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Hits To The Heart And Mind From The Land Of Dreams

2012: Impact Of Love

Ix Chel was finishing a bit of tidying up around her small apartment on a quiet, Sunday afternoon. It had taken her longer than usual for she was moping, deeply distracted by her thoughts of Yumil Kaxob—her "You-Me", as she lovingly called him. What had happened? They had been working on their plan for so long now. He would keep building up a landscaping
business there in the fifth world while she finished her degree in design, which she was about to do, and she would join him there. Now, he didn't want her to come. She was shocked and when she urgently pressed him on why, he just said, "Things didn't work out. I really don't think you should come here. I'm sorry. So very sorry." And that was it. He wasn't answering his cell, wasn't responding to her texts. What was going on? What was wrong?                                                                                Looking out the window of her apartment, Ix Chel gazed at the beauty of the land beneath the Tree of Heaven. She thought of the other great Love of her Life, the Sun.
She had adored him but his jealousy drove a
wedge between them; she couldn't, wouldn't take it.                 She remembered how she felt about him. Still, she knew she wanted something more. A rush of feeling came through her.  A sense of connection sent energy through her entire Being.

                                                                                              She went Celestial.

                                                                                      On The Light of Day She Rides.
                                                                                      Through The Night She Shines.
                                                                       Within The Ether Her Endless Spark Of Life Ignites.
                                                                         "I AM IX CHEL! THE RAINBOW AND I ARE ONE!"

"The Earth and Moon Goddess sighed, gazed again out her window. A feeling of resolution and optimism set in.

"I Love Yumil. I am going to find out what's happened and figure out a way to deal with it. We should be together."

Right at that moment there was a knock at her door. Ix Chel took a breath and composed herself. It was probably her neighbor, Ixtab; a nice, old lady but always bringing over a gun or knife or rope—usually along with some of those great corn syrup cookies she baked.

"Kill yourself, dearie. I'm telling you, it's a great way to go. You die, you go to Heaven. What could be better than that?" Ix Chel liked her but the constant talk of suicide got a little wearisome. And anyway, they were already in Heaven, weren't they?

Another polite but firm knock. She went and opened the door. There, in all their mischievous glory, stood her childhood friends Xbalanque and Hunahpu. "Hey, sis! How's it going?" They walked in. Hunahpu had a large bottle of nectar in his hand. "We have come to celebrate your graduation! Break out the glasses, in a sophisticated and scholarly manner, of course!" The brothers laughed.

Ix Chel looked at her wonderful friends—her brothers, really. She was so happy to see them that the feeling almost choked her. They smiled broadly at her. She tried to speak. Nothing came out. She reached and hugged them. A moment passed—another. She started to cry—a strong woman but whose feelings ran deep.

"Saaay. What's this?" asked Xbalanque. "Come, let's sit down. What's the matter, sister?"

Ix Chel, in the warm glow of her loving friends, told them about what was happening with Yumil Kaxob.

Seven Macaw looked smugly at himself in the mirror of the hallway of his well appointed flat. The vain god always had to tear himself away from his own reflection. Seven was brimming with satisfaction. His plan to pose as a somewhat simple human neighbor to Yumil Kaxob was working perfectly. Fitting, after all, for wasn't Yumil doing the same thing, posing as human, pretending he was just another of these fifth worlders? Seven reviewed the success of his scheme. Yumil, not knowing that the casual friend he had met months ago, Arnie Bird, was a treacherous deity—not knowing that "Arnie" knew who he, Yumil, really was—had allowed
Macaw, in a succession of contrived casual encounters dwelling and bemoaning on the talk of the coming apocalype, to drive Yumil into a state of crippling guilt. Seven knew the Earth god's secrets.

"I'll tell you, Yumil," he would say, "some ancient god is coming. Gonna burn us all. It just ain't right." "But Arnie," Yumil would say quietly, "what if that isn't it at all? What if that date was simply the end of some cycle? Or even marking something good, a happy event?" "Doesn't even matter," The fraud would always insist. "The panic is growing, going to get a lot worse. By the time the day comes, there's going to be people living in the mountains and in the ground, rioting in the streets—terror, pillaging, killing."

And Yumil would stew. He had known for centuries that 13.0.0.0.0 was simply the end of the count of those many, many days. And that the Counters had planned on starting the next cycle when they decided they were going to try their hand at soap operas and never got back around to calendar work—having had so much success with "As The Yucatan Turns" and "All My Chaacs."

He also knew that the date marked the coming of the Love of his Life, Ix Chel, to the fifth world to join him; though the details in history had always been vague. Was their joyful plan going to destroy this Earth that he loved? If not in intent then in some self-fulfilling cycle of events? All this beautiful life. "I will go to her!" he thought. But an instant later he realized that for whatever Cosmic binding, to leave this place—would be the god of flora dying. In a tortured moment of decision he told Ix Chel not to come.

