I’d like to begin with that, yes, embodying Mexico
into one sole object is tenuous and subjective at best, and I anticipate
plenty of Mexicans will come out swinging at me in full force to contest their
own victor as that which represents Mexico in its entirety. In my belief, nothing
personifies the essence of the Mexican spirit quite like the Aztec sun stone.
You see the iconographic symbol printed and branded onto anything and
everything – blankets, pseudo-stones that are a fraction of its true monumental
size (this thing is freaking huge
and I’ll get into that in a bit), calendars, even the human body itself. There
is something about the Aztec sun stone – often titled the “Aztec calendar,”
which can be contested but I will also get to that point in a bit as well –
that makes one stop and try to examine every detail.
There’s something
tremendous and awe-inspiring; I’d argue that its significance is the equivalent
of the iconographic principles inscribed into Byzantine images of Christ the “Pantocrator”
– the Creator of All. The sun stone inhabits this space that makes anyone gape
in awe and wonder: well, how did it come to be made? How did the Aztecs do it? Actually, why did they make it so freaking huge?
Awesome, I can’t wait to
get into all of those things.
First off, let’s start with
the technical aspects. AKA: how big it is, its materiality, and its background/history.
Then we can get into everything else, which hinges upon the monumentality and
scale of the sun stone.
Just to demonstrate how massive
it is, I created an image of size comparisons as best as I could. Check it out:
For reference, the size of
that lovely red-figure is five feet and a whopping two inches. The Aztec sun
stone has been mounted on the wall of the Museo Nacional de Antropología for viewing
purposes – as well as to hinder the need for visitors to touch the stone
repeatedly which, given its age, would be inadvisable to do – but that’s
another question proposed by scholars: was the stone mounted vertically or placed
on the ground as an altar?
This is a huge debate in
Mesoamerican scholarship, because it introduces the way in which we (Western
society and its viewer-participants) contextualize non-Western “art.” I’d like
to side step for a moment and acknowledge that Carolyn Dean makes some
significant points that viewers, participants, and researchers have to be mindful of when we examine,
analyze, and place certain objects into particular contexts. When we classify non-Western
objects as “works of art,” we tend to erase the social, political, religious,
and cultural roles that these objects played. This is tangential but so incredibly important that I have to give it prominence, because Dean
manages to delineate why works of “art” in non-Western civilizations – this extends
beyond the civilizations of the Americas, but to the cultures beyond Europe and
North America – need to be recognized and classified under terms which are
culturally relative.
Too often, the term “art” is bestowed and defended as though, in doing so, we were granting other cultures a favor, recognizing their (to us) uncanny objects as akin to a notion that we find indispensable to the concept of culture. What’s more, because in naming art we do not just translate, but rather re-create artifacts in the image of art, we will always and inevitably recenter the West, its aesthetics, and its cultural categories. Thus, the recognition of “art” can be seen as an attempt to reconstruct other visual cultures in the image of the colonizing West, different only in ways that render them somehow insufficient. (p. 27, The Trouble with (the Term) Art)
What Dean points out that
is important for viewers and researchers is that we cannot contextualize works
of “art” in non-Western civilizations because they did not simply function as “works
of art.” Rather, these objects – especially the Aztec sun stone, along with
other objects in Mesoamerica – served particular functions that existed outside
of that category of simply being “aesthetically pleasing.” These monuments, “sculptures,”
and objects are not creations by traditional artists who merely made beautiful
things. Yes, they belonged and participated in workshops and were members of
guilds, often trades that were familial and inherited from father to son. However,
to simply state they were “artists,” not workers who produced objects that were
profoundly important to Aztec society and its ritual-centric world would be
disingenuous and a discredit to the importance that their work had in the Aztec
world.
In a Western scope, we view
it as an “unnecessary expense” or “luxury” of society, but as I’ll try to
demonstrate, the sun stone and other ritual objects – from headdresses to
elaborate carved jade and obsidian knives – had functions, were practical, and were
cultural and religious markers that were objects which could continue life or
lead to an ominous death.
