This could be a day of powerful spiritual transformations which may come through confronting great challenges. They may seem unrelated, but the eventual outcome may become clear after time.
The highly unpredictable energy of the number 11 combines with the nawal Kame today to throw some challenges into life. There are some things which are difficult to face They may be lifelong challenges, phobias or frights. These are things which follow us through life, confronting us from time to time, to give us the opportunity to clear them from our lives. In doing so, we move into a higher aspect of ourselves as we let the old fear die and fall away.
Today these challenges may come from many directions, and they may come in quickly and with force. The ability to adapt and respond to these situations as they arrive can be gleaned from the nawal Kame. It brings us the bravery to undergo these challenges and grow from them. Today is the day to “feel the fear and do it anyway”, although you might find more than the usual number of challenges coming your way. It might feel like the moment you have dealt with one challenge another pops up to take its place.
Of course, the day of Kame is also strongly connected with the ancestors. It is to the ancestors we can look to help us to overcome our fears. The energy of the number 11 suggests that the path for this might not be logical or obvious. Moreso that it is a day to rely on our intuition. It may take us into some areas we would not normally consider, but it might be there that we find our strength.
Nawal Kame
Kame relates to death, which often makes people nervous. However, this nawal is seen as an extremely positive day. Birth is the gateway into the mortal life, death the gateway into the eternal. In many shamanistic traditions, the initiate goes through several death experiences during training. This can be through the use of particular herbs, or sometimes through accident or illness. In these experiences the density of the mortal realm falls away and the greater understanding emerges. It can often be described as a spiritual transformation. In the Popul Vuh, the Mayan book of creation, the Hero Twins descend to the underworld, Xibalba, to confront the Lords of Death. They pass the many challenges set for them, but eventually end up being tricked by the Lord of Death. Instead of giving in, the Hero Twins choose to sacrifice themselves.
They give instructions to a pair of seers to convince the Lords of Death to grind the Twins’ bones to dust and throw the dust in the river. Everything went according to plan and five days later the twins appeared as catfish in the river. They then transformed into vagabond “magicians”. In this way we see a literal transformation from the crusader (Tijax) through death (Kame) to the higher self (Ix). This is the potential of the Kame day, to face ones fears and attain a higher perspective, to advance the journey of your soul. This is also a day to remember your ancestors and friends that have passed into the other realm, to remember what they taught you, and to thank them for their wisdom that helped you to grow.
The Number 11
The number 11 is a high and odd number. This gives it some rather challenging properties, although it can come good in the end. Imagine you visit Ireland and are transfixed by the green of the hills. Then you go to Morocco and are awed by the red of the buildings. Then you go to the Caribbean and are moved by the turquoise sea. You return home and paint a beautiful picture using those colours. When you were in Ireland you didn’t know you were going to paint that masterpiece. You may not have even known why you were there. This is how 11 works. You are sure you need to be doing something, but unsure why. You are collecting experience through many wanderings.
Mark, thank you! I’ve been reading your daily posts since February 29, 2024 (following a vision I had) and they have been enormously transformative. I recently wrote this short story to commemorate the experience. It was originally addressed to my sister in law, but I suppose the “you” can be more collective. I credit the wisdom you so eloquently present in these posts to its formation. I studied Zen buddhism but nothing has resonated like the wisdom of the Mayan elders before. May your feet walk surely on the path of Saq’be. <3
Cholq’ij
I first learned of ChoIq’ij on leap day in the Gregorian calendar—a remarkably fitting date for the occasion—following a vision granted to me during a ritual meditation ceremony I attended at Mystic Flora Apothecary, a small boutique nestled somewhere in the labyrinth of paved city streets comprising what’s known as modern-day San Mateo, but perhaps more rightly acknowledged as the unceded ancestral homeland of the Ramaytush Ohlone.
Chimes jingled. I walked through the shop glimpsing tidbits of a menagerie of offerings—neatly rolled smudge sticks of sage, mugwort, cedar; artisanal beeswax candles shaped like curvy nude busts; stacks of tarot decks with eye-catching designs; a wall of dried herbs in hand-labeled glass jars listing natural remedies in curly writing; silver-cast owl claw talismans dangling on feathered pendants; hexagonal towers carved from quartz, amethyst, jasper, onyx; books on all things occult scattered on tables and shelves.
Eventually I made my way to the back, pulling aside a velvety curtain and sitting down cross legged on my throw pillow-turned-makeshift-meditation-cushion, taking my place in a circle of sorts alongside a hipster-looking young dad newly ordained as a priest in the Order of the Stag and the Rose, a tweenage child, an exuberant priestess who calmed my nerves with a warm welcome, and a laptop computer—screen alight with a grid of tiny pixelated visages on zoom.
