My First Attempt at Science Fiction

I’ve recently been fascinated by global news and couldn’t resist putting the alarming phenomena into perspective in the brief sketch below, my first attempt at science fiction. I hurry to post it—before it can be disproven by subsequent events—or even worse, proven prophetic.


Phantom Galaxy


            News stories of these recent weeks had been horrifying: about the earth’s core stopping and possibly reversing its rotation, about inexplicable solar eruptions, and about a crowd of asteroids threatening our planet. Like a good disaster-buff, I kept those stories on my news feed. My attention was rewarded with remarkable scientific discoveries.

            By late February, astronomers were reporting solar flares creating a ginormous vortex off the surface of the sun. Geologists were meanwhile wondering what the effects would be of a stationary planetary core, which they calculated would happen in another month. If it started rotating in the opposite direction, I figured it would cause a reversal of Earth’s poles, probably with significant rearrangement of land masses and, I suspected, a change in the length of day. In fact, geologists were now tracking changes in the Earth’s surface rotation rate and seasonal tilt.

            On the solstice in March, scientists declared that the core had indeed stopped rotating in the usual direction, and a few days later they announced that it was starting to move in reverse, the Earth now in internal retrograde. Earthquakes had already started in mid-February, first the huge one in Turkey and Syria, and soon hundreds of them around the globe, like the Earth was shuddering. At the same time, the poles switched in early April, immediately throwing the world’s weather into drastic confusion. Along with many quake-induced tsunamis, the melting, shattering, and scattering of the polar icesheets brought apocalyptic destruction to coastal communities. There was no time or means to cope with or calculate human casualties.

            While we long-suffering humans tried to cope with the ubiquitous chaos of earthquakes which were growing alarmingly in magnitude, overhead our star kept flaring up around its surface, like flames waving into space. I expected that the flares would soon show a pattern, which AI detected on my birthday near the end of April—roughly a circle about three times the diameter of the Earth. In early May, that circle began to bulge on the sun’s surface, a slow swelling over the course of a few months, while I watched closely the video reportage of the condition of our celestial body.

            Those next few months were more than busy enough with basically futile global disaster-recovery efforts, and most survivors had no time to worry about our Sun acting up. While helping every day with my disaster-relief cohort—to the extent of my octogenarian ability—I checked my news feed often for solar system updates, feeling like Akhenaten in communion with the Aten. Our Sun was now found to be increasing in brightness, noticeably hotter on exposed skin—when one wasn’t drenched in arbitrary storms. There was probably no connection, but the many Unidentified Aerial Phenomena that began being noticed (and shot down) already in February became even more numerous over the next months. All we needed now was to piss off the aliens and have them retaliate. And more meteors kept falling to earth, many ejected with the Sun’s flares, blowing out huge craters and killing millions.

            My news feed died with the Internet in late June, a casualty of an electron burst from the sun which fried telecommunications everywhere, including most cell-phone towers. No TV, but there was still radio, if anyone had one. Fortunately, I did and through the near-hysterical remnants of NPR’s Morning Edition learned of increasing tectonic activity opening deep fissures across the Middle East and along Africa’s rift valley. That geological pressure in Indonesia and the Andes was causing more earthquakes and volcanoes, and meteors kept impacting in heavily populated areas. Earth was becoming an inimical habitat for humanity!

            Shortly after I lost electricity and water in my old adobe house, a meteor strike nearby brought it crumbling down. I’d fortunately run outside and watched in safety while it collapsed. Salvaging what little I could, I took shelter in a still-standing corner of a nearby school, sharing the space with several traumatized young students. However, we had nothing else to share, and each day we foraged in the ruins for anything edible. Potable water was a critical need, rarely met except for catching rainwater, that often fouled. Totally cut off from any newscasts or social communications, I had no idea what was going on outside of our miserable refuge, either on the Earth or up in the Heavens. However, the glaring, inflamed Sun told me that momentous things were transpiring up there.

            In my foraging one day, I found a half-collapsed, metal-framed factory where about a dozen workers were trying to survive. They had a working radio (powered by a small generator), and I was advised by frantic NPR correspondents that the bulge on the sun’s surface had erupted and was ejecting a planet-sized ball of flaming gaseous matter into space—like Athena springing from the brow of Zeus. Scientists projected its trajectory away from Earth but toward Venus, thought its monstrous speed and paths of planetary rotation could easily shoot it close by Jupiter.

            In spite of this supposedly good news, the morale of us few local survivors bottomed out. I explained to the starving workers that even without a direct collision, the Earth was going to get jerked around dramatically by this new mass at play in the solar system. Orbits of all the planets would probably change, as well as distances from the Sun as the system tries to find a new equilibrium. And even if the new mass doesn’t collide with anything, it would probably enter an extended orbit around the Sun like a comet, returning regularly to wreak havoc on the planets and then only at some time in a future epoch settle into an obedient planetary orbit.

            With this less than optimistic expectation, lethally inclement weather, starvation, thirst, and advanced age, I will lay my helpless head down in the rubble, leaving the savage future to others of my species who might survive this end of the Earth as we’ve known it.


Aztec Calendar – Rain Trecena

The seventh trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Rain for its first numbered day, which is also the 19th day of the vientena (20-day “month”). In the Nahuatl language Rain is Quiahuitl, and it’s known as Kawak in Yucatec Maya and Kawoq in Quiché Maya.

For the Aztecs, the day Rain signified quiet plenty and peace and was connected anatomically with the left eye. The patron of the day is Chantico, the Lady of the House, goddess of fire in the family hearth and fire of the spirit, as well as fire in the earth (volcanoes). Patron of cooking, eating, domesticity, and weaving, she represents the feminine side of life, fertility, and the waters of birth. She is also the goddess of precious things, the lady wealth and jewels.


Without exception, the principal patron of the Rain trecena is Tlaloc (God of Storms), bringer of rain, lightning, thunder, and general weather and responsible for both floods and droughts. (See my Icon #20.) He was an important deity of unknown name in ancient Teotihuacan and revered by the Maya as Chac. A beneficent god of fertility, vegetation, and sustenance, he’s associated with springs and caves, and his worship involved child sacrifice. Tlaloc ruled over the Third Sun (Four Rain—which he destroyed in a rain of volcanic fire), and the joyful Eighth Heaven of Tlalocan. He’s 9th lord of the night and 8th lord of the day with the Eagle as his totem bird.

In some codices other deities appear as apparent secondary patrons of the trecena, possibly regional variants, but I’ll discuss them in their specific contexts below.


By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”

Generally aligned with energies that bring abundance, this trecena was traditionally associated with fertility, particularly as it related to agriculture. Since Tlaloc and Nahui Ehecatl (4 Wind) serve as patrons, with their emphasis on rain and wind, there is the suggestion (with evidence) that highly volatile, changeable, and often intense, weather-related events can occur during this period (such as Hurricane Katrina). As much as these energies were seen as beneficent catalysts for agriculture, they can often trigger great turbulence, and the events that they foment can also trigger great compassion. Ancient records indicate that individuals born under this influence traditionally could have a penchant for “sorcery.”

Further to how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at Look for the Kawak (Storm) trecena.


