aztecs in town

Anyone who has lived here for awhile is familiar with the sight of dancing Aztecs. Also the pungent smell of sacred copal incense, haunting calls of the conch shell, sound of drums beating rhythmic cadences, colorful feathers, beads, bells and shells. This package of sensory drama comes from the local group, Danza Azteca de Anahuac. They danced this weekend to celebrate the annual Dia de Cuautemoc Ceremony which, according to the newspaper "commemorates the 511th birthday of an indigenous [Mexican] leader who courageously defended his capital, but was taken prisoner when it fell in 1521".  It was quite chilly on Saturday with strong winds gusting and swirling - the intrepid dancers carried on.

Those ancient cultures of Mexico (Incas, Aztecs, Mayans) are mysterious and compelling. Hats off (and fancy headdresses on) to the 21st century descendants who keep them alive in some form.

I was in the Yucatan (Mayan country) three years ago with a group of spiritual and creative women. We spent a day exploring the newest uncovered temple site of Dzibanche.

Upon our arrival, an elder curandera asked us make a wide circle in a clearing in front of the main pyramid. Next to a tiny copal tree sapling in the center she arranged sticks of burning copal incense, blew through a conch shell in four directions, said a prayer and invited each woman - from the oldest to the youngest - to say a few words. As I was second to the oldest and not adept at extemporaneous public comment, I said something about world peace. Since no one was judging and there were no Mayan chieftains ready to sacrifice the bumblers (although rumor has it that a princess is still buried there), it was all good. The photo of the pyramid is from a postcard. Intrepid photographer that I am, I took hundreds of digital pictures with my trusty little Canon. Within a week of arriving home, the camera was stolen. I'd only managed to print off one contact sheet and hadn't yet downloaded the images to my computer. That incident was just one of many unusual things that happened during and after that trip. When I burn the copal incense at home I remember an intense hot day when I stood in a circle of women surrounded by jungle. Not something I'll ever forget - or understand fully. The Aztec dancers, even incongruously dancing in a small park in the center of a plaza traffic circle, evoke paradoxically temporal memories of ancestors I never had.

small patches of bark
removed to bleed the copal tree
sacred resin heals