WHAT IS THE SOLSTICE AND WHY DID THE ANCIENT MAYA REVERE IT?

 

June 21 is the summer solstice and the longest day of the year. From now until winter solstice in December, we will lose sunlight each day. Due to the Earth's orbit and daily rotational motion, such as the wobble in the Earth's axis, the time and date of the solstice varies from year to year. Both the solstice and the equinox were important to the ancient Maya, and one cannot be explained without understanding the other. Here's why.

The Maya punched numbers and astronomical calculations that could make our heads spin, but nothing was more meaningful to them than the movements of the sun.

Maya Scribe (Latin America Studies Organization)

The Dresden Codex, one of three paperbark books that survived the mass destruction of Maya documents by Spanish zealots in 1562, is filled with numbers—mostly calculations for lunation cycles and Venus tables. And one of the Maya's main calendars, the Haab, is tied to the earth's rotation. They calculated it at 360 days, with five "extra days" at the end that were considered unlucky time. The Maya were naked eye astronomers, and through sheer volume, they assimilated countless facts about the planets and the impact of the earth's rotation through centuries of observance.

Portion of Dresden Codex (Frederico Custodio)

It's known that the number four held great importance to them. Some archeologists suggest it could be very basic: the body has four limbs with the heart at its center; a house has four corner posts; a milpa cornfield has four entrances; and the sun has four paths it takes on its seasonal journey—two solstices and two equinoxes. Other scholars suggest that the number four symbolized wholeness and is associated with Ahau, the Sun God. In K'iche', the word for day is the same word as sun, and a day is one complete passage of the sun.

Made with 2 images from Project Gutenberg
and CIA's World Facebook via MS Paint

The Maya also observed four cosmic points, which may possibly relate to the four posts of the sun's daily journey: sunrise, noon, the sun on the horizon at dusk, and lastly the nadir, just before the sun moves into the underworld. Scholars call these the four points of the Maya cosmos, and emphasize these are nothing like our cardinal directions of north, south, east and west.

The most relevant positions of the sun are the solstices and the equinoxes, even to us today. For the Maya sky gazers, these were of supreme importance and they paid homage to these positions.

If you've gone to Chichen Itza on a spring or fall equinox to watch the performance of the sun's descent from the top of Temple Kukulkan to the bottom of the staircase ending at the serpent's mouth, you've no doubt been awed by the experience. 

Chichen Itza at Equinox with Serpent's Shadow

Onlookers believe they share a moment in time with the ancient Maya, for legend has it that the Maya also witnessed the same image a thousand years ago. Kukulkan, one of the most monumental of all their sacred works, was the Maya god of rejuvenation and his effigy symbolized the renewal of life.

Why did the Maya immortalize the equinox in this bi-annual spectacle of astronomical showmanship? Although no one knows for sure, scholars believe rites of agriculture may have been the basis for the concept and design of Kukulkan's slithering serpent. Since Kukulkan symbolized rejuvenation, the March date coincides with planting cycles and a September date coincides with annual harvest, which in itself is a renewal of life, for it allows food for the winter months.

Native Corn in Mexico 

The equinox is unique because on that day, in March and September, night and day are equal.

The solstices represent a similar idea, as they are twice a year occurrences and on these days the sun reaches its highest or lowest altitude in the sky above the horizon at solar noon. 

Winter solstice, which we've just observed, is the traditional beginning of the earth's yearly cycle. Though I never adhered to the end calendar belief of the 2012ologists who claimed 2012 would be the end of time, John Major Jenkins, author of Maya Cosmogenesis 2012, had a point when he suggested the solstice was so important to the Maya that they placed  buildings in alignment with its zenith.

                                                   

Jenkins believes that a stela at Izapa (a site in southern Mexico that may or may not be Maya) leaves a code for us to decipher. In particular, Group F Ballcourt, which displays what Jenkins calls creation imagery, is aligned within one degree of December solstice sunset and the June solstice sunrise direction. He claims this could have been no coincidence.

