10/12/2012 by Jaki Miles-Windmill
This is the right time to write this account ……
In 1999, I arranged to go to stay with my friend, Stuart Cox who’d moved to Tepoztlan, Mexico earlier. The choice of the date of my three weeks holiday was odd. Stuart knew me well enough to accept that, although I could have travelled several months earlier I was in an ‘I’ll come when it feels right’ mood. I decided to get the ticket about four days before I left. It felt right.
Stuart came to meet me at Mexico City airport. He explained that another friend was staying for the first week of my stay – finishing off a fortnight with him. He had not wanted to put me off but explained that he needed to give his friend full attention for my first week – but he had found something that I might be interested to do for the next seven days. He’d tell me about it later. The altitude hit me hard as we stayed in a cheap hotel for the night in the centre of the city. I had my first case of severe jet lag, I couldn’t breath properly and the heat was intense – no air-conditioning either. I remember spending the first night sitting in the shower, reading and trying to get my mind off of my discomfort. It was the only place where I could have the light on without disturbing Stuart.
Stuart was renting a beautiful octagonal house on the edge of Tepoztlan, forty miles south west of Mexico City. I was to sleep in ‘the tower’ in the garden. There were stairs up the outside and an amazing room at the top, just big enough for a single bed. I was surrounded by strange noises. In the dark and high in the air, I felt wrapped in exotic, perfumed black velvet. This is the essence of how Mexico feels to me. It’s like a sweet, dark, velvety alcoholic pudding, thick and creamy. The essence of the UK is lemon sorbet in comparison. The tower was in a wonderful tropical garden with tens of happy cats and kittens roaming it, strays that Stuart was feeding. It also had a coffee bush. He harvested some beans next morning, roasted them in front of me and the three of us sat together drinking coffee in the kitchen, the sun streaming through the windows. I felt ready for something.
Stuart explained that there was a week long ‘festival’ starting that morning in a place called Amatlan, three miles away. He’d seen posters. He’d take me there by bus on this, the first morning and thought I’d probably be interested enough to want to do the whole thing, coming back to eat and sleep in Tepoztlan at night. I trust Stuart’s judgement. It sounded interesting and a good way to find out about Mexico. I think we both imagined it would be like a Mexican version of an English festival – a small Glastonbury or Green Gathering. I was used to those.
We boarded a bus next to Tepoztlan market. It was one of a fleet of old Volkswagon campervan style vehicles, all different colour combination and with about twelve bus seats arranged inside. We – and especially me with my red hair – were politely examined – a sideways glance here and there and sometimes a slight smile but, in my experience, Mexican people are usually dignified, silent and composed, however curious they might be. The terrain through the windows was interesting to me, heat burned and alien, the mountains amazing and craggy with a few trees in the tops in impossibly unreachable places with the silhouettes of impossible goats chewing their leaves against the blue sky.
At Amatlan, we got off. There was nothing like the vibrancy and intense colour of Tepoztlan. This was ochre desolation. There was one shop. Stuart went in to get some water for us. There seemed to be no people anywhere, just a few skinny dogs and one emaciated horse – wandering. There was no traffic and certainly no sign of a festival. Stuart had asked the shopkeeper about it. He hadn’t heard of a festival and there were no posters like those we’d seen in Tepoztlan. We spent the next two and a half hours looking, Stuart asking the one or two people we met in that time who all had the same reply. We both had the feeling something was going on somewhere although we had no good reason to think this at all, given the emptiness and silence. Stuart was disappointed because it had seemed like a really good solution to his situation and one that I was excited about. I suggested we tried the first street we’d walked up when we’d arrived. Just one more try because we hadn’t walked to the end of it. By now we were tired and hot and the prospect of going back to Tepoztlan was getting brighter by the minute.
As we got to the end of the street, some people came towards us. There were three of them. They were young and they were laughing and talking animatedly to each other. There had been nothing and no one like them in Amatlan so far and so we thought they possibly they had come from the festival. Stuart spoke to them in Spanish which, at the time, wasn’t too fluent. I spoke no Spanish at all. They pointed further along the track we were on and into the trees about fifty yards away. “We’ve found it!” said Stuart, “They said it’s just starting. It’s up this track about a mile away, at the foot of a cliff. “
We walked. Hedges replaced the houses. We waded across a stream and the track began to climb. There were more trees, a few houses and animals that watched us silently from small fields as we went by. We were walking upwards towards the mountains. After a mile or so, we noticed a high cliff to our left with about a dozen tepees set below it. We walked through the gate. There was a big permanent marquee to the left of the space with tables, benches and a counter visible through the open sides. Beyond the tepees, the cliff loomed up above us. It had a small wooden house balanced on a wooden platform about two thirds of the way up it on one side with a series of ladders leading up to it. At the base of the cliff there was a wide cleft in the rock with flowers, crystals and lit candles and incense just inside the opening. There was absolutely no one there. The air was heavy and hot.
