Just over a month ago, I left Pachitulul—and I still carry the vibrant threads of joy, learning, and ancestral wonder from my days by the lake.

I came into my role on the board at CIELO through an unexpected pathway: the Living Maya deck. CIELO's founder Mia reached out to me on Instagram, after seeing a promotional post for an exhibition I co-curated with my soul friend KC—The Ritual of Myth Making: Reclaim—at Root Division in San Francisco. That show was a weaving of worlds: a convergence of Indigenous artists in diaspora and Iximulew, in ceremony, in story, in reclamation.

Life is made of these moments—decisions that ripple toward unknown futures.

That was how I came to know the Living Maya deck, and through it, CIELO.

I agreed immediately to support the deck—not just because of its beauty and its rootedness in accurate cosmological frameworks from Aj’qijab and artists from Iximuleuw, but because I am always looking for ways to be in right relationship with my ancestral homelands. I believe in reciprocity. In supporting—not just taking—from the communities that hold our lineages, languages, and sacred knowledge.

Relationships are everything.

It’s been seven years since I first visited Iximulew, and each visit is a sacred offering. I learn, I unlearn, I remember.

So when Mia suggested that we hold a CIELO board retreat in Guatemala—to visit and learn directly from the projects we are supporting—I said yes without hesitation.

What unfolded over the next eight days was more than a retreat—it changed me in ways that are so profound—it was a pilgrimage of relationship, reciprocity, and remembering. We began on 8 Iq’, the day of wind, breath, and spirit, as Mia and I met in Antigua and made our way by shuttle to Panajachel. From there, we crossed Lake Atitlán by lancha, arriving in Pachitulul where the volcanoes hidden within the clouds hold the stories of generations.

On 9 Aq’ab’al, a day of dawn and duality, we traveled to San Lucas Tolimán. Over bowls of kak’ik and horchata de ajonjolí at El Bodegón del Lago, we reflected on how transformation often begins quietly—with a shared meal, a familiar story, a view of the lake that stirs memory.

10 K’at brought us to the Instituto Mesoamerican de Permacultura (IMAP), where we met with staff and listened to Andrés share his reflections on the day’s energy. K’at is about weaving, connection, and community—and this felt deeply aligned with our gathering. We spoke of networks not just as systems, but as relationships, as sacred links between people, place, and purpose.

The next day, 11 Kan, was spacious. A day of energy and abundance. We took time to integrate, to rest, and to honor the richness of what we were witnessing.

On 12 Kame, the day of transformation, we entered into Temazcal. Inside the dark womb of the earth, steam rising like spirit, we prayed. We released. We remembered what it is to emerge.

13 Kej offered us grounding. A day of the forest, of the sacred path, and of harmony with the natural world. We listened more than we spoke.

On 1 Q’anil, we traveled to Quixayá to visit CEPC Tolimán. This was the day of the seed—and it felt like one. We toured agroecological plots, learned about ancestral growing methods, and joined in a coordination meeting with the CEPC Tolimán team. The spirit of the day lingered even during our joyful ice cream stop in Parma, a moment of sweetness and connection.

2 Toj brought us to IMAP’s 25th Anniversary celebration. We began with a 2 Toj ceremony alongside IMAP’s staff, grounding ourselves in reciprocity and gratitude. The celebration that followed was filled with music, food, and deep reflection. I was particularly moved by Maria, a community member who now serves as IMAP’s legal representative. Her leadership and the presence of a women-majority board reminded me that transformation is already here.

On 3 Tz’i’, the day of loyalty, truth, and protection, we visited Don Goyo’s plot to learn about his practices of land stewardship and food sovereignty. That same afternoon, I departed, carrying not just memories—but prayers, insights, and commitments.

This retreat wasn’t just a look at the projects we fund—it was a ceremony of connection. It reminded me that strategy and structure must always be rooted in relationship. That land knows. That our ancestors still speak. And that the future is already growing—seed by seed, hand in hand. And I humbly and gratefully get to witness and be a small part of the transformation of communities and projects that embody the praxis of Land Back. 

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Note: No CIELO funds were used to finance the retreat. Board members covered their own expenses. All donations and proceeds from the Living Maya cards go directly toward community permaculture projects in Guatemala, with less than 5% allocated to minimal overhead costs.

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