The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (vientena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with the 19th day of the current vientena, Rain, this trecena proceeds through 2 Flower, 3 Crocodile, 4 Wind, 5 House, 6 Lizard, 7 Snake, 8 Death, 9 Deer, 10 Rabbit, 11 Water, 12 Dog, and 13 Monkey.

There are several important days in the Rain trecena:
One Rain (in Nahuatl Ce Quiahuitl), according to some scholars, is “the day on which sacrifices were made to increase the king’s strength.” Ce Quiahuitl is also the day-name of one of the Cihuateteo goddesses who accordingly should represent peace and plenty.

Two Flower (in Nahuatl Ome Xochitl) and Three Crocodile (in Nahuatl Yeyi Cipactli) are the day-names of two goddesses who celebrate the intoxicating drink pulque.

Four Wind (in Nahuatl Nahui Ehecatl) is the day-name of the Second Sun ruled by Ehecatl, which was destroyed by wind (hurricane), its people turned into monkeys. See the discussion of Tonalamatl Yoal below for an anomalous deity of this name.

Seven Snake (in Nahuatl Chicome Coatl) is the day-name of the goddess of maize (and food in general). See the discussion of the Borbonicus tonalamatl below for more on this goddess.


Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)


As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I presumed to create my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America!

For my old tonalamatl, I used the complicated glyphs from the lobes of Four Earthquake on the Stone of the Suns as the day-signs for Rain and Wind. Meanwhile, knowing only that Tlaloc was supposed to have a black face, curious curving mask, goggle eyes, and fangs, I concocted an image of the Storm god based on one in the familiar Codex Nuttall that looked like an eagle, a surreal but unwittingly appropriate motif, with decorative raindrops. Though quite inauthentic, this image has been viewed frequently on my website, perhaps because it’s far more attractive than his authentic, fairly gruesome representations in the ancient codices.

Aztec Calendar – Rain trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar


TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Rain trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

Talk about gruesome, check out this Rain trecena page from the Codex Borgia with its imposing figure of Tlaloc with black face, goggle eyes, and bodacious fangs. For some reason he’s missing the symbolic curving mask, but there’s no mistaking his identity. A question is begged by the warding gesture of his right hand that overlaps the incense bag and ritual objects—as though rejecting them. Another is why the stream of water runs toward the god (as opposed to that flowing away from Chalchiuhtlicue in the Reed trecena).

The little human figures can scarcely be construed as additional patrons of this trecena, and their significance is mysterious. Other questions also abound. 1) What are the two footprints on the ‘riverbank?’ 2) What is the strange ‘haystack’ encasing a starry night sky? (In the Deer trecena we’ve seen Tepeyollotl seated on one just like it.) 3) What is that odd packet of red and blue ‘boards?’ And 4) why does the white-faced double-headed serpent bear watery waves on its back? Your guesses are probably at least as good as mine.


TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of
Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Rain trecena – Tonalamatl Yoal

The much gentler Tlaloc in the Tonalamatl Yoal (on the right) is perhaps the most widely known image of the god; it’s based solely on the Rios version because that page in Telleriano-Remensis is missing. His primacy as patron of the trecena is possibly indicated by being on the right side because, as posited by David Stuart in his 2021 book “King and Cosmos,” the right half of symmetry was more important than the left. This bears out in many Borgia trecenas, but not all, and only occasionally in other tonalamatls, so it can hardly be considered a rule of thumb.

On the left and supposedly secondary side of the panel is a puzzling image of an anomalous deity which the Spanish and Italian annotations in the two codices identify as “Nahui Ehecatl,” Four Wind, who to my knowledge doesn’t appear in any other context. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the special Second Sun day-name in the trecena, but its iconographic paraphernalia suggests various deities. 1) The snake it grasps could be Tlaloc’s lightning serpent, but for some reason it ambiguously has a blooming tail. 2) The mask and oversized goggles suggest that this could be Quiahuitl, god of rain, but it lacks that god’s standard fangs. (See the One Rain day-sign above.) And 3) the top-heavy headdress is just like that of Quetzalcoatl/Ehecatl in the Jaguar trecena (as well as the basket on its back). The images in both codices are so nearly identical that they offer no clues. I have to wonder if the knobbed circle in the headband (a symbol of the planet Venus) might also include Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, Lord of the House of the Dawn, in this amalgam. In any case, this Four Wind deity as secondary patron of the trecena is of little use as an augury and would seem simply to be a religious fantasy/hallucination.



Tonalamatl Aubin patron panel for Rain trecena

The patrons of the Rain trecena in Tonalamatl Aubin are also unorthodox. While the primary Tlaloc is shown in more or less standard detail, he’s on the left (supposedly secondary) side and slightly smaller than the other figure. Somewhere I’ve seen the larger deity on the right identified as Xilonen, goddess of flowering maize, but I don’t believe that for a moment. The two black stripes on her cheek are specific emblems of Chalchiuhtlicue, as is the water streaming from her skirt. The image is strongly reminiscent of that in the panel for the Reed trecena. In addition, the goddess isn’t holding ears of maize but, for some psychedelic reason, mushrooms. Perhaps the Aubin artist had a special reverence for Chalchiuhtlicue and included her in the panel because she was the spouse of Tlaloc, and the streaming water (seen in the Borgia panel) made more sense issuing from her eponymous skirt. Artistic license?


Codex Borbonicus patron panel for Rain trecena

This panel in Codex Borbonicus is nicely laid out with highlights of the special blue and a prominent, ornate figure of Tlaloc (again on the left). Here the water streams away from him, endangering the figure of an apparent nobleman instead of the common human in the Borgia panel. On the upper right is a slightly smaller secondary patron deity who could easily be the god of rain, Quiahuitl, judging by the fanged mask and snake in his grasp with its tail of rain-drop strips. Why they’re both speaking/singing must remain a mystery. Among the well-organized extraneous items, in the lower left is the small (blurry) image of Chicomecoatl, the principal goddess of maize, indicating that she’s perhaps a tertiary patron, but her image is more likely just a celebration of her day-sign occurring in the trecena.


Codex Vaticanus patron panel for Rain trecena

The Codex Vaticanus panel is an unsurprising mash-up of familiar elements. Its most notable feature is the prominently central ‘little guy’ perched on Borgia’s ‘haystack,’ which has become something of a muddy-water swirl—and his holding a bunch of magic mushrooms. Feel free to make what you will of these odd details for divination.


This review of the Rain trecena impresses me only with the fact that its patron is indisputably the Storm god Tlaloc. Apart from the evident connection to weather and water, Aztec dogma about this time period seems rather diffuse, confused, and fantastical—maybe from doing so many entheogenic shrooms?



The calendar’s eighth trecena will be that of Grass, the principal patron of which is the ultimate party girl Mayauel, goddess of pulque. Stay tuned.


Gay Pride 2022 – Back to Fiction

This June 2022 being Gay Pride Month, I’m inspired to think about myself, to coin a new, easily deciphered adjective, as an “elgibaitique” writer. (And an antique one at that.) Apart from a few legitimately nonfiction books, my writing has been in a decidedly gay vein, an old queen reminiscing about his scandalous youth before we gays became an accepted part of society, if we have indeed done so yet.

