Liz Cirelli: Shamanic of Shambolic? Tales from a pilgrimage...

A roller coaster of the most epic proportion. That's how I'd reservedly describe the events of this past week. Guatemala is not a place that I have ever really been drawn to, but it is the home of the ancient Mayan civilization – and it's no real surprise to me that life has lead me here as the auspicious year of 2012 draws to an end. I came to Guatemala specifically to take part in a sacred shamanic pilgrimage, to mark the end of an important phase in the Mayan calendar and usher in what the ancient civilizations (and I) believe to be the dawning of a new era for humankind. The Mayans were master astrologers. Based on astrological movements, their observations provided explanations for creation, religious ritual, philosophy of life and living, and everyday practice in real life. Their philosophy blends together into a beautiful holistic world view and societal reality. The Maya had around 17 different calendars, tracking as far back as 10 million years, the accuracy of all of them far superior to the Gregorian calendar. The Mayan calendars are extremely complex, explaining in great detail the cycles in which celestial bodies move, and how these cycles effect the phases of evolution on our planet. We all know the Earth orbits the Sun, and so the Sun also orbits our galaxy. At sunrise on December 21, 2012 the winter solstice Sun rose to conjunct with the centre of the galaxy. Put very simply, the date marked the end of several astronomical cycles – one – the Earth's precessional orbit of the Sun - takes 25,770 years. It's not every day you're alive for such a galactic alignment – and I believe, as the Mayans did, that what takes place in our cosmos has a direct impact on our planet. The Mayans used these cosmic movements to predict different eras in terms of the evolutionary progress of our planet – and we have just completed the end of one of those cycles, launching us into a new phase of development. A pretty momentous occasion to commemorate if you ask me!

Lucy and I were under the impression that this would be a plant medicine pilgrimage, but as it transpired, the focus was more about doing ancient Mayan ceremonies in each of the significant ancient Mayan sites here in Guatemala. I must admit that when we initially found this news out, Lucy and I were a little disappointed, but we believe that it is no mistake were are here, so expectations have been left at the door, and we commenced this journey with open hearts and minds.

Being here, present amongst several elders – some from ancient Mayan heritage, some from ancient native American Indian heritage - and some from ancient Incan heritage – was a truly humbling honour. It is hard to find words that even come close to accurately articulating the amount of gratitude I felt for being privileged enough to be here. When I greeted Don Manuel – the Cosmic Catalyst who takes the form of a little man wearing a white suit – or in more earthly language, the shaman who is more or less the instigator for Lucy, Isis and I being on this pilgrimage, he gave me a hug and said “welcome home.” His words bemused me at first, “I'm only in Guatemala to do the pilgrimage” I instantly thought, but, during the welcome ceremony, as one of the Mayan elders was speaking, I knew exactly what he meant. His words struck something deep within me and I welled up. Tears started rolling from my eyes and although I didn't know precisely why I needed to be here, I knew that I had to be here.

The following morning we took part in the first Mayan ceremony, which was absolutely beautiful. As we approached the site where the ceremony was to take place I found myself crying again. I began to feel from a place deep, deep inside of me that this week would bring about some truly profound healing. A Mayan elder led the ceremony – who is a direct descendant of ancient Mayan nobility. The sacred ceremonial fire was built upon the large, round ceremonial stone and as each component of the fire was laid out, prayers were offered to the guardians of the four points of the compass and to the elements, of which we are all composed. The elders then spoke and we all offered prayers – again I started to cry. Something inside was deeply resonating. The entire ceremony was about uniting and healing the hurts of the world. The prayers were offered to the creator – or God – but not the God that Christianity teaches us to believe in. Instead, the Mayans pray to the infinite, boundless, intelligent energy that creates everything in existence. Of course, in reality, the God behind every religion is one and the same thing, it is just presented in different ways, according to the social paradigms of each country. But the Mayans have a much more direct experience of God – their belief of God is what I find resonates with me, and after spending 2 days on this pilgrimage, I do indeed feel as though I have “come home”.

Being on a pilgrimage is not all fluff, sparkles and happy-happy, joy-joy. It brings up a lot of things for everyone involved – and there are 200 people on this particular pilgrimage. Also, things tend to “go wrong” – a lot. Actually, that's an enormous understatement. The organisation of this pilgrimage has been utterly shambolic at best. Waiting for 4 hours in a hotel lobby whilst they try to check us all in, after we've been travelling on a bus all day, was a common theme. One night, after asking if it would be possible for us to get our room as quickly as possible so Lucy could put Isis to bed, it transpired that our names were not even on the room allocation list. The hotel lobby was totally crowded with pilgrims, all of them completely exhausted from a super early start and a long, long day of travelling. Don Manuel handed us the key to his room and told us to take it. It was 10pm and way beyond poor little Isis's bed time. She was being an absolute angel, but it was plain to see that she needed a bed. I could see that Lucy was beside herself. She and I had a mini hissy-fit over the whole debacle, but soon found ourselves giggling our socks off about the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation, trying not to let the inconvenience get to us. We also tended to not be told about things in advance, so we often found ourselves onboard buses, totally unprepared for the events of the day ahead. Waking up at 4:30am to get to a ceremony and having to last until 1pm before we got food has also featured. I found myself constantly asking questions, attempting in vain to ascertain even an inkling of what was going on, only to be met with the answer “I don't know” over and over again.

