13 August 2025 - Wednesday Nawal Mosbel Joloom Sweeper of the Skull, Liberator of Memory Perceiving the Political Challenges of Today - Part 5

13 August 2025 - Wednesday

Nawal Mosbel Joloom

Sweeper of the Skull, Liberator of Memory

Perceiving the Political Challenges of Today  - Part 5

“I Carry the Mountain in My Breath”

A Ceremonial Introduction to Living Within Two Lands

from the Earth Remembers Series

The First Weaving of Light - A Receiving of Kimoon K’uxlaal

This image above, of the inner cellular light

is a sacred reflection of Kimoon K’uxlaal —

the great weaving of many into the One Heart.

Focus of this image is “Nawal Mosbel Joloom Sweeper of the Skull, Liberator of Memory - A Living Weaving within Kimoon K’uxlaal — The Weaving of Many into One Heart”

Receive the breath within your skull emerging into a flowing softness.

Receive the light behind your eyes as being gentle.

Receive the memory of who you are

Through the flow of the light within kindness.

Open to Receive the inner cellular light of the Heart Within your center chest area of your body,

with the Heart Within the Seven Sacred Landscapes

of the Tz’utujiil Maya world:

• The Three Volcanoes

• The Lake

• The Forest of Trees

• The Cornfields

• The Spirit of the Moonflower

• The Cloud Forest

• The Mountains

And it is the weaving of both of these

into the Heart Within Voice 1 —

the quiet place beneath the pain, the ache, the suffering.

The part of Voice 1 that is still willing to receive light.

This is the first wave of weaving:

It begins not with thought, but with a simple act of asking to receive. Where we can begins to feel within our cellular light can be weaved within the Light within the Heart of the Land that holds our inner light for the Renewal of our justified anger.

Place your hand gently over your heart.

Let the skin feel the warmth of your own presence.

Breathe.

And whisper this from the inside:

“Heart Within me,

I am ready to receive

the cellular light

of these sacred landscapes.

Let your weaving come into me.

Let your light be known in my bones.

I welcome the light of the land

into the heart of my body.”

Speak it once.

Then rest.

Rest in the quiet knowing

that the weaving has already begun.

That the light from the Lake,

the breath from the Cloud Forest,

the deep stillness of the Mountains,

the gentle root of the Cornfields,

the heat of the Volcanoes,

the bloom of the Moonflower,

the standing wisdom of the Trees —

—is already entering and awakening your cells.

This is Kimoon K’uxlaal:

Not an idea, but a living act of being woven.

Of letting the many forms of Heart

gather into one sacred body of light — Yours.

⸻

Opening Whisper

“Nawal Mosbel Joloom —

sweeper of skull,

clearer of memory,

liberate the pathways within me.

Let me walk again

with clarity, with lightness,

with the truth of who I have always been.”

(Above Image: The “House of Francisco Sequel, the House of the Place of the Nawals,” with the Bundle of the Martin out in the outer world).

Opening Blessing

To be spoken as you gently arrive at the House of Francisco Sequel —

The House of the Place of the Nawals

Come as you are.

Come with your aching mind,

your tired thoughts,

your too-full heart.

Come with your questions,

your resistance,

your longing for something more kind.

You are not asked to be ready.

You are only asked to be here.

Breathe.

Place your hand upon your chest.

Feel that you are not separate

from the Light that has always lived inside you.

In this moment,

you are entering a sacred weaving —

a remembering of what already lives

in the center of your being.

Welcome the presence

of Nawal Mosbel Joloom,

the Sweeper of the Skull,

the Liberator of Memory.

Welcome the landscapes of the Tz’utujiil Maya world —

the ancient weavers of perception —

who will walk with you

as you return to your own heart.

⸻

Voice 1 Speaks First

“I don’t know how to live in this world anymore.

I see too much.

I feel the cruelty like thorns in my skin.

My skull is heavy.

My thoughts are like vines that trap the sky.

Nothing I do seems to help.

I try to speak, but the words fall apart.

I want to hope—but hope feels like a story too far away.”

⸻

Enter Nawal Mosbel Joloom

And so she comes—

not with fire,

but with silence.

She does not silence you.

She sits beside your Voice 1.

And she places one hand

on the back of your skull.

A wind enters.

Not a storm—

but a soft flowing breath

through the inner corridors of your mind.

“Let your breath enter the back of your skull,”

She whispers.

“Let it soften the stone of despair.”

“You do not need to believe in hope.

You only need to open.”

And as the skull breathes,

the light behind your eyes begins to pulse.

Not with belief—

but with remembering.

A memory of who you are

beyond politics,

beyond anguish,

beyond the illusion of powerlessness.

You feel something awaken—

not a solution,

but a center.

It is the Heart Within Voice 1.

⸻

The Heart Within Voice 1 Speaks

“Even as I feel broken,

even as I ache,

even as I see what should never be done to another human being…

There is something inside me

that is still whole.

There is a light behind my eyes

that has never dimmed.

I don’t have the answers—

but I am willing

to receive the light of the land

into the heart of my body.”

⸻

The Weaving of the Seven Sacred Landscapes

A Ceremony of Perception and Regeneration within Kimoon K’uxlaal

Place your hand gently over your heart.

Let your skin feel the warmth of your own presence.

Breathe.

And whisper this from the inside:

“Heart Within me,

I am ready to receive

the cellular light of these sacred landscapes.

Let your weaving come into me.

Let your light be known in my bones.

I welcome the light of the land

into the heart of my body.”

Speak it once.

Then rest.

Now, let each landscape come…

And in each place, let Nawal Mosbel Joloom arrive —

not with her fire, but with her silence —

to awaken a different mixture of the Nine Sacred Threads of Sensing

within the Heart Within Voice 1.