Now that I’ve memorialized the dramatic first half of my life, I’m not inclined to belabor the mundane second half, no matter its fascinating mature experiences. Instead, I’ve been feeling the urge to write fiction and have been chewing on some grandiose historical ideas that I may not be able to accomplish. Nevertheless, I’ll probably give them a try someday.

To stretch my imaginative, creative muscles, I’ve taken a shot at a short story—my first short fiction since “Traveling Men” over 30 years ago. Obeying the old maxim to “write what you know about,” I set it amongst real details of my ageing queen’s current monastic life and invented events that could easily but most certainly won’t happen. That’s a wide-open field for taletelling. This story called “Whatever Works” springs from one of my few remaining social activities, ecstatic dance.

Aztec God Five Flower Dancing Ecstatically (and Singing)

For many decades, gay bars were the best and often only venue for socializing and cutting rugs. Now that we’ve supposedly been absorbed into broader society, those gay institutions don’t exist anymore. Like everyone else, gay folks must rely on distanced electronic media for socializing. Now my only outlet for the ecstasy of dance is in world music and modern rhythms, shoeless, wordless, unchoreographed, and uninhibited. The crowds are wild mixes of ages, genders, inclinations, attitudes, and dance styles, paying no attention to the idiosyncratic moves of others. I wish I’d discovered ecstatic dance sixty years ago, but in fact, that’s what I was doing as a solitary teenager—dancing all by myself in our living room to American Bandstand on the TV.

Remember my motto:



Gay Pride 2022 – Xochipilli, Flower Prince

This month of June is Gay Pride 2022, and it’s mete and just that we parade and party. It would be great to have a patron “saint” to celebrate (“saint” being the title the dominant creed uses to replace the earlier gods of paganism). I want to glorify a patron god of gays, not a vengeful and homophobic deity whose devotees revile and condemn us.

There once was indeed such a god of gays in the distant past, beautiful boy named Antinous, who was deified by the Roman Emperor Hadrian. By sacrificing himself to the River Nile to bring his imperial lover good fortune, the divine ephebe became a god of beauty and love.

Head of Antinous from Hadrian’s Villa

Temples, statues, and even an entire city in Egypt were raised for beneficent Antinous, and as an honest-to-god deity, he was for a good while a strong candidate for the title of humanity’s savior—much more appropriate than the heavily marketed Messiah from Judea, who was merely (and messily) executed for rabble-rousing. The cult of Antinous was soon eradicated by righteous believers in less tolerant traditions, and I still mourn the loss.

But nowadays, as ever, it takes a lot more than an imperial decree to become a god. Anyway, beautiful Antinous probably qualifies more as a divine hero than a deity. We can always use more of them. Personally, I’m not into sacrifice and salvation (for and from what?) and prefer to revere a powerful deity with a positive attitude about being gay. It just so happens that in spite of their gruesome fixation on sacrifice, the ancient Aztecs had just such a one, a handsome divinity called the Flower Prince, Xochipilli.

This divine Prince is specifically the patron of homosexuals and an important god of fertility (agricultural produce and gardens). He’s also the god of art, dance, laughter, happiness, beauty and peace, flowers, ecstasy, sleep, and dreams/hallucinations, as well as of the sacred ball-game tlachtli. As patron of writing, painting, and song, he’s known as Chicomexochitl (Seven Flower), and as god of music, games, feasting, and frivolity, he’s called Macuilxochitl (Five Flower). That’s a rather impressive portfolio if you ask me, well worth glorifying.

Long ago before I’d ever seen any picture of Xochipilli, I drew one based on that portfolio and images of males from the Codex Nuttall—for my Aztec calendar as patron of the 20th trecena, Rabbit. (See my 1993 book Celebrate Native America!) As an arrogant humanistic artist, I was offended by the patron of that trecena, Tecpatl (flint—the sacrificial knife) and installed the more appetizing Flower Prince in that ceremonial role in an artistic coup d’état.

My early drawing is startling for the figure’s beard, which I saw in Codex Nuttall images of the historical ruler Eight Deer, and which was a not-infrequent trait of Nahuatl males. Besides loading my figure down with stylized flowers, I added a curlicue song-symbol, the cuciatl. Even that long ago, I recognized in Xochipilli my favorite Aztec deity for a patron and adopted his image for my website banner, little realizing how in-authentic my colorful iconography is.

Now 30 years later, in the codices I’ve found several authentic images of Xochipilli, which don’t look much at all like my invention. They had no ‘literate’ language, so the codices didn’t label the deities, though Spanish annotators did—sometimes with mistakes. It happens.

The image from Codex Laud can be assumed to be of Xochipilli, judging by all the flowers and the seven dots, the Prince being the patron of the number seven and his day-name Seven Flower. In the same way, also lacking identifying regalia or insignias, the Codex Fejervary-Mayer image must be the Prince, judging from the seven flowers adorning his temple. (The round fan he holds, or whatever it is, may be intended as indicative.)

The image from Codex Vaticanus (with only three flowers) I’m taking to be Xochipilli as well, given its similarity to the former—and the fact that both enthroned figures occur in pairs with an enthroned Huehuecoyotl (Old Coyote), who is one of the Prince’s lovers. The Codex Borgia image isn’t explicitly the Prince, unless one notes the flower emblem floating by his head; but this scene occurs in a sequence of calendar days with their patron deities, and he’s also patron of the day Monkey (Ozomatli).

The much different image from Codex Magliabechiano is one of two, both with the red-parrot headdress, and I’ve relied on that motif for my recent portrait of the Flower Prince:

Xochipilli – The Flower Prince

Those familiar with my YE GODS! coloring book will observe that I’ve extracted the central portion of my Icon #18 with the tlachtli ballcourt, worked that black-and-white drawing over a bit, and colored it in with a rainbow of iridescent hues. The psychedelic hummingbird and bee are there to suggest the surreal beauty of Xochipilli’s ecstatic heaven called the Flower World. The most iconoclastic aspects of this “icon” are his physical realism and frontal position, reflecting the posture of ancient Maya figures. I haven’t a clue what kind of flowers those are.

To celebrate Gay Pride 2022, I would like to see my illustration of Xochipilli enthroned appear on cards and in publications and become a celebratory poster or community mural—an emblem of LGBTQ+ dignity, love, and beauty perhaps on a par with our glorious rainbow flag.

I welcome entrepreneurs or afficionados to freely use the image for respectful purposes. To be frank, I’m extraordinarily proud of my modest picture, and I’d be greatly gratified for as many folks as possible to see our great gay deity—and pay the Flower Prince due homage. After all, our gods live on attention, devotion, and love.

As I’ve fortunately had the opportunity to say for some decades:

Happy Gay Pride everybody!

—and thank Xochipilli for our new freedom!


Aztec Calendar – Death Trecena

The sixth trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Death for its first numbered day, which is also the 6th day of the vientena (20-day “month”). In the Nahuatl language Death is Miquitzli, and it’s known as Kimi in Yucatec Maya and Kame’ in Quiché Maya.

For the Aztec significance of the day Death, it is important to put aside the Old-World notions of death as a dire ending. In Mesoamerican philosophy, Death is a positive process, signifying the cycle of life and death, rebirth and renewal. The patron of the day is Tecciztecatl, God of the Moon (also a new patron of the trecena, see below), and the day corresponds anatomically to the forehead (skull), appearing in the codices with various ornaments. Such images are still frequently seen in art for the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos).


