I walk up the East side of the pyramid. At the top, where everything is pristine, there is a park that is beautifully tended -- leaves raked, flowers in bloom and sprinkled about generously. The area is quiet and serene in the wee hours of the morning. Temples are symmetrically situated, as though to honor the path of the Sun God, where shadows would cast meaning onto the grounds. They stand like high-rises; one at the East end of the plaza, the Eastern Paradise, home of warriors fallen in battle who carry the Golden Disk midway; another at the Southern Paradise, where Tlaloc, God of Rain, replenishes the earth and spring endures forever; a third, at the West, where Mother Night blankets us with her thick, star-studded hair and mystery awaits: House of Corn, Temple of Ciupipiltin, home of mothers who die in childbirth, turned into goddesses and now relieving the burden of the warriors at mid-point by lowering the sun to its resting place. A fourth temple is at the North side, where snow freezes and the bitter winds howl; the nine hells of Mictlan, home of Mictlantecuhtl and his consort, where the quiet life begins its travail across wide and swift rivers, through high rugged mountains and low rocky valleys.
This is an early spring day with a slight nip in the air; the freshness of the day uplifting me and filling me with a faith and conviction that everything in my life is as perfect as it should be. I have an appointment with a woman for living accommodations. Conscious of the sacred surroundings, I look around to observe as closely as possible. I walk into the vestibule of the first temple; curved walls, cool marble floors, and a plain wooden round table adorned by a sprig of copal burning in an urn in the center.
The woman comes out and shows me to one of the apartments available. The space is freshly painted. Even the windows sparkle and reveal a crystal clear view of an aqua blue bay. I like the firmness of the floors, but I want something situated on the south side of the plaza. We leave the building and enter the next temple accessible through the cooking area, and I like it very much; the rooms are a comfortable size for me, with natural light on all sides. We nod in agreement. This is the one.
After completing our visit, I walk back to the plaza where street musicians, vendors, and tourists are milling about. I take a paved walkway that leads towards the center of the plaza and encounter a large brown-skinned woman who greets me by making an utterance towards me in a language I do not understand. I haven't met her before -- that I could recall -- but I surmise she is telling me, "It's time you stopped acting like you are damaged goods and started acting out of your wholeness. Walk tall, like a proud Aztec." I know she means I should stop living my "story" of the abandoned child, lost and alone, that has kept me trapped in depression and melancholy. "Think fast. Take advantage of this, for this is truly a fine moment," I think.
Nothing comes to mind but the intense sadness again, and I continue my steps towards the north side, shoulders hunched as though fighting a downpour and icy wind. I hear the woman's voice again, "Stop! Stop! Stop chasing the meaningless. It's not real. You have but this instant." I feel my back straightening, tension leaving and the lightness of the day permeating throughout. The recognition that I am air and space registers upon my consciousness, and I experience a delightful freedom, as though I have become particles of light.
I retrace my steps back to the Center, away from death and toward the East, the direction from whence I came. I hear laughter and stop at a cafeteria where I come upon my friends from the Center for Attitudinal Healing. Having lunch, they invite me to join them. I am glad to see all of them and I sit next to C.S. J.J. recognizes my voice and walks over to see me and hands me a handful of small green seeds. "I heard you were having trouble sleeping; I looked for something gentle that would help you rest." He says to me with tremendous love in his eyes. "Thank you," I respond, extending my hand to accept his precious gift. I walk out into the bright light again and begin the descent of the stairs. I raise my white rebozo over my head and go toward the Beginning, the Home of the Rising Sun. I think of the woman's words again, and this time I understand them differently. "Know which God you are serving and which world you are in."