The inside of El Brujo - this was the holding area for the prisoners. Look closely at their depictions against the wall.
We left behind the life-giving beauty of our beloved pyramid and shuffled back down to the infinitely powerful mesa; the place this journey began. Howard packed up each precious piece; this would be the last time we would bow to this particular mesa, so we all had our moment. We let the portal take us further in, soaking in the energies. We would need every last pulse.
The sun started to dip away from sight, still casting enough warmth and light to guide us to the final destination. The life-taking pyramid loomed like a devil in the near-distance, beckoning with a taunting sway. Daring us to peek (peak) inside.
I took the lead once again, desparate to know His strength and seduction. Howard had warned us that the travelers often did not make it inside this pyramid; it was an excavation site, after all, and therefore highly guarded. El Brujo’s been on the historical map these days, and in true fashion, man is digging through the dirt to find the answers. Well, we found them – no digging needed.
All I knew was – I wanted inside that damn pyramid.
I fell in step next to Howard and visualized our journey inside, creating an intention. Willing it to happen. The full moon stood pregnant in my view, standing guard; she made me feel infinitely more protected, and my bravado started to surface. Whatever kept me moving, receiving these messages and truths, was fine by me.
We approached to find several armed guards, making their way to greet us. I joined Howard, and he spoke quietly in Spanish. It was clear we were partaking in the mesa, absolutely consumed by Huachuma, and it was up to them to determine whether or not we could know what lie inside. They didn’t hesitate. We were welcomed.
I flew down the remainder of the path and entered a the bottom section of the pyramid. A large, cleared area in the shape of a square awaited, surrouned by three walls. The walls held thousands-year old paintings; dulled by time, but no less alive. Across the front wall, a procession of red tribal men appeared, fully naked, with huge, ominous erections. They were marching before my eyes, heading to a certain fate. This was where the Mochi would lead their prisons; those about to be sacrificed so the rest of the tribe could be saved from deadly El Nino. We could hear their muffled cries.
I fell to the ground in homage, closing my eyes to shut out the agony. It was deafeningly silent in there; something I hadn’t expected. After the thunderous roar of the life-giving huaca, I had expected a cacophony in the life-taking counterpart. He offered nothing but erie, seductive silence, and it chilled me. Made me quivver and heave.
After a spell, I gave up all my strength and just lay on the ground. I could still smell blood in the air; still hear the sound of endings. Feet shuffling, groans releasing, fear disappating. I knew the prisoners were also on Huachuma during their last hours, and I started to connect with the beauty – how would they know the difference between the waking world and death? I wasn’t sure what side I was on anymore. And that was fucking beautiful.
Howard summoned us to take a walk upward; we were allowed to trace the prisoner’s steps up a ramp, and forced to stop at a point where the excavating was blocked off. Oh my god, as we approached an upper wall, I really didn’t think I could make it. There was still no sound, but the dramatic force bouncing off that wall and into my frame felt like a bulldozer. I felt myself leave the pyramid, becoming one with prisoners everywhere. I felt the souls of everyone who had been sacrificed, throughout time. I felt them barreling down into my insides.
We stopped at the top, and soaked in the power. There was a choice to be made, and we were all connecting to it. The Shamans of the Mochi made a choice; they couldn’t stop once power started to seduce them. They allowed their intentions to become self-serving and evil. Would we do the same?
As a symbolic gesture, Howard had us all turn our backs on this atrocious reality. We turned 180 degrees and lingered, our frames sturdy and strong. We would not be seduced. But we weren’t afraid to know it All.
Next, we were led by the guards into the heart of the pyramid; a pitch black, devastatingly erie section filled with paths that dropped off into a sea of darkness. It’s not certain what went down in these caves, but I do know one thing – there was nothing benevolent about the events. This was the temple of doom; the ultimate in ugly power. We know the Mochi became obsessed with black magic, using the prisoners as more than just sacrifices for the gods. We know this was the Mochi’s undoing. And we were learning how easy it was to fall into the lure.
I broke protocol and placed my hands on a nearby wall, needing to feel the energies even more. I panicked when I felt a flashlight fly my way, thinking I had done a horrible deed and angered a guard. Instead, he came to my side, pushing away a large gun that hung around his neck. I pulled my hands away quickly, but he shined a light on the wall I had chosen and pushed my hands back on the rocky structure, allowing me to know even more. I gasped and said thank you, closing my eyes to Receive.
We were then led outside, up a path to the top of the pyramid. Night had fallen now, and the full moon glowed orange and defiant. At the top, guard dogs ran to greet us, acting obedient and curious. As I meandered around, another guard motioned for me to follow him inside a small room to the side. I entered, and immediately felt slaughtered by an unspeakably dark energy. He shown his flashlight on the far away wall, and I saw the most ominous, evil figure I’ve ever seen — a monsterous tribal figure was painted there, his mouth gaping and angry. In one hand, he held a horrendous looking axe; in another, a man’s head.
I moved my hand across my throat and said:
- Here? Aqui? Este is donde … muerte?
The guard nodded. This was the site of the beheadings. The end of the line for the prisoners. Or the beginning, as I was starting to learn. I could feel them all lingering and staring, respectful of my own reverence. I just didn’t like all those eyes.
I lasted about 10 seconds more, than staggered out into the moonlight.
My head was swimming, my heart felt steady and strong. I knew this was the metaphor for humanity; resisting the seduction of separateness and power. Staying connected, living in the heart space — these are difficult tasts. Believing in one’s superiority, holding tight to control – these are much easier choices. For the Mochi, making the wrong decision meant they were all eradicated. And this wasn’t the first or last time.
Isn’t the same thing happening back home? Aren’t we succumbing to the allure of power and perceived independence/superiorities?
My hands shook at the thought of it – poetry, yes. Necessary, yes. But could I do anything to stop the downward spiral?
- Stay in your heart. At all costs. Stay there and others will too.
My voice echoed an answer.
- It’s your protection, and the key survival.
It’s also the way I can help others – our bloody heads are the ones who wage wars and invent words like “seperate” and “hate”. I was remembering. These were things I already knew – we all do – but years of programming had led me astray.
I fell to my knees yet again and embraced El Brujo. This was the most powerful lesson I had ever learned, and civilizations had to fall in order for me to Know. The moon kept shining in her greatness, affirming my realizations – I wasn’t in control. We never are/were. The more of us who realize the awesome power we have, the more we will give it back where it belongs – to the wind, to the Universe, to the benevolent forces that gave us life to begin with.
We walked down the path to our waiting van; all of us changed. All of us knowing we didnt want power, we wanted Empowerment. We finally knew the difference; all it took to show us was a visit to the dark side of heaven.