OKAY. Back to the technical
aspects –
According to Ezequiel Ordóñez,
a Mexican engineer, geologist and academian, the Aztec sun stone’s diameter
measures approximately 141 inches (11 feet, 9 inches), is 39 inches thick (3
feet, 3 inches), and weighs 54,210 pounds (a little more than 27 tons – about the
weight of a cruise ship anchor). It was carved entirely out of basalt. Basalt classified
as a fine-grained volcanic stone which was prominently utilized in Aztec works
and often derived from Otumba, a nearby city-state that fell under the power of
the Aztecs probably around the 1500s. Mary G. Hodge has done some amazing
radiocarbon dating investigation that places the differences between Aztec I
and II ceramics (if you’re interested, consider reading her article Archaeological Views of Aztec Culture which is thorough about the chronological dating
of Aztec ceramics in these captured city-states/kingdoms).
What this concludes
is that the Otumba did
manage to maintain their autonomy and were an
authoritative power up to the 1400s, but by the time the sun stone was created
in the early 16th century, that had probably ended or been seriously
limited by the encroaching Aztecs. The volcanic stone was sourced from multiple
areas in central Mexico, but Otumba is the region which seems to have the
highest concentration of the slabs of basalt, in which domestic structures –
homes of the Otumba residents – served as the centers for production.
What can be concluded from
this is that:
A) The Aztec were
immensely powerful to have captured multiple city-states where they could seek goods
and resources from the communities. The Otumba were one of many tributary
states that served under the Aztec and produced goods – particularly lapidary
goods (stone and gems). Perhaps this started as a tenuous trading relationship
in which the two battled for power, but what can be seen is that the Aztecs –
of course – won when the dust had settled.
B) Otumba are an
example of specialization in a particular material/trade. Lapidary production
was a trade which was concentrated in Otumba; this is an example of the importance
of the inheritance of trade in Mesoamerica, particularly at the household level
and within nuclear families
* For more information on the
significance of labor structured within the domestic household, consider Timothy
Hare’s thesis “Lapidary Craft Specialists at Otumba (TA80): A Case Study in theOrganization of Craft Production in Late Aztec Mexico” which is extensive & talks about the domestic home as the center of lapidary production.
* For more on the
significance of Otumba as a city-state and their own significance within the
Central Mexican Valley, consider Susan Toby Evan’s article “Aztec-Period Political Organization in the Teotihuacan Valley: Otumba as a city-state."
Once again, I want to point
out how massive and beautiful this work is. Give it one more look
before I go further.
Left: Venustiano Carranza with the Aztec sun stone (credit); Right: View of man discussing sun stone (credit; orig attribut. unknown - please tell me if known!)
Good? Awesome. Here we go.
The real juicy stuff.
Source; however labels are my own.
Looking at the
stone itself, we can see there is… a lot. I’ve labeled four layers to make it a
bit easier to digest upon viewing.
To simplify it, let’s list out the layers and move
from there. There is the central motif (1) – slightly disfigured by centuries
of wear and tear, but there is a central figure in the stone that we’ll later
discuss. The central figure is framed by four square motifs, each one
containing a different figure within it. I’ve marked the upper right one,
perhaps we’ll visit each one for future discussion! (I will, of course, for
explanation purposes, discuss one to highlight the role of the stone)
(2) From the central figure outward, there is a
smaller band with twenty sculpted motifs; this is followed by a third ring (3)
with a geometrical design that is repeated throughout the stone’s circumference.
It is intersected with what look like triangular-shaped designs, which curve
upward.
(4) The last band is the outer most ring of the sun
stone, which is what really ties the entire stone together. There are several
sculpted heads within the circular design, which meet at the very bottom-center
of the stone in faces that mirror one another.
Let’s begin with the first one.