We were amazed at the atmosphere. It was extraordinary – peaceful and loaded with meaning and spirit. It tasted like a mouthful of Mexican pudding, aromatic and rich. We felt that people had been there recently and decided to walk a little further up the track to try to find them. I had a strong feeling that we might miss the beginning of something very important and was anxious not to. Stuart said that if we were meant to be there, we would get there in time. He was right. As we rounded a wide bend to the left, we could vaguely hear the hushed murmurings of voices. Suddenly there was another cliff with an opening in the hedge. We walked through. Over to our right was a circle of people, perhaps thirty or so. They were about to start – something. They turned and looked at us.
Stuart had explained about Nahuatl Indians who were indigenous to the area. We’d seen a lot of them around the market. Most of these people looked like them. There was obviously a leader who was about to start the proceedings, whatever they were. Most people were dressed in white. Some had blanket cloaks and bandanas around their heads. A woman came towards us. She looked more Spanish than Nahuatl. She spoke in Spanish to Stuart. He turned to me with a ‘ I told you so,’ look on his face and smiled. “She says, ‘Are you the English woman?’ I told her you were an English woman. She said, ‘We’ve seen her in dreams – the red hair. She’s meant to be here.’ The woman, Maria, spoke to me directly. Her accent was thick and Mexican but she was fluent enough. “It’s alright, you’re meant to be with us,” she said, “Come with me. Join us. I’ll translate for you.” Stuart spoke with a smile, “Right Jaki, you’re on your own,” he said, “I’m off back to Tepoztlan. See you later.” I was nervous. Stuart arranged that Maria would put me on the bus back to Tepoztlan later and off he went. She led me into the circle which parted to allow me in.
Maria was with me for the next seven days, quietly translating everything that was said. The week was less of a festival and more of a conference. The subject was crystals – their qualities, their chemical makeup, their importance to the earth and everything that lives here. I made copious notes, which would have been impossible without the help of Maria. I went every day and returned to Stuart’s house at about 7pm every evening. I listened to many speakers who were informing us about crystals of all kinds, but the focus was on pure quartz.
One of the people we learned from was the Amatlan shaman, Peter. He was old and had difficulty walking but, at one point, just after the week ended, I was invited to visit him – more of that later. I learned also about the special place where this ceremony happened. The space was held and overseen by Ia, the man who lived in the house that he had built part way up the wall. The tepees were, and still are, used by various groups and individuals who want to spend time in this very special place – probably the most sacred space I have ever been privileged to spend time in. The cliff has a huge cleft in it, starting at the point I mentioned, where the candles and crystals were and rising up a hundred feet or so to a huge arch shape. It is known as The Doorway. The belief, as I understand it, is that this is the place where Quetzalcoatl was last seen. He went into the rock together with all the seeds, animals and life forces that were collected together to be stored in the event that the world might be destroyed by some cataclysmic event in the future.
The week was amazing and my part in what happened made me sure, beyond a doubt, that I was meant to be there. I arrived just at the right moment by a series of ‘chance’ occurrences. Everything in my life seemed to lead to this experience and everything since then has been part of it.
There was only one other non Mexican present that week, a man from Phoenix, Arizona, who spoke fluent Spanish. I was told that it was important that there was one representative of the United States and one representative of Europe – myself. Apparently several of those present had seen me in visions and dreams, often in a place they knew to be Cornwall. The spiritual link they spoke of between Mexico and Cornwall was staggering to me. Although no one there had ever visited Cornwall, they all knew about Celts, King Arthur and Cornish fairies and wanted me to speak about Cornwall often. I found out later that Cornish miners were brought in centuries back to mine the silver in Mexico and that there is a region where pasties are still made daily as they are in Cornwall and where many of the inhabitants are descendants of those first Cornish miners. Amatlan isn’t in that region and the fact that they also knew about the ancient sacred places in Penwith, the far south west of Cornwall where I was brought up and where they ‘dreamed’ me standing in spaces underground was staggering. They also felt that I had strong fairy energy, they said, and they that some of the children saw fairies walking behind me when I left in the evenings. All I know is that, although we moved to Cornwall when I was five, I have always related to all things Cornish, all the legends and the Celtic holy places are part of me. When I’m there, I spend time in the fougous and by the wells. I soak in the spirituality and creativity from the earth. I spent my childhood school holidays on the sand and in the sea at Mexico Beach at Hayle in Cornwall, where we lived for a while. I know there’s a strong connection between the two places and have had huge experiences of such since that first visit to Mexico. I wonder how this connection can be this strong. Walking round the West Penwith area feels as if I’m walking around myself. The experience of Mexico that week was a deeply profound journey around the self too.
