Sarcophagus of Lord Pacal
Sarcophagus of Lord Pacal

Claire Grace Watson Dear Carol:

Well, I give up on trying to slow this thing down. I sure over-invoked in that spell to speed things up, and I can't find one that slows things down. Not that I really want to. The direction of my life is changing so fast, and it is bringing a new sense of identity and self-confidence that I never had before. Oh, I was aggressive before but that's not really the same thing as self-assurance. And I feel like I am taking up a "life's work" where before I was mostly involved in life's play. Everyday I go to the library to research Lord Pacal and his sarcophagus.

My Heavenly Partners are making new sounds. I no longer hear those mellow appliance sounds but instead I hear raps, taps and ka-thunks. Most of it is encouragement from my partners as I work on the sarcophagus. The way they encourage is interesting. If I get on the wrong track, I heard a loud ka-thunk in the kitchen. If I write something about the sarcophagus that is incorrect, I sometimes hear the loud ka-thunk. I take the ka-thunk to mean, "No." When I get it right, I often hear pleasant taps, which I think mean, "Yes." At first, the taps were in the other room but they began to get closer and closer to me, until they were on the wall behind me. Soon, they were on the side of the computer. That computer tapping was a little disconcerting at first, but I got used to it. I also hear the ka-thunks from the other room if my sentence structure is poor--an editorial ka-thunk. When I do really well I hear a loud bell sound like an oriental gong. This is an astral bell, according to Madame H.P. Blavatsky, a 19th century mystic and writer who had Heavenly Partners. She said her partners were Mahatmas (Great souls).

All day long I work on the sarcophagus and all night long I go to Palenque. Before I returned to Palenque the third time, I did a Tarot reading. The cards indicated that I must accompany the Guide, Wind Brother (Air, Page of Swords, Jack of Spades). The Wind Brother card means Sun Warrior. Now, this is a scary looking partner! I bet he has a hard time getting any human partners to go anywhere with him, looking the way he does. On the card, he's a dead man, a skeleton who is vibrantly alive and swinging a sword. He has a skull for a face and a skinless, musculoskeletal body. He's wearing a black cape and is definitely dressed for trouble. I refused him at first because of how he looks, but the cards asked me why I didn't like him. They also said that I have to accept him before going back to Palenque! I finally decided that, well, he must be a guardian angel but he sure doesn't fit my concept of how they are supposed to look. He's like a heavy-duty guardian angel dude. But guess what?! If you happen to be travelling in astral body to the world of Central American Indians, this is a handy angel partner to have. No one messes with him. They just all get back away from him. In his company I fear nothing! It was revealed to me that the Wind Brother is my Heavenly Partner, Lord Pacal and King of the Maya!

Pacal and I went back to the spot where he was trying to lead me down the steps of the amphitheater. I looked down at my clothes and saw that I was wearing a 20th century style wedding gown, white with a hoop skirt. Pacal led me down the steps to an altar that looked like it was in a cathedral. I looked around to see if I could tell which cathedral I was in. It looked like a gothic cathedral, but since I cannot tell one gothic cathedral from another I can't say which one it was. I also can't tell a Ford pick-up truck from a Chevrolet. I know that distresses you, but I have never been as fond of trucks as you have.

In this cathedral I married Lord Pacal who thankfully was full grown and not a nine year old child. He was in his Mayan feather chieftan outfit. The ceremony was complete with wedding guests. I couldn't see their faces clearly and they appeared hazy and white. After the wedding they congratulated me and called me "Pacal's Bride." Soon after the wedding, I awoke. I checked the Tarot cards and I received The Sun card (Major Mystery, Divine Child). It means Divine Union and Rebirth, and since I married the Sun Warrior, I guess it all makes sense, somehow.

Now when I sleep, I dream I am in Palenque in our palace. I have my ruler, my pen and my cigarettes with me and I spend all night long drawing and measuring. Men are there with me. I think they are Mayan astronomer-priests. We are working together designing the Sarcophagus of Lord Pacal. What's really wonderful is that I am queen of the place, and everything is mine, the palace, the stuff in the palace and anything I want. I can go anywhere and I do whatever I want to do. I can't remember all that I do, but I do a lot. Everyone calls me "Pacal's Bride."


