Jun Ajpuu – Save your inner child to save yourself

I have always wanted—perhaps not only me—to compile a reference log of what each one of the combinations of the nawals means. In a way, this workshop, daily reading, and trecena reading exercise has been that: a way to write down observations of how the energy manifests and to find patterns that can be tied to the unique combinations. A part of me wished these writing exercises were the definitive guide to what the unique combination of the day spells for each day, but they are not, because we are not inside a closed circle or such a small universe. There are many more cycles, beyond the Chol Q’ij, that shape the day, and each day is unique for eternity, at least within the time frame we can measure.

Ending a Keej trecena and continuing with an Ajpuu trecena is such a beautiful transition—an ideal time when we would move from a ceremonial gathering that ends in healing into falling in love and developing our spiritual power. Maybe there will be a year, a time, when this is exactly—and the only thing—that is happening, but not today, not now. The Chol Q’ij does what it can within the greater cycles of years and ages, and according to whatever state of mind we choose to inhabit. There is no one-size-fits-all reading. We have to come down to earth and tread carefully where we are; then the Chol Q’ij can help.

Today, the moon eclipse and the planetary alignments set a red-blood mood to our current apocalyptic unfolding. No matter how much the sun pushes through and makes the most beautiful day imaginable, there is a limit to how much joy we feel, as sadness, death, and despair are in the air. Ajpuu, as a nawal, is conscious; he is not an hour on a clock or a number on a chart. He can mean many things, and he can choose how to manifest for you according to what is happening. This is where I come in, attempting to listen clearly to what he expresses through his energy and to discern what he wishes to advise for the day and the ongoing trecena.

Yesterday’s crisis and broken structures—represented by Kawoq—were not enough of a catalyst to make today the day when the sun, a lord, a divine entity, pushes through the clouds and makes us see a better future. It is over—the wars, the suffering, the tyranny, the madness. A miracle has happened, and we have found the solution. Evil is done; we can now restore our humanity and our planet and live in our golden age.

What is your reaction to that last sentence? Whatever it is, it can tell you a lot about yourself and how you are involved in the outcome of what is happening and what will happen. That would be the first spiritual blindfold Ajpuu removes from our eyes: the programming that we are too small and insignificant to be pivotal in the outcome of this epic human story. If there is hope in you, you are alive. If the idea of evil ending incites inner, arrogant laughter, then you are either aligned with that evil, dominated by it, or perhaps a realist-nihilist, as you may consider yourself.

Do not be surprised if that is closer to where you are; that is how we were programmed to be. That is the definition of the materialist mindset. But contrary to what this materialist perspective perceives as a reality limited to immediate functionality and the path of least resistance, the universe is not merely a naturalistic unfolding of a predetermined formula. It is conscious, alive, and capable of reacting at any moment—and so are you. Maybe these words will resonate, or cause something to shift near you, offering a clue and awakening that sense of spirit that reminds you: it is all alive.

There are two different stories. In the reductionist, “explanationist” story, everything is a mystery that can be revealed and explained, understood through math and logic. Its parts can be analyzed independently, and then somehow reassembled through a larger theorem—one about which there never is, and never will be, consensus. In this story, there is no agency, thus no purpose and no narrative; we are merely components inside the mechanics of a complex machine. Regardless of whether this is true in some external, timeless, unembodied reality, for you it is never experienced as such. For you, it is still a story—perhaps one that makes more sense or is more widely corroborated—but it remains something you believe and only partially understand, something you read or tell yourself to fill the voids of silence and mystery that surround every moment.

Today, however, this story of understanding the whole through the pieces is returning to the agency story—the other story—where there is a creator, a creation, and an unlimited field of manifestation with a hatching egg of the manifested within it. In this story, mechanics exist, but they are nodes rather than gears in a closed clockwork system. We connect the nodes with our minds, and so our minds are the ultimate creators. This is true in both stories: we only experience what our minds and bodies experience; there is nothing else for us.

The story in which we are alive and possess agency—where there is a purpose in coming to this world and a hope in being here that goes beyond mere existence—is the only story that can lead to greater freedom and better health. It is temporary, yet very real. We are in a chapter where evil is at its greatest and must, if not eliminated, at least be reduced to a ring. Following the story told by evil is the natural way the energy flows today. A great spark of being extraordinary is necessary, along with a significant sacrifice, to live something different. Without rebelliousness and a touch of madness, we are dragged along with the storm, buried by the avalanche, drowned in the flood. You have to swim against your very nature—the desire to belong, to fit in. It is not easy. It is unnatural. It requires you to rise above biology and embody consciousness—to embody the divine.