So now I’m going to leap to the end of the week – seven days later. Just another day at the Crystal Conference! We were all aware that this amazing time was about to end. My note book was almost full with Maria-dictated notes and I was drenched in Mexico and the knowledge I’d been so privileged to be part of. The sun had shone brightly throughout the week from daybreak to sunset. Suddenly, at about 5 pm on this last day, it began to rain. Heavy drops fell faster and faster until there was a deluge. I had never seen a downpour like it. The heavens had opened and we all sheltered in the marquee. Several people went to examine the track back to Amatlan. It was impassable, they said, but if we waited an hour or two, we’d be able to get back. The situation we found ourselves in, crowded together, was different. It felt a little awkward because there was no format, no schedule, no one was about to speak. There were some djembes in the corner and I picked one up and started to play. The American joined in and then several others, beating in time to the rhythm of the rain outside. I noticed some of the ‘elders’ of the group standing aside with Maria and looking towards me as they talked.
We finished as the rain started to subside. Little while afterwards, one of the group approached me with Maria. “Jaki, they want to know if you would be interested in coming to a very special ceremony tomorrow,” she said, “They’re not asking everyone. They’d like you to come.” I realised that it was an honour to be asked. “Of course,” I said, “I’d love to.” “It’s very special.” she said. She searched for words, “It’s about the – I’m not sure of the translation – the glass heads?” I was momentarily confused. Then the realisation hit me, “The crystal skulls?” I ventured – “Yes!” she said triumphantly, “The crystal skulls!”
At this point I have to go back in time, maybe a year earlier. I was staying in my cottage in St Ives with my very dear friend, Harriet. We heard about a talk that was going to happen in Penzance, given by some Native Americans who were bringing their teachings to Cornwall and other places in the UK and Europe. They were a couple, Rainbow Hawk and Wind Eagle who were gathering people together for the Ehama Tribe which now has a wonderful centre in the mountains in California. When we arrived, we could hardly get in. Wind Eagle and Rainbow Hawk sat together at one edge of a circle, in the centre of which were flowers, incense, crystals, feathers, water and candles. After speaking for a while, they invited questions. The atmosphere was intense and crowded but Rainbow Hawk and Wind Eagle answered quietly and clearly in their own style of ‘down to earthness’ and humour. We were really impressed. Several people asked them details about their work and intentions. Rainbow Hawk turned to a woman who had her hand up to speak at one side. She paused – for full effect it seemed to us – “Speak to us,” she said, in a voice loaded in mystery and melodrama, “of crystal skulls.” There was silence. We were embarrassed at the manner in which she spoke and wanted to laugh. Other people were too. Rainbow Hawk also paused, seemingly trying to find the right way to answer the manner as much as the question. “Well, they exist,” he said, “What do you want to know?” The question was out of context. It seemed irrelevant. I don’t remember exactly what was said after that but I do remember he passed on to another question very quickly.
That was the first time I had heard of Crystal Skulls and I was turned, instantly, into a ‘Crystal Skull Cynic’. Not good to react in such a way to something I knew nothing about just because the first person I heard mention it was someone I judged have little integrity. Many people make that mistake! So, when my good Cornish friend, Paul, handed me a book that he had just read on Crystal Skulls when he heard that I was going to Mexico and said that perhaps I might like to ‘read that in the plane on the way because it’s interesting’, I stuck it in my suitcase, out of respect to him and forgot about it.
Back to The Doorway:
It’s interesting that, although we had spent a week discussing crystals of all kinds, no one at all had mentioned Crystal Skulls to my knowledge. When I was invited to the special ceremony, I was shocked. I knew it was important. Soon, the water on the track had subsided enough for us to get back to Amatlan and I left for Tepoztlan.
The next morning, I got to The Doorway at the appointed time, 9.30. This was early for Mexico – and for me! There was no one on the site again. Absolutely no one. I sat outside in the shade of a small tree by The Wall. The sun was already hot. I waited – again that loaded, expectant feeling. I played a rhythm softly on a djembe and, after ten minutes or so, I heard someone coming up the track. It was the American. We sat and talked. He knew as little as I did about what was going to happen. Could we have missed it? Were they already at another location? He picked up another djembe and we started to play together. After a while, we heard footsteps coming up the track from the direction of Amatlan. No one was speaking but we could hear the soft sound of rattles and bells. We stood up and waited.
