self, to make contact.
At first, the spheres darted away like a school of playful dolphins, but with the guidance and encouragement of the First Mother, they grew bolder until one of them floated over and melted into her. Visions, smells, and memories of another lifetime unfolded about her in all directions. It was as though a three-dimensional quilt of moments had been woven into her soul
“Grandmother?” she asked in wonder as she allowed herself to experience one of the scenes floating directly in front of her.
“Yes dearest, it is I. The First Mother has brought us together so that I may share with you the accumulation of knowledge from my lifetime and to prepare you for the others.”
“Others?”
In response, Ix’s grandmother aligned her memories to show her granddaughter her heritage. Before her a succession of lifetimes unfolded back towards the First Mother.
“You see dear, you are a direct descendent of the First Mother. The lives you see before you are your ancestors, each of which has experienced this very moment, the incarnation of the white flower. With your consent they will join you, and you will become part of a stream of consciousness that flows from the beginning, from the great awakening.
The vision before Ix was one of great beauty, and as she maneuvered herself forward, she found she was passing through a shimmering membrane into the life of her great-grandmother, who greeted her with love and affection. Pressing on, she passed through the lives of several of her relatives, burrowing back through time like a beetle cutting through the rings of a great tree. With each passing, the knowledge and wisdom of her previous generations was absorbed into her awareness.
“Dear heart,” her Grandmother softly spoke. “The proper way is to let them come to you.”
Wishing to please her grandmother, Ix rolled back and positioned herself by her grandmother’s side.
“Ix,” the First Mother spoke, “you are the living end of a great legacy, a blossom on a vine, which winds back through time to the garden from which all things originate. And child, you are a very special bloom, for the day shall arrive, many years from now, when you will be given the opportunity to help ensure that all things shall continue.”
Ix looked to her Grandmother for answers, but the old woman did not know what to say. “Your time is now. Will you unfold as have the generations that preceded you?”
Having experienced the joy of reuniting with her grandmother, and having gained the knowledge and experience from the lives of those whom she had “visited,” Ix knew there was no reason to be afraid. Positioning herself closer to the First Mother, she recited the words whispered to her by her grandmother.
“All things pass, but the soul lives on. I am Ix, the flower of your vine. May your beauty and wisdom flow through me until the day when my blossom fades and I return to join you in the garden.” As she spoke, the spheres of light began to dance faster and shine brighter as they drew in closer about her. When she finished speaking, the spheres that were now as bright as stars, melted one by one into the core of Ix’s being. Soon she became one with all and upon the shimmering plant a new blossom opened to reveal the smiling face of Ix.
While Ix told her story, Xo had climbed into her lap and fallen asleep. In his dreams, he was chasing a brown-haired rabbit down a twisting and turning burrow. And just as he was finally about to catch the mischievous hare, the rabbit turned and leaped across a great pit that had opened up beneath him. Not to be undone, Xo gathered up all his strength and jumped without fear across the void. Following his dreams, his little body suddenly sprang up from Ix’s lap and flew into the air before landing on a pile of yarn Ix used for her weaving. Seeing that the little dog was unharmed, Cosamado, Guk and the old woman laughed as Xo fearlessly poked his nose through the yarn looking for his imaginary rabbit.
“I have heard of stories about the Clan of the White Flower,” Cosamado said. “But had always assumed they were myths, fairy tales that we would tell our children before their bedtime about shape-shifters that possessed great healing powers.”
“It would appear that our myths are real,” commented Guk, who had witnessed Ix shift in appearance from an old woman to the young beauty depicted in the drawing.
“There have been many notable blooms, women throughout history, who have had the ability to organize the collective, to harness each of their inherent strengths from a coalition of extraordinary woman. Gifted healers who were committed to reducing the occurrence of suffering of all sentient beings,” explained Ix.
Cosamado thought about the stories that had been passed through the generations and was pleased not only to learn that they were based in truth, but that he had actually been able to meet this remarkable woman. Still he was unable to reconcile the disconnect he had perceived between Ix and her counterpart who lived in the world of dreams.
“If I may,” Cosamado asked, “I could not help but notice a slight sense of disdain for what your counterpart dubbed “the unawares”. What kind of relationship has your clan had with the world of dreams?”
“It all stems back to the First Mother and to the garden, to a time when there was no segregation between our two worlds. Dream spirits and we of the physical world lived and worked together side by side in harmony, respectful of each others' abilities. We could not shift our appearance, nor bend time, as could our counterparts. They in turn were not able to manifest themselves into physical form and experience the sensation of living in the moment. The First Mother, intrigued by their abilities, sought to integrate the best of both worlds and so studied their ways and began to learn their secrets. When the dream collective learned of this they were greatly offended. Believing that their knowledge had been “stolen,” they constructed the great curtain which has separated our worlds ever since.”
As Ix related her story, Cosamado stood and stretched his arms. The midday sun had lifted the chill and he was beginning to feel warm. Removing his coat, he exposed the small of his back revealing a portion of the tattoo placed there by Xbalanque and Hunahpu. When Ix saw the design, the whisperings of her dream self filtered through the curtain, and she understood. Time was slowly washing away and she knew what she had to do.
“Cosamado, look at me,” Ix commanded. Cosamado turned his head and was instantly mesmerized by Ix, who had shifted her appearance back to her younger self. “I know now that I am here to help you on your way, just as the First Mother predicted so many years ago.”
Reaching over she took Cosamado’s hand and applied pressure to a point just below the thumb. Within seconds, his body collapsed into a deep sleep.
Awakening into a dream, Cosamado saw young Ix standing before him. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered as she began to mold his body into the shape of a golden eagle. “For now you shall fly with the wind of the Gods beneath you.”
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About the author:
Paul Barnett's poetry has appeared in Writers in the Sky monthly literary magazine. He has studied the linguistics of the deaf for twenty-eight years while working in Fresno, California as a social worker for the deaf. He is a certified interpreter through the National Association of the Deaf and received his degree in Social Welfare from California State University, Fresno.
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