For instance, on one night we were to take part in a sweat lodge. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it is best described as a spiritual initiation within the context of heat, using the element of fire to release toxicity within the body. For some reason, news of the sweat lodge did not reach Lucy, Rick and I until we were already onboard the bus, heading to out of the city to the first ceremony of the day. We arrived at the mountainous location of the sweat lodge just after sun set and there was a definite chill in the air. All I had to wrap around myself for the sweat lodge was my pashmina and a small cotton towel I had been carrying around with us for emergency baby Isis situations. I wrapped my pashmina around my waist to make a skirt, and fashioned a make-shift top for myself out of the towel. The temperature was dropping fast and those of us who were not in the first group for the sweat lodge sat around the fire, offering prayer (and trying keep warm!) It was a beautiful experience, but as the first group approached the end of their session I began to shiver with cold. I tried not to allow preoccupation with my rapidly declining body temperature get in the way of this beautiful experience. But wait, what's this? Just as my turn came around to get inside the sweat lodge and finally get warm, Don Manuel announced “my friends, I'm very sorry but we have to leave – the buses are illegally parked in the road and are not allowed to stay there any longer.” By now I was uncontrollably shivering. Lucy and I got dressed as quickly as we could, but we had left our clothes outside and they were now wet with the night time dew. Back to the bus we went, cold, damp and sweat lodge-less.

Despite Rick having the intention of coming over to Guatemala with us to make things work with his family and try to be a support to Lucy, it has transpired that he simply doesn't have the capacity to step up to the responsibilities of being a full-time father right now. Having him around has put a tremendous amount of emotional strain on Lucy - and that ultimately took its toll on her health. She came down with a fever and feelings of nausea on the first day of the pilgrimage. After seeing how distressed she was, Don Manuel sat down with her and gave her a healing - and one of the pilgrims who is an acupuncturist also gave her a treatment. Within 15 minutes the fever and nausea had gone. The next day she felt a lot better, but had diarrhoea, so asked Rick to take Isis for the day – and travel on a separate bus from her so she could rest during the 4-hour bus journey. To cut a long story short, he flatly refused, telling Lucy “I'm not her mother” and walking off. Despite understanding the pain cycles he's going through that are preventing him from being able to embrace being a father to his angelic little girl, I felt waves of absolute fury rising up inside me. It almost felt as though I was feeling the rage of all women who had been abandoned by the fathers of their children, collectively, all at the same time. Lucy looked distraught – we both decided to let the organisers know what was going on, and immediately they stepped up and offered help. When we next encountered Rick, Lucy and I exploded on him – we'd both had more than our fill of his de-stabilizing energy. Kyra, one of the organisers, who was aware of Rick's antics, came to try to talk to him. He exploded at Lucy in front of her – and then decided to leave the pilgrimage.

Lucy was obviously traumatised, but was holding it together for Isis as best she could. She had realised back at Lake Atitlan that she had to let him go – and has now drawn a line under their relationship. Of course she will allow him to have access to Isis, but she does not want any further emotional involvement with him. When we are not in the throws of anger, we do both feel a tremendous amount of compassion for him – yes, his actions have sent Lucy to hell and back, but we know they come from a place of great pain. I'm telling you this story with Lucy's express permission – in fact, she actually asked me to write about it - “it's all part of the journey” she said, with a smile on her face. And indeed it is. It's strange how things work out – literally as soon as he left, the beautiful people on this pilgrimage sprang into action, helping out with Isis. They played with her on the bus and took such pleasure in entertaining her. It felt as though a cloud had been lifted – this new day had brought with it new, lighter energy. Lucy and I really began bonding with the other people on the pilgrimage – there really are some true angels in our midst. A chat with Don Manuel over lunch saw him telling me “Rick left the pilgrimage because the vibration was too high for him”. Another of the elders said “ooh, he had such angry energy around him – he needs to let that ego go”. Amazing how insightful these people are – how clearly they see things. But...a day later Rick decided to make a reappearance. Lucy handled it really well – allowing Isis to run freely between them, but keeping conversation only to essential matters concerning Isis. I can't say I was happy to see him again, but he is Isis's father – and I have to respect that.