Arnie Bird sauntered around the front of the house of Yumil Kaxob, as was his wont to do, directly to the back yard. Summer was in full form. "Arnie" liked the heat of the Sun, though the beauty of the flowers was wasted on him. He did note the patch of gaillardia and the profusion of color—some dragonflies on the wing.
There was Yumil. He stood on his small deck in front of a fired up grill. He was cooking a couple of burgers. His face was down.There was none of the usual joy one would see in such a communing.
"Hey, buddy!" Bird called out. "How are ya?"
"Oh, hi, Arnie. How are you?" Yumil replied, without much energy.
"What's the matter, champ? You seem down," asked the faking Macaw.
"Just been working a lot, kind of tired. Have a beer." Yumil motioned towards a cooler on the ground by some chairs.
"Thanks, man. So, you give any thought to putting in that underground bunker? I'm telling ya, it's a good idea. I've already started mine and I can't wait to get it done. Something happens and a person at least has a chance. I know a guy who can lay the concrete for ya. He's good and he'll give ya a great price."
"Well, I have been considering it. You want a burger?"
"Ya sure, pal? You just have the two there."
"No problem, Arnie. One's enough for me and I can always put on a couple more. Here, grab a bun."

Some ketchup, some onions—Seven loved certain human food—a lot of salt and go. There was some crunching but he gave it a few chews and swallowed. Ah, the hickory smoke, the cheese. "Ya put some walnuts or somethin' in there, bud?" "Not walnuts," Yumil looked up, "ground plaster and gypsum."

Seven Macaw froze. Plaster and gypsum, lethal poison to a god—he knew that he was dead. The two dragonflies nearby started to glimmer, transform. The haze of plasma settled and there stood—Xbalanque and Hunahpu. Macaw's own facade failed and his true form came into view. He gazed in fear at the brothers. Could he trick them, somehow?—save his life, somehow? He had fallen to the ground. Looking up, he despaired. These were the two who had defeated the Xibalba.

"Well, now," said Xbalanque, sauntering over and crouching down next to Macaw, "why don't you tell Yumil all about what you've been doing while we decide about restoring you back to life, or not."

The Jaguar House beckoned.

Ix Chel, Yumil Kaxob, Xbalanque and Hunahpu sat in a clearing in the park. It was night. The four friends were quietly talking about all that had happened. They were resting, drawing strength from each other. "So, sister Ixi is here and early at that. Will that derail a force of destruction aimed at this world? Do you think Yum Cimil and Nacon intend to sweep through here?" asked Hunahpu.
"Could be," replied his brother. "The pattern that governs their choices is often covered by a veneer that cannot be pierced."

"What will we do?" asked Ix Chel. "We cannot just let that happen." "It may be beyond our ability to stop," said Hunahpu. "And what if there is no force intended or it has been diffused, but the Fifth Worlders destroy themselves, anyway?"
"There is nothing, sadly, we could do about that," responded Xbalanque. He stood up. "But if Yum Cimil and Nacon intend to take this world, we will challenge them." He looked up to the dark sky. He declared loudly, "We will challenge them!"

Within a moment, the sky was no longer dark. A pearlescent glow engulfed them and there stood—Itzamn.
"Creator!" the four chorused in unison. They fell to a genuflection, then flat against the ground.

"Rise, my children," said Itzamn. They came up tentatively to their knees. There was quiet for several moments then Itzamn spoke.

"Xbalanque and Hunahpu, much Good comes through you. Still, always so quick to the battle. Yumil, my gentle but powerful source of limitless growth. How strong you are, in rain and in drought. And my Ix Chel..." Itzamn went silent.

"Great Itzamn," ventured Xbalanque after a few moments, "will You tell us what to do? We do not want to see the Fifth World destroyed. Is it within Your Will to reveal to us if it is true? Is it within Your Will that we may be able to change that course?"
"If the Fifth World is destroyed, might there be a Sixth?" replied Itzamn.

"If You make it so, Creator," Yumil responded with all his courage. "but so much loss—so much loss."

"Loss. Gain," said Itzamn.

Ix Chel spoke. "Dearest One, we understand in our own small way that all things pass. What comes, goes. But sometimes, it is so hard. So hard to face the sorrow, so hard to face the fear, even for us gods, let alone these precious humans."

"I am always aware of every question, every fear," replied Itzamn. "I never dismiss them, nor should you."

"In our times of uncertainty with what comes and goes, Dearest One," persisted Ix Chel, the Lady Rainbow, standing straight up now, shoulders back, shivering ever so much but determined, even in her reverence, "what do we do? Where does that leave us?"

"It leaves you," said Itzamn, "to seek and trust in That from which it comes, That to which it goes. If you will."
The opalescence faded. The night returned.

The four stayed in the clearing for awhile—praying, meditating. They collected up some of the feathers that covered the ground
and headed back to the place that was now the home of Ix Chel and Yumil. They would eat and talk, and laugh a little, perhaps. And they knew that on this night—this night—all their attention would be simply, completely—on this night.

Written Content    G.A.M.   cc
Chichen Itza temple   Gary718
Tree and Rainbow Marilyn Barbone
Abstract Jiri Vaclavek
Burning number 7 Ba-mi
Summer   Oxlock
3D Infinity Wen-liang Tseng
Idol At Night   Leopoldo (Polo) Jimenez
Film Number 3   Ana Sousa
Funny Cartoon Numbers Chudomir Tsankov
Number One   Anthony Furgison
Popcorn   Darryl Brooks                                                                                                                                                                                       Classic Column   Paul Moore
Vintage Scrap Paper    Dan Ionut Popescu
Book   Budda
Casa Blanca   ©Warner Bros. and all respective copyright holders. All Rights Reserved.