The principal patron of the Aztecs’ Death trecena is the sun-god Tonatiuh, nowadays most familiar as the grimacing face in the center of the Stone of the Suns. He is the deity of the Fifth Sun, in Aztec cosmology the fifth world or era known as Four Earthquake, the day-sign for which is the figure on the Stone containing the face. In its lobes are the day-signs of the four preceding eras: Four Jaguar, Four Wind, Four Rain, and Four Water. To become the deity of the Fifth Sun, Tonatiuh, a minor god named Nanahuatzin sacrificed himself by leaping into the creative conflagration ignited by Quetzalcoatl/Ehecatl.

For the ancient Maya, the patron of this trecena was their goddess of the moon Ix Chel. This female patron deity carried over into later centuries as the goddess Metztli. With the rise of the Nahuatl culture’s Fifth Sun cosmology, the new god Tonatiuh was added to the trecena as the main patron, creating the symbolic pair of Sun and Moon. (See my Icon #16.)

However, with increasing Nahuatl dominance, specifically a misogynistic Aztec hegemony, the Moon Goddess was largely replaced in the calendar by a male lunar deity named Tecciztecatl. Another minor deity, he had hesitated to leap into the creative conflagration, and when he finally decided to follow Nanahuatzin, he was made the god of the moon in consolation. In the surviving codices, Metztli only appears once unambiguously as patron of the Death trecena. Tecciztecatl for all intents and purposes shot the Moon.


By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”

This trecena’s theme of death strongly suggests returning to the source in order to regenerate. Although there is a sacrificial component, traditionally there was also a sense of luck associated with Kimi, perhaps because Kimi is associated with the idea of restoration and renewal, a letting go of restrictions in order to achieve a higher level of evolution. This trecena could be seen as a good time to step back, get rid of whatever is no longer wanted or needed, retreat to a place of calm, and allow for the renewal of spirit.

Further to how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at Look for the Kimi (Death) trecena.


The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (vientena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with the 6th day of the current vientena, 1 Death, this trecena completes with the 18th day, 13 Flint, (proceeding through 2 Deer, 3 Rabbit, 4 Water, 5 Dog, 6 Monkey, 7 Grass, 8 Reed, 9 Jaguar, 10 Eagle, 11 Vulture, and 12 Earthquake).

There are a couple important days in the Death trecena (besides 8 Reed, which is the birth-sign of my twin grandsons and two of my close friends):

One Death (in Nahuatl Ce Miquitzli), like Seven Death mentioned in the Flower trecena, was another of the highest lords of the Maya underworld Xibalba, who tried to defeat the Hero Twins. In Mixtec culture the solar deity Tonatiuh was known as One Death, sometimes depicted with Jaguar symbolism. In addition, the deity Tezcatlipoca, mentioned in the Reed trecena as patron of the day Reed, was day-named One Death in the Florentine Codex, which notes that anyone born on One Death “would prosper and be rich.”

(I have no way of knowing, but I’d bet that Three Rabbit (in Nahuatl Yeyi Tochtli) is another god of some kind of intoxication. Maybe datura or salvia?)

Four Water (in Nahuatl Nahui Atl), the 4th day, is the day-name of the Fourth Sun or era, which was ruled by the goddess Chalchiuhtlicue, patron deity of the Reed trecena, and destroyed unsurprisingly by flood.


Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)


As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I presumed to create my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America!

For my tonalamatl so long ago, I didn’t know anything about the sun-god as patron—or about the late insertion of Tecciztecatl into the calendar’s Death trecena. I’d simply read somewhere that the patron was called “Old Man Moon,” and I knew of no images of him. So, once again I resorted to the style of Codex Nuttall to concoct a figure in traditional half-kneeling position with assorted regalia. Also unaware of Aztec moon symbology, I slyly made his face an Old-World version of the “man in the moon.” In spite of these ill-informed concepts, I think my illustration for the Death trecena succeeded. At least, it gets frequent views on my website.

Aztec Calendar – Death trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar

Though I was ill-informed about so many things, I managed to ornament the Death day-sign skull appropriately with the authentic mystical symbol called “burning water.”


TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Death trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

The Death trecena page from the Codex Borgia is a prime example of the Aztecs’ historical revisionism, presenting Tonatiuh with Tecciztecatl as patrons. The figure of the sun-god on the right is one of the more ornate representations of that deity, though with little in the way of regalia to identify him. Perhaps the blue bird’s head on his ‘bustle’ and the odd plaque-like pendant are identifiers as they occur in other Borgia images of the god, but the war-butterfly in his headdress is the same marker of divinity as we saw earlier with Tonacatecuhtli in the Crocodile trecena and Chalchiuhtlicue in the Reed trecena. His most unique detail would seem to be the curved red line around his eye with dot on the cheek—which will recur in a very similar image in the later Flint trecena, not yet re-created.

Meanwhile, the figure of Tecciztecatl on the left, possibly an elder personage, apparently has no feature to identify him. We might take the curved blue blade in his hand as symbolic of the crescent moon, but that’s a stretch of imagination. In my amateur opinion, the usurper is such a new-comer to the pantheon that he hadn’t found any iconographic insignias yet—or there’s some arcane meaning behind that ceremonial-looking blade, one better not imagined.

The assorted items in the center of the panel are mostly familiar motifs, except for the rabbit in the square, which I assume refers to the Mesoamerican vision of a rabbit in the full moon. (That was another detail I didn’t know when I drew my Death trecena.) In fact, the Maya Moon Goddess Ix Chel was depicted with a rabbit. The dot-numeral 12 might refer to either the rabbit or the flint as day-names, but both days are anomalous, neither occurring in this trecena.


TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of

Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Death trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

Both Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios must have been of an old-believer school. As the second patron of the Death trecena, they present the orthodox lunar goddess Metztli (right). On her back she wears a stylized conch-shell, the standard symbol of the moon. In her headdress, she wears a curious band of fleur-de-lys designs that I’ve never seen elsewhere in Aztec pictography. The Rios copy is in such bad shape that one can’t really make them out.

While we’re on the subject of the moon, I should point out that some scholars of the Aztec calendar—which I’m not, just an interested artist—suggest that the 13-day “week” is derived from the cycles of the moon. Given that the lunar cycle is really 28 days, at first glance that suggestion sounds dubious, but there’s another way of looking at it. If we consider the day of the full moon and that of the dark of the moon as “nodes,” there are indeed 13 days between them, the days of waxing and waning. For a source of the trecena count, that seems as good as any.

Meanwhile, Tonatiuh as the sun-patron (left) is more recognizable here than in Borgia. Here he brandishes his usual omen-bird, a blue parrot, and sports an elegant solar disc on his back, an identifier often seen in Borgia elsewhere. You may notice that the Lord of the Night in the upper corners, Pilzintecuhtli, the Young Lord, also wears a similar, if smaller, disc. He’s the god of the planet Mercury and consequently closely related to the sun, viewed in some quarters as a nagual or manifestation of Tonatiuh.

