with the local priest,” Guk said. “They know everybody’s business and for an offering of fine wine, they would probably be willing to provide you with directions to where her family lives.”
Cosamado agreed and gave orders to have one goatskin bota filled with last fall’s harvest wine that had been steeped in some fine Peruvian cocoa leaves. He and Guk then left camp with Xo and made their way down the trail toward the city’s southern gates.
About ten minutes into their journey they came across an old woman who was sitting on the side of the road on a blanket selling shirts and blouses that were woven using vivid colors and intricate designs.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, buy a little something for your wives,” she cackled while waving her hand over her wares.
Normally Cosamado would dismiss such roadside venders, but there was something about the woman’s appearance that caught his attention.
“Good day, madam,” he said while offering her his hand.
The old woman caressed his palm with her calloused fingers while looking upon Cosamado with ageless brown eyes. “You have traveled far?” she asked in an ancient voice that triggered within him a recent memory. As she spoke, her words resurrected an image that floated up from the wells of the unconscious and he knew that the woman before him was Ix Chel.
“Yes, and we have far to go,” he replied, studying her face, worn with time, for signs of the beautiful young woman who had so captivated him when Pops had brought them together underneath the apple tree.
Aware that she had somehow captured the attention of the young traveler, Ix invited the two men to come and sit by a small campfire she had built next to her wares. As they warmed themselves by the fire, she took out from a leather bag a small lump of fresh masa, pinched off a portion and began rolling it slowly into a ball in her tiny hands.
As she started to flatten the dough by patting it gently between her palms, Xo jumped up to the familiar sound and began dancing on his hind legs, his bright eyes shining in anticipation of receiving one of his favorite treats.
“Now Xo, where are your manners? We haven’t even been properly introduced. Good morning Grandmother, my name is Cosamado and this is my good friend Guk. As you can see, Xo, has already made himself known.” Xo looked to his master and barked a cheerful greeting.
At the mention of Cosamado’s name the old woman momentarily stopped patting the tortilla, her attention drawn away as though she were attempting to recall something important. As she laid the tortilla on a low, flat stone heated by the coals of the fire, she said, “It is my pleasure to meet you, but if you’ll forgive me, haven’t we met before?”
Cosamado considered his words carefully, then withdrew from his satchel the etching of a much younger Ix and handed it to her. “Have you ever heard of those who wonder within the world of dreams?”
Ix slowly studied the picture, then drew her head closer to speak confidentially, “Sir you speak of things which bring comfort to this old woman, for the image you have shown me is how I internally perceive myself. Tell me, is it really possible that you have crossed over and met my dream spirit?”
Cosamado began to suspect that the woman before him knew more than she was letting on, that she was perhaps something more than one of the “unawares” the younger Ix had told him to expect.
Cosamado took the warm tortilla that Ix had handed to him, tore off a little piece and tossed it to Xo, who stood at attention, his tail wagging like a small brown flag in the wind. While the two men warmed themselves by the fire and Xo filled his belly, the rays of the rising sun broke through the green waxy leaves of an arching avocado tree that sheltered Ix’s camp and momentarily erased the lines of wisdom and age from the old woman’s face. Before them stood a young woman smiling in the morning light.
“What kind of magic is this?” Cosamado wondered reaching down and slowly rolling up the sleeve of his leather coat to reveal a tattoo that identified him as a high priest of the Mayan people.
“Where I am from, when a child is born, our priests inspect it for markings of the Gods. When my Mother gave birth to me, I was born with an upside down “u” in the middle of my forehead. To my people, this was considered the thumbprint of Nohochacyum, our God of creation. With my parent’s consent, I was taken and raised by the priests who grafted my vision of the world to their knowledge, stripping away the layers of illusion that mask the origins of self. I have traveled in the worlds of shadow and light in which the realm of dreams exists. I have met the other half of your soul,” said Cosamado.