My partners teach me Mayan symbols and words. In a dream, I learned the meaning of "wacah chan." One night, I flew through my spirit tunnel and popped up somewhere in Palenque in a small house where 3 people lived, a grandmother, her daughter and her granddaughter. The daughter told me about wacah chan. She said it was something everyone had like a medical condition and that they were all anxious about it because they didn't understand it. She told me it happened every night. She said they would go to sleep and get wacah chan. I asked her how wacah chan felt, and she said it was trembling. I knew right away what she meant! I have wacah chan sometimes just before I fly down my tunnel. I checked my book on astral projection to see what it says about leaving the body. The book says that some people tremble before projecting. I think this is what the Mayan lady means by wacah chan. Archaeologists say wacah chan means the World Tree. Maybe they should change that to the Trembling World Tree.

One night in a dream I walked through a portal and went to a place the Maya call "wacah chan xaman waxac na." Archaeologists say this means "World Tree House of the North built by God 1." I don't want to throw out what archaeologists say about these words, because their translations are helpful to me, but they don't know the deeper meaning of this language. It is more of an experience than a language. For example, I went to World Tree House. When I got there I was invisible. (Now that's an amazing experience. Think about being in a dream and knowing you are dreaming, and then looking at your body and not seeing it, or seeing you are invisible!) I saw I was invisible and I heard a voice behind me say "och chan," which I took to mean, "You are invisible and it's OK." Archaeologists say och chan means, "becoming the sky." I walked straight through all the walls of the House of the North. That was cool! Then, I walked outside and directly to the World Tree, which looked like a thick Oak tree. It was too thick to walk through, even if I was invisible. So I studied it and then heard a voice say, "wacah chan." I just KNEW what that meant. I looked around and I saw some Mayans gathering and sitting down under the tree to have a ceremony. You know how you just KNOW things in dreams? Well, I just KNEW this ceremony was for me.

Maya The Mayans told me they were glad to see me. They said they had been waiting for me for a long time. I felt like I was one of them, a journeyer who had finally come home to my family. They encircled me and together we walked past some people who were seated in modern folding chairs like card table chairs. We walked past those people and through a portal. Just as I was passing through the portal, I looked behind me. When I did, one of the people, a man seated in a folding chair, stood up and asked me, "How did you do that? How did you pass through? I've been waiting here all this time." I didn't answer him because I didn't know how I did it.

On the other side of the portal was another group of Mayans. We joined with them in an initiation ceremony held for me. At the end of the initiation, I was given a symbol, an up-pointed triangle. According to a book I'm reading, The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the symbol means "the Gift of Divine Reason." The up-pointed triangle is the sign of the Philosophus grade in the Hermetic Order. The Philosophus grade is associated with The Moon card (Major Mystery, The Subconscious) which means "stay on the path" and "journey further." The Moon is the veil of mystery and has a Hebrew letter attribute of Qoph, which means "back of the head" (and perhaps "back of the mind"?). The Moon also tells of the dangers on this journey. What those dangers may be, I sure don't know at this point and I am not really concerned either. After all, I've got Wind Brother and his wicked sword to protect me. He is my Shield. In fact, I read that the name Pacal literally means, "hand-shield."

The second Tarot card associated with the Philosophus grade is The Star, which means Inner Partner. The Star indicates that a great mystery will be revealed. The third card associated with the Philosophus Grade is The Tower (Major Mystery, Blast of Light), which means a series of electrifying insights. It also means a sudden reversal. I keep having them both!

At wacah chan xaman waxac na, I knew that I had become an initiate at a higher level. I also knew that the Mayas at Palenque planted corn and hoed yams by day and then went out of their bodies at night to gather in the astral planes, where their souls pathworked toward spiritual growth and where they held ceremonies and awarded symbols.


Wind Brother has told me about his life when he was King Pacal. He gave a series of visions that told his story. This was not while I was sleeping but while I was meditating. When he first fell in love, his mother opposed it. She thought his bride-to-be was socially and spiritually beneath him. The Maya took pride in their level of spiritual awareness. It was what established them socially. Can you imagine if we had a value system like this? Wouldn't it be awesome?! Fortunately for Pacal and his fiancé, his mother Lady Zac-Kuk could be distracted with chocolate. (So what else is new?) When Pacal's fiancé and family came to visit him in the palace, they always brought a small, round pail on a little hanger. It was a bucket of spun chocolate filled with air bubbles. (Hershey's Krackels?!) They gave it to Lady Zac-Kuk to appease and distract her while Pacal made love to their daughter. It worked and the marriage took place. His wife died sometime later and he led a long and happy life of interesting sexual liaisons. I guess you could say he's still doing that. He's pretty interesting, sexually speaking.