There’s also a strong solar connection for the god Xochipilli, the Prince of Flowers—(See Icon #18 and the Jaguar trecena for a discussion of his artsy nagual Chicomexochitl.)—and young Pilzintecuhtli could be the Prince’s nagual too, or maybe just his lover. In some heretical western, non-Aztec cults, Xochipilli himself is seen as the sun-god and ruler of a joyful paradise called the Flower World, but he has no role in the canonical calendar.



Tonalamatl Aubin patron panel for Death trecena

After that scattered commentary on Tonalamatl Yoal’s elegant patrons, we come upon them in Aubin in that tonalamatl’s idiosyncratic style, something less than magnificent or realistic. The big-plumed guy on the right must intend Tonatiuh, though without identifiers, unless you count the beribboned circle pendant, but that’s a frequent adornment on many deities. In Aztec art, both genders wore skirts, so the figure on the upper left is ambiguous—Metztli or Tecciztecatl, take your pick. Again, the big conch adjacent to “their” nose symbolizes the moon, the question-mark red squiggle representing the living mollusk notwithstanding.

The other floating objects are recognizable sketches of familiar motifs, and then at the bottom there’s that tethered cloven-hoofed creature, very like a piglet. I’m no authority, but I’d wager it’s a young peccary. With it inside a standard place symbol are two inscrutable objects, possibly hieroglyphs identifying a specific location. Is the peccary-piggie tethered for sacrifice? I assume it relates to the self-sacrifices to become heavenly bodies. Or not…


Codex Borbonicus patron panel for Death trecena

The patron panel for the Death trecena in Codex Borbonicus is unusual, if only for including a place-area with assorted creatures. The tethered one is clawed and patterned like a jaguar—that red stuff on his head I figure is a sign of sacrifice. There are the same markings on the poor critter being half-eaten by Tlaltecuhtli, Lord of the Earth, a devouring maw also symbolic of the entrance to Mictlan, the Underworld. Besides the delicate conch-moon, the cactus with flower and spilling water may again be hieroglyphs of location. Maybe not…

The floating miscellany of objects each symbolize something or other important, but I’m not terribly interested in them. Most enigmatic is the abstract kachina-like item at top-center that I wouldn’t mind understanding. The Tonatiuh on the right has much in common with the one in Yoal, including his blue parrot and heavy-duty pendant, but he wears no solar disc. Maybe the bright design behind his head is supposed to be one. To confuse matters further, that’s another moon-conch hanging directly over his head. I’ve also got to wonder why on earth he’s wearing Tlazolteotl’s lunar-crescent nose-ornament.

On the upper left is unquestionably a very dark Tecciztecatl, either levitating like the god he is, or with one foot touching the ground, perhaps intending night or the dark of the moon? After all, the good old conch is over there in the daytime with the sun. Immediately obvious is the god’s packet of two knob-ended staffs nicely banded and carried over his shoulder; I’ve seen similar bundles in codex scenes of a new-fire ceremony, which may have happened at night. Those spots in his headdress/crest are likely stars. Again, the circular pendant is pretty common god-bling.


Codex Vaticanus patron panel for Death trecena

Right up front, I’ll confess that I was bothered by the scattered and skewed images in the Codex Vaticanus patron panel and “rectified” the layout, keeping the distribution of images the same, making minor reconstructions, and repairing various lines. I must say that the Vaticanus artist(s) were rather poor draftsmen—couldn’t even color inside the lines!—but they sure knew how to cleave to dogma. Here they’ve switched the gods, Tonatiuh on the left seated on a divine jaguar throne looking all stern (and/or powerful?) His arms are painfully contorted, and those may be tattoos. But there’s no red curve or dot on his face like we saw in Borgia. He bears no identifying marks or symbols, except that over-worked war-butterfly on his forehead.

On the right, Tecciztecatl sits on a standard Borgia-like throne, definitely looking like Old Man Moon with a protruding tooth. (There are many such-toothed codex figures, especially in Codex Vindobonensis, which sadly has no tonalamatl.) Note that his headdress contains three nested flowers, reminiscent of the god’s two in the Borgia panel, whatever that may mean. The curved “rod” he clutches also echoes that ominous blue blade in Borgia. Can we hope maybe it’s just an old geezer’s cane?

The floating stuff is a repeat of the Borgia motifs—except for the dot-numeral 12 now being inarguably associated with the rabbit in the box (full of stars). I think that what we’ve got here is the Aztec day-name of the rabbit in the moon: Twelve Rabbit. It’s a good bet he’s also the patron of some kind of intoxication. Lunacy?


It was fascinating to look at how a new-comer deity usurped the title of lunar deity. And what’s more, a male! We know Alice Walker’s famous contention that all lunar deities are supposed to be female. However, I know of a Sumerian god of the moon surprisingly named Nanna or Sin in Akkadian. It’s tremendously important that Tonalamatl Yoal and its codex antecedents preserve an image of the primordial Mesoamerican moon goddess, especially this one so grand—dare I say iconic? When you get right down to it, she’s a not bad-looking woman. And now we even know the name of her pet bunny-rabbit!



The next trecena will be that of Rain with the mighty Tlaloc, the God of Storms, as its patron. Stay tuned!


My Life as History

I’m proud to announce that now just before my 80th birthday, I’ve wrapped up my third memoir covering eight extraordinary years in 25 chapters. This might at first seem an unremarkable achievement, but I conceitedly consider my life to be an important chronicle of gay history.

Gay Geisha

This third memoir describes my glamorous and scandalous life in Washington DC in the 1970s, a period I call the Golden Age of Gay Liberation. I feel perfectly justified in calling that special time nothing less than a Golden Age because during my eight decades, I’ve experienced several successive ages of gay liberation.

In the 1950s, the Gay Stone Age, when I was an innocent adolescent unaware of being gay and imprisoned in a cave of superstition. No one would ever “say gay” or acknowledge that any alternative sexuality even existed. (See my first novel BAT IN A WHIRLWIND.)

When I came out in 1961 into the Gay Neolithic Age, I learned first thing that I was a despicable outlaw and went to live in the French Quarter gay ghetto as a lowlife pariah, one step ahead of the Vice Squad, scandal, and/or jail. (See my second novel DIVINE DEBAUCH.)

Moving in 1964 to respectable Seattle trapped me in a straight marriage. (See my first memoir THERE WAS A SHIP.) During my Middle-American Captivity in the later 60s, elsewhere the gay phenomenon was breaking its chains, most symbolically in the Stonewall Riot in 1969.

After my divorce in 1970, I came out again into a whole new world, a Gay Age of Enlightenment when being gay was a unique mark of bravery and individualism, though we gay folk were still handicapped by social and legal discrimination. (See my second memoir LORD WIND.)

In 1973, the year after I moved there, the DC City Council passed a landmark human rights law prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation. We gay people were validated at last, legalized and made part of society at large, albeit still as second-class citizens, and set free to live the lives we chose. This sea-change brought on that Golden Age—when I was no longer an outlaw, living and loving with impunity at the Four Bells (as told in this, my third memoir, GAY GEISHA).

