Part 3: Saga of The Secret of The Speaking Cross
The mystery of the Speaking Cross drew me. I wanted to touch it, to feel its power, perhaps even to have it speak to me. Time passed. I finally found some directions to where the original speaking cross tree grew. It was near a small cenote at the edge of Felipe Carrillo Puerto. I wanted to go find it, but it would be a long time before I did.
However, another chapter of the story of the speaking cross was unfolding.
(For Part 1 of the Saga, GO HERE For Part 2 of the Saga GO HERE)
Max (my partner) and I were planning a trip to see our good friend and shaman, Francisco. We had been to see him many times and often tried to explore something in the area on our overnight trips. This time I wanted to go to a tiny village called Xocen (sho-ken) where a very interesting church stood at the edge of town. I had been told by a Maya local that the church was the center of the Maya world and I wanted to see it for myself and feel its energy.
Two friends, Tim and Christian, asked if they could accompany us because they wanted to meet Francisco and ask him for a limpia (cleansing session). We agreed and planned a trip.
The night before we left, Max and I were hanging out at a favorite restaurant in Puerto Morelos called Cantina Habanero. We just happened to meet Christian there. He was very excited about our trip to see the shaman and announced that one of the waitresses who worked at the Cantina had a grandfather who was also a shaman. He had been out to the village where he lived and met him in person, been treated to a family dinner, and had a wonderful time. Intrigued because there are very few shamans left, I asked where this took place.
Any guesses?
Xocen!
When I told Christian we were planning to stop there on our way to see Francisco, he was thrilled. He called over his waitress friend and they chatted animatedly. She said she would be there since she was going to visit her grandfather the next day and she agreed to meet us and show us around the village. She also said her grandfather would be happy to do a blessing for us if we wanted to receive one.
Fast forward . . .
I stood at the altar at the center of the world. It was a simple church, and the altar was a table all dressed in Maya flowered cloth and decorated with images of Christ, saints, and of course, Mary. This was not a Catholic church, however. It was the Iglesia Santisima Cruz Tun (Church of the Super, Super Holy Stone Cross), also called the Church of the Three Crosses. Before me, in the center of the altar, were the three crosses--one heavy stone, one wood, and one painted green. All three were dressed almost like dolls with Maya flowered dresses and necklaces. Everywhere there were offerings of charms on thin green strings, some draped on the necks of the Christ and saint dolls and some hanging from their hands. On the table were lighted candles and in front of the altar was another table for more lighted candles. (NOTE: I have no photos of the inside of the church because you are not allowed to take them)
The stone cross in the cen