Tag: queztaltenango

• December 18, 2012

  Apocalypse Averted

  

  In the mountains of the Western Highlands of Guatemala, there is a little town called Pachaj. The four thousand people who live there are primarily K’iche’ — a Maya people who have cultivated these lands for thousands of years. Chickens wander through terraced gardens of squash and potatoes. The women wear brightly colored woven skirts and blouses; the men wear t-shirts or collared shirts. An advertisement for a cell phone service is painted on a wall near the school.

  On one of the many mountains that ring Pachaj, there is a holy site. A cross once stood here, but it was torn down, leaving only its concrete base. But the site is far older than that. Just a few yards away, a stone protrudes from the ground. It is covered in ancient Maya hieroglyphs.

  

  The stone is old. The markings are eroded and lichen has crept into the cracks and crevices. No one can read it and the mystery of the stone reminds me of how mysterious the Maya themselves are. This week marks the end of the 13th b’ak’tun of the Mayan calendar, an auspicious date for conspiracy theorists, New Age believers and Apocalypse junkies who believe that the world will end (literally or metaphorically) on December 21, 2012.

  As much as I hate to burst their bubble of misinformation, it simply isn’t true. Trust me, a real life Maya spiritual leader told me that the world isn’t going to end in 2012. Apocalypse averted.

  You see, the Maya do not believe in the end of the world, at least not in the way all those end of days documentaries like you to think. Their beliefs center around respect for all life; the celebration of life. Nothing in their oral or written traditions dwells on the apocalypse. The hysteria around 2012 is an invention of the West — an excuse to scare people, sell books and fill hours of program time on the History Channel.

  We would be wise to learn from actual Maya teachings (which I freely admit I only know a little bit about), which call us to respect one another and reflect on our lives and relationships. And on the morning of December 21, my friends in Pachaj will wake up, check their email and go to work on their looms like any other day.

  Don’t let dates and prophesies and sensationalists control you. Don’t let them scare you. Plan for the future, because December 21 will come and go and the world will go on undisturbed. Turn off the History Channel, go live your life, tell your friends.

  

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle (that’s me) is a writer, photographer and occasional world traveler in Flagstaff, AZ. Please comment, share, like and follow him (me) on the Twitter machine: @jonnyeberle.

  Related Posts:
  Guatemala in the Rear View Mirror
  Immortality and the Written World
  Xela Streetsong
  One Month After Guatemala
• March 22, 2012

  Xela Streetsong

  

  He was careful to prop open the door with one of the discarded boots. He didn’t want to get trapped out on the roof again, no matter how much he wanted to stay there. He stopped for a moment and stood between the ocean and vermillion blankets that stretched across the patio on thin white rope. They danced with the wind like formless marionettes.

  He pulled the red and blue curtains aside to reveal a small set of tile stairs that rose five steps to a metal gate and wondered what was beyond. He had to duck through the metal threshold, but once he was out, he stopped. He breathed free for the first time.

  The city of Xela lay out at his feet. He could jump from one rooftop to the next if he wanted to; from stucco to steel to crumbling tile as old as independence.

  The breeze was flowing from the mountains to the north. That’s where the air was born. It cascaded down the dome of the cathedral and flooded the narrow cobbled streets and was still.

  He breathed. The Xela air was cold and ancient. It was sweet with the nectar of community; it was bitter with the blood of slaves.

  

  Here, he could stop and forget his other life. Relationships, jobs, rent checks and milk souring in the refrigerator — all were as distant as the moon. All that was present was a body, a soul and the shroud of the wind.

  “I am not preoccupied by time,” the Maya leader had said. He thought he almost understood.

  He had expected time to stand still here, like a clock perpetually frozen at 4:37, but time rushed on here, inexorably into the 21st century. No one here was afraid. Everything changes — life is change.

  

  Beyond the cathedral, a cell phone tower grew among the trees, as if it had always been part of the grove. Car horns blared and pigeons clustered on window ledges and eyed the human with suspicion.

  He closed his eyes for a moment to hear the birdsong and the streetsong of Xela. His heart felt the song and it was not wrong. He felt connection to and respect for all of life, if only for an instant.

  For a fleeting second, he felt Maya.

  

  — 30 —

  If you’re so inclined, you can follow me on the Twitter machine, where I’m always keepin’ it classy — @jonnyeberle. Also, many thanks to WordPress for the FP earlier this week and to all of my new friends. Bienvenidos!