The river of doom is not so bad, those who swim with it might say. You can amass great power and wealth, enjoy pleasures and experiences. But this is for the very few, and what is rarely shown is their inner misery, of which they are the undisputed champions. For everyone else, it is a survival story—and survival makes biological sense; it is natural. People who flow with the system of evil are often realistic, intellectual, not intelligent. Within the limits of their story, they may even be heroes: they help others, they make themselves and others happy. We are not judging. We are simply pointing out that there is another story—one not drowned in nihilism or the belief that “everything is as it is and will always be so.” The existence of evil can be debated; the purpose of life can be debated. What cannot be ignored is that, no matter how comfortable you feel within this river, there is still a river of corruption. There is plastic in the air, and that is not good. Would you debate that?

Coming to terms with conscious love reveals the full list of what is not good. It is poignantly a list of absences—because in theory, and in history, we could live better without many of these things. Some of us already do without much of it, and we are better for it—happier, healthier, more alive. We have more time and more freedom, and the list continues. Even more valuable is that we see clearly, without the filters of deception. Becoming cleaner is the challenge this trecena’s nawal addresses in the face of our current times and earth. How do we survive, continue, and thrive beyond the rivers of pain, destruction, and pollution? How do we stay afloat in this flood, this avalanche?

We do not yet have the energy to burst into a sun and evaporate all negativity around us—not yet. So, says the nawal of the sun, we must create a self-contained bubble of light and love: a small sun whose light and warmth form a thin layer of insulation—enough that it does not evaporate the surrounding waters, yet does not allow them to extinguish the flame. We have always carried this little sun within us; it is our inner child. When it is lost, we become mere air bubbles in the water. I do not know if such souls can be resurrected, and I will not address them here. This message, this community, is for those who still carry that spark. The advice is to enter a new, contained creative state that lives from the inner child. As light-filled bubbles, we are dispersed but not alone. One day, the swirls of the river will deposit us like gold nuggets in the cracks, where we will find one another as the waters of the Pachakuti finally recede.

As we journey with this seeded love into the trecena, each day will mark a way of approaching life from what should be—holding as most important not merely the survival of our physical bodies (though that too matters), but the survival of ourselves as sentient, loving, fragile, divine, creative beings. We will be tempted to let the child die in exchange for a longer life or an apparently better one with more money. Ajpuu is a spiritual test. It effectively places situations before us in which we must prove what we truly care about. These tests can be passed or failed. God is neither saving nor punishing you here; you are simply being allowed to choose. And yes, there is a strong chance you may choose poorly. So remember this: choose from your inner child. That part of you knows better than all the accumulated wisdom and experience you believe you possess.

It is deeply negative to be superficially positive—especially in a time of anthropogenic negativity. But it is equally negative to descend further into despair and become creatively incapable of finding even a small niche of joy and vitality within these times.

Do not allow yourself to be dragged down by messages that undermine what makes you happy. Even if you are told it is unproductive, it is not. If it makes you happy, if it allows you to experience genuine fun, then it has value. Have fun—within the measure of everything else that must also be done. Find joy even in places where it does not seem to belong. That is your inner child remaining alive.

Only a couple of generations ago, we began to understand that keeping children mentally safe—even if it meant shielding them from the harsher realities of humanity—was preferable. You do not teach a child to become resilient in a mean society by being mean to the child. That mentality has passed. We already stand, in many ways, on the brighter side of history.

What remains are material structures that no longer serve life. They will have to find their way toward collapse and dissolution, even if they sadly take with them those still chained to them. Change is rarely without cost, but it is inevitable. We are moving toward where we want to be.

The darker it becomes, the clearer our inner brightness of desire must grow. Where do we want to be? I believe it is in a state of clarity—where we consciously decide to gather again and return this earth to the paradise it naturally is, was, and can be once more. Choose that as your story, and watch it unfold from the divine ground of being.

Outside, it may be dark. But we can choose to be the light. In that sense, the time of darkness is already over. No longer can what was hidden remain concealed. This is the time of revelation.

Do your part. Present yourself to the world as you first came into it—unmasked, luminous, and true.