Archeo-astronomer Anthony Aveni states there are at least 73 city alignments to the solstice throughout the Maya world. He thinks there is evidence for a solstice-based calendar. He leans towards June because it marks the time of the peak rainy season in the year.

El Caracol Observatory at Chichen Itza (Veteezy.com)

At Chichen Itza, the equinox is visible through a window in El Caracol Observatory's tower. And the great ballpark at Chichen Itza, the largest known ballcourt in the ancient Maya world, encodes many alignments involving the Milky Way and the solstices. The ballcourt was aligned with the Milky Way at midnight on June solstice 865 AD, and if one had stood in the center of the ballcourt on that night, the arc of the Milky Way could have been seen touching the opposed horizons to which the lengthwise axis of the ballcourt pointed. Overhead, one would have seen where the Milky Way and the ecliptic cross.

Picture of Milky Way (Discovery)

This incredible symmetry was planned on a grand scale. The why's and wherefores we may never know, but what we do know for certain is this: the Maya were well aware of the solstice and equinox dates and they paid homage to them in the most obvious way. They were so important that they commemorated them by building ethereal stepped pyramids that lasted for centuries that would align with both solstice and equinox, and are still viewed with wonder to this day. Today we view the solstices as the shortest and longest days of the year, and know once December comes, the earth will soon be tilting towards the sun, reaching for more light. 

If you enjoyed this post, check out my memoir, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. It's available on Amazon with tales of expat life and living within 100 miles of four major pyramid sites. Also, check out my website at www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are available on Amazon where my overview of the 2012 Maya calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed—Demystifying the Prophecy, can also be found. 

Lead photo: Welcoming Winter Solstice, is from the Navajo-Hopi Observer.

UP THE RIO NEGRO, DOWN TO THE AMAZON

 

In 2008, I cruised the Amazon on a 90-foot 19th century replica of a Brazilian riverboat for seven days. Our journey began in Manaus, a Covid hotspot in 2020 and one of the world's hardest hit areas, where it was necessary to dig mass graves due to the high death toll. This article first appeared in the Sunday Living section of The News, Mexico City, March, 2008.

River Boat Tucano (My Brazilian Tours)

I sat with Edivan, one of our two jungle guides, inside the sunny, wood-paneled salon of the Motor Yacht Tucano, an elegant 90-foot, nine cabin replica of a 19th century Brazilian riverboat, and watched lush, pulsating rainforest float by as we headed up the Rio Negro. 

LAST OUTPOST OF CIVILIZATION

We were cruising through the world's largest river island system, the Anavilhanas Archipelago in the heart of the Amazon, sometimes called the lungs of the planet, and by mid-afternoon we'd be well past Manaus, Amazonas, a former frontier settlement with a population of 1.5 million, known as the last outpost of civilization. 

Map of Amazon Basin (Brazil Travel Guide) 

"Is there hope for the future of the rainforest?" I asked the serious, competent man who would show the 12 of us on board both the obvious and hidden beauties of the vast eco-system we were entering.

"That's like asking do you believe in God?" he countered. "You've got to have faith in something. Me, I have faith in the forest but I believe it can get better. We can get better. But people's ignorance always gets in the way.

"Today everyone is more worried about the state of the forest, not just for the trees, but for its food, its oil and it's vegetables."

"I read," I interjected, "in 2003, almost 150,000 square kilometers of Amazon's rainforest disappeared, about the size of New Hampshire. Is this ongoing?"

RUBBER AND SOY

Edivan, Our Guide

"Because of globalization," Edivan continued, as a shadow crossed his face,"we are all merged together. The future looks very dark but many things are happening. Before the problem was rubber."

"Like with Chico Mendes?" I asked. "The environmentalist who stood up to the rubber industry when 180,000 rubber trees were destroyed along with a million valuable hardwoods?"