Elden began the ceremony, declaring the intent to reclaim the forgotten, calling upon each of the spirits of the east and air, the south and fire, west and water, north and earth, and inviting them to participate if they so chose.
The circle closed around us. I relaxed and offered myself to be guided by the meditation. First, roots grew out of my tailbone, a tether descending through pillow, carpet, and cement, beneath dirt and rock, down through all the layers of sediment, past roiling molten magma straight to the iron core. Then, returning, my attention flowed from root, to sacrum, through chest, heart, throat, mind, and finally crown, which tingled hot as I felt my spirit depart my body, much like smoke might depart the lit tip of an incense stick on its journey to reach the heavens in prayer.
Above me, a wreath of glowing red cinders burned an opening into the vast expanse of space—distant galaxies of countless stars twinkled overhead, awash in an endless indigo abyss. I hoisted myself up through the portal from below—when suddenly the cosmic hourglass flipped—and I free fell down, down, down to a tunnel that dropped me through a canopy of wet foliage onto damp loamy soil. The air was thick with the scent of fungal mossy fern. Though pitch darkness engulfed me, my whereabouts were nonetheless immediately apparent.
My human body refused to walk. I left it behind and took the form offered by my spirit guide, a jaguar. Reveling in newfound agility, I leaped, pounced, bounded, and deftly wove my way through the dense forest with the full speed and majestic grace of a feline in its prime and natural environment. Reaching a pool near the mouth of a cave, I drank, watching slivers of dappled moonlight dance across the cool water to the rhythm of my lapping tongue. Around me tiny pulses of light gleamed and faded, as a faint choir of many voices joined in a curious song, the quietest humming of a lullaby.
Attuning closer to the ebb and flow of the melody’s progression, I picked up on undertones of cacophony I couldn’t unhear. Grief, anxiety, stress, anger, sadness. Were it not for the strong carrying notes of hope I might have fled in terror. But eventually the gentle rising and falling of the fireflies’ intricate patterns of communication beckoned me to enter into the cave.
The peaceful murmur of the trickling brook guided my path through the darkness. I came to glimpse strange markings on the earthen walls, illuminated only partially with each brief glow of firefly’s light. I stopped and watched patiently, painstakingly, as fragment by hidden fragment slowly revealed enough of itself for my mind’s eye to begin to assemble the collage.
No longer able to bear the weight of this knowledge in silence, I bellowed out the only cry I knew, as piercing as it was distinctive. Echoes of many jaguars answered the call, our voices amplified by the surrounding stone, resonating in a terrifying and powerful plea. The sound carried like thunder from the maw of the cave, striking fear in the hearts of cowards, empowering the pure with courage to rally together in solidarity…
The distant sound of seagulls crying out through muffled speakers catapulted me out of the reverie and back into my body—at some point the girl in our group had unzipped the circle and was watching a nature video on her phone. But the potency of the vision remained with me, fully intact.
Thanking each of the spirits of the north and earth, the west and water, south and fire, east and air, we closed the ceremony by rubbing our hands together, releasing the built up energy in unison through palms extended upward then pressed down to the ground.
After a round of discussion sharing our experiences with the group, I thanked Elden and Regina, exited the shop and locked myself inside a hulking metal tube with plastic seats on wheels, which hurtled me out of one concrete labyrinth and into another. At least a few trees and some patches of grass lined the pavement there…
At home, stirred up by the vision, I jotted down a sketch in my notebook. Desperate for clues to identify the spirit guide who had so kindly introduced themself to me, I frantically searched the internet, slapping words on mere hunches, discovering new words for new hunches, flitting in and out of one virtual rabbit hole after another until I eventually honed in on a name that started to resonate — Ix.
Now here’s where I humbly step lightly on sacred ground. It is not mine to name, let alone triumphantly. I dare not slay its true meaning by feigning to understand its secrets, nor further mock its noble legacy by reducing its essence to a dried out husk and parade it around like some sort of trophy pelt. No no no!
Instead I humbly invite those with far more wisdom than I to share their deep and intricate knowledge however they choose to do so. May they find the courage to shine their light in dark places, illuminating fragments of just enough of the hidden path so the ignorant may stumble their way out of despair and onto the path of healing, joining together to walk hand in hand toward a greater understanding of peace.
And you, my dear, may the wind tickle the chimes of your curiosity. May it propel you forward along the path of your own sacred journey. May the creative juices flow in your blood like lightning and may the cry of your voice echo like thunder bellowing straight from heart of the mountain.
Thank you, Kate, what a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing your journey with us.