Source: Townsend, Richard, State and Cosmos in the Art of Tenochtitlan, p. 64
In the rendering by Townsend, the viewer is presented
with a monstrous creature; ugly, perhaps, but that’s entirely subjective and
the intent of the central figure was to be imposing. Aguilar-Moreno describes
the central figure as “the wrinkled face of a blond-haired Tonatiuh is depicted
with his tongue ravenously hanging from his mouth in the shape of an obsidian sacrificial
knife (tecpatl)… his wrinkles indicate his old age, and his blond hair…
associates him with the golden Sun. But it is his tongue that so graphically
links him to human sacrifice and blood.” (p. 181, Handbook to Life in theAztec World) It is important to acknowledge there are disagreements over the
identity of the central figure – most scholars attribute the figure as
Tonatiuh, though others (such as Cecelia F. Klein) believe the central figure
to be Tlaltecuhtli, the earth monster and Lord of the Night – Seler considers
him to be the Night Sun of the Underworld.
Townsend argues for Tonatiuh, basing his arguments on
Beyer’s (1921) extensive cross-examination of post-Conquest codices that align
with the deity; however, Klein utilizes primary source Sahagún (Franciscan friar
who extensively studied Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and their culture
during the Spanish Conquest & subsequent colonization of the Americas). I encourage
viewers to make the choice at their own discretion (for Tlaltecuhtli and Klein,
read her persuasive argument in “The Identity of the Central Deity on theAztec Calendar Stone”). I have read the central figure as Tonatiuh
throughout my extensive research, and on the argument proposed that Tonatiuh
was the traditional sun god – Elizabeth Hill Boone has argued on the
displacement of Tonatiuh for growing popularity in Huitzilopochtli.
What the viewer sees is Tonatiuh clutching the sacrificial
victims’ hearts on either side of his head, enshrined by four square figures
that depict four deities. Human sacrifice was a reality of Mesoamerican life
(perhaps not to the greatest extent in other civilizations of the Americas as
it was in the Aztec) and gruesome. However, I return to the notion of
ethnocentrism (which I touched upon earlier with Dean): it would be discriminatory
to paint the actions of the Aztec as entirely “barbaric” and “cruel.” This is a
conversation for another discussion, but I would simply point out that all
civilizations throughout history have participated in, facilitated, engineered,
and created customs, practices, and traditions which we have viewed – in contemporary
society – as inhumane and vicious. To do so, we view historical events and the
processes of predecessor societies through a contemporary lens which does not
and could not work. We must remove this bias and approach the object within the
framework of its own time: what role did it play? Why was it vital? What
encouraged it? How did it facilitate that society and its people? Consider
these questions when you revisit any event in history; I do not encourage the blanket
generalization of “it was fine, NBD” but I encourage people to frame events and
customs within that respective society and its beliefs to understand how and
why it was vital or why it might not have been.
What Tonatiuh represents – for us, the viewers – is the
incarnation of the Fifth Sun. Tonatiuh is the “Poxy (or Purulent One)” who,
according to Coe and Koontz (2002), hurled himself into a great fire and rose
up to the sky as the new sun after other gods had declined the turn of the
honor to sacrifice themselves to begin the world anew. Consider the
selflessness of Tonatiuh, the god who was referred to as the one who contained
pus. Here was a hideous and grotesque god who flung himself selflessly into the
great fire in order to offer humankind a new world; if this is a lesson for
any, it’s to not judge the appearance of others. The Fifth Sun, it must be
noted, is the current and present sun of the Aztecs. The Aztecs believed that
after the fifth incarnation of the sun, the world would end. It is Tonatiuh,
the sick god who gave his life to provide the earthly offerings and lush
world to the Aztecs; it is thanks to him that the world was renewed, it was his
heroic deeds that created and blessed a new world.
