I recently journeyed to the Mayan Riviera with my family and my sisters in Magic. Here’s the story: 

Upon our arrival to Isla Mujeres, my beloved Ryan and I celebrated ten years of weaving our Sacred Union together! We honored the anniversary of a decade of Bealtaine fires burning brightly in our hearts, as we swam in luminous turquoise waters. We soaked up our son’s bright light, and delicious laughter. We adventured until our bodies were sun-kissed and tired, and rested well at night. We ate fresh fish and fruit and enjoyed fresh-squeezed juices each morning. We were filled with life and love! Isla Mujeres sparked parts of ourselves we had forgotten, and welcomed us into our next chapters. 

 We then visited the jungles of Akumal, and spent time experiencing the untended sea and the supportive jungle beings. We felt the sun’s potent strength, and journeyed to Holy cenote waters for a few more days. 

As our family vacation came to an end, I entered my personal journey deeper. I had been holding space for immersion into plant ceremony for weeks prior. I said goodbye to my beloveds, sent them home, and went deeply inside myself in Shamanic container for another few weeks. 

My cohort of Medicine sisters and I journeyed with the plants into the caves and caverns of the Sacred land of the Yucatan. We immersed the Holy mystery of the ocean, the moon, and the Lunar Priestesses who tend to these expansive energies. I fell so deeply in love with my studies. I birthed a golden confidence in myself and my path. I vowed to merge fully with the Goddess, and to be in Her Divine Will. I was gifted new layers of Medicine in my blood, and a fully embodied love emanating through me.

We sank into the jungle, into our container, and into the arms of the Mother for ten slow, expansive, integrative days. We celebrated by feeling the heat, un-tending to our Earthly desires, and showing up raw and unaltered to the Goddess, the plants and each other. When we re-entered the outer world, there was a definite grief that came over me. Coming out of this Oracular container where we are free to take up space, to feel joy, to grieve, to love, and to be supported by the jungle, the plants, and the sun, I felt sad. I could journey with these women forever. What a powerful gift. 

When we came out of our container, I received the news of the death of my dear Uncle, “Mean Uncle Stan.” In my journeys, I had felt death waiting for me on the other side. I had visions of my husband holding this grief for me, crying for me. I had visions of times of loss on my maternal side in the past. When I finally received the news, it all made so much sense. Three of my sisters shared with me that they could feel there was news of a physical death on the outside. 

By the time I heard of his passing, it was too late for me to attend the services. They were the next morning, and I was in Mexico. I was confused, a bit angry, and devastated. I could feel how death came forward, and I knew my work was far from over. I held vigil for the next three days. I drummed and sang to the moon, offering tobacco to my family, to my dear Aunt, to my cousins, to their children, to my Mother, and to her Mother. I was awake with the moon for three nights during this time. 

The morning after hearing of his death, we traveled as a group across the ocean in pilgrimage to Ixchel’s temple on Cozumel. The funeral services occured as we journeyed across the sea. I felt the ceremony commence. I knew they were together when my tender heart broke wide open. I could feel the hearts of my family grieving together, and the pulse of their shared love. I wept silently as we crossed the ocean to the Island of Women, and remembered how the Preistesses must have grieved the loss of their families as they made their journey. 

The band on the ferry sang “Have you ever seen rain?” and I wept, and my heart wept. Grieving to the waves of the ocean felt reciprocal. I gave her the salt of my tears as she gave me this journey. I felt the strength of my family’s prayers together, and saw my Uncle enter his radiant light body. When we arrived on the shores of the Island of Women, the skies broke open and rained on us, and I could feel that he was in the ground. 

The next few days were transformational as we made our way to the temple of Ixchel. We witnessed magic weaving in every moment. We healed generational curses, and explored the deep ancient magic underneath. We sang to Ixchel, to a sweet mother calling in her Spirit baby, and were honored and protected in our pilgrimage to the temple. 

We slowly dispersed back to our homes and our separate lives. I know this process well enough now to know that this is where the work really begins. Now we integrate, we stay with the Medicine, and we let it become a living prayer within us. 

I returned home to my beloveds peacefully. I was welcomed home to a gentle snow and underneath, budding flowers and greenery. It felt right, as I slowly integrated my ceremonies into my reality, the Earth slowly showed me her creations. I’d go back into my journey, and the Earth would cover herself with snow again. We pendulated this way for a while, and will again tonight it seems. 

Bringing the Medicine of this journey into my home has been a dualistic integration process, filled with rebirth and joy. Tonight I meet with my cohort again and finish the potion that has been resting, and waiting for the right time to emerge fully. 

My deepest gratitudes to all who were present and supportive on this immersive experience, to the land, to Ixchel, to my family, and to my Grail King for eternally bringing me back to what is most Sacred.

Written by Song of Sophia Pilgrim Emma Kelzenberg