onto the boys who crouched beside the poles. The four boys enacted frogs awakened by the rainstorm, croaking the frog call uuoo-uuoo . They imitated insects of the night by chirping, made hoots of owls and high-pitched bat squeaks. All these sounds were amplified when the land and forests were saturated with wetness. Their performance replicated the earth and sky during rainstorms.
Pakal approached the altar and grasped a sapling pole, shaking it as wind would shake the thatch roof of houses. He signaled for assistants to bring offerings and the men carefully removed maize cakes and banana leaf wrapped meat from the fire pit. As the offerings were placed on the altar, Pakal chanted and again called Lord Chak to bring rain. Eyes open only a slit, he raised his face to the sky and lifted his arms, cupping hands into the summoning gesture. After several repetitions, Pakal dropped his arms into the gesture for bringing forth or birthing. Both upper arms were held close against his sides, left hand lifted to shoulder height and right hand extended below waist, both open palms facing outward. With the left hand he drew the creative power of Lord Chak down from the sky, with the right hand he birthed Chak’s storm power into the Middleworld. Holding this gesture, Pakal fell into a trance, communing directly with the rain and storm deity.
All activity around the altar ceased. The participants waited, anxiously glancing skyward. Pasah Chan held his breath, for this was a critical moment. Had the boy made successful supplication; was his power enough that the Lord Chak would respond?
The late afternoon air hung heavy and still, expectant, infused with tension. For what seemed an eternity, nothing stirred. Suddenly from a distance came the deep rumble of thunder. A cool wind slid across the plains and rustled leaves on the altar vines. White clouds formed above the eastern horizon, skittering rapidly over the plains and boiling into dark-bellied heralds of rain. As the clouds passed over the ceremonial altar, fat raindrops spattered the ground and hissed on the fire pit coals. All lifted their faces and smiled as cooling droplets trickled on warm skin. In particular, Pasah Chan smiled wryly to himself. This boy was truly extraordinary.
The rain was light and short, the clouds quickly dissipated. But, Pakal had successfully called the rain; he petitioned correctly and Lord Chak responded. Pasah Chan bowed and clasped his shoulder in acknowledgement, then invited all to partake of the altar offerings in celebration.
Pasah Chan instructed Pakal on the cyclic essence of reality.
“All in nature is a cycle. The pathways of the sun, the journey of the moon in the sky, the life of flowers. All life follows the seasons of the year. When the flowers open, the birds unite to procreate. In the heat of summer they raise their young and prepare them to survive the chilling rains or migrate to warmer lands. Every year, Pakal, you must be attentive and follow the seasons of your life. Now you are in the season of flowering, a young bud just opening. As you grow your force will increase. When the summer of your life arrives, you will be strong, vigorous. Cultivate your interests in this time, explore everything to satisfy your desires but do so with moderation and within moral boundaries. Conquer and defeat that which is evil, push forward toward the good.
“When the winds arrive and leaves fall to coat the forest floor, youth recedes and you come to the horizon of your life. You will then plan the remainder of life and the route to take. Then will appear the consequences of your past actions, so choose those actions well. It will be time to slow the pace of life, to make more tranquil its rhythms. It will be time to teach others, to transmit what you hold in your heart and mind. This leads into the time to prepare for your leaving.
“Finally will arrive the days of cold and snow, the closing of the cycle. Your hair whitens and your step