Reflections on the end of the Mayan Long Count from Chitchen Itza

I had a hoot writing this mish-mash of thoughts and reflections on my trip to Mexico last week, and what it all means, i will probably go back and edit some sense into it. In the meantime, here's my raw spillage on Synthesis 2012.

Thanks

Thanks in no particular order to Fantuzzi, Jaris, Kat, Chris Donagan, Issac, Cappi, The Earthlings, Justin, RC, Spirit Essence, Caroline Casey, Kevin Whitesides, B. Jeff, Frank Gamble, Mark Von Stone, Michael JaiDev, Michael Stocker, John Carlson, Paul Carey, Alphonso, Paula and Paula, Zia, Pitt, Oliver, The Luminaries, Sun Ruh and the Last Dragons, Meghan, the fire dancers, musicians, artists, healers, scholars and freaks  who pulled together under the most challenging circumstances to keep pushing the good vibe.

Saturanlia Panoramas

And so the tribe walked on down to the Mayan site, chanting, dancing, singing smiling, laughing and honouring the local gods, however they please. A moving circus of self-owning ones, minds on the walk, talk tapes unfastened, tired, far from HOME, moving towards the once state-of-the-art city complex of Chitchen Itza in the blueberry dawn, yes, if not just for the invocation of the sun, a new dawn.

We the tribe, discordians, stuck apart, but coming in and out of togetherness, an ooze of disparate creatures in white, domesticated primates with a sack full of mental baggage, some sacks much lighter and better packed, but still, our monkey bodies pulled our saturated fruits on down that road to the  site where we would seed the imagination of the entire planet. Pretty heady stuff for a ripe fruit no doubt and an opportunity for ‘ploughing some field’ in the sense of amplifying certain aspects, turning them over, cycling similar horse manure into the ‘field’. And, simply, wishing for new flowers to bloom. Is this the new age? Haha. Well,…first it depends of what your idea about the meaning of ‘is’ is. And ‘this’ is. Follow me.

I turn over the reins to a Joycean like philosophy, based on maximal play, maximal connectivity, dymaxion maximal tension, and ‘hologrammic’ prose. No Age? Knowage? Nowidge? Gnoeich? Take it or leave it. The language we use and the platforms we adopt to communicate language are the ‘things’ in play, the THINGS in the game. State of the art: sharing.

And, so, if I can leave this writers shell behind, I will write more along the lines of how I felt, with total immersion, and sound effects included. The sweat and heat of the rocks, the condor and the hawks, the trinkets, the chanting, camera flashes. And the food wrappers, button clicks, cell phone GOOD magic and play, the best be those that could weave between worlds, sewing up holes in the global microcosm wild world weavers, with feathers, shells, drums dream catchers, more feathers, teeth and rainbow jewels, crocodile cunning, mantis Yoga. Unified filed of people, doing the human thing, coming into and out of orbit. Into somewhere else, mystics, in the woods among the rocks and glkypix. Talking about wherenit, and why to the when ce fourth . And, he men and women split off into ships, motherships, EARTH central. Soil and hummus, humans, yes, the place alive.

Honoring the local Gods

And honouring the local gods I say, to mean those that I really accent made the unity between tribe, the home at every step, open wisdom and cool disposition. Getting to know the characters you bump into throughout a week of music art, performance and improvised survival in Chitchen Itza, a pretty spooky place, you might hazard a guess to blaze a fire to highlight the game. The whatnowwherewhowhyness?

It’s complicated, and it’s hidden, it’s hidden and always secret. Generally speaking, you know? Love is everywhere and peace permeates all spaces, living in potential, ready to settle into or between the cracks. And so the dead went down to the place of the dead. And the spacetime continuum folded in on itself, if you can imagine that. A cabbage inside a washingmachine, so there we were, carrying our fruits to the site.

Each individual tale of what happened in Chithen Itza is equally valid and should be equally considered as a tale of ‘what’ happened, and defined by that persons point of view (POV). Lets hope that each story can shake loose the hinges of stale bread heads and exhibit a new way to communicate. Mind body peach sitting at the beach helps too, be good to yourself in whatever way makes you feel good, duh!

Chitchen Itza, and Pueblo proved to be a pretty difficult place to communicate from with a limited patchy internet and limited phones and limited help. Which among other things, led to a whole in my ability to feedback real time with what was happening on the Solstice. Only today, 29th December 2012 have I found a chance to search ‘chitchen itza 2012’ in google, and read the articles.

I have been pretty much APPAULED at the quality of sincerity and lack of understanding from the main stream press for over 20 years anyhow, but now, with my experience of BEING THERE, and then seeing images of people reporting to  have BEING THERE, and--what it all means--reminded me of the up-hill struggle of the cop-media to capture anything that resembles ‘wisdom teachings’ and ‘ways’ of the great ancestors, elders, great old ones (GOO).

