White Mirror Wavespell


Mirror Glyph

Endlessness – Reflect – Order

White Mirror is one of the 20 aspects of our environment celebrated in the Tzolkin (soul count) 260-day calendar. The glyph image is of the top of the pyramid, where the ceremonies of the ancient Maya took place. The peak of the pyramid was the highest point towards heaven, well above the trees and the horizon line of surrounding ocean. For the crowd gathered in observance, the pyramid pointed straight at the infinite source of life that lives in the sky, Hunab K’u. If you stood on the top platform, as priest or ritual participant, you were at the meeting point for all of earth’s energy surging upward and the channel of light and power coming down from the cosmos. For those offered in human sacrifice atop the Mayan pyramid, it was a miracle to be at this intersection, not martyrdom, and a clear passage to enter the afterlife. This moment, this sweet ceremony, showed the trust and certainty held in the Mayan culture that a prayerful, guided death was to join the gods, to dwell within Hunab K’u’s eminent power and light.

human sacrifice x

The White Mirror time and its intended ritual human sacrifice has the lore, also, of being a savage murder in order to manipulate the masses, keep them back-broken in service to the lords, building the massive pyramids of stone blocks the size of coffins. We each decide for ourselves how to review the Mayan spiritual practices. Certainly the modern word, White Mirror, is opaque compared to the original ‘flint’ which described the blade that would cut out, in one stroke, the still beating heart. Flint, or obsidian, was used was a tool, a weapon – arrowheads – and to reflect one’s image. There is a poetry and teaching, there, that a mirror can be a tool, helpful, or a way to harm. When we think of human sacrifice, ritual murder, we can balance our own perceptions by deciding what we would better embrace: acceptance of death as a way to give complete trust to the divine, or as a toxic spill of overindulgent power play.

None of us is going to literally have our hearts cut out in this wavespell, but there is always the metaphor. When we feel the shadow looming over us, see the obsidian glint against the sun before it is plunged into us to rip us open, we can only try to restore our faith that this is a beautiful extraction that will reconnect us to both the higher and lower worlds, our lost heart leaving a bead hole to string us between them. But wait, you say. My heart has already been cut out and flashed before the crowds; I am riddled all through with lost parts. So then you can enter this wavespell knowing clearly it is not your time at the top of the pyramid. We can’t all be sacrificial victims, after all. Most of us will be watching from below, and another few will wield the blade ourselves. The only hearts that get cut out are healthy, and whole, and if you want to picture what that feels like, remember the ways you have lost in the full force of deep love. Death or departure stops the flow cold, but leaves you ultimately closer to god, following the etheric angel-form of what you loved so much as it floats heavenward.

frida mirror

White Mirror is when we discover, too, that everything is a reflection of us. It’s narcissism run amok, a constant finger pointing with three digits bent back at ourselves. That’s me, and that, and that, too. Sometimes we like ourselves projected onto another, sometimes we don’t. In this wavespell, try to remember that mirrors are not flesh embodiments, twins trading our gaze. They are filmy essences, holograms for a brief teaching, and you don’t have to stand too long before any one image. It can drive you crazy, the funhouse distortions, just as Narcissus himself stayed until starvation at the still pool, spellbound by the beauty of his own face. Let the mirrors be more like flashes of light that blind and disorient when they angle towards the sun. You might be shocked awake, but not distracted by material forms. That sounds more like the original ceremony, the bright light of the afterlife beckoning us homeward.

In that crack in the sky, or the rib cage, that fills us with eternal light, lies a great human teaching. In Mayan there is a sweet expression of greeting, a shared blessing, In lake’ch. Translated it means, ‘I am another yourself.’ It’s deeper than ‘I am you,’ more lyrical, and it is the truth of this White Mirror time. I am another yourself, as you are another myself. In some ways were are the same, a shared soul; in our depth of selfhood, beneath the superficial and into the subterranean supernatural, we are connected as one. The blade that cuts my heart out is also held by you who offers the death as healing. The blade connect us. Knowing that we are intermingled, each of us again reframes what the act of sacrifice is. We can extend it beyond the death of a human in ceremony to the other ways we sacrifice, daily. Does giving up a part of ourselves deaden us, or take us closer to the infinite, eternal presence of god? Is it our turn to die, or to allow another to transcend to a heavenly place? Or do we watch from the crowd, in empathy and relief we are not having to give more – maybe also sometimes sad our heart is not so whole, vibrant, as to be featured in a priest’s fist over the vast territories, between seas.

