Mati here in Atlantida

Every beginning is also an ending. And for me, the end of Atlantis is the beginning of my paths.

When I began to remember, the first thing that came was Khem. Egypt. The place where those who survived inscribed in stone what the water had erased. But Khem was the refuge. The archive. The library built after the sinking.

My ancestors came from before. From further west. From where the Sun sinks each evening into the ocean. From the islands that remained when the continent disappeared. From Atlantis. From the Canary Islands.

And since I began to listen, my guides told me the same thing: when you seek direction, when you need coordinates from the past, when you want to understand the planetary plan you serve, look toward the Canaries. There lies the origin of the consciousness that sustains your work.

That's why, when Harwitum began in 2012, the great journey from North to South that would traverse 40 countries across 7 continents, the first place that called me was the Canaries. It was recognition. It was returning to the place where my memory begins in order to understand where I needed to go.

ATLAS, WHO HOLDS THE WORLD

The Canaries carry the name of Atlas. The titan who holds the sky on his shoulders so that heaven and earth remain separated and life can exist in between.

Atlas is structure. He is the one who maintains the order of the cosmos. Without Atlas, everything collapses. Without Atlas, heaven and earth merge and the space to breathe disappears.

And that's why the world map is called an atlas. Because the map holds the world in our minds. It allows us to navigate. It gives us coordinates. It orients us in space.

According to Plato, Atlas was the first king of Atlantis. The firstborn of Poseidon and Cleito. The one who ruled from the mountains we now call the Canaries, the last peaks that remained visible when the continent sank. Plato wrote that the capital of Atlantis was built with stone blocks of three colors: red, black, and white. The same three colors found in the volcanic landscape of Tenerife.

The Hesperides were the daughters of Atlas. The guardians of the garden. Those who cared for the golden apples. And the hundred-headed dragon that protected them was Ladon. The guardian of knowledge. The poison that guards wisdom.

When Hercules killed Ladon, his blood fell upon the islands. And from each drop sprouted a dragon tree. A guardian of Atlantean memory. A sign that there, on those islands, lives the original poison. The one that transforms. The one that kills and heals. The one that destroys to regenerate.

THE WATER SCORPION

If you look at the Canary Islands from above, you'll see they form the figure of a scorpion. The tail in the east, Lanzarote. The claws in the west, El Hierro and La Palma. The body in the center, Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura, La Gomera.

A water scorpion. A guardian of the Atlantic Ocean. The great ocean of consciousness.

When I traveled the path of the serpent, Hermes told me that the poisons most used by alchemists were four. Four like the elements.

The poison of mushrooms, which comes from earth. The one that decomposes matter so it returns to humus.

The poison of serpents, which comes from fire. The one that activates kundalini. The one that transforms blood.

The poison of certain flowers, which comes from air. The one that opens the doors of perception.

And the poison of scorpions, which comes from water. The one that paralyzes. The one that stops movement. The one that forces you to look inward when everything outside becomes impossible.

The Canaries are the water scorpion. The poison that mixes with the ocean of consciousness. The one at the base of the planetary navigation system that was born in Atlantis.

Hermes brought me here at the beginning of Harwitum to recognize the poison. To learn to use it. To understand that the ocean of consciousness carries within itself that which can poison it or heal it.

FEBRUARY 2012: THE FIRST CONNECTION WITH THE NETWORK

I arrived in the Canaries in February 2012. The seven main islands represented the seven chakras. El Hierro the root chakra, La Palma the sacral, La Gomera the solar plexus, Tenerife the heart, Gran Canaria the throat, Fuerteventura the third eye, Lanzarote the crown.

What I found there was the complete network. The map we would later traverse throughout Harwitum across all seven continents. The connections between all the sacred points we would visit. The routes that ancient navigators used to move consciousness from one place to another. The nodes where memory anchors.

Everything was there. On the islands. In the volcanoes. In the garden of the Hesperides.

It was the first time I saw the complete pattern. The first time I understood how my work connected with the rest of the world. The first time I could trace the map that would guide everything that came after.

The Canaries gave me the compass. They showed me the point of origin from where my Atlantean cosmovision of the current world unfolded. They taught me that before going anywhere, before activating any point, I had to understand where the plan came from in my own memory.

And the plan came from Atlantis. From the garden of the Hesperides. From the volcanic islands where the dragon guarded knowledge.