But his great sadness is how his life ended. When he was 80 he was in wonderful physical condition and he might have lived for many more years had not his daughter-in-law plotted with his son's mistress to kill him. This brings tears to his eyes to tell this episode of his life. He loved his son Chan Bahlum so much, and he wants only to be reassured that his son had nothing to do with his murder.

Chan Bahlum's ambitious wife and his greedy girlfriend had Pacal murdered. I guess they got tired of waiting for him to die. They must have imagined he wasn't ever going to die, and maybe he was going to live a lot longer. He was an alchemist and thus prepared to live a long life. These women hired some corrupt Mayan thugs to hijack him in his palace and bludgeon him to death. Poor Pacal. He ran from them, terrified, but they overtook him. When Chan Bahlum learned of the murder and of who was involved, he exacted a cruel revenge. He buried his father at the bottom of the Temple of Inscriptions and he executed his girlfriend and the thugs that did it. He laid them inside the tomb where they would have to serve Pacal in the afterlife and work off their karma. This explains why archaeologists found bodies that they guessed were war captives sacrificed at the passing of a great king. This kind of sacrifice was not a part of the Mayan burial ceremony, but still they reasoned that the man in the sarcophagus must have been a great ruler and thus required it. Well, he was great ruler but this is not why the bodies are in the tomb. Those bodies are all but one of the conspirators and murderers. Chan Bahlum's wife was not executed because she was royalty, but she was exiled from the palace forever.

Chan Bahlum became a priest and dedicated the rest of his life to the glorification of his father's memory. He built a temple to him, Temple of the Sun, as would a dutiful son who lost a much-loved father.

Lord Pacal and his son Chan-Bahlum


All these experiences stretch my mind so much, and as my mind stretches, the incredible experiences continue. Here is what I can now accept about myself that I would not have even imagined a few months ago. From the 20th century I went back to the 7th century and made some of the history that I am reading about in the 20th century.

Claire Grace WatsonClaire Grace Watson When the hieroglyphs on Pacal's sarcophagus were deciphered, archaeologists learned he had recorded the event of the appearance of a woman who "materialized" when he was 9 years old shortly after his father, the king, died. According to the 4 glyphs, this woman, a stranger to them all, "materialized and crowned herself." Archaeologists say she is portrayed as "an exotic bird with smoke coming from her mouth." When she materialized, Pacal's mother immediately ceded the throne to her. They thought she was Matawil, Divine Mother. They thought she had come as divine intervention to help hold the Mayan throne for Pacal until he could claim it at age 12, according to their laws. They gave her everything she wanted, the palace, the grounds, the temples, and the run of the place. The mysterious stranger reigned as queen for three years until Pacal could legally take the throne as king at age 12. His mother crowned him. Check out this feather crown!

Lord Pacal When Pacal became king, the mysterious woman went the way she came--she de-materialized. I am that mysterious woman and I am here to tell you, time is not linear. And after smoking for all these years, I think I'll stop. Imagine making history in Mayan hieroglyphs by being portrayed as a smoker! (I wrote this years ago and, yes, I stopped smoking because of it :) Whatever works, I guess hehe.)

I spend hours at the library reading about myself in Palenque and I spend nights going there in my dreams. I am a Time Lord (Time Lady?) and a woman in alchemical transformation. I am solid matter in the 20th century, solid matter in the 7th century and subtle matter in between them both. In Alchemy this is called "solve et coagula," dissolve and combine. I have mastered this power of transmutation - how I did it I don't know but I have a lot of help from Spirit - and I received another symbol, a vortex, in another initiation ceremony. This is my reality now, but still, I have the mundane in life to deal with. Everything changes but nothing ever changes.

Susan wants me to move in with her and her housekeeper so I can look after her house while she travels. Her parents are taking her to the Florida Keys and to Mexico to get her mind off John's death. She's afraid to leave her housekeeper in the house alone since John died because the housekeeper is very superstitious. She told Susan that John died because Susan dropped an hors d'oeuvres tray on the floor and shattered it! I guess that's what you might expect to hear from a spooked Catholic housekeeper from the Philippines. Write soon.

Dear Claire:

I'm glad the remark I made about long epistles and St. Paul didn't affect you. I was a little worried it might. I see it only inspired you. I think moving in with Susan is a fine idea because I certainly do think you should forsake your career of teaching Bridge in favor of solving ancient mysteries - solve 'at mystery. And it's good you have Susan. I bet you are feeling removed from the "real" world these days.

