Читать книгу Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky - David Bowles - Страница 10

Origins

The Dual God

There was never nothing.

Before you or I or anything else existed, the universe was filled with a mysterious vital force we call ku or teotl. Still and calm, this divine energy stirred slow, hushed murmurs spreading in languid ripples across the immeasurable expanse.

Then, at the very heart of the cosmos, the force compressed, coalescing into a powerful being of two complementary halves—what we might call male and female. This dual god, Ometeotl in the Nahua tongue, the ancients lovingly called our grandparents. Ometeotl began to dream and to speak to itself about those dreams, describing a vast world and multi-tiered sky, peopled with creatures so diverse and wonderful that the very thought of them brought joy to our grandparents’ hearts.

And there, in that primal place of authority at the center of everything, Ometeotl understood that it could be a mirror in which these dreams would be reflected, from which they would emerge into existence.

Though still one, its two halves became more distinct. For this reason, we give them both many names: Builder and Molder, Lord and Lady of the Two, Goddess and God Who Sustain Us, Matchmaker and Midwife, Grandmother and Grandfather. They pulled the vital force in two directions, molding it to form the vast cosmic sea below and the empty heavens above. From the very depths of the eternal waters, our grandparents drew a massive leviathan, Cipactli. With its knobby skin and razor-sharp teeth, the beast prowled the sea, a frightening mixture of reptile, amphibian, and fish. Always hungry, Cipactli would not remain still, but kept diving in search of food. Our grandparents, who had hoped to build a world atop the monster’s back, understood that creation was a more complex task than they had imagined.

They would need help to finish their work.

Time Lord and Old God

Perhaps formed from the cycling of endless currents in the cosmic sea, another figure appeared, delighting Ometeotl. Turquoise-blue and very young, the newcomer wielded flinty stones in each hand, which he struck together, sending sparks and warmth throughout the universe. With his birth, time was set into motion at last, its interlocking gears slowly but ceaselessly marking the days and the years. As a result, our grandparents named him Xiuhtecuhtli—Lord of Time—and made him God of Fire.

Like Ometeotl, the Lord of Time had a dual nature: he could transform at will into his nahualli or spirit form, a dragon-like fire serpent whose coiling body matched the circular cycling of the ages. Eventually, as the complex wheels of time were deciphered, he would establish the two calendars that govern life in Mesoamerica: solar and sacred years, interlocking, ever-turning.

As the first year of our universe began to wind down, a change came over the Lord of Time: he began to grow weaker, to stoop over, to shamble slowly through the cosmos. His hair thinned, turned gray. His skin wrinkled and sagged. He became, in a word, old. Finally, this old god lay down, overcome by the shadow of something that had not yet entered the universe: death. But as the last flame of life flickered weakly in his soul, our divine grandparents, having learned the value of time, sacrificed a bit of the mysterious force from which they had formed themselves. Speeding that energy into the dying god, they restored his youthful vitality for another cycle. So it is that we renew every year by giving up something we hold dear, sending what little power we possess to the heart of the Lord of Time.

Brothers and Stewards of the Earth

Our grandparents realized that they could unfold themselves, bringing powerful, divine children into existence to assist them in creating and maintaining the world they had envisioned. First they brought two sons into existence, opposite but complementary forces: Feathered Serpent burst from the cosmic sea and took flight through the endless sky, his long body rippling with bright red, green, and blue plumes. Heart of Sky swirled to life in the heavens before dropping to the waters and spinning like a violent cyclone, dark smoke curling from the black mirror on his forehead. The two looked upon their dual parent and awaited instructions.

“Mighty sons,” Ometeotl said, “you both hold one half of the key to creation. Feathered Serpent, you embody order and loving care, structure that comes from compassion. Heart of Sky, you wield force, passion, conflict—the willingness to tear down and begin again. Together you will build a world on which our children can thrive and work to keep the wheels of time forever turning.”

At first, the brothers spent years testing the limits of their powers. Each discovered he possessed a nahualli. Feathered Serpent could transform into a massive hound that wielded lightning and fire. In this guise, he was called Xolotl, twin or double. Heart of Sky was able to shapeshift into a huge jaguar (Tepeyollotl, Mountainheart) whose very steps would make the earth tremble one day.

