Conrad SatalaJuly 22, 2025

22 July 2025 - Tuesday The Struggles - the Fears - the Challenges - the Emergence of Hope Remembering of the “Heart Within Water.” Part 7b

Conrad SatalaJuly 22, 2025

22 July 2025 - Tuesday

The Struggles - the Fears - the Challenges -

the Emergence of Hope Remembering of the “Heart Within Water.”

Part 7b

“I Carry the Mountain in My Breath”

A Ceremonial Introduction to Living Within Two Lands

from the Earth Remembers Series

This “Closing Breath: The Weaving - In the Midst of Political Suffering and the Flicker of Hope” reflects the painful but sacred experience of being caught in the winds of injustice and suffering, and how Nawal Tijaax and the Heart of Water offer moments of inner kindness and cellular hope. The weaving of Kimoon K’uxlaal – The Weaving of Many into One Heart begins not with certainty, but with breath, and with the subtle presence of the Great Grandmother’s Light.

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Closing Breath: The Weaving

In the Midst of Political Suffering and the Flicker of Hope

And so I walked home—

not in celebration,

but in exhaustion.

The news of the world had pressed

too hard against my ribs again.

The cruelty, the injustice,

the tightening grip of those in power

who no longer remember the sacredness of life.

Voice 1 rose like smoke from my chest:

“It is all falling apart.

There is no way forward.

No one listens.

You are alone.”

And I believed it.

Because it had been true too many times.

Because my breath was shallow,

and my faith was tired.

But just beneath the sharpness,

there was a whisper—

the Heart Within Voice 1—

a voice that did not argue,

but simply longed.

Longed for wholeness.

Longed to believe again.

Longed to breathe without the ache of despair.

I placed one hand on my chest.

The other on my belly.

And I called upon Nawal Tijaax—

not to fight for me,

but to dissolve and soften with mercy.

To separate me from the binding cords

of hopelessness.

To dissolve the belief

that suffering was the only truth.

And then—

in the stillness of that moment—

I opened to the Heart of Water.

The water of Lake Atitlán,

the water that carries light in its surface,

the water that remembers the weaving

of every mountain, every tree, every breath.

And as I inhaled,

Voice 2 appeared.

Not loudly.

Not for long.

But enough.

It said:

“Let the water hold your sorrow.

Let it teach you how to receive.”

And so I did.

I let the light of water

flow into the hollow places.

Into my spine.

Into the bones of my face.

Into the joints of my breath.

And there,

in a brief wave,

I felt something else:

Support.

Not from the world outside—

but from the quiet presence

of something sacred within.

The weaving had begun.

Even if I could not see it.

Even if I still felt broken.

Even if Voice 1 returned again

with every step.

The weaving of the many into one heart

was not a moment of triumph—

it was a flicker

held by breath.

Held by water.

Held by light.

Held by something I do not yet understand

but that continues to carry me.

And so I whispered:

“Let my breath remember.

Let this body, even in suffering,

be the altar.

Let my bones receive the soft light

of the Great Grandmother’s Wind.”

And the wind did not promise hope.

But it moved.

And in its quiet movement,

I felt

—not certainty—

but the return of one small thread of kindness.

And I walked.

Breath uneven.

Heart heavy.

But still woven—

into the slow, flickering,

ancient emergence

of Light.

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The Beginning of Safety

Weaving Light Through the Heart Within Water

The deeper the trauma,

the more pain, anxiety, overwhelm, and hopelessness we feel—

it is rarely about the present.

Voice 1, in its sharpest form,

is not rooted in what is happening now.

It rises from the unhealed past.

These voices of Voice 1 feel so final, so loud,

so tangled in despair:

“There is no hope. Nothing can change. I am alone.”

But sometimes, I can pause—

just long enough to remember:

This is not about now.

And in that remembering,

a flicker of inner kindness begins.

I can allow the pain to be here—

without adding a story to it.

