Hello, this is your Captain speaking. I have a little straight information to tell you, at a time when our airwaves are choked with everything but well-intentioned truth. Aquarian Airlines flight 725 is ready to take off from Guatemala City to Mexico City, and on to Lima, Peru. The point of this message is not to tell you about the planetary dynamics of the next Black Moon in Leo, coming on August 1 or 2, depending on your location. I’ll post a chart and video about this next lunation in a few days.
Rather, the point of talking with you now is to address a false travel advisory that may affect your travel plans. The United States and the UK have been warning their citizens not go to Guatemala because it’s the world’s most unsafe country. We need not speculate here on the motives for this atrociously cynical lie. If you or I were an American politician or capitalist from a country that has more guns than people, and where tens of thousands of people die every year from gunshot wounds — and that’s not even counting people murdered by police — we too would need to transfer our problem to another country. And what better for that purpose than a country so vibrant, beautiful and gracious that the main danger it poses is in exposing the emptiness and horror of the corporatist cultures that rule their peoples through illness, ignorance and fear. For such controlling types, a place as happy, spontaneous and free as Guatemala must be truly terrifying.
I’ve been here for three weeks to visit the Mayan sites of Tikal and Yaxha — see my July 19 post, “Mudslide” — and to write my next book, Maps of Power, which is now nearly done in first draft. I’ve done some writing in places like this one, the garden of the Casa Antigua Hotel in Antigua, the historic center of Guatemala City. And let’s face it: This place looks dangerous, all right — if you’re allergic to hollyhocks and hummingbirds, or if you love good food, and might overindulge at the feria gastronomica around the corner. And — heaven help us! Someone might have to invent a Level Green emergency alert to warn people about getting spooked by folk art images like these, on the wall outside my room. The older man at the top, his face wreathed in green, that Muslim color, is obviously an imam preaching a jihad. And If the two faces at the bottom don’t look really DWI — Deadly While Islamic — I can’t imagine who does.
As unnerving as all of this was, I had no idea how much scarier it was going to get when I went for five days to Lake Atitlan to stay in the town of San Pedro with my old friend Sonia Newhouse, the British nutritionist and energy worker whom I first met when she lived in Cusco. She is well known in the Sacred Valley of Peru, for having launched the Hearts Cafe in Ollantaytambo, and other projects for the health and education of the local people. Sonia told me all about the lake, once the caldera of one of the many volcanoes here. The Laguna de Atitlan is famous at times for UFO’s that flash and zip as thick as fireflies, and as an energy vortex where the battle between galactic forces of light and dark is underway. It was in Sonia’s house, looking across the lake at these fearsome, roiling clouds, that I wrote my pages about the astrocartography of the great scientist Mme. Curie, who did some very risky things with radium.
Sonia and I took our precautions, of course. I gave her a silver necklace with tiger eye and obsidian stones for protection. We allayed all fear by eating good food, especially a tilapia that I made with a spicy Chinese sweet and sour sauce. I freely admit my foodiness now, as I’m too old (pushing 72) for the stress of holding secrets. I have likely had an earlier life as a chef in the imperial cooking school in Beijing, though I don’t flatter myself by claiming I was the august daisan who taught the Art of Cooking Duck in the last year of the four-year curriculum that prepared us for the Son of Heaven’s kitchen.
I descended into the very loom and fruit stand of the Beast when I went across the lake to visit the metaphysical beacon and Mayan craft town of San Marcos, where all bets are off. San Marcos is full of images like this one, of day glyphs from the Mayan Calendar, which was a threat a few years ago to replace the western archons’ logical sense of commercial and bank time with the spooky idea that our galaxy, and the laws of time that measure it, operate by rules that are spiritual and intuitive rather than material and mental. Imagine the chill that must have been felt by those who believe time is money when they feared, as they still do, that time is about to be taken away from them. And, as if vanishing time were not enough to trigger some jitters, imagine that the world is also full of shape shifters who can transmute at any moment from ears of maize to butterflies, serpents and old women who only look too old and slow to fly when we see them lit for a moment on a stump or a stairway.
Marita de la Tierra had messaged me to let me know that Adalah Luz, who’d played as one of the musicians in An Evening with Rumi in Pisac, was in San Marcos. I couldn’t find her on the first try, but what I did see when the boat pulled into the dock at San Marcos was Anne Kathryn Broenner, who’d been a friend and astrology student when I was in Pisac and was now designing and making clothes with the Guatemalan fabrics that, even by the standards of Latin American folk are, seem to pulse with color.
The three of us met for lunch on my last day at Il Giardino, and you can imagine how ominous this was, if you remember the story of Adam and Eve getting served a very costly apple in the Garden of Eden. And in one of those serendipities that seem to confirm the rightness of the moment, even in a scary place, who should walk in but Pieter van Wensveen, the seriously disruptive event producer from Amsterdam, who’d organized the Water Woman festival in 2012 in Vilcabamba, Ecuador — I guided the Full Moon circle there — and now lives in San Marcos.
The Japanese say that when a man gets to be between two beautiful women, he has ryotei no hana, a flower on either hand. You can tell from our body language and our expressions how terribly unsafe this moment was, and how lucky Adalah (left), Anne and I were to get out of it alive. There is no accounting for the strange flirting with danger that some people like to do. It is possible that we may dare it again.
There is no danger for any of us right now aboard flight 725, of course, as we wing our way now into Mexico City. Please sit back, have a flute of champagne, Gallo beer or watermelon juice, and enjoy the rest of our journey.
Keep Holding That Frequency,
Captain Aquarius, dba Dan Furst from Guatemala City, July 25, 2016