While birds sang their greetings to the light of the new day, the shimmering image of Ix, which phased back and forth between old and young, smiled and said, “It appears we have something in common.” As she spoke she held out her hand and a sphere of light ballooned from her palm, within which they both could see an image of Ix sitting in a garden when she was just a child. Next to her sat an older woman who was teaching her the names of the healing herbs that grew all about them.
Ix then explained.
“This is my Mother who taught me the ways of the First Mother.”
As she spoke, Ix’s mother reached into a basket woven from river reeds and withdrew a white flower that she carefully placed in her daughter’s hands.
“Bury it my dearest,” she instructed. “Bury it deep in the rich, moist soil of our good earth and pray that “the gift” which has been passed down through the generations will now be passed on to you.”
Ix carried the bloom, which smelled of gardenia, to an ancient blue oak where she knelt down on her knees and dug a small hole in the ground. Gently she lay the flower down and covered it while singing a nursery rhythm called the “Flower Song” written by Ah Bam, one of her favorite poets, that her Grandmother had taught her while cradling her in her arms:
“The most alluring moon
has risen over the forest;
it is going to burn
suspended in the center
of the sky to lighten
all the earth, all the woods,
shining its light on all.
Sweetly comes the air and the perfume.
Happiness permeates all good men.”
The garden then fell silent, save for the sound of a single bee dancing from one flower to the next as both Mother and daughter watched the little mound of dirt which covered the buried flower in anticipation. Very slowly, a tiny green sprout poked its head through the soil, and was soon followed by two green leaves that unfolded and raised their arms to the sun. Up the plant grew, with fresh shoots branching off from the main stem, leaves and little orange flower buds appearing to form a majestic sea of green that measured a good twenty feet in diameter and rose up another twenty to thirty feet from the garden floor. It was a beautiful display of shapes and colors that appeared to shift and shimmer in the mid-morning light.
“Have patience my dear; your time is soon upon you.” Her Mother spoke softly while weaving a braid in her daughter’s hair.
About ten minutes later, the plant stopped growing and stood tall, waving softly in the morning breeze, covered in flowering buds that glowed softly, patiently awaiting their moment to open. “Look Ix, she’s here,” Ix’s mother said pointing towards the largest bud located at the center of the plant. Ix leaned forward to get a better look. Before her was a flowering bud, the size of a large head of cabbage whose leaves were beginning to peel away, slowly revealing the face of a very old woman with a mantel of long hair as white as a star against the black of night.
“Good day child,” the old woman said in a voice that melted any fear Ix may have held in heart. As the old woman spoke a ball of light appeared over Ix’s head, and her mother watched in pride and anticipation as Ix reached up in childlike wonder and took hold of the shining star.
In an instant, the world around her vanished except for the shimmering plant that floated before her in a sea of stars that flowed about them in streams of multicolored nova. The First Mother looked on and smiled to reassure Ix that all was well,
and the rest of the blooms, which were by now, vibrating and shaking to be free, began opening their petals. One by one, the faces of thousands of women began to appear. Old and young, in different shades of color and ethnicity unfolded to reveal their beauty.
In awe and wonder, Ix sat crossed-legged, adrift in the sea of color, marveling at the complexity of the matrix that had appeared before her. Slowly, from a small quiet place located deep within her soul, a light began to shine and a warm feeling of peace began to flow up from her solar plexus and spread throughout her torso. This sensation was soon followed by a soft river of electricity that washed over and dissolved her body, freeing her from the confines of the physical world. As she moved into this new state of awareness she noted that her perception of time had became elastic. Short and long no longer held meaning, nor did distance. Lifting up, she was drawn towards the smiling face of the First Mother, who floated before her bathed in the shining rays of light that flowed up from the core of her being.
“Come forward Ix; behold your inheritance,” and as the First Mother spoke the walls of consciousness fell, and suddenly she was no longer alone. About her were spheres of soft glowing light that approached and then circled around her, dancing and bobbing like evanescent fireflies. Sensing a benevolent intelligence, Ix concentrated on extending the realm she knew as