We took part in many ceremonies, some of them 5 hours long. The grounds of one particular one were beautiful and leafy, where tropical trees provided cool shade from the hot sun. Isis ran around freely, making new friends, and playing without a care in the world. Lucy and I sat together, absorbing the magical energy of the ceremony, feeling deeply connected. I laid back in the grass and looked up at the smoke from the fire. The rays of the sun shining through the foliage of the trees cut beautiful light rays through it, and as the smoke rose and swirled, it played with the rays, forming dancing patterns of sunshine. Once again I felt so deeply grateful to be here, having this magical experience. I have always been drawn to paganism, to white magic and mysticism – and I'm finding within these Mayan ceremonies a great sense of familiarity. I have no doubt that in a past life I danced around an ancient Mayan ceremonial fire, banging my drum and pounding my bare feet on Mother Earth beneath me. These ceremonies are all about unity, healing and love. They are delivered with such heart-felt passion that they stir the very soul.

As with my time spent in Amma's ashram, as well as experiencing the joys of growth, I am also enduring a few little niggles with some of the people on this pilgrimage. Reflecting back on my own little spiritual journey, I have noticed a recurring theme: in some individuals, myself included in the past, their perception of spiritual practices actually gets in the way of the very messages their spiritual practices are trying to teach them. Their preoccupation with the bells and whistles, the ins and outs of a ceremony, or their desire to hear words spoken by someone they deem to be a spiritual teacher actually makes them behave in ways that are completely contradictory to the message of the spiritual practice they are trying to follow. There has definitely been displays of some slightly spiritually neurotic behaviour on this pilgrimage. As part of the ceremony we are to offer 13 candles into the fire, to commemorate the celebration of the end of the auspicious 13^th cycle of the Mayan calendar. Lucy put her candles near a tree for safe-keeping – and someone decided to take them and make them theirs. Of course Lucy and I just saw it as ridiculous and laughed it off. Another person got her knickers in a twist when I stood in front of her whilst a drawing of the Mayan calendar was being explained to us. Today, a lady asked Lucy to move away from the ceremony when Isis was crying because she couldn't hear the spiritual messages. Memories of my time at Amma's ashram in India this time last year came to mind – Lucy has also been there and is familiar with the nutty dynamic of that ashram – and we both shared a giggle or two at the comedic dichotomous behaviour of those who are on a “spiritual path”, but sometimes can't see past the end of their own noses. It's a bemusing phenomena of human existence...that sometimes, what you think you need to do in life actually gets in the way of what needs to be done.

Over the course of the week we have consistently had to deal with the daily shambles that have been component parts of this pilgrimage. On the whole, Lucy and I (and baby Isis for that matter) took the annoyances on the chin, but on our penultimate night...I lost it. We'd spent the night travelling to the ancient ruins of Tikal and I probably averaged about 10 minutes of sleep on the entire journey. The cumulative late nights, early starts and lack of food had mounted, and I was beginning to reach the end of my tolerance tether. It was 3am when we arrived at Tikal, and we trekked for around an hour to get to the site at which we were holding the ceremonies to see in the dawn of the solstice. Yes, the stars were shining brightly, and yes, the looming shadows of the ancient Mayan pyramids looked epic in the moonlight, but fatigue plagued us as we walked through the jungle.

When we arrived at the ancient temple, Lucy was so exhausted from carrying baby Isis that she found a nearby tree and just passed out with her. I sat around the ceremonial fire along with the other pilgrims, with every intention of seeing it through, but I was so exhausted I kept falling asleep. Yes, it was December 21^st, 2012, but...by now, I couldn't help but feel I'd had my fill of ceremonies - and eventually I just surrendered and passed out under a tree. Lucy and I both woke up to the dawn, damp, cold and if I'm perfectly honest, pretty darn miserable. We wondered around the ancient ruins of Tikal, trying to be as enthusiastic as we could – it was beautiful and epic, but we were simply exhausted and quite frankly, had had enough of the shambolic pilgrimage – and as much as I hate to say it, we were feeling a bit ceremonied-out. We were feeling ripped off, disappointed, and grumpy, but were still managing to laugh at all the shambles we'd had to put up with over the past week. We thought of jumping ship and heading straight up into Mexico as we were in northern Guatemala, but Lucy had left laundry at the hotel we were to be returning to in Guatemala City, so we had no choice but to head back down south with the pilgrimage. Another hour-long wait on the bus before it went anywhere, then a “40-minute” bus ride “straight to the hotel” that turned into a 2-hour ride to seemingly the middle of nowhere saw my patience wearing dangerously thin. By now, everybody had had enough of the horrendous lack of organisation. People disembarked the buses to find out what was going on: the organisers were trying to sort out hotel rooms. After about 30 minutes of tedious faffing, I ascertained that Lucy, Isis and I were once again not on any list. Isis was crying, Lucy was, for want of a better term, feeling raped and pillaged and I had had enough. The organisers felt the wrath of my anger and I demanded that we be taken to our hotel room immediately so Lucy could put poor exhausted baby Isis to bed. We were transferred to another bus and within half an hour we were checked in to our hotel. Our room wasn't big enough to swing a cat in, let alone keep a toddler in, so after dinner, Lucy and I were transferred to another hotel. Yet more faff. The following morning I woke up so exhausted my entire body was shaking. Everyone was super helpful as we checked out of the hotel – they knew that my explosion hadn't come from a place of selfishness – it had come from sheer frustration that despite us trying our hardest to make the best of a bad situation, the seeming lack of consideration or concern for a mother and her baby had pushed me over the edge. Lucy and I joked that I had taken on the role of dad and was defending her little family.