I feel terrifically privileged to have witnessed these early ages of Gay Liberation and hope that my novels and memoirs do them justice. My works are about ancient gay history before the plague of AIDS almost destroyed us all. Gay folks under the age of forty or fifty are usually only aware of our history starting in the mid-80s with that epochal catastrophe. I hope they will read my chronicles and learn how we “prehistoric” gays lived our lives through the earlier eras of oppression and homophobia, surviving to enjoy at last our Golden Age in the 1970s.


Aztec Calendar – Reed Trecena

The fifth trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Reed for its first numbered day, which is the 13th day of the vientena (20-day “month”). In the Nahuatl language Reed is Acatl, and it’s known as B’en in Yucatec Maya and Aj in Quiché Maya. For the Aztec, the reed was used to make arrows and darts, whence a military undertone in its significance. The day Reed is the symbol of personal authority and closely associated with rulers and potentates, and the patron of the day is the Black One, Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror, who is one of the most powerful deities. (See my Icon #19.) In the anatomical scheme, the day Reed is identified with the heart (as the seat of the soul and/or power). The symbol for the day Reed varies between a single arrow, a bunch of them, or an ornamented “potted” plant, which can be seen in the various tonalamatls below. One just has to get used to which symbol is being used, and there can be variation within individual codices.


There is total agreement that the patron of the Reed trecena is the goddess Chalchiuhtlicue, the Jade Skirt, the deity of flowing water, rivers, streams, and lakes, as well as of youthful beauty and ardor, and her iconography is remarkably consistent. (See my Icon #2.) Every stream or lake had its own local chalchiuhtlicue. As goddess of storms and forces of nature, she’s dangerous, drowning people indiscriminately. With the day-name Ce Atl (One Water), she is patron of the number 3, women in labor, childbirth, children, and motherhood, and the 5th lord of the night.

Chalchiuhtlicue is commonly considered the wife of Tlaloc but also reputed to be the wife of Xiuhtecuhtli. From one or the other of those marriages, she supposedly became the mother of Tecciztecatl and the twins Quetzalcoatl and Xolotl, but keep in mind how dicey the family trees of the Aztec deities are. During the Third Sun, Four Rain, a millennium before the Aztecs, she may have been the Great Goddess of Teotihuacan, though I’d personally vote for Xochiquetzal in that role. Meanwhile, Chalchiuhtlicue ruled the Fourth Sun—Four Water—until she ended it by drowning everybody in a flood. Certain of her purification rites struck Spanish clergy as similar to the sacrament of baptism, but that didn’t stop them from considering her a demon.

The Reed trecena possibly has a second patron deity, Tlazolteotl, Goddess of Filth (last seen in the Deer trecena). In Tonalamatl Yoal, she appears like an abstract logo as a surreal head with no eyes, and in Tonalamatl Aubin, Chalchiuhtlicue holds what might be her head. With no evidence of her in the other tonalamatls, who knows how important she really was in this context?


By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”

Associated with robust growing corn, the B’en trecena is aligned with strong self-determination and tenacious personal authority. Exhibiting great intensity, this trecena tends to generate events associated with significant social or political adjustment, often associated with “cleansing” or “purifying.” Individuals born during this period often have a strong sense of purpose and can become deeply involved with the world at large, with the force of their character or personal convictions forging new directions in terms of world-shifting or world-shaping. This is a good trecena for pushing forward towards one’s goals.

Further how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at Look for the B’en (Reed) trecena.


The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (vientena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with the 13th day of the current vientena, 1 Reed, this trecena completes it with 2 Jaguar, 3 Eagle, 4 Vulture, 5 Earthquake, 6 Flint, 7 Rain, and 8 Flower, and then starts the next vientena with 9 Crocodile, 10 Wind, 11 House, 12 Lizard, and 13 Snake.

The Reed trecena contains only one culturally significant day that I know of:

One Reed (Ce Acatl) is the birth day-name of Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, Lord of the House of the Dawn, who’s a nagual of Quetzalcoatl as the Morning Star and a god of war. Some say he’s the patron of the number 12, though others say this is Ehecatl—which is just more of the nagual confusion. Some say he’s the god of the East, which would make sense—but others say Xipe Totec is the god of that direction. Not that any of that really matters… His greatest quality is having perhaps the longest name of any deity! The light of the morning star was considered very dangerous, and he’s depicted with “lightning eyes” attacking people and places.

As a historical footnote, One Reed was also the birth day-name of Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl, the mostly mythological ruler of Tollan (Tula) and the Toltec Empire in the 10th century. According to legends, he set sail eastward in a canoe, promising to return someday, which is what underlies the myth of Quetzalcoatl’s return that caused such confusion with the appearance of Cortez. After his reign, new rulers of Tollan used Quetzalcoatl as their name/title to ensure legitimacy.

Another important day in the trecena—significant only for me personally—is Eight Flower. It’s the day-name of my younger daughter. I’ve found out the day-names of everyone in my family so folks can enjoy more than one birthday each year. You can discover your own Aztec ceremonial day-name and a horoscopic reading by going to and entering your month, day, and year of birth. For instance, my own day-name is Two Reed, coincidentally the same as that of the god Tezcatlipoca, for whatever that may be worth.


Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)


As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I presumed to create my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America!

For my tonalamatl so long ago, I drew Chalchiuhtlicue based on the only image I knew of her back then—from Codex Borbonicus—using more Nuttall regalia and clearing away the poor drowning victims in her jade skirt. As a nod to her role as a goddess of motherhood, I also gave her a suckling babe, which I lifted from a nursing figure in Codex Fejervary-Mayer, probably Xochiquetzal. Note that I adopted the “potted plant” form of the day-sign for Reed. All in all, if I do say so myself, I think my vision of the goddess is rather elegant.

Aztec Calendar – Reed trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar

TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Reed Trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

This Codex Borgia vision of Chalchiuhtlicue is by far the most elaborate and intricate of the several images of the Reed trecena. Besides her ornate clothing, she sports a double-serpent nose-piece and an earth-monster headdress frequently seen in other images of this goddess. That odd little head mounted on her forehead is an ancient symbol of divinity inherited from the Maya, a “war-butterfly,” which appears in the headdresses of many Aztec deities. The two green lines on her cheek/jaw are also identifying marks of Chalchiuhtlicue.

Note the curious twin-peaked coiffure on the little guy on the left; it must have some significance because we’ll see other examples below. Like the seductive One House in the Flower trecena, this little woman in the middle is topless. As the Aztecs didn’t believe in brassieres, they were prime candidates for a National Geographic spread on uncivilized natives. Even great goddesses like Tlazolteotl in the Deer trecena and Chalchiuhtlicue here let their breasts swing free. For the most part men wore loincloths, but many also wore skirts over them.

Now I should explain something about this “re-creation” process. Some of the codex images only survived in rough shape, scraped, flaked, torn, and even burnt! Re-creating the images from Codex Borgia meant dealing with lacunae as in this selection of the original Chalchiuhtlicue’s earplug and parts of her headdress, where whole details had to be re-created.

—————–Earplug Section —————————————- Section of Jade Skirt

Here’s my theory about interpreting original colors that have deteriorated over the several centuries. The lower parts of the feather spray on the upper right of the earplug section were originally a green now faded to a brownish gold easily distinguished from the “real” gold of decorative details. Similarly, I’ve assumed that most of the medium-to-lighter greys started out as various shades of blue that have darkened. It’s easy to recognize the “real” blacks.

