The Trecena of Imox: 13 Days of Inspiration

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Happy new now! Today is the first day of the rest of your life — and of the Trecena of Imox in the Mayan Calendar.

The next thirteen days are ripe for creation, flow, trusting the universe, giving and receiving and connecting with the primordial Mother energy through the elements of earth and water. We are living in exciting times of rapid change, expansion of consciousness and development. The flip side of this, of course, is technology overtaking humanity and we, society, destroying our home planet. It’s overwhelmingly scary when the ground beneath us, and our attachment to the concept that “I am in control” is revealed to be an illusion.

According to Birgitte Rasin’s book, The Serpent and the Jaguar: “On Imox days, the Maya give thanks, ask for rain and water, and pray that their dreams and visions bring them beauty and wisdom rather than delusions and madness.” During these two weeks, the energy is ripe for us to “dive into the vast ocean of ideas, concepts, dreams and possibilities and possibilities” that Imox brings in droves.

The spirit animals of the Imox sign are the crocodile, dragon, dolphin and all sea creatures. The shadow side of this nahual is distrust and these days can often be challenging for those of us who prefer routine, stability, predictability.

The Mayan Oracle by Spilsbury and Bryner reports that Imox “represents the root source of life, the nurturance and support of primary being, and within it are found the primal waters of unity.” Imox is a feminine sign, unstable, creative, inspiring, dramatic and exciting. The number of Imox is one and its color is burgundy. Some Mayans and scholars of the Mayan cosmovision consider today, 1 Imox, to mark the beginning of a new 260-day cycle (13 trecenas times 20 nahuales = 260).

This poem, “Boast of Quietness” by Jorge Luis Borges, burst off the page of a book I picked up yesterday, and I want to share it with you now in closing.

Cheers, and enjoy this ride through Imox!

Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.
Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.
Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword, the willow grove’s visible prayer as evening falls. 
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn’t expect to arrive.