Whilst being in the presence of so many wise and aware elders is of course an amazing experience, I'm finding that little Isis is proving to be our most powerful little shaman. She is our Cosmic Catalyst in baby form, showing us the way, just by purely being. Such perfect embodiment of the beauty of being fully in the present moment, fully in yourself. Completely knowing yourself. I never really fully appreciated the powerful intelligence of babies and children until now. Learning to give totally selflessly, from a place of love and joy, just for the pure pleasure of giving, has been a very beautiful lesson Isis has taught me so rapidly, and so effortlessly – now that I'm finally in a place within myself that allows me to be receptive to it. Allowing children and babies to just express themselves, through their own innate intelligence is such an important gift that we in the West have tried so hard to eradicate. The reason why is debatable, but to me is ultimately irrelevant. They inherently know their own way, their own path, and it is up to us as adults to simply support that – not to implant into them what we deem to be the path they should be walking. Allow them to walk their own path – they know which way they should be going – us adults just get in their way and give them the wrong directions. I really am developing a very deep love for darling little Isis, being with her, letting her guide Lucy and I through her beautiful innocence.

So yes, there were many, so many things on this pilgrimage that really pushed our patience to (and often beyond) its boundaries. We were so dissatisfied that we were ready to send a very snotty email to the organisers demanding a refund...but this morning on the bus ride back to Guatemala City, Lucy and I had a total epiphany. We began to fully comprehend, from the deepest parts of ourselves, not only the lessons of the past week, but the lessons that our lives had been teaching us. We as human beings are tremendously powerful alchemists. We have the power to transmute anything, we have just forgotten how to use that wisdom. When you are fully present, aware of the mind, hearing it, but not listening to it, you can start tapping in to that innate wisdom and begin understanding how to use the frustrations that you experience in life as fuel to manifest the reality you want. Of course life is chaotic – creation is chaos made manifest. It was the big bang that created this universe – a giant, chaotic explosion. Creation hates voids – you only have to open your eyes to the natural world to see that. Creative energy makes sure that every nook and cranny is filled. But what do we as humans tend to do? We hang on, literally clenching on for dear life, rigid, afraid to let go and acting totally contrary to the way life behaves. But if we learn to let go, to flow, to surrender, to listen to your instincts, beautiful things start to happen. If you are able to transcend expectation, and accept the present moment as it is, you begin to develop an ability to see what the present moment is trying to teach you. Give without expecting anything in return, knowing that if that act of giving comes from a place of selflessness, joy and love, without any expectation, the abundant flow of life with flow into that space of giving. Live life with a childlike quality – if you have a dream, pursue it, as that's what you're meant to be doing with your life. If you have many dreams, pursue them all – because life is infinitely abundant, and will support an ethos of abundant creation within individuals. Apologies were made to the poor people I offloaded to yesterday evening – and in their wisdom they just knew it was all part of the process I was going through and gave me warm hugs, happy that I understood the lessons I had to learn. Amazing. Not only did the organisers manage to maintain such a state of utter chaos that all my buttons were successfully pushed, but they also had big enough hearts to accept the reaction of those firey buttons. Those Mayans knew what they were doing...the temples that we were at were built specifically for December 21^st 2012...and boy did they do the job they were meant to!

Last night we saw in Christmas at the house of one of the Mayan elders. We ate together, then held a ceremony at midnight. My love for the ceremonies seems to have made a return. I've never seen in Christmas like this - it was truly magical. Lucy & I have decided to continue travelling on with Don Manuel and around 20 of his students from New York and Poland. Tomorrow we're heading back to Lake Atitlan to embark on the next step of this crazy adventure. Looks like my return to the Lake is happening a lot sooner than I had anticipated...but Lucy & I have decided to let go of planning this journey, allowing the magic to unfold of its own accord. Right now it feels like the right decision to continue travelling with Don Manuel. We'll see where the next few days takes us...