A personal tribute to the late Mena Hunbatz
Memories along Sacbé, the White Road
Today, I sadly learned of the passing of the Mayan Elder and Daykeeper, Mena Hunzbatz of the Itza tradition. This day could not pass without sharing a personal tribute to Hunbatz Men, aka Sun Walker. Hunbatz passed over Tuesday, 06 September 2016.
We met inside a hotel lobby at Misión Mérida Panamerica on March 16, 2008. When Hunbatz Men walked into the room, I remembered him from long ago and felt joy emerging within my heart. Our international group would spend the next seven days traveling on a bus to various sacred sites in and around the Yucatán with the intention for Reawakening of the Cosmic Human.
As we walked toward the Maya temple of Edzná, under the blazing Yucatán sun, Hunbatz Men said to me, “We are not stronger than the sun.” He humbled me as we both sought shelter. I climbed to the top of Edzná in wedge heels with a single-toe strap, but coming back down, I quickly learned my choice in footwear was an ignorant one. Hunbatz waited below on the stadium seats. Our conversation turned to the stars, where he indicated how the ships would come down and be in harmonic resonance with the structure. At the Grottos of Xtacumbilxunaan, he said very little but warned a few locals not to use a ladder to venture down into the grotto. Inside the cave, an artificial scene was created to show visitors what it might be like when the grotto was first discovered or used long ago. Hunbatz seemed to recognize when others are adrift in illusion. At the Museum of Maya Culture in Campeche City, his love and adoration for his people and cultural heritage were apparent, and yet; he was open to learning what others were experiencing. Hunbatz said, “The knowledge belongs to the creator. Not us. We ask the creator to remember.” The more we walked together, my memory began resurfacing. He said, “Sacbé is the white road, a sacred road from one ceremonial center to another. It is any place as you go.” In his sharing, I understood that my walkabout is sacred, and it matters how I show up. I felt gratitude for his teachings even though I was not a formal student nor an initiate.
At Hotel Debliz in Campeche, we gathered informally in the lobby. Hunbatz and I were lost in an easy-going conversation, laughing and sharing a memory, where the veils of time had dropped, and we were back again as brothers, in a harmonic state of brotherly love. It was there that I slapped his butt in a playful way. At that moment, I came back to the now moment and looked around. Some of his Japanese initiates were nearby, and I wasn’t certain how to undo that moment, as I didn’t want to appear to have overstepped the teacher-student relationship that we were now in. I decided it was best to walk outside, so I blew him a kiss. He caught it and immediately offered it to the creator Hunab K’u by releasing the kiss from his grasp and then pointing toward the creator. He winked as that magical moment was integrated.
Walking the grounds at the Maya Temples of Dzibilnocac, I stumbled onto a vortex emitting the strongest pulse of energy coming from the ground. I stood above it quietly taking in the energy as the group slowly made their way over. At this spot, we joined hands in a circle and began the ceremony. Hunbatz had taught us the importance of O’l, noting that sound was the consciousness of the universe. He instructed everyone to bring their hands around their mouth and sound. In this gesture, I lost time and the sense of breath, the sound emanating from me went on for minutes. Pure to Hunbatz’s style, he observed the group in a quiet, contemplative way. The rain began to fall, and we made our way back to the bus, stopping briefly to capture the only picture we had together from this trip.
We continued our journey to Lol Be, and here I saw the vision Hunbatz had for teaching initiates the sacred ways of the Itza Maya on sacred land. These conversations and exchanges will last a lifetime and are best kept in my heart for private reflection as the years pass.
At the Maya Temples of Dzibilchaltún, we were to review all that we learned at the Pyramid of Lol Be, but my spirit had other plans for me. The minute my foot stepped from the bus and onto the parking lot ground, cellular memory surfaced. I began to whistle and clap as I walked toward the site entrance. Hunbatz quietly smiled. Initiations are to correct the energy and to bring awareness back. We were not having a ceremony, but rather a gathering under a grouping of trees to avoid the intensity of the Yucatán sun. At this site, I remembered being a scribe and how we would transfer thought through the third eye by bringing our foreheads together. Hunzbatz’s energy was off that day. A hive of bees nested in the trees started to create high-pitched harmonics, even the waveform appeared off, unable to centralize around his offerings. Hunbatz delivered his truth that never left my being. A precipitous moment when you see a teacher’s darkest challenges and their brightest soul’s gifts. He was praying for forgiveness. We did not view the greater area nor take in additional sights. Instead, we walked toward the air-conditioned museum. There were large standing stones from the Olmec period near the entranceway. When we walked into the museum, inside was an exhibit with a boat, a wooden cross, and a priest to signify Christianity arriving at Mayaland. While standing in front of this exhibit, I was overcome by the cruelty inflicted on the Maya, an intensity that made me want to vomit. I had to leave the building overcome by the intensity pulsing through my feeling body.
On March 21, the spring equinox, we arrived at Chichén Itzá to tour the site during the day and for those who wished, to return at night to see the shadow image of the Great Snake descend the pyramid temple of Kukulcán. Hunbatz led a small group forward, asking us to wait while he purchased our entrance tickets into Chichén Itzá. I started to feel my energy drop and decided to purchase a coffee which I promptly gave away – unable to stabilize my energy – feeling tired but not wanting to be wired either. Suddenly, my third eye shot out a light beam so bright that I could not keep my eyes open nor stop tearing due to the luminosity. As my vision returned, I could see others with third eyes opened and the majority, who didn’t. I looked around the entrance center and saw a young Mayan’s third eye beaming brightly as he waited on hungry guests at the café. There were a few others but none that I knew personally. When I stepped through the turnstile and onto the dirt walkway which was lined with tables on either side and filled with artistic mementos for sale, I knew that this journey just became a solo one. I cut across the grass to a single tree near Kukulcán. There I sat, watching the group move along the processional walkway. I remained under the tree, never venturing forward to see the cenote, the temples of the warriors, or the great ball court. Instead, I began remembering a time when groups would gather, anxious, their minds split from being in a state of mind consistent with suspicion and uncertainty. My role was to watch the children by gathering them to sit with me under a tree. As Maya, we would whistle singling to each other when the energies began rising. Here, people would become more anxious and upset as the frequency gained momentum for reawakening. And then, in a blink of an eye, people’s memories would return, and a great celebration would take place. Brothers and Sisters awakening to remember each other as family, as one.
Much time had passed so I walked around the perimeter of Kukulcán before returning to the entrance. However, before I left, something happened to me. To this day, I am unable to understand. When I looked at my watch, it was nearing time to meet so I decided to exit Chichén Itzá. There was a building with a path that had a Do Not Enter sign, but I thought the path was a shortcut, so I entered anyway. The energy felt off; the area was unkempt and dirty, and here, I experienced a near-death experience that I won’t discuss now. I eventually found the exit and sought shade amongst the vendors. A seller offered me a stool and began speaking about Hunbatz; he had something important to say, but I couldn’t hear the conversation. When our group finally met, I felt split, not whole. Later, I learned that we had missing time and even though I was waiting outside by the vendors at the allotted time, our reunion took longer than expected. Don, the bus driver, and a shaman asked me in Spanish as I boarded the bus, Te acuerdas? I replied Sí. He added, Los Niños? I said, Sí, los niños. Bueno, he replied with satisfaction.
At lunch, I couldn’t eat and went outside for fresh air. My mind seemed to escape me. I felt lost and disconnected. I stared blankly and at one point, I turned to my right surprised to see Hunbatz laying on a lounge chair and not with the group who were inside eating lunch. He was journeying to return a lost fragment of mine. And with that, I will close.
May he travel in peace.
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