"In 1988 Mendes was murdered for his beliefs," Edivan said. "Now it's not the rubber industry. It's not even cattle ranching. Now the threat is soy. If anyone stands up to the soy producers, they will die."

He sweeps his hand past the finely crafted mahogany windows toward the translucent green forest and that dark, flat river,

"See how thick the forest is? The Rio Negro, this part of the Amazon, has heavy sediment from falling leaves which creates a high pH balance and turns the water black. It makes it hard for life, for fish, to survive, unlike the Amazon where everything thrives. Maybe a thousand people live in this large region. Maybe. I don't think they can bulldoze it down here." Finally I saw the possibility of a smile.

I gazed out at 150-foot high trees. They're staggering in height although in reality, I thought they'd be taller. I was told by Aguimaldo, our indigenous guide, that farther inland, they are. Anything you can see from shore has already been cut, so this could be second or third generation.

HEART OF THE AMAZON

My dialogue with Edivan continued on this seven-day journey into the heart of the Amazon. Daily we divided into two groups, climbed into outboard rigged wood canoes, and took excursions up small tributaries and canals off the Rio Negro. We saw ringed kingfishers, pink dolphins, blue macaws, red macaws, white-throated toucans, three-toed sloths, squirrel monkeys, green ibis, reddish egret, wattled Jacanas, black nun birds, Amazon kingfish, yellow cacique, puffbirds, black collared hawks, white-tailed trojans, and crimson topaz hummingbirds. For starters.

Reflection of Trees on Amazon (Research Gate) 

We took forest walks wearing leather leg chaps from knee to ankle for protection against snakes. We saw buttressed trees, bullet ants, medicinal plants. We met a subsistence farmer and his wife who grow manioc root and process it into tapioca. We stopped at a boat building factory in a local village where the Tucano was built ten years ago. We saw the flooded forest where water levels will rise 20 feet in just a few months. We sat in canoes at dawn to watch the sun rise over the river. Occasionally we would get caught in a light, tropical rain storm.

Cruising the River 

In between excursions we came back to the boat to eat incredible food prepared by Gemma and Angelina, our cooks, from the smallest most cramped kitchen you can imagine. The dining room buffet at meal times overflowed with fresh salads and fruits—some which I hadn't seen before—along with rice and beans,  vegetables, chicken, occasionally a meat dish, and always a spectacular freshly caught fish.

Tucano Dining Room (My Brazilian Tours)

The desserts make me gain weight by proxy. Even at breakfast there's cake on the table and at dinner, not only cake but a Brazilian custard made with papaya, coconut, pineapple, or crème brulée or flan. Some nights there would be something conjured from manioc root, the food staple which takes shape in everything from cakes to breads. And no meal was complete without fresh squeezed juice.

WELCOME TO THE AMAZON

We'd landed in Manaus in the heart of the Amazon rainforest to begin this journey in late January. Copa Air dropped us from Miami into a small, dilapidated airport where one unruffled immigration officer diligently stamped tourist visas. On the side of the runway, four vine-covered DC 10s languished in various stages of mold and decay, a startling example of nature at work. Welcome to the Amazon. 

Convergence of Rio Negro and Amazon (by Isopada)

The Motor Yacht Tucano river trip would combine the best elements of the Rio Negro for 300 kilometers north before heading back to the Amazon, or Solimoes River, as it's known to the locals, where we'd see the confluence of the waters. The Rio Negro's black water converges just outside Manaus with the white or café au lait colored Amazon. It's a spectacular sight, this distinct color variation that stretches for seven kilometers.

I'd researched the trip intensely before deciding on the Tucano. It was either that or a people's ferry. The guidebooks I'd read all assured me I'd have everything stolen on the ferry plus I'd have to sleep in a hammock, possibly on an open deck, with strangers. No. No. No. Twenty years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but this was now.