With Townsend’s rendering, the four previous
incarnations of the suns – and worlds – are visible and known. With each sun,
the world and humanity were destroyed, in accordance with the god who reigned
as the present sun. Presumably, the reading goes as follows:
Upper-right (1): Nahui ocelotl – 4 Jaguar
Upper-left (2): Nahui ehécatl – 4 Wind
Bottom-left (3): Nahui quiyahuitl – 4 Rain of
Fire
Bottom-right (4): Nahui atl – 4 Water
What the Aztec created was not a calendar in the
traditional sense, but one which was a historical tool: it told the story of
the previous incarnations of the world, and the way in which they were
destroyed. It is not a traditional measurement of time (though the calendar
does utilize the Aztec day and month signs), but it tells the story of how the
Aztecs in then-present society of the sixteenth century had come to exist under
the Fifth Sun.
What is important to also point out is the repeated
use of 4 (the year). This an important time to note that the Aztec “calendar”
was not simply one calendar but two – however both ended on the same day
every fifty-two years (a cycle for the Aztecs).
The second ring contains the calendrical band.
Source: Coe, Michael and Rex Koontz, Mexico: From the Olmecs to the Aztecs, p. 209
The band on the sun stone operates from the left, moving
counter-clockwise. Utilizing Coe and Koontz’s rendering, the viewer would begin
at the bottom – crocodile (cipactli). Thus, the order of the day-signs
would be as follows:
(Source: Wikipedia … however, if primary source
reference is required, consider the Elizabeth Hill Boone’s The Codex Magliabechianoand the lost prototype of the Magliabechiano group, p. 176, as a potential
starting point of its decipherment and ordering)
The calendar is an intricate system which relies upon
a unique combination of the numerical system and the day-signs – the day signs
which are associated with a specific deity and cardinal direction. The cardinal
directions for the Aztec were immensely important, for they were symbolic of
the celestial realm and its relation to the earthly human realm – each direction,
a corner of the earth, was part of an ordered universe that was occupied by
divine patrons.
The north was represented by the color black, ruled by
the god Tezcatlipoca – god of warriors, fate, destiny, and night. Tezcatlipoca
reigned over the region of Mictlampa: the place of death. The south fell under
the color blue and the rule of Huitzilopochtli – the sun god, as well as the
god of war and human sacrifice. Huitzilopochtli reigned over Huitzlampa, the
region of thorns, symbolized by the rabbit.
The east was ruled by Tonatiuh, the sun god, and
associated with red; it was also associated with Xipec Totec, god of fertility
and vegetation (as well as rebirth and disease; I, personally, find a lot of parallels
with Tlazolteotl, the goddess of filth and purification), and
Camaxtli-Mixcoatl, god of hunting. The east belonged to the region of Tlapallan,
the “red color” place as well as the region of Tlapcopa, the place of light –
they were symbolized by the reed.
Finally, the west fell under the color of white, ruled
by Quetzalcoatl, the god of wind, Venus, and wisdom. The west also was where
the sun fell in the land of the night and dead – Cihuatlampa, the “place of
women” – where the Cihuateteo escorted the sun each evening after the journey
across the sky. It should also be noted that the Cihuateteo were women
who had died in childbirth and were elevated to the same importance of warriors
who had died in battle. The Aztec held the belief that women who died in
childbirth had died violently and heroically, offering their life – a sacrifice
(see the parallels to the incarnations of the sun, especially Tonatiuh?) – in order
to bring forward life.
(The significance of the four cardinal directions in
Aztec belief and cosmology is explained by Aguilar-Moreno in his introduction
in Aztec Architecture – Part 1)
Let’s consider the world view of the Aztecs, as
visualized in the Codex Fejérváry-Mayer. In order to make it legible, I’ve
marked the directions:
Source; labels are my own
It isn’t a stretch to assert that Aztec cosmology (and
perhaps most of Mesoamerican religions’ cosmological models) cannot be
separated from the cardinal directions. The directions were so vastly
significant in the Aztec world view that the organization of cities and homes were
based around specific designs to mimic the cosmic realm. The development of
Tenochtitlan took these beliefs seriously, for the Aztecs were worried that if
they deviated from a very specific organization to mimic the universal
organization, the world itself would collapse and the Fifth Sun would bring
about their destruction.