There I understood why my guides had always told me: when you need coordinates, look toward the Canaries.

THE GREAT FLOOD: WHEN THE NAVIGATORS LOST THEIR HEADS

One of humanity's greatest pains is the Great Flood. The memory of the end. The moment when everything sank.

It's believed to have happened about 12,000 years ago, at the end of the last ice age. The ice melted. Sea levels rose hundreds of meters in a short time. Coasts flooded. Lowlands disappeared. Islands separated. Coastal civilizations were erased from the map.

But the flood was more than water. It was confusion. It was chaos. It was the loss of order.

The great navigators of the mind, the Atlanteans, those who knew how to read the stars and move between dimensions, lost their heads. They lost control. They lost the map. And when navigators get lost, the world sinks with them.

Atlantis sank physically and mentally. The navigation system of consciousness collapsed. The peaceful ocean of the planetary mind became turbulent. Currents reversed. Ports closed. Routes were erased. Humanity was left adrift.

That memory was registered in the collective unconscious. In the body. In the cells. A flood of unprocessed emotions. A tsunami of confusion. An ocean of pain that continues to move the tides of the present.

And when I look at today's world, I see the same pattern. The same collapse approaching.

The navigators of the mind are losing their heads again. Those who should hold the map are getting lost in their own labyrinths. Information flows without direction. Networks connect everything but lead everywhere and nowhere. The ocean of consciousness is contaminated. Poison without medicine. Chaos without order.

We can all feel it. That sensation that something is about to sink. That the waters are rising. That we're on the edge of another flood.

This time it will be a flood of confusion. Of misinformation. Of disconnection. Of loss of meaning. Of collapse of the mental navigation system that allows us to orient ourselves in reality.

Returning to the Canaries in 2012 was going to seek the poison that transformed humanity into chaos the first time. To understand how it works. To learn to alchemize it. To turn it into medicine before everything sinks again.

GOING TO THE VOLCANOES OF THE GARDEN

Volcanoes are the gates. The places where the interior comes to the exterior. Where Earth's fire meets the sky's air. Where matter liquefies and transforms.

The garden of the Hesperides was an alchemical laboratory. A space where forbidden knowledge was cultivated. Where golden apples were kept. Where they experimented with dragon's poison. Where one learned to die and be reborn.

During those seven days on the islands, traversing each chakra, each volcano, each point of the network, I absorbed the poison. I felt the weight of the Atlantean collapse. The confusion of lost navigators. The pain of a system disintegrating. The memory of the sinking.

And I also felt the medicine. The possibility of reordering. Of rebuilding the map. Of retracing routes. Of reconnecting nodes. Of reactivating the network.

The Canaries taught me that poison and medicine are the same thing. That dragon's blood falling on the earth can destroy or can make dragon trees grow. It depends on what you're willing to do with it.

That's why this place is the beginning of all my paths. Because here I learned that the ocean of consciousness carries its own poison within itself. That alchemy begins by recognizing chaos. That the map is held after having felt Atlas's weight on your shoulders.

YOUR PERSONAL ATLANTIS

We all have a place like this. A place in the world that represents our poison and our medicine. A place where something sank. Where something was lost. Where something died. And from where something can be reborn.

It's the place that calls you. The one that appears in your dreams. The one you feel in your body. The one that moves you without your understanding why.

It's the place where your personal story crosses with the world's story. Where your individual trauma connects with collective trauma. Where your private wound touches the planetary wound.

And it's also the place where you can find medicine. Because the antidote is always near the poison. The cure always grows beside the disease. Light is always hidden in the center of darkness.

You must dare to go. You must have the courage to return. You must be willing to look at the poison head-on. You must be willing to absorb it. To feel it. To let it pass through your body. So that afterward it can transform into medicine.

Find your Canaries. Your Atlantis. Your garden of the Hesperides. The place where the dragon of your personal story guards the golden apples of your deepest wisdom.

And dare to enter.

Because from the dragon's blood will be born the guardians of your new memory. The trees that will hold the map of your future. The roots that will anchor your personal navigation system in the ocean of collective consciousness.

That is the work that began in the Canaries in 2012. That is the poison I absorbed at the beginning to be able to make medicine during all the years that followed. That is the place I return to when I need to remember where my work comes from.

Because every beginning is also an ending.

And the end of Atlantis was the beginning of my path.

What is yours?