before “time runs out.” For the mythic-minded, time reveals how change happens in cycles... the Eternal Return. Adonis dwelled in the Underworld and returned to Earth every springtime, bringing gifts of fertility to Mediterranean farmers. Mesoamerican astronomers calculated the return times of the Sun, Venus, and even their Plumed Serpent god, Quetzalcóatl. From the magic point of view, time exists in the now, and magic spells, dancing, psychotropic plants, or shamanic journeying could lead you into trance – and to a loss of your sense of separateness – so you could merge with the Great Spirit. Such rituals could transport the participant beyond time entirely – to timelessness... to the nondual unity of pure beingness, suchness. What a sublime reality that is!
Venus and Her Lover Page 27