In lake’ch. We are all of these, the victim, priest and observer. The way the ego is cut out of us, killed, in this wavespell, is in our admission that we – in every situation – know the roles of perpetrator, the one harmed, and the witness to the exchange of pain. When we are hurt, it’s hardest to remember having been capable of hurting. When we watch others in pain, we are pulled between recollections of having both wounded and been cut open. There is a stillness that arises like the deep quiet of a physical death when we can place ourselves in the center of this dilemma and know we swing between polarities: sacred priest, sacrificed victim. And in beautiful truth, the pain that arises out of conflict is what invites the divine world to come and heal it. Let the healing begin.

in lakec

Jose Arguelles chose three words to describe the White Mirror. Its power is endlessness, each of our mirrors reflecting back at each other until we are dizzy from the never-ending images. Endlessness is ‘good’ if it feels good, ‘bad’ if it feels bad, and that’s an important key to empowering peace in this wavespell. If you like the reflection, stay close to it, all those miniatures of your best parts as bright as colored candy. If you don’t like the reflection, you are free to move on. We have been peering into the dark parts of ourselves for many wavespells, and part of health is choosing whether you want to be sacrificed over and over again, or if you want to rest easy. The endlessness of pain and suffering is not a Mayan ritual – their deaths were swift, strong gestures quite different than being burned at the stake or crucified. Their endlessness is an ever-present guiding god force, and you can best find it in the beauty of yourself reflected in others. Stay there.

The action of White Mirror is to reflect, naturally. The other part of being a mirror is being obliged to reflect another, so that if they are unpleasant, your physiology insists on being the same. In that experience, it’s better to break your reflection into shards and stop the cycle. Or you can try to shift so that you are glancing your surface against the sun, a brighter enlightenment than someone’s dark shadow. Be careful not to ignite the one who’s suffering with this refraction of light! Rather warm them, purify them, offer illumination. We are here to help.

The essence of White Mirror is order. We are back to the picture of human sacrifice as a means to maintain order in a crowded culture, a hierarchy that benefits the higher-ups on the pyramid platform. If our modern civilization plays this card at all, the White Mirror moment is to restore purity and preserve the true intent of the ritual – clear passage to heaven, invocation of the god who dwells there. The White Mirror wavespell reiterates that death is an inevitability and a release, so that we can be free of the type of domination that would have us fear or exhaustively avoid it. If we allow disobedience to this party line, enter a form of chaos and disorder – death is not the end! – we can restore natural order: alignment with life, allowal of death, each in turn, and in grace.


Remembering Red Serpent

Last Wavespell’s Learning


It was all about the portals, the ribbon of doorways that ran through ten days in a row. We felt the old, constraining skin as we scratched through it and then it was finally shed. It is always an endurance test, looking at what we have used up, what once represented protection, a safe house, but now is an encumbrance, awkward armoring at a point in time we would prefer to be naked.

And nudity had its calling, against the grain of this tired Western Civilization and its love of hiding behind products, in full designer dress code. The essence of Red Serpent is being in base primality, that first – primary­­ – stage of evolution which is to get our needs met. What needs did you find resounding, undeniable? It wasn’t really about want, or thoughts, idle imagining. It was gut-wrenching hunger and a persistent ache: I need this. Every portal we fell through only deepened the conviction and insistence of the message in our inner ear. And we can’t forget what we learned because while wants get wish-fulfilled over time, sometimes leisurely, needs indicate true necessity and that is taken care of first by the angels.

So before you suppress your primal nature, instinctual needs, and reenter this culture of material amassing and overscheduling, our closet full of outfits – keep an eye on yourself. Something’s changed. You’re still naked of that old skin, reclined against the earth’s floor, revealed. And in such beauty, bareness, you’ll be easily found by the one sent to help fulfill you.

diego rivera sacrifice