I did not highlight it, but the Aztecs believed in a
fifth direction – the center was the axis mundi, the place where
humankind existed and were central and persisted at the very essence of the
universe. The fifth direction was home to Huehueteotl, god of fire and a deity
that overlapped with Xiuhtecuhtli; however, it must be pointed out that Huehueteotl
was thought of as an aged deity, not youthful like Xiuhtecuhtli.
* Further reading on the cardinal directions can be
found in Aguilar-Moreno’s Handbook to Life in the Aztec World)
Third Band – whew,
here we go:
This one is possibly the least interesting in the
sense that it’s not inscribed with such intense iconographic meanings (at first
glance). Townsend summarizes it rather succinctly:
… in the sequence of concentric rings is the sun-diadem itself, set with a profusion of jade and turquoise symbols as a way of indicating precious quality. Like the diadem atop the Stone of Tizoc, this solar emblem shoots out rays to the cardinal and intercardinal directions. (State and Cosmos in the Art of Tenochtitlan, p. 66)
Despite the lackluster inscription to this band, we
shouldn’t write it off as insignificant. Rather, the viewer should acknowledge
that the desire to represent precious stones in the basalt – particularly turquoise
– encourages us to note that this was purposeful. Turquoise and jade are very
important materials in the Aztec world. Turquoise gained equal importance to
jade by the Post-Classic Period under the Toltecs, and were a commodity which
could be traded for in order to purchase scarlet macaws – the macaws were
themselves a symbol of fertility and of the summer sun in the Aztec world (Coe
and Koontz, Mexico, p. 184).
We take the double-headed serpent mosaic as an example
of the lapidary work of the Mixtec and Aztec civilizations:
Source: The British Museum; "The Turquoise Mosaics," c. 1400-1521; Cedrela wood, turquoise, pine resin, oyster shell, hematite, copal, conch shell, beeswax
Research undertaken by Garman Harbottle and Phil C.
Weigand determine that the turquoise utilized in Mesoamerica was found more than
a thousand miles away in the American Southwest – New Mexico, Arizona and
Nevada (further reading: Turquoise in Pre-Columbian America). Consider
that no civilizations in Mesoamerica had domesticated an animal that was
the equivalent of the horse nor had Mesoamerica utilized carts (they had no
knowledge of wheel technology). This is a testament to the centralized power
and wealth of the Aztecs – they could trade with Southwestern tribes up to at
least a thousand miles away and could move such distances over such a vast
geographical location. It’s a tremendous feat, but it also speaks to the
importance to which the Aztec placed upon turquoise itself.
Turquoise was a symbol of noble status and of the
elite, in which anthropologist Weigand noted that turquoise was a valuable
possession and status marker that “appears at almost every explanatory and
symbolic juncture within the Mesoamerican ideological system.” However, the
Aztecs prized turquoise on the basis that the Toltecs utilized it in their own
works, to which they sought to link themselves with – it was a lineage marker
for the Aztecs, claiming themselves the heirs to the Toltecs. Turquoise was associated
with the Toltecs, and they were master artisans, lapidaries, and goldsmiths (From “Diving the Meaning of Teotl” in Molly H. Bassett’s The Fate of Earthly Things).
If we consider the significant role that blue played
in the Aztec world view – associated with the realm of Huitzilopochtli – but turquoise
also came from deep within the earth: the center, the world of Tlalxicco.