Acting on this intuitive theory, I’ve re-imagined items seen in other contexts, and reviving the greens and blues certainly makes an impressive difference in her Jade Skirt. Meanwhile, the cochineal red (made from insects!) has only faded a bit. It would be interesting to learn the vegetable and mineral sources of the Aztec colors, especially of that splendid Borbonicus blue, but I’m content with re-visioning what they once were. Besides, someone somewhere knows.

TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of

Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Reed Trecena – Tonalamatl Yoal

In Tonalamatl Yoal, we find the most explicit evidence of Tlazolteotl as the secondary patron of the Reed trecena. I’ve used the facial outline from Rios. In the original Telleriano-Remensis, her head is only a free-floating mouth and nosepiece with the headdress.

This image of the Jade Skirt gets more explicit about the drowning danger, and here she holds a threatening blade of sorts in her right hand. In her left is a spindle of thread for weaving like those in Tlazolteotl’s headdress, which I take as corroboration of their connection for this trecena. After all, they sit side by side in the lords of the night sequence. I won’t ask why Chalchiuhtlicue’s face is red. But I will share my sneaking suspicion that these patron figures were made by a different artist than those in the preceding Yoal trecenas. Besides the intense abstraction of the head, the mouths are unusual with clenched teeth, and the Jade Skirt’s whole figure is stylistically much different. Though orthodox in her iconography and monumental in her own way, she’s not as dynamic or profusely ornate as other deities in Tonalamatl Yoal.


Tonalamatl Aubin patron panel for Reed trecena

As might be expected, the Aubin Chalchiuhtlicue is an awkward restatement of the Jade Skirt theme with two little folks being swept away in the flood. The item between them recalls the beaded band held by the woman in the Borgia panel, but it’s no more decipherable here. My guess is that the head she’s holding belongs to Tlazolteotl, and I’ll note that the floating items bear motifs like the head’s headband that recall the abstract head in Tonalamatl Yoal. The lack of ornamentation and symbolic items in the deity’s regalia is disappointing.


Codex Borbonicus patron panel for Reed trecena

This Borbonicus image of the Jade Skirt, while lacking the earth-monster headdress, does the goddess full justice with exuberant detail and that striking blue. Note her perfectly divine raiment in the Borgia panel as opposed to an entirely different style here. This Borbonicus goddess is arrayed in the kind of costume worn by a ceremonial impersonator of the deity—made largely of folded blue paper (origami!) with black spots of liquid rubber representing drops of water. The object in her lower left hand is most likely a rain-stick.

Again there are two little folks being washed away, one of whom has that twin-peaked coiffure noticed in Borgia, which must indicate a certain class. The shield probably intimates that she’s also a danger for soldiers. Again, my best guess is that the object in her skirt with a handle and feather-crest, also appearing in the upper right corner, must relate to Tlazolteotl. Note that here, as in the Yoal and Aubin images and in the following one from Vaticanus, Chalchiuhtlicue’s face is red. Maybe she’s angry?


Codex Vaticanus patron panel for Reed trecena

This Vaticanus image has lost a lot of the paler blue in the Jade Skirt, but it ties in closely with the Borgia image with the little woman and roped box, a string of beads, and the guy standing on the end with another twin-peaked hairdo! (Maybe he’s a priest?) I can’t make out what the item in the flood under her throne might be, but I’m happy to see the goddess wearing the typical earth-monster headdress. The box-like item at top center seems to be another version of the inexplicable plumed item in Borgia.

In summation, Chalchiuhtlicue is the undisputed patron of the Reed trecena, vague references to Tlazolteotl notwithstanding. The many stylistically consistent items in her panels must surely have a much larger story to tell, but I’m no divinatory authority to unpack it.



The next trecena will be that of Death with a pair of astronomical patrons who have a lot of dramatic back-story. Stay tuned!


Dance with Joy

We don’t know who she is, where she comes from, or why, but when Joy asks you to dance, never say no. Let her lead your body and mind into her perfect world. I’ve just come home from two hours dancing with her, and it was well worth the two years of waiting. So long in solitary confinement, albeit in the ivory tower of my penthouse, my old face hidden from friend and foe, nowhere fun to go… I could easily deal with making my own meals and soon came to prefer them to eating out. It’s not the lifting of the mask mandate that brought Joy to my dance, but the simple opportunity to dance again.

She’s had little reason for Joy to visit me these plague years, and Lord knows, there’s nothing to invite her over considering the present world situation with democracy and Ukraine under attack. Perhaps Joy dropped in on me because tomorrow is Mardi Gras! Vive Mardi Gras!

Last night, I spent a splendid while in her trance (influenced by my current obsession with things Aztec), when I felt myself a nagual (embodiment) of Five Flower, the god of music, dance, games, singing, and lots of other cool things. Here’s what he looks like in Codex Borgia dancing (on left) for Huehuecoyotl, the Old Coyote, the great god of Fun. Vive Mardi Gras!

Five Flower Dancing for Huehuecoyotl

Usually, I’ve felt myself an incarnation of Dionysus (Bacchus), and I think I’ve done a rather divine job of the imposture over the many decades of my history. Hey! I’ve just realized that Joy is probably the daughter of Terpsichore, the Greek Muse of Dance. Vive Mardi Gras!

In case you’re not familiar with my gay life or my treasured avocation, my motto is “There’s Dance in the Old Dame Yet!” I guess you could say I started dancing 70 years ago: first as a plump 10-year-old (miserable) square-dancer, and by 13, I was rocking round the clock, so to speak. My teens were ruled by American Bandstand. I won’t bore you with the many dancing styles that led up to these later years of ecstatic dance. But Joy seems to like the way this old man dances, and she really cut a rug with me yesterday evening. Vive Mardi Gras!


Aztec Calendar – Flower Trecena

The fourth trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Flower for its first numbered day, which is the 20th day of the vientena (20-day “month”). In the Nahuatl language Flower is Xochitl, and it’s known as Ajaw (sun, lord) in Yucatec Maya and Ajpu in Quiché Maya. For the Aztec, the day Flower is the symbol of the soul, purity, and holiness. Through its essential connection to Xochipilli, Prince of Flowers, the day is also related to the arts, music, and dance, though the patron of the day is Xochiquetzal, the Flower Feather, who was briefly described in the preceding Deer trecena. In the anatomical scheme, the day Flower is identified with the breast or chest since the soul was supposed to be located in the heart—whence the crucial importance of heart sacrifice.


My illustrious informant for matters Maya, Dr. Marguerite Paquin, advises that we really don’t know much about the ancient Maya patrons of the days or trecenas, since so many thousands of their books were burned by the Christian invaders. (But we know that the Maya saw the days as embodying specific deities, as well as each number depicting a deity. For instance, the number one was Ix-Chel, the Maya Moon goddess.) It was only over several intervening centuries that the “Aztec” system of trecena patrons evolved.

