Jun Tz’ikin – Flying into the known

We live in a time governed by the fear of what will happen—yet what we fear is already happening. An induced dissociation leads astray even the most cunning minds. We are blinded by what is obvious, unable to make sense of our actions because they all lead down the same path: more of the same.

There is no financial tyranny coming—it is already here.
There is no zombie apocalypse coming—it is already here.
World War Three, climate crisis, solar maximum—these are not future events. They are unfolding now.

When you are lying low and unable to rise, you begin to wish for a situation that will take you even lower. Perhaps then a more severe crisis will force awakening, compel help, provoke real change. As a human “race” today, we find ourselves unconsciously longing for an alien invasion, a larger-scale war, a deadlier disease, or a catastrophic event—anything to push us out of something worse: the staleness and anxiety-producing boredom of a consumerist life and system.

As an Eagle, I might enchant you with the original title this article was meant to carry: Flying into the Unknown. It sounds beautiful and thrilling, suggesting we are entering a time of deep transformation, total uncertainty, and infinite mystery—uncharted horizons of the psyche. In this space lives the fantasy that if we descend far enough, rescue will arrive by surprise. That winning the lottery, discovering a hidden treasure, or being “saved” is just around the corner.

But what if this, too, is part of the spectacle?

I reconsidered the title because Eagle is not the archetype of fantasy—it is the archetype of vision. Eagle is the all-seeing eye in the sky and the all-sensing brain in the mind. A true Eagle story is grounded in what can be seen, not in what is merely imagined. Vision and imagination are the two poles of the great mind, and Eagle is the balancing master that can fly between them without falling into either void.

True vision emerges by leaning into what is visibly happening on one side and what can realistically unfold on the other. To lean entirely into imagination requires blind faith; to lean only into the visible breeds despair. Eagle holds both.

To be ready for this trecena requires having learned the lessons of the one that ended before it. The sensing organs must be cleansed of trickery and spectacle—this is the mark of the ending Jaguar. The old illusions no longer work. Time reflects this transition in a timeless way: we are at an eternal moment where we must stop falling for the same acts, the same enchantments.

In truth, this is what is wrong. We all know what is real and factual, yet that knowing feels incompatible with what we are allowed to afford in this “real” world. To function within this fiduciary prison we call modernity, we abandon common sense—that is, sanity itself. As this continues, if we do not take flight, we will keep marching into a madness where systems function only because they do not make sense.

After reading this, you can choose to blend in—functioning within the dysfunctional, stumbling over the falling stones of a crumbling pyramid, not to climb toward wellbeing but simply to avoid being buried.

Or you can open your wings and fly toward common sense—losing connection to what is called “reality,” but discovering instead the soft winds of spirit and a soul at peace.

To fly, sight must be recovered. This trecena exists to facilitate that recovery—if you are brave enough to enter it. Recovering sight means knowing where you are flying to: a real place, an island, a fragile branch. Whatever ground you choose, it must be solid, coherent, aligned with spirit, and conducive to health.

Do not let the winds deceive you. Wind is like money: it keeps you aloft, but without direction it will carry you far into frozen oceans where no land exists.

Proper Eagle requires shedding not only clothes but skin. At the beginning of this new solar cycle—beware of celebrating it by Gregorian measures—be prepared to sacrifice something in exchange for land, sanity, and a way of living that actually makes sense. Remember that spirit is immaterial: it responds not to pragmatic adequacy but to symbolic truth. Something may “work” materially, yet poison the soul if it lacks meaning or causes harm.

Letting go of apparent material stability in exchange for spiritual peace is always a worthy trade. Just be certain the sacrifice is made consciously, by choice and mastery—not imposed because deceptive winds carried you somewhere you never intended to go.