A procession came towards us of less than twenty people, led by an ‘elder’. He was dressed in ceremonial clothes and wore an ornate headdress. Behind him, people were carefully carrying objects in front of them, covered in cloths. There was incense. They formed a circle with myself on one side, opposite the elder. The objects were unwrapped carefully and place in a line, one behind the other to one side of the centre of the circle near a flat rock. Nine Crystal skulls, of various sizes, obviously very precious, emanating an extraordinary energy. There was no doubt in me that they were the most incredible objects I had ever been in the presence of. I felt reverent, centred and completely calm. Everyone was silent. I looked around for Maria. (I found out later she had gone to get the Shaman in her car. He hadn’t been able to walk from Amatlan.) She wasn’t there. I had no way of knowing what was going on or what I was supposed to do and so I waited. The air around me seemed to hum. The presence from the skulls was intense.
The elder spoke. I later learned that he spoke about the nature of the knowledge contained inside these skulls, nine of thirteen of the most ancient that still remain intact throughout the world. Earlier in the week we had heard about the pulse of vibrations within crystal (clocks and watches have made use of that ‘pulse’ quality for hundreds of years) their ability to soak in knowledge of what is around them and their ability to be ‘programmed’. These skulls are programmed with precious and vital information that they are capable of imparting when the time is right. Two people stood either side of him as he walked forward. They held ornate containers. They walked to a person in the circle and drew him to stand next to the skulls. Then they carefully placed the front Crystal Skull into his hands. They poured a little oil from a container onto the skull and spread it over it. Time passed. The two ‘assistants’ took the skull from him and put it back in its place in the sun. Then they turned and walked towards me. I felt very apprehensive. What was I supposed to do? Was I worthy of this honour? Were they mistaken? Maria had still not arrived. I was led forwards to stand next to the skulls. Time seemed to stand still as the second skull was lifted and placed in my outstretched hands. It was slightly smaller than the rest and it was opaque, different. I know that oil was put on it. I know that I saw veins appear under the surface of the top of its head. I saw blood pulsing through them. Then, I was unaware of anything else around me.
My whole self flew forwards into the skull and I was inside it. Instantly, I was hovering way up above Europe, somewhere above Spain, looking Eastwards, maybe a little Nor’-Nor’ East. I was very aware of Mexico and North America way behind me. I could see part of Southern England to my left. The history of Mexico, the plundering and murder perpetrated by the Spanish and other Europeans raced through my head in a consequential sequence of events. It was horrific and bloody. I felt the violence, the ignorance and the unfairness of it all – and the incalculable loss of knowledge and artefacts. I experienced a deep shame and guilt for being European. I was shown many events and felt the truth of what happened, the sorrow and the loss.
Then I was shown what I knew the possibility of the future. My consciousness veered from behind to in front of me and I saw a huge bomb exploding somewhere in Eastern Europe. The top of the mushroom cloud rose to the height of where my consciousness was hovering. I experienced horror – and then a communication from the skull that this did not have to be. The future could be changed. My heart felt huge. I felt that I was thinking and experiencing through my heart. I knew through my whole self that what I was feeling was vital knowledge and the privilege of experiencing these visions was huge. From somewhere in my consciousness, I felt part of me scream, “Why me? I’m not important enough for this! And I’m not Spanish!” I received an answer immediately. It’s difficult to put into words but I will attempt to. It was something like: “Everything in your life has led you to this moment. ‘Important’ doesn’t matter because everyone is equal. It has happened that your character, with all its faults and positive aspects has led you to this place at this time and we are grateful for it. It could have been anyone else. But it is you. Own the energy. That you are not Spanish doesn’t matter. You are English – which is close. Take what you have seen and felt with integrity and speak it.”
I came out of my vision and the skull was taken out of my hands. I was aware of little for the rest of the part of the ceremony where the skulls were handled. A part of me felt still in the energy of the skull. I stood in the circle and some time during the next two hours or so, Maria appeared to the left of me. As the elder spoke, towards the end of the ceremony, she was translating for me. He spoke about the relevance of the date and the importance of the skulls that had come from all over Mexico together here at The Doorway with the people that protected them. Then he said something that I will never forget – that the future can be changed in any single moment – that we all have the power to do that both within our own lives and in ways that can change the future of the world. This date had been foretold by the Mayans as being a day when the world would change. It was particularly possible, with such strong ceremony and the involvement of the skulls, to change the future. Then he asked if anyone had anything they wanted to share.
