When the Wind has a Name

copal used for cleansing.

The room is small.

Not ceremonial in the way people imagine ceremony. No costumes. No props arranged for effect. Just a modest space with blue walls, a low wooden bench, an altar table worn smooth by years of use.

Don Francisco places the copal beneath the bench before I sit.

Not on a table. Not raised. It burns underneath me — lemony smoke rising slowly through the wood, surrounding the body first, not the mind.

A single candle is lit and left to burn for the duration of the limpia. Its flame will be used again later — not symbolically, but practically.

I sit. Feet on the floor. Hands resting, open, quietly on my lap.

He takes the fresh sip che (local plant), sprinkles it with rum from the glass holding the sastun (shaman stone) and begins to tap gently along my body — shoulders, arms, back, legs. The movement is rhythmic, unhurried. He prays as he works, not loudly, not theatrically, but rhythmically, in Mayan. The prayers are directed elsewhere — to the winds, to the four grandfathers, to the four eagles and the four directions, to what moves unseen, and to what has entered without invitation.

At a certain moment, he lifts the sastun.

He looks at me through it.

Not at me — but through the stone, as if checking what has arrived with me, what lingers just outside the edges of the visible.

He pauses.

“There is mal viento,” he says.

Not sickness.

Not psychology.

Not imagination.

Wind.

He reaches for the kokan, the rattlesnake tooth, an uses it a bit like acupuncture all over me head. As he does this, he explains that it is to provide a way for the mal viento the leave my body.

Then he pours an herbal water over my head, wetting my hair. He tells me that it might make me a bit sleepy.

When the physical work is complete, he prepares the remedies.

An herbal tea is poured into small plastic packets. Each is sealed with the flame from the same candle that has been burning throughout the limpia — the heat closing the packet, the fire never broken, the energy harnessing magic that is infused into the tea. He tells me to boil water to make a liter of tea each day and to drink it cold. interesting. He usually tells me to drink it room temperature. He says the reason to drink it cold it to weaken it so that it won't make me feel dizzy.

He pours more of the herbal water that he used to wet my hair into a washed-out mayonnaise jar and seals it. He tells me to wet my hair with it several times a day and again before bed each evening. He says it will make me feel relaxed and help me sleep.

There is nothing theatrical in the instructions. Drink this. Use this water. Rest.

Only after everything is finished do I ask him to explain.

What is mal viento?

In the Maya understanding, wind is not metaphor.

Wind is a carrier — of force, of memory, of disruption, of blessing.

Some winds nourish. Some cool the body. Some bring rain.

And some arrive when the body’s boundaries are thin.

Mal viento is not evil. It is misplaced movement — wind that enters when it should not, through shock, exhaustion, grief, sudden changes in temperature, crossing thresholds unprotected, or lingering too long in places saturated with memory.

Old churches. Ruins. Cenotes. Abandoned houses. Storms.

Sometimes even another person.

And — this is what most people don’t know — not all mal vientos are the same.

some of my notes...yes that's my cat in the background ...lol

The 7 mal vientos (bad winds).

Only when I ask does Don Francisco explain that there are seven kinds of mal viento.

He names them calmly, as one might describe different kinds of rain.

There are winds that enter through sudden fright.

Winds carried by strong weather and storms.

Winds that cling after time spent in heavy or abandoned places.

Winds picked up through crossing spiritual thresholds without protection.

Winds transmitted through close contact with another person’s imbalance.

Winds stirred in ritual spaces when respect is not held.

And winds that arrive from wandering too long without grounding.

Each behaves differently.

Each leaves different signs in the body.

Each requires a slightly different way of being cleared.

Then he went on the gently and patiently give me the Mayan name for each wind and tell me a little about how it affects the body. This is the information he shared with me. None of it is complete. In some areas he shared more than he did in others. My goal is not to create a difinitive text about mal viento, but rather to carefully and authenticall share with you what he shared with me. Another day, I hope, i will talk with him more about this subject. Another day, I will learn more and my understanding will expand. And when that happens, I will share it with you. In the meantime... here is what I have been told so far.

NOTE: Don Francisco gave me the names of each wind, and I went and looked up the meanings of the Mayan words.

1. Tan k'aas ik (this is what attached itself to me)

tan k’áax = “inside the forest / heart of the jungle”

ik’ = wind/spirit

This wind is not super strong.

This wind can cause dizziness, nausea, and fever inside the body (hot breath but not hot to the touch)

Notes:

This one is considered not evil, but wild.

You get it when you walk somewhere the spirits wanted acknowledgment.

Wild, primal, belonging to jungle spirits (aluxo’ob, guardians, old ancestors).

Since I spend a lot of time in these places and working with these entities, that is probably where I picked it up. Don Francisco did not pinpoint exactly where I got it and said sometimes there is no way to prevent it. However, I am also learning to be more aware of energies and also how to leave things behind.....

2. Kan Tser Ik’

kan = yellow / snake

tser = split, cut, scratch

ik = wind

The strongest of all the winds

Notes:

It goes deep into the bones.

3. Luk Xioon Ik’

luk’ = to escape, to flee, to slip away

xioon = female / maiden / sometimes “possession”

ik = wind

I don't have anymore information on this wind.... yet...

4. Chi me'ex ik

chi’ = mouth

me’ex = monkey / mimic / trickster

ik’ = wind

This one is not serious and only makes you ichy.

5. Can Chac Ik

kan = yellow / serpent

chak = red / great / giant

ik’ = wind

This one is also very strong.

You can suddenly fall down paralyzed.

Don Francisco told me a story about a man who had this.

He was working in the mipla (corn field) and suddenly became totally paralyzed and fell down. Don Francisco was called to come help and the man was unable to even open his mouth. Don Francisco had to administer an herbal medicine to him by using a straw to pour a tiny bit at a time through the man's teeth. This treatment was continued for a few hours until the man was fully healed.

6. Xo' Xoop Tek Ik

xo’ = loose / undone / unbound

xoop = dizzy / spin

tek’ = hit, knock

ik’ = wind

Don Francisco said, "This wind means whistles in Mayan"

He explained that it is when you are in the jungle at night and you hear whistling and then you feel like you have gone crazy.

I do have a several cool stories about this happening to people! I will need to do another post about that. But in both stories, the person was alone in the jungle and heard whistling. They followed the whistling, and then very strange things started to happen!

7. Pomoo Che Ik

pomóo = moldy / damp / rotting

che’ = tree / wood

ik’ = wind

This one hits you hard and suddenly. You feel like someone just slapped you hard on the back of the head.

listening without carrying

So, what is my takeaway?

I am navigating between worlds, learning, being guided, cared for, listening. Don Francisco has taught me so much about the unseen world and I am so hungry to learn more. He is teaching me how to feed an alux, walk in liminal spaces, control my dreams, talk with the ancestors, cleanse my space, connect with the gods of the jungle. And he is teaching me how to walk in these places gently. He is teaching me how to listen, how to expand my sensitivity.

What stays with me is not fear — but responsibility.

In this worldview, sensitivity is not a flaw. It is something that requires care. If you walk between worlds — between histories, spirits, stories — you must also learn how to close the door behind you.

The limpia was not about removing something “bad.”

It was about restoring balance.

The wind had a name.

And once named, it could be guided back out.

These are not legends.

They are field notes from the spirit world.

walking gently,

hugs and butterflies,

laura