HOTEL TROPICAL

We arrived a few days early and checked into Hotel Tropical, a well-preserved, gentile grandy with 600 rooms, 13 kilometers from Manaus. Towering tress surrounded walled gardens that circled the hotel. Our drive passed the hotel zoo, the tennis courts, the carefully marked trees, on a wide asphalt road. I spot white columns rising over a sweeping entrance. Inside, a 40-foot atrium adjoins a long, L-shaped reception desk. Heavy dark woods prevail along with high-vaulted ceilings. I'm ensconced in my favorite type of luxury—colonial turn-of-the-century in a jungle setting. Heaven. 

Vintage Luggage Label, Hotel Tropical

In Brazil, size is not an issue: everything is huge. We walk what seems miles to our room; the bellboy shows us into an attractive 30 x 40 foot suite with French doors overlooking a terrace. Dark wood trim adorns all closets and mirrors as does the Brazilian granite—Jacinta, speckled grey-rose-black—that I will soon identify in every bathroom, every bar, every countertop throughout the country.

At this point I still haven't seen the water flush the opposite way as I've heard it does in the Southern Hemisphere. The hotel has low flow toilets but not so for the shower. With the mighty Amazon just 200 feet from our window, the shower blasts me with the force of a fire hose, filling the glass shower stall and floor so quickly I turn off the faucet a moment so the drain can catch up. We languish in this gracious spot two days before boarding the Tucano.

YOU CAN'T PICK YOUR NEIGHBORS

"Do you know what an alligator feels like? It feels like a purse, ha ha," laughed one of the less lustrous of our travel companions. "Or a pair of boots."

Thank God there were ten others who could drown out this bloke's personality disorder. On booking the cruise, my main fear was the human factor—not snakes, piranha, or jaguars. I feared the species Americana Erectus—the strident mouthpiece I seemed to never avoid, even by moving to Mexico. After a few days I removed myself from conversations and sought solace and found it. In the upstairs deck.

THE UPSTAIRS DECK

Painted spic-and-span white and peppered with lounge furniture I enjoy the balmy breezes and near 360 degree views of river and forest. In the morning the river is flat as a lake and Dante Inferno red. The perfectly mirrored reflection of trees in the water is apparent even under cloudy, mottled skies. From my vantage point I see a half moon of green wild rice, shockingly florescent in color, like a stubbled layer of beard on a man's chin. I hear a flock of scarlet macaws jabbering in the distance long before I see them; their brilliant feathered bodies jettison out of faraway trees, all the while squawking incessantly.

Author on Tucano's Upstairs Deck

I rejoin the group for most outings but now I've located my escape hatch and retreat back to it a few more times before the journey's end. Our last day is spent on the Amazon at the confluence of the waters. We're two degrees off the equator and a full moon rises that night in the tropical sky. Gazing out at large container ships in the distance, I'm glad I could take this journey into Amazonas, a place that is far from fully explored, where there is more Amazon rainforest and indigenous people than any other place in Brazil.

Living Section, The News, Mexico City 2008

RAINFOREST UPDATE: Deforestation Statistics in Brazil's Rainforest (Reuters) 

Year-to-date deforestation in Brazil remains nearly double what it was during January to August, 2018, before Jair Bolsonaro became president and took immediate steps to weaken environmental enforcement prompting a boom in logging. A Reuters news agency witness traveling in southern Amazonas state during August (2021) saw massive fires billowing smoke miles into the air with the haze blanketing the landscape. Many fires were near the edge of existing cattle pastures. Much of the burned land will likely become pasture too, with cattle ranching the main driver of deforestation, according to a draft of a landmark study compiled by 200 scientists and published July 2021.

Smoke from Burning Vegetation in Amazonas state (Reuters)

If  you enjoyed this post, check out my memoir Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. It's available on Amazon with tales of expat life and living within 100 miles of four major pyramid sites. Also, check out my website at www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are available on Amazon where my overview of the 2012 Maya calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed—Demystifying the Prophecy, can also be found.