I was terrified to speak out and still very shaky from my experience and so I thought it best to stay silent – tell someone later perhaps, what I had seen. Maria looked at me. She knew that something profound had happened to me. I whispered that I didn’t want to say anything. She took no notice! She spoke to the elder. The sentence began with ‘Jaki’ and it was obvious that she’d volunteered me to speak. I knew it I had to speak. What came out of my mouth at first, though, was not what I thought it would be. I started nervously, pausing so that Maria’s translation could keep up as we spoke to the whole circle. I told them that I had had a vision from within the skull but first I needed to say something important. I wasn’t sure why it was me who had to say this but I wanted to apologise on behalf of Europe for what the people had done to Mexico in the past. Even as I was saying this, I was wondering where it had come from. I still think it sounds presumptuous and ‘lofty’ but I also know it was absolutely the right thing to do and it marked an end – or a beginning – of just a small component on the way to putting something right. There was a huge reaction. It seemed like a celebration.
I continued to tell them my vision as clearly as I could. When I had finished, there was silence. Then the elder thanked me. Then he looked up to the sky and smiled. He pointed. Above us, only about fifty metres, exactly above the circle, 11 eagles were flying clockwise above where we stood. There were nine skulls. It was September 11th, 1999, exactly two years, possibly to the hour, before the planes flew into the towers in New York.
I’d love to end this report here – but I have to admit that, as the ceremony was ending and people were starting to leave, the elder spoke to me again. He said that he was giving me a mission – to somehow get the Crystal Skull back from The British Museum where it was being held. He said it with a smile. He knew what a huge ‘ask’ it was. He said it was vital that it returned to Mexico because it was one of the thirteen and the energy needed to be complete. My confidence and my own personal journey hasn’t enabled me to speak out about this until now. Although I’ve been back to The Doorway several times since 1999, I’ve not been able to move on this. On one occasion when I went back, I mentioned it to Ia, who told me that I shouldn’t worry. It would happen when and if it was meant to. He said that, in a way, every time I return, I bring some of the energy back with me.
A couple of weeks ago, I posted a picture of the skull that is held in The British Museum – sent as a reminder by Stuart – onto Facebook with a comment that it should be allowed to return to Mexico where it belongs. I was amazed at the number of people who felt qualified enough to state categorically and somewhat aggressively that it is a ‘fake’ (the British Museum believe this too). There is a lot of rather strange passion in the people who deny its genuineness. Perhaps they need to convince themselves that ‘objects’ can’t possibly be powerful? What’s frightening in that possibility? I’m always staggered by people who believe things that the ‘status quo’ tell them to, seemingly with little questioning or the involvement of their own experience. I’ve seen this beautiful object on display on one of the occasions this was allowed. It is intensely powerful and I feel this:
If it is a ‘fake’ in the eyes of so many people including the museum that holds it, why not let it go back to the people who believe in its significance?
Note 1: I have no idea what the true relevance was of the timing of this ceremony but I believe the coincidence of the date is too much for it to have been completely accidental. Was the date information from the Mayan Calendar wrong by two years? Or was the fact that it was exactly two years before what was definitely a world changing event – whoever one believes perpetrated the act – some kind of warning or even a way of lessening the impact? The people there had definitely planned the coming together of the skulls for that date with the intention of focussing their power positively.
Note 2: This is by far the most profound thing that has ever happened to me. It is difficult to speak out and open it to public opinion. I know the reaction could be difficult for me to handle but I feel ready for it! I tried, three times to ‘go public’ with the story in the few years after it happened. The reactions on each of those occasions swung between bewilderment of the “Is she deluded?” kind to one lady saying (interestingly the same one that had asked ‘Speak to us of Crystal Skulls’ at the Ehama meeting!) that I was lying because she’ knew’ there were only five genuine skulls anyway!
Note 3: I have no idea what led me to arrive at ‘the right time and the right place’ in Mexico. I only know that what happened felt completely destined and everything I write about it was truthfully my experience. The fact that I had a vision doesn’t surprise me at all. It happens. But the strength of this one was huge. I expect some people not to believe it happened at all. I expect some people to believe I am ‘deluded’. I am not.
PERHAPS THIS ACCOUNT MIGHT EVEN HELP TO PURSUADE THE BRITISH MUSEUM TO CONSIDER RETURNING THE SKULL BACK TO MEXICO WHERE IT BELONGS….
Jaki Miles-Windmill D.F.Astrol.S
December 10th 2012