We can thus associate turquoise with religious implications: turquoise
represents the fiery nature of Huitzilopochtli, but it also belongs to the
ancient and sacred realm of Huehueteotl and Xiuhtecuhtli. Taube argues that the
association possibly fits best with Xiuhtecuhtli because he was a later
phenomenon, significant to the Aztec specifically, and was invoked during imperial
coronations (p. 104). Thus, turquoise is divine and associated with the
coronation of the ruler of the Aztecs. It is a divine process, and thus it is
treated with the sanctity of a religious artifact (I’d liken this experience to
that which Bissera talks about in regards to Byzantine icons, rituals, and the
sensual experience the person has with the icon itself – an entirely different
argument for another time).
The fourth band is our crescendo and in it we
find the relationship between the celestial realm and turquoise.
The outermost band of the sun stone is that of mirroring
xiuhcoatl – dragon-like serpents who according to Townsend, Beyer
described as “mythological animals associated with the celestial sphere, whose
task it was to bear the sun across the sky.” (State and Cosmos in the Art of
Tenochtitlan, p. 69).
Source (page 22 of Codex Borbonicus, depicting Huitzilopochtli holding xiuhcoatl).
The dragon-like serpent is associated with not simply Huitzilopochtli,
but also Xiuhtecuhtli – the younger fire deity (not Huehueteotl, the aged fire
deity). The viewer sees that the mirrored heads of the xiuhcoatl have met at
the bottom of the circular stone; they each contain thirteen segments upon
their bodies and are believed to have individual meanings behind each segment
marker. Darlington (1931) first proposed that the segments potentially
represent time divisions and offers a parallel between the xiuhcoatl and the
life cycles of the caterpillar. Yet if we also consider the mythos presented in
Codex Borbonicus – Huitzilopochtli wielding the xiuhcoatl weapon-like object – we
can consider another interpretation proposed by Aguilar-Moreno.
Aguilar-Moreno proposed that after the mythical birth
of Huitzilopochtli, he wielded the fire serpent xiuhcoatl from the womb and
decapitated Coyolxauhqui – his sister, the moon goddess. What Aguilar-Moreno
delineates is that the xiuhcoatl – the fire, dragon-snake – became a “national
and political emblem.” (Aztec Art – Part 1)
* For further reading about the role Coyolxauhqui played in
Aztec imagery and its political usage by the Aztec, read Susan Milbrath’s
article Decapitated Lunar Goddesses in Aztec Art, Myth, and Ritual. This
is a fascinating iconographic marker in Aztec imagery, particularly in the
political realm. (I could write an extensive article about the history and
implications in the discovery and excavation of the disk that depicted a
dismembered Coyolxauhqui – she is amazing).
What can we conclude from the xiuhcoatl bands that
encircle the sun stone?
Well, it consecrates the power of the Aztecs in the
universe – not only divinely mandated, but politically-oriented. It is no
surprise that the Aztec infused so many symbolic markers to denote their power
and strength, the centralized authority embedded in each part of the sun stone.
The xiuhcoatl act as the boundary, the limits to which the outsider cannot
reach within, but also the boundaries to which the Aztecs can manifest out from
and are under a divine decree to move forward.
The Aztec sun stone is not simply something which we,
the viewer, can view as their only conceptualization of time, space, order, agency and
authority. Rather, we read how the Aztecs portray themselves; it’s the way in
which they want to relate to the world, to the gods, to city-states that lie
along the imperial periphery to which they continue to seek to expand, and
within themselves. They view themselves as the interlocutors, the
intermediaries between the divine and celestial realm and the earthly space,
the space of the human. They occupy that space in which they are “touched” by
the divine but are mortal beneficiaries that extend that divine touch upon all
others.
“Well, what does that even mean?”
To put it simply: they view themselves as important,
and they want the world to think so, too.
It’s a grandiose gesture, a massive project and task
that does its job, of course. We can read primary accounts of tributary states who
rebelled against the Aztec when the Spanish arrived – they were exhausted by
the demands made by the Aztec, and finally had a friend in an enemy of the
Aztec (that saying “enemy of my enemy... friend…” yes, that one.)