Apparently the reporters knew all-about the thousands of so called ‘festival goers’ that were honoring 'things and stuff' in very important ways. Bah Humbug, i thought, reading the press releases days later....Internet is a part of this NEW AGE thing too, you know? Visit the latest from CCC at the 29th annual meeting for an update.
 
I cannot speak for the Mayan ceremonies and rituals performed in and around the site that morning, but they were stunning and awesome sights and sounds to ma' ears. Yes! Easily the most ceremonial and audio heavy activity. Fully authentic sounding and looking, feeling, and smelling. I really felt the energy in the music at that moment.

No, no, no, no, no….THIS is what REALLY happened. (my trip to Chitchen Itza, Mexico, on the Winter Solstice 2012, and cycling day of the Mayan Long Count Baktun ‘measure’ of timespace.

My approach here pays as much respect as I can pay to Caroline Casey for her trickster redeemer qualities and etymological seed-spinning. To invoke play. To propose the open ended mystery, the coming together of the stories, the threads weaving, speaking in tongues, mind-body-speech research, each to their own, and good peace be with em'

Be GOOOOOOOD!

To be nice to each other, have fun and share wisdom, to try and live a life as an example to others, in everything you say do, eat, and play with. The ‘clown’ and the myriad of clowning acts, the prankster and the trickster, the rascal mystic, those that play harder that most scholars, those that wield the wit of a Jonathon Swift, or a Joyce, the playful satirist, cutting deeply into the fabric/skin of our shared linguistic ooze space. Who says it best?

Well, I like mysticism, and I adore mystics, I mean, I like the playfulness and the intelligence game aspect. To mean, the question of ‘what the hell is going on’ is still way up for grabs, but I am excited on behalf of the long lineage of globally active seers, shamans, witches, heretics and what I might call mystic scholars, due to the rise of information technology and the resultant ‘space-time’ we inhabit or co-create as if by magic, out of nothing, total immersion and connectivity to the greatest innovators and masters, and the dullest face smack.

I mean to imply here that a long line of outsiders, those running contrary to the current western paradigm of late capitalist bust bubble life, have been working with ‘code’. Or developing their own communications devices, systems, networks, knowledge bases etc. Today, in the last few days of 2012, it seems apparent to me that there is a BOLD statement that should fly first:

GIVE THE MAGICAL WIZARDS ACCESS TO THE SACRED SITES. Or GIVE THE LOCALS CLEAN WATER, HEALTHY FOOD AND SUFFICIENT TRADE AND BARTER SYSTEMS TO LIVE COMFORTABLY IN THE AREA SURROUNDING THE SITE.

And HONOR the local gods. Dance as they do, drink and laugh and look serious as they do, and you shall have fun, and show your shared satchel of wise-stuffing. Walk with a swank, speak highly and be the change, you wish to see in the world, take responsibility, I suppose. Of course, this is true, but what can we do to support the movement .

Walking down the path to Chitchen Itza with a candle chanting Hoooo Naaaaab Kuuuuu, the sun crept over the bushes like a sniper in orange combats, more than a thousand ‘synthesis people’ snaked on down the trail dressed in white, chanting regalia, singing, praying.

Some line confusion, double ticket gods strike a double blow, along with the ‘no big bag’ gods, who set out their laws straight, not allowing certain shaped bags and objects. The early morning Sunrise inside the Site came quickly, and early, the Mayan ceremony was taking place around the back side of the first pyramid you are confronted with.

I filmed some of their special ceremony and followed a little way, but then i felt a little invasive with my damn Ipad and walked off to the ball court to make a further series of panorama photographs surrounded by fewer tourists (of which i was one)

This introduction to my day, might as well be the introduction, or be somewhere involved with my plan to create a linked panorama tour of my trip, featuring info’ HOTSPOTS and linked media from each space, making a comprehensive ‘tool’ for multimedia interactivity and exploration…gulp……gulp….and FEEDBACK.


The Great Ball Court, Chitchen Itza (North End) in Mexico For me, the New Age did begin in some sense on the 21st December 2012, it was based on a false belief (that the website I was launching with a friend, would be launched LIVE on the 21st at 11.11 GMT) that I did not get to check till later that day, to discover it was NOT YET live. (as of writing this it IS LIVE: www.raw360.net please do go visit and you will see what I mean, wow, wicked work CHU).

Please, just love the earth, and love each other. Not so tricky eh, well, naaa, thought you might grimace with an ending like that. Oh no, not the hippies again. Well, O' yes, me thinks that message, and that of the rainbow people worldwide, the artists and writers, painters, poets, and dancers, is the message: LET US PLAY. Join the dance, the song. Change the darkness and misery into fun and laughter, with some taste if you can muster it. Let us celebrate seduction, illusion, gameplay, strategy, paucity, glossalalia. Love one another, be good, have fun.

--Steve 'Fly Agaric 23' Pratt.

www.raw360.net