Yucatan, Land of the Maya, where the spirits are strong. Wandering thru the Mayan ruins and the Spanish cities built atop and of Mayan ancient cities, I hear their voices whispering, whispering – undecipherable and deep; calling for balance, calling for an opening to the unknown mysteries of spirit.
Winter Solstice, I walked the roads of Dzibilchatun, an ancient Mayan site near the Gulf, occupied from 300BC to the Conquest. The Temple of the Dolls, greats the dawn sun on each equinox, allowing His magnificence to shine thru Her central doors.
Mexico mystique, Mayan mysteries, are foreign to my bloodline. And yet this new dawn brings the realization to the world that we are one Human Race, all connected. A thread runs through all the creatures of the Sea and the Earth to the rocks, the trees, the plants, to the stars and beyond to the great unknown.
The last of my mother’s living sisters died on this Winter Solstice. Bush, mother of Helen and Trudy and Lynne, chose a day of power for her departure.
Treading the path of the ancient Mayans has opened my heart to my own departed loved ones. Margaret, mother of Anne and Susan and Judith, long gone from this world, whispers to me in these days. Remembrance stays the hand of death.
On this day of the Winter Solstice the sun stands still in its yearly turning back to the light, bringing a renewal, an awakening, a quickening of my soul.
To see more photos and read more on Dzibilchatun visit my post on hubpages.