On a practical level, scholars debate the function the
sun stone played. Townsend and others propose that the sun stone was intended
to be displayed horizontally, within the floor, the cosmogram to depict the
layers of the Aztec cosmos as well as its nation. Townsend states it best the effect
that the Aztec sun stone was meant to have (which I somewhat touched upon
briefly above):
More than any other single monument, the Sun Stone demonstrates how the vitality and the structure of the natural order were conceived of as models, indeed were automatically equated with the activities and the organization of society. The four quarters of the earth and an imperial territory; divine patronage, imperial sovereignty… all are inseparably associated in this sculptural relief. In the Mexica vision of the world, the hard aims of secular power were fused with a fundamentally mythopoeic outlook in which every aspect of life was part of a cosmic system. In such a system, the universe was seen as a reflection of relationships between life forces… the boundaries between objective and perceptive before blurred, dream and reality are one, and everything is alive and intimately relatable. (p. 70, State and Cosmos in the Art of Tenochtitlan)
What I’d like to highlight is the “mythopoeic” function that the Aztec used
to their advantage. This means that the Aztec produced myths, related to those
mythical origins they developed and created for themselves, and gave them
prominence in order to legitimize themselves. In a sense, they wrote their own
superiority and created the stratification of their world and culture
themselves. What did they do with it? They propelled it forward and drove it
forcefully into other city-states and kingdoms to create a codified world in
which they – the Aztec – were above all others. Much of that also has to do with
their “right to rule” as inherited from the Toltecs (who they claimed to be descendants
of).
It sounds like I am being harsh, but I am merely
trying to reiterate the way in which the Aztecs framed themselves. They are neither
unique nor revolutionary in using objects to legitimize their status and power
against others. Plenty of civilizations have done this over the years – like, consider
the way the Assyrian Empire framed Assyrians versus non-Assyrians, the Land
of Ashur vs. the Land Under the Yoke of Ashur. One becomes elevated
at the detriment of another.
The Aztec Sun Stone is significant because it codifies
the Aztec world view, their traditions, their cosmological beliefs, the
pantheon, the material world and its abundance. They cannot exist separate from
one another; the Aztec considered all things to be interconnected and
they relied upon one another in order to exist. The Aztecs could not live without
the highly structured cosmos, just as much as the cosmos could not exist without
the deities who reigned over specific directions, and the earthly realm could
not exist without the sacrifice of the gods.
And it is for this specific reason that
sacrifice was such a vital force in Mesoamerica: without their sacrifice, the
goodness and selflessness of the gods, humankind would not exist. The world
would not bloom, there would be no harvests, the world would be dry and barren.
The gods sacrificed their livelihoods, their bodies and essences, their
spirits, to give to the world – it is the duty of humankind to give back.
This is why the Aztec world is so codified and
ritualistic. It is why there are ritual sacrifices to specific deities (all
things which each deserve their own inquiry and explanation!): they each have a
role to play, just as humankind does. They feed the earth, and without
humankind feeding them the cycle of life would cease. Life and death do not
simply hinge upon the sacrifice of the gods, but upon humankind. The Aztecs had
a role to play – and they played it as well as they knew how.
Side note: I do not advocate an elitist perspective on how one should address the Aztec sun stone, nor will I discourage the use of anyone calling it the Aztec calendar. It is a calendar, but not one in the traditional sense in which we consider one. Rather, the Aztec sun stone is a calendar of history, of catastrophic events that are a cultural reminder of the fragility, yet the durability of the cosmos and humankind. I encourage anyone and everyone to view it within their own perspective and determine how they best see fit to label it.
Side note: I do not advocate an elitist perspective on how one should address the Aztec sun stone, nor will I discourage the use of anyone calling it the Aztec calendar. It is a calendar, but not one in the traditional sense in which we consider one. Rather, the Aztec sun stone is a calendar of history, of catastrophic events that are a cultural reminder of the fragility, yet the durability of the cosmos and humankind. I encourage anyone and everyone to view it within their own perspective and determine how they best see fit to label it.
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