At last the brothers came together and considered their parents’ vision of a world upon the waters of the vast cosmic sea. They thought long and hard about how to realize this dream, and then they debated with each other for many cycles of time. Finally, Feathered Serpent convinced Heart of Sky that they should try to reason with the great, hungry leviathan Cipactli. He called to it with his lulling, resounding voice, and the beast emerged from the depths.

“Powerful Cipactli,” Feathered Serpent said, “you have been chosen by our mother-father the Dual God to bear the earth upon your back. Your strength makes you the only being capable of this feat. All the inhabitants of the sea-ringed world will glorify your name, calling you Ruler of Earth.”

“I AM HUNGRY,” growled Cipactli. “WHAT CARE I FOR PRAISE?”

Heart of Sky drew closer to the leviathan. “Those who live on your broad back will curb that hunger with many sacrifices, beast. As many as you demand.”

Snarling, Cipactli twisted in the waves and clamped fearsome jaws upon one of Heart of Sky’s feet, tearing it away and swallowing it. “I AM HUNGRY NOW!”

Heart of Sky, angry and in pain, began to spin violently, attacking the leviathan. Feathered Serpent rushed to his brother’s aid, coiling himself around Cipactli so it could not move. Together they broke that massive beast in two, leaving it unable to ever dive again.

“Now the true work begins,” Feathered Serpent said to his brother. “A livable world must be crafted upon this craggy back. Then can we create new life, creatures for which we will be caretakers, stewards.”

Heart of Sky looked down at his leg. A bit of bare bone protruded where once he had possessed a foot. Pulling the smoking mirror from his forehead, he attached it to his mangled limb.

“Caretakers, for certain. But also judges, ready to punish when wrong is done.”

Feathered Serpent regarded his brother silently. He understood Heart of Sky’s outrage, but he hoped in time he could temper the anger that flared in his brother’s soul. Now, however, he took up Cipactli’s tail, which had been severed in the fight, and planted it at the center of the newly formed earth.

“Become a tree!” he cried out. “Sink yourself deep in the bowels of the world. Let those roots spread to the four corners of earth, sprouting into four saplings. Grow tall, spreading branches wide to hold the heavens away from the land, so that the future inhabitants of the sea-ringed world may live and breathe and contemplate the universe in awe.”

Thus the five world trees came into existence, ready to serve as passageways between the vast expanse of heaven, the surface of the earth, and the dark hungry recesses that were once the leviathan’s innards.

The brothers looked upon their work, satisfied at this beginning.

Mother, Protector and the New Gods

The female aspect of Ometeotl, our beloved grandmother, came to understand the need for motherhood, for someone to bear, nurture, and protect the generation of gods required to ready the earth for its future inhabitants. So she unfolded herself, bringing into existence the Divine Mother and the Protector. As they stood before her, hand in hand, she addressed them in this way:

“You, Divine Mother, embody love, care, and selflessness. Down the ages you will be called by many names: Quilaztli, Tonantzin, Queen of Heaven. Gods and mortals alike will turn their eyes to you for comfort in the darkest moments, and you will pour compassion on their heads.

“And you, Protector, reflect the other elements of motherhood: strength to face great pain, unyielding struggle, fierceness in keeping children safe. Ixchel, they will name you. Cihuacoatl, female serpent. Midwives and those giving birth will cry out to you in anguish, fear, and despair, and you will aid them in the battle to bring life into the world.”

Then the Divine Mother gave birth to the second generation of gods. There was the goggle-eyed and fanged god of rain, Tlaloc, whose power could feed or drown the world; the god of spring, Xipe Totec, who shed his skin each year like a dried-up husk in order to renew life; the goddess of flowers and fertility, Xochiquetzal, who clothed the earth in color; Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of rivers and lakes, who poured sweet water down her jade-green skirt for drinking and baptism. And these were just the beginning. More and more divinities were born, from gods of corn and maguey to deities of stone and stars and death itself. The Divine Mother and the Protector gathered them up and called their home Tamoanchan, place of misty sky. There, above the newly formed earth, the divine beings learned their destinies.

In time, the young gods began their work. With loving hands, they transformed the insatiable and broken Cipactli into the nourishing and verdant Mecihtli, Earth Goddess and source of fertility. Upon her ample flesh they formed mountains and streams, grew trees and plains, shaped beasts and birds to gladden the eye and heart. They readied the world for the arrival of human beings, the creatures whose praise and sacrifice would keep the wheels of time forever turning.