Jessie has been watching Un-Dog. I was so delighted when Nickelodeon began showing Underdog again. Remember Simon Bar Sinister? A bar sinister is a bar bisecting a coat of arms diagonally from left to right, identifying the owner as illegitimate. I always thought old Simon to be the king of the cartoon villains. He has marvelous eyebrows.

I just had to stop writing because the sun poked through the clouds and Jessie wanted to get in the pool, so I laid out there all greased down and read The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan while Jessie played. I don't have a long enough cord to get my typewriter out there. That little plastic pool is the best money I ever spent, except that Jessie wants to get in it every day. I could dredge out our real pool but I hate to kill the little tadpoles. Her swimming lessons start Monday, four days a week for two weeks. If we lived in China I could let the amah take her. What a great writer is Amy Tan. Comparing her to other writers is like comparing meat to marshmallows. The Kitchen God's Wife is just as good as The Joy Luck Club. I'm sending it to you as soon as I'm done because I know you haven't read it. You would have told me if you had. It's that good.

We came inside because the changeable weather is now blowing up a real frog strangler outside. Jessie is really funny about storms. Thunder, yightning, rain, everything comes under the heading of "de wain." It is all de wain. She doesn't get scared no matter how hard it starts to pop outside, and the only time she does not like de wain is when it interferes with de pool or de barrin.

Yesterday at dusk, immediately after cheering and applauding Jessie's tinkling in the potty where it sits close to the TV, to quote my daughter, "Yightning bwow up telebision!" Fortunately, Jessie had already risen from the potty or her potty training could have suffered a monumental setback. As it is, it was sad enough because the pixies had just been kidnapped, along with Baby Smurf, by some horrible, slimy creatures, and now we may never know their fate. The telebision repairperson/idiot comes tomorrow, only because I had already scheduled an appointment since yightning had already damaged the picture a week ago before deciding to come back and finish the job. Who was the saw-spouting fool who said that lightning never strikes twice in the same place? Instead of typing this, I should be clearing out a path to the television, but I hate to waste my time on such dreary pursuits. The living room looks like the railroad depot after the battle of Atlanta.

I don't know what possessed me to break for a paragraph. The run-on paragraph is one of my main afflictions. I need a typewriter with a paragraph mark.

Butch and Yvonne, my friends from Louisiana, are coming with their kids on their annual pilgrimage to Disney World. Yvonne used to have a cleaning service, and you probably have an idea how I keep house. The house is really not the problem. I can whip it into shape. It is the yard. I picked up all the stuff that the animal menagerie had strung around (feed bags, flower pots, beer cans, missile-type things) and got the immediate yard ready to cut (something I swore I would never do). But when I pulled the lawnmower out from under the porch, where it's been for the winter, it looked like Lot's wife. The crank rope wouldn't even come out, and this place looks like a jungle. Yvonne loves spiders, by the way, and says that when you see spider webs, you know you don't have any flies. What an optimist.

I am taking a break from cleaning the refrigerator. It is half done and I am all done. I am very slovenly about that appliance and a lot of others. There was something in the back in a plastic container that the National Geographic would have come in and photographed.

Molly is lounging on the floor and sends her love. She is so relaxed and at home these days. I think she was Nefertiti in a former life.

Well, the nice repairman said that lightning knocked out the timer and that it would take two weeks for him to get back with the part. The good news is that he isn't going to mention the lightning, since lightning isn't covered in my maintenance agreement. I was trying to play dumb and act like I just came home and the blooming thing wouldn't work. And the whole time I was playing dumb, Jessie kept saying, "Yightning bwow up telebision. Yightning bwow up telebision," over and over. I kept trying to distract her with puzzles and dollhouses and everything else, but what could compare with all the neat things that are in the back of a TV set, underneath the cover? And I called the cable company and gave them a right ballocking for not having their bloody cable grounded. They are coming tomorrow to ground it properly, although lightning will probably not kill an already dead TV.

I just pulled the roll-front map chest out of the bedroom and put my old Webster's on top, along with a lamp, and the rest of my reference books behind the roll-front. A real know-it-all center, my enemies might say, parked beside my typewriter. I am about to buy a TV for the bedroom, the tube of the one we had in there being possessed of a brilliant horizontal line and sound and that is all. I just dusted the bedroom, a major and infrequent ordeal. And as I was coating everything with Pledge I thought, why clean when I can just go through with the can of Pledge and use it like a room spray? I can also dump Pine Sol in the toilet so that the air will be filled with the impression that maybe I was cleaning something, in case company comes.