Each thread a distinct light,

a teaching through your body.

⸻

The Three Volcanoes

San Pedro - Atitlán - Tolimán - The Pillars of Remembering

She comes, her hand resting at the base of your skull,

and your senses align to the steady roots of the land.

• Sight: A slow, ember-red glow at the horizon of your inner vision.

• Hearing: A deep hum in your bones, older than speech.

• Taste: The mineral tang of volcanic stone on your tongue.

• Smell: Earth warmed after rain.

• Touch: The reassuring weight of the ground pressing upward into your feet.

• Thermoception: The even warmth of a banked fire within your belly.

• Nociception: The faint ache of standing tall, reminding you you’re alive.

• Proprioception: A perfect verticality — spine stacked, unshaken.

• Balance: A sense of the horizon holding you, steady and true.

They give you the thread of rooted presence:

“Stand in the fire of truth without burning away your kindness.”

⸻

The Lake — Atitlán

The Mirror of Inner Stillness

She comes, her silence a mirror in which every sense can settle.

• Sight: Light rippling across water, scattering into your eyes.

• Hearing: The lap of gentle waves, the hush between them.

• Taste: Cool, fresh clarity like rain caught in cupped hands.

• Smell: The faint scent of water lilies and wet stone.

• Touch: The fluid weight of water holding you up.

• Thermoception: A refreshing coolness in the chest, calming the heart.

• Nociception: The release of tightness as the water carries your weight.

• Proprioception: The subtle sway of your body as if floating.

• Balance: Stillness — the awareness of being held without falling.

She offers you reflective clarity:

“Let your sorrow be mirrored, and let reflection lead you to compassion, not paralysis.”

⸻

The Forest of Trees — Manuel Ukuuy

The Healer of the Nervous System

She comes, laying her palm to your sternum, and the forest exhales through you.

• Sight: Green upon green, layered and infinite.

• Hearing: The low, resonant chorus of leaves in the wind.

• Taste: A hint of resin, sharp and cleansing.

• Smell: Pine, cedar, damp earth — each breath grounding you.

• Touch: Bark under your fingertips, textured and solid.

• Thermoception: The cool shade wrapping your body.

• Nociception: The easing of tension in the back of your neck and shoulders.

• Proprioception: The sway of your ribcage with the trunks around you.

• Balance: The steadiness of standing among elders who do not rush.

She gives the thread of neural harmony:

“Your thoughts are not your enemy — they are signals seeking stillness.”

⸻

The Cornfields — The Harvest of Interconnection

She comes, walking between the rows, her fingertips brushing each stalk.

• Sight: Golden tassels swaying under the sun.

• Hearing: The rustle of leaves like voices in shared prayer.

• Taste: Sweetness on the tongue, the promise of nourishment.

• Smell: Sun-warmed husks, rich with life.

• Touch: Silken threads sliding between your fingers.

• Thermoception: Warmth on your skin, abundance in your belly.

• Nociception: The tender ache in your knees from kneeling to plant.

• Proprioception: The rhythm of your stride in furrowed rows.

• Balance: The even weight of walking in step with the land.

She offers the thread of relational action:

“I am part of the cycle. My voice is one strand in the braid of many.”

⸻

The Spirit of the Moonflower — Toloache

The Night Bloom of Inner Vision

She comes, her silence scented with night air, her gaze steady.

• Sight: A bloom opening in darkness, visible even with closed eyes.

• Hearing: The soft movements of creatures who trust the night.

• Taste: A delicate, slightly bitter petal on your tongue.

• Smell: Sweet, intoxicating fragrance that slows your breath.

• Touch: Velvet softness against your cheek.

• Thermoception: Cool air brushing your skin in warm night.

• Nociception: A small ache in the chest — the beauty of tenderness.

• Proprioception: The fine tilt of the head toward something unseen.

• Balance: The poise of standing still in darkness without fear.

She weaves the thread of quiet courage:

“Perceive with wonder. Feel the pain, but do not become it.”

⸻

The Cloud Forest — Breath of the Unknown

She comes, wrapped in mist, her hand guiding yours forward.

• Sight: Shapes dissolving into silver haze.

• Hearing: The muted patter of drops on leaves.

• Taste: The mineral tang of fog on your lips.

• Smell: Moss, rain, and air before the storm.

• Touch: Damp coolness on your skin.

• Thermoception: The chill that opens the lungs.

• Nociception: The faint sting of cold, keeping you awake.

• Proprioception: Careful steps over soft, hidden ground.

• Balance: Trusting the unseen path beneath your feet.

She gives the thread of gentle boldness:

“Let uncertainty be holy. Act from the light you carry.”

⸻

The Mountains — Carriers of Vastness

She comes, her silence as wide as the horizon.

• Sight: Peaks fading into blue distance.

• Hearing: The far-off call of wind against stone.

• Taste: Thin, clean air on your tongue.

• Smell: The sharp scent of alpine herbs and stone.

• Touch: Rough rock under your palm.

• Thermoception: The sun warming your back while wind chills your face.

• Nociception: The strong pull in your calves from the climb.

• Proprioception: The spread of your stance on solid ground.

• Balance: The steadiness of standing above the valleys below.

She weaves the thread of dignity and time:

“Stand. Even when nothing changes right away. Stand in who you are.”

⸻

Closing Light

All seven landscapes.

All nine senses.

All the threads they carry.

All awakened by the silence of Nawal Mosbel Joloom.

Not to make you forget suffering,

but to remind you

you are not defined by it.

Now you feel it:

a new way to perceive.

A new way to act.

Even if no one else sees it yet.

You are already living the alternative.

You are the weaving.

You are the breath behind the skull.

The light behind the eyes.

The Love that does not forget.

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