I feel the tension in my chest,

the churning in my belly,

the tightness in my throat,

the throbbing in my head.

And I just stay with it.

Not needing to fix it.

Not needing to know why.

This is the beginning of the Heart Within Voice 1.

Not built from words,

but from the sacred act of being with what is,

with kindness.

⸻

When a child is in emotional pain,

we don’t try to explain it or fix it.

We hold them.

We offer our presence—

kind, steady, silent.

And so too, we must learn

to hold ourselves.

If I cannot hold myself,

I must find someone who can sit beside me—

not to give answers,

but to help carry the pain long enough

for the inner kindness to awaken.

Sometimes, this holding comes

not from a person,

but from the Presence of Light

within the Heart Within Water.

The shimmering, listening stillness

of a lake, a stream, a small bowl of water—

all carry the Light of Relationship,

the sacred teaching of Kimoon K’uxlaal – The Weaving of Many into One Heart.

As I open to receive the kindness from water,

I begin to soften.

The pain is still here—

but the light is here too.

And in that moment,

Voice 2 flickers in—

a breath,

a quiet knowing,

not loud enough to hold me fully,

but enough to remind me:

Something else is possible.

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When I listen closely,

I begin to notice how my own words shape my pain.

The story I tell myself deepens the wound.

“Why do I feel this way?”

“Who made me feel this way?”

“If they had only done this, or not done that…”

These are the triggers.

But the trigger is just a small part

of a much larger mechanism.

The real pain—the explosive charge—

lives inside me.

The charge is old.

It is the unheld emotion

from long ago.

So I turn inward,

not to silence Voice 1,

but to become more interested in my own emotional reaction

than in the person or event that evoked it.

And here is the sacred key:

My pain is rarely about what I think it’s about.

Voice 1 tries to explain it.

But understanding alone is not enough.

I must feel it.

Because only in feeling

can the Heart Within Voice 1

begin to emerge.

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Most of us were not safe enough, as children,

to feel what needed to be felt.

We were too small.

Too alone.

Too overwhelmed.

So now, these emotions must rise

in a new context—

not just with understanding,

but with safety.

Safety comes not from explanation,

but from Presence—

from the Heart Within another person,

or from the Heart Within Nature,

or from the gentle light

of our own Inner Nature

remembering itself

through the Heart Within Water.

⸻

This is where the Weaving of Many into One Heart begins.

Not in healing everything.

Not in changing the past.

But in being held—

by the Presence of Light

that flows from Water into Body,

from Body into Earth,

from Earth into the luminous Web of Relationship.

This is the sacred weaving

of the Water’s Heart

with our inner heart,

and eventually,

with the inner wisdom

of the body’s own LightNature.

It is not about doing something.

It is about receiving.

Receiving the Light that is already here.

Receiving the kindness

that has always been waiting

in the Breath of the Great Grandmother.

And in that receiving,

however brief,

Voice 2 appears—

not as a solution,

but as a gentle holding

of all the voices within us.

This is the beginning.

This is the remembering.

This is how the weaving begins.

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The Inner Tapestry Begins

By day’s end,

Conrad had not changed the world.

He had not spoken a single word

to another human.

But something in him had shifted.

His inner Heart Center

was no longer alone.

It carried

the grounded kindness of the mountain,

the fluid kindness of the lake,

the breath-kindness of the cloud forest,

the radiant kindness of the volcanoes,

the rooted kindness of the corn,

and the weaving kindness of the trees.

All these lights now wove together

into one

luminous

tapestry of inner kindness.

And from this place —

from this sacred inner weaving —

he would soon be ready

to return

to the trembling voice within himself.

But not yet.

That is another story.

For now,

Conrad walked home under the gold of late light,

his heart carrying the world.

And the world carrying him.

Kimoon K’uxlaal.

The Weaving of Many into One Heart.

The remembering that life is always lived

in relationship.

Conrad Satala