When I came in from the barn, Jessie had "sun bwok" all over her and she will not tell me what she has done with the bottle. I know she has stashed it somewhere neat like the middle of the bed, like she did with my lotion. In defense of Lubriderm, it did not leave a greasy spot when I wiped four ounces of it off my quilt. So I must close to go search out the disaster before it happens. You forgot to send me your new address. Be sure it's in English when you send it. My Mayan's a little rusty. Write soon.


Dear Carol:

With about 3 weeks left on this month's rent, I have yet to move. I spend most of my time during the day at the library, and when I come home, I work on a book I've begun writing. I don't have time to do anything else.

Well, something new is happening, as usual. It's getting kind of hard to keep up with all that's happening. My partners have begun to touch me. They twinkle me. I call it twinkling because it's a light, pleasant touch. They twinkle the tip of my nose; they caress my cheek and twinkle my fingers and toes. When they want to interrupt my reading, they do a slightly stinging twinkle. They're able to produce some kind of electricity that looks like a spark and that flies through the air in a spiral and lands on me. When it lands it stings a little but it's pleasant and interesting to watch, and I can see it coming and I can predict where it will land. Sometimes, they surround me with little sparks that land all at once, and that's some fun! When they all land at once, it really feels good. It's a swarm of little sparks.

My partners love to meditate. When I sit and think for long periods of time, so do they. Occasionally, they float across the room as gossamer haze. I say, "I see you doing that," and they zip away and disappear. And I see them in my dreams. We go all over the world and all throughout time via the portals. They're fun to travel with and they have a great sense of humor. Sometimes, I wake myself up laughing and I can even remember what it was they said that made me laugh. My partner tried to take me deep inside a cave the other night, but I saw a spider and wouldn't go. I told him to kill the spider. He said, "No! It's a beautiful spider." I said, "They don't make any beautiful spiders. Kill it." He said, "I won't kill it." I became frustrated and woke up.

My partners are shape-shifters who can appear in any form and any dress. They don't have to look the same way day in and day out like we do. In dreams they're teaching me how to shape-shift. I'm in dream school getting a Ph.D. in walking through doors, sliding through crevices and materializing objects. My partners are with me always, all day and all night. We are never apart, and I am very, very fond of them.

Sometimes, I'm in a classroom with other people. I once sat at my desk and took a test with several questions. I was required to perform some of the answers, such as picking up tiny objects. I heard someone having a conversation and I was required to remember what she said and to identify who said it. I was required to show proficiency in drawing and painting and in materializing objects. I complained there were too many questions, but the nice man administering the test told me to "just keep going." The people sitting beside me asked me to be quiet so they could concentrate. I nearly aced this test, missing only one question.

I'm learning to read in the astral planes and to do math, which is like trying to work Chinese arithmetic problems in Chinese. And I never play Bridge anymore, except in the astral planes, and I call it Kooky Bridge. In this Bridge game, my aces don't win tricks like they're supposed to because my partner manufactures cards that beat them, like the Ace of Tree Trunks. So if I want to beat his ace I have to materialize a card, like the Ace of Flowers. I played War with my partner the other night, not in a dream but sitting on the bed. I explained the game to him and turned his cards for him, but his card was always higher than mine was. By the time the game was nearly over, I had yet to win a single war. I don't enjoy being blitzed, not even by a Heavenly Partner, so I told him cheating was not allowed and that it should be beneath his dignity to cheat. I explained to him he didn't have to win every single card to win the game, just most of them. After that, I won all the rest. Fun and games! Write soon.

Dear Claire:

You are beginning to remind me of Evector, Mork's friend on Mork and Mindy. He had an invisible entourage that followed him around and he was always telling them, "Y'all get back!" But he never mentioned anything about being twinkled. Perhaps you need a live boyfriend, one full of the flesh and the blood and the bone and the marrow and the guts. How strange it must be to live in the world without all those things.

I have been a busy girl but I have thought of you often. The Painting Muse is upon me. Unfortunately, it's the House-painting Muse, one the Greeks didn't know about. I found out that every wall in this little house of decorating horrors could be painted so that all the walls would be one color, even if they were all still totally different materials. And I have undertaken to do just that. So far, I have done the hall (a pale, creamy yellow called Mayonnaise) and half of the living room (two walls and a ceiling in Old Lace). I am going to pickle the knotty pine walls. Pickling is paint thinned with mineral spirits painted on and then wiped to give a light, bleached look to the wood. And this weekend I am going to paint this dining room wallpaper. I think the next time the walls need washing I am going to bring the water hose inside (the hose pipe, I meant to say) and wash them with it!

