A Vision in the Ruins

In November of 2010 we took another of our well-loved cruises. This one in particular was a celebration of my Breast Cancer recovery. It was to be a very spiritual experience.

We took a shore excursion to view the Mayan ruins at Tulum, on the Yucatan Peninsula. I have always been fascinated with the cultures of the Mayans and the Incas since grade school. A few facts about the Mayan people:

  • They were a highly developed people who created a form of writing through hieroglyphics
  • Very skilled in astronomy and mathematics
  • Mayans are thought to be the inventors of the first calendar and were highly advanced in art and trade
  • Tulum, the first of the Mayan cities to see the rising sun, is often referred to as “City of the Dawn”.

The Mayan culture is truly interesting, and far more in depth than I can recount here. It was into this ancient city that we entered -and an amazing experience was just about to begin.

Our guide was of Mayan descent and very proud of his heritage. He was also very knowlegeble, as was evident in his presentation. He painted excellent word pictures of temple life as we walked through the canopy of trees, following ancient pathways. Iguanas were everywhere, all sizes, guardians of the holy city. Tulum was so highly regarded as a holy place that people from the village would bring babies born with any deformity or special needs to the city gates, leave them there, and priests would gather them up and raise them as royalty. These children were viewed as specially sent from their gods.

The last stop of our wonderful tour was through a thicker wooded area. Richard and I were at the back of the group because he is tall and has no problem seeing over everyone and I wanted to take in everything I was hearing and seeing without being in a bunch of people.

We walked on a wide path with an occasional flat stone. On each side were raised stone foundations and some walls-crumbling, but apparent. Our guide explained that this was once a thriving village within the vast city walls. He described the daily activity that would have been: men hunting or doing stonework or woodwork, women cooking over a fire, children playing, music from the temple. He asked us to stop in the middle of that village and just look and listen, hear the sounds of the village…We walked a little further down, at the end of the grove of trees to the ruin of another temple. The guide invited us to come closer and gather in. He continued his stories and then began to play a wooden flute. The music was haunting and beautiful. Song to the gods, song of his ancestors, and song of the Mayan. Listening, mesmerized, still at the back of the group I turned around slowly to take one last look at the village behind me. With the flute music in my ears, Spirit-song, I saw them.

They stepped forward from the ruins. Mothers, children, warriors. Young, old, one by one emerging to the call of the Spirit-song. Shadowy figures yet distinct as people, as if to say to us “We’re still here. This is our home. Learn from us.”

I looked at them for a little while, nodded in acknowledgement of their presence, said ‘Thank-you’ and then turned back toward the music. He finished the song-and when I looked again, they were gone.

Imagination? Some may say so. I have come to accept these visions as pure gift. Gift from the Father. May these experiences always be shared by those that need to hear them and to the glory of God.

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