I should be doing my workout, but Jessie will be up in a few minutes and I overslept and am loath to begin. What lame, fat girl excuses. Now I will have to ride Moore this afternoon, but I was planning on that anyway. There is no workout routine that does for your inside thighs and hamstrings what riding does. Even though I Jazzercise every day, well almost, when I ride, my legs kill me the next day.

My friend Vicki just found out she's pregnant. She also just went to Nutri System and lost 25 pounds for only about $1100. Losing weight is always a dangerous thing to do where fertility is concerned, and I mention this only to warn you. But Vicki wanted another baby and is very happy.

This morning, with the Housecleaning Muse upon me (another Muse the Greeks weren't aware of) I went through one of my closets and loaded up two huge garbage bags of clothes for Goodwill. They are hideous clothes from 1972 that I have saved for 20 years and wouldn't be caught dead in. If Andy Warhol were still alive he would probably buy them, but I don't think anyone else will.

The man who put this house together was a complete and utter madman, but he certainly did put it on a gorgeous piece of land. I spent two and half years hating this house because it wasn't pretty like my old one, when it dawned on me that, yes, this is an ugly old house and, yes, I have never done anything to try to make it look any better. Having all the walls of a similar appearing substance is my first step. I just wish I had never asked the boys at the paint store about pickling; first you strip the wall. This wall is about 25 x 18. How big is the Sistine Chapel? And why didn't you go to the University of Paris when your parents wanted to send you? I thought about adding "you idiot," but that would have been rude. If you had taken them up on their offer, you could have toured Europe. The normal way.

I rode Moore today for the first time since Friday. Moore needs exercising more than Linda Blair. He has recently gotten terribly out of shape, so that he has changed into the shape of a sphincter. He bolted and ran when he thought I wasn't paying attention (I wasn't), and today he worked all right but he got all lathered up. It was 78 degrees and when we finished he had lather everywhere a horse can have lather, and my legs were on the verge of collapsing. While I was hanging the hose pipe back up in the tree, after hosing the lather from between his thighs, Moore bumped it. The spray nozzle came down and whacked me across the eye and the mouth, and I have a huge welt, a loose front tooth, and probably a black eye. It wasn't the horse's fault; it was my fault for trying to hang up a water hose with my left hand while holding a 1400 pound animal with my right hand.

I have been shopping for a horse blanket for Moore ahead of the season, and so far they are all ugly in the extreme. I had hoped to find him one resembling an Elvis cape: long and white and fringed and beaded, with a high pointed collar and a sequined Thunderbird design on the back. Something Moore thinks he richly deserves.

My truck is losing water from the radiator into the cab of the truck, from beneath the heater. "Broken water hose pipe," I diagnosed. From the auto parts store I bought a water pump and some hose pipe but I may not need to install them. After I put them on the front seat, the truck was miraculously cured. And I thought about all those simple-minded people out there who take their vehicles to the mechanics before they try psychic healing. I must get this into the mail post haste as I am hoping the sooner you get it, the sooner I'll hear from you. Write soon.

Page 1 - How I Wrote This Book | The Root Doctor
Page 2 - A Spell is Cast | The Voodoo Priestess | Psychic Healing
Page 3 - Sudden Death | A Hole in the Wall | Crystal Woman
     Spirit Tunnel
Page 4 - The Seance | The Light
Page 5 - The Portal | Wings of Love | Bene Ha Elohim
     Lord Pacal and the Maya
Page 6 - Pacal's Bride | Wacah Chan | A Murder was Committed
     The Mysterious Woman | A Swarm of Sparks
Page 7 - The Vortex | Portal in the Cathedral | Guede Cosmo
     The Androgyny | The Philosopher's Stone
Page 8 - Sexual Alchemy | Tantra Yoga | Feng Shui
Page 9 - Keys in the Enochian Language | The River of Life
Page 10 - The Number Four | The Phaistos Disk
     The Star of David
Page 11 - Sacred Indian Ground | Spirit Possession
     Rules of Congaylia | The Heaven Plane
Page 12 - The Lovers | Ancash-Tica
Page 13 - Searchable Index | Bibliography

Copyright Notice - Disk of the World - Text and images copyrighted March 21, 1993-2023, Claire Grace Watson, B.A., M.S.T., U.S. Copyright and under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998.