Huehuecoyotl (Old Coyote) came into the calendar to rule the Flower trecena at some point probably well before the ascension of the Aztec empire (See my Icon #6). In Maya mythology, One Ajaw is the day-name of Hunahpu, one of the Hero Twins. (For more on those bad boys, check out As told in the Popol Vuh, the Maya creation story, Hunahpu and Xbalanque played a ballgame with the lords of the underworld, dancing around every weird thing thrown at them by the death lords and ultimately defeating them through cunning, bravery, creativity, and trickery. Those being qualities of the coyote, Huehuecoyotl was a logical eventual choice for patron of the Flower trecena.

He’s a trickster god of mischief and pranks and can lead one into trouble. Also a deity of sexual indulgence, music, dance, storytelling, and choral singing, he personifies astuteness, pragmatism, worldly wisdom, male beauty, and youth. He’s a balance of old and new, worldly and spiritual, male and female, and youth and old age. He’s a shape-shifter, turning into animals or humans with sexual partners female or male of any species—among his male lovers the aforementioned Xochipilli. Huehuecoyotl brings unexpected pleasure, sorrow, and strange happenings, and people appeal to him to mitigate or reverse their fates.

To return to the multi-faceted Huehuecoyotl entering the ritual calendar, I’ve researched the natural history of the coyote and found that the range of that species only expanded southward from North America down into central Mexico some centuries after the Maya period in Yucatan, probably around 11-1200 AD (CE). Coincidentally, this was also the period when the Nahua peoples entered Mexico, moving into the vacuum left by the collapse of the Toltec empire—or causing it? Considering that the Nahuas seem to have come from the north (at least out of Chihuahua-Chichimeca) and the ancient roots of the mythical coyote in the American Southwest, they may well have migrated together. When the newcomers adopted the ancient calendar, they might reasonably have deified their wily wild companion.


By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”

Integral to this “Divine Artistry” trecena are the energies associated with the heat and fire of the sun, which were seen as forces so powerful that they were deified. Although events associated with this time frame can be intense, it can also be a period for “enlightenment” and “flowering.” The overall emphasis is on creativity and craftsmanship in all forms. Those born within this period could become great singers, musicians, song-writers, visual artists, dancers, entertainers, diviners and healers, storytellers, scribes, or orators. Overall, this is a great trecena for tapping into those divine sun-generated creative forces.

Further how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at Note that the Maya equivalent is the Ajaw (Sun) trecena.


The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (vientena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with the last day of the preceding vientena 1 Flower, this trecena continues into the next vientena: 2 Crocodile, 3 Wind, 4 House, 5 Lizard, 6 Snake, 7 Death, 8 Deer, 9 Rabbit, 10 Water, 11 Dog, 12 Monkey, and 13 Grass.

The Flower trecena contains several significant days:

One Flower (Ce Xochitl) was the Day of Flowers, a holiday for feasting and celebrating the arts of all kinds. The Florentine Codex says that Centeotl, the principal maize deity, was born on One Flower with Tlazolteotl (Goddess of Filth) as his mother—as remarked in discussion of the Deer trecena—and Piltzintecuhtli (the Young Lord, the planet Mercury) as his father. This Flower connection suggests to some cults that Centeotl is yet another nagual of Xochipilli. (See the comments on Seven Flower as that deity’s day-name in the Jaguar trecena.)

Five Lizard (Macuil Cuetzpallin) is the day-name of one of the five male Ahuiateteo, gods of pleasure (and excess thereof). His arena of enjoyment is sex. Inasmuch as Huehuecoyotl is the patron of the day Lizard and himself a deity of sexual indulgence, I’d bet that Five Lizard is also his divine day-name, and that the lusty Ahuiateotl is his nagual. If not, he should be.

Seven Death (Chicome Miquitzli): In Maya times, Seven Kimi was a high lord of Xibalba, the underworld, one of the aforementioned deities defeated by the Hero Twins. Though by Aztec times this ancient history was surely long forgotten, it’s likely that one of their many death-lords (ruled by Mictlantecuhtli, Lord of the Land of the Dead) was also known by this day-name.

Eight Deer (Chicueyi Mazatl): Dr. Paquin informs me that for the Maya this was the Day of the Lord Deer with a “resurrection” type of energy of sacrifice and reciprocity. In the Mixtec tradition (widely pictured in those codices) their most famous ruler, leader, and/or warrior of centuries earlier was named Eight Deer Jaguar Claw. He appears many times in the historical Codex Nuttall in uniform portrait images with a jaguar claw added as his heroic epithet and a very recognizable beard.

Eight Deer Jaguar Claw

(In the context of day-names of historical individuals in this trecena, President Biden’s is Two Crocodile. That day relates to (re)birth, nurturing, and ferocious protection, an energy which Marguerite says the Maya connected with the “Womb of Creation” and “world-making.” There’s surely an appropriately heroic epithet in there somewhere, but I’ll leave that to history to choose.)

Nine Rabbit (Chicnahui Tochtli): I have no way of knowing for sure, but there’s a good chance that this is the day-name of another of the 400 Rabbits, another god of intoxication. Maybe it’s the deity of a magic mushroom or the peyote cactus. Who knows? Or cares?


Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)


As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I presumed to create my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America!

With no models, I once more created an image of Huehuecoyotl out of thin air to be the patron deity of the Flower trecena. Working with the decorative motifs from Codex Nuttall, I concocted an iconic semi-kneeling figure frequent in that codex—and coincidentally often observed in the ancient art of the Andes (a fact I didn’t know at the time). Using my artistic license, I made him a coyote headdress with a fluffy coyote tail. To indicate his patronage of the day Lizard, I put one on his shield, and lacking anything better, I gave him the serpent-staff of Chicomecoatl, a maize goddess. That long ago, I didn’t know that a rattle would have been much more appropriate.

Aztec Calendar – Flower trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar

A decade or two ago, I was much gratified that somebody boldly took my idiosyncratic image of Huehuecoyotl from the old book, laid it over my version of the Stone of the Suns, and printed it on a T-shirt! At the time, I considered that infringement of copyright was surely the sincerest form of compliment, and later I renounced copyrights in general, hoping that anyone anywhere would make whatever hay they cared to with my art and writing. That’s why I was flattered two years ago that someone apparently liked my work enough to steal the banner of Chantico, Lady of the House, from the last venue of my exhibition YE GODS!

TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Flower Trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

This Borgia Huehuecoyotl as an anthropomorphic animal is the more usual image of the god and perhaps the most elegant example with a divine jaguar pelt draped over his throne. The fact that he has two right hands is by now almost to be expected, as does the little guy at his feet. I’ve left them both that way simply for effect. But I did correct the god’s right foot which in the original had seven toes! Though it’s not immediately evident, the hands on the other two figures are turned backwards in painfully unnatural positions. I’ve now gotten fed up with these irritating ideoplastic contortions, and in future, I’ll just fix them whenever they go too far over the top.

Let’s consider the attendant figures (other than the inexplicably floating/falling little guy) and turn first to the topless, buck-toothed female on the left. She kneels in what has to be a seductive pose in keeping with the sexual overtones of the trecena’s patron. She is identified by the items above: the roof of a temple and part of a dot, i.e., the numeral one. She’s a Cihuateotl (warrior spirit of a woman who died in childbirth), One House (Ce Calli), exercising her seductive wiles. Besides being promiscuous, to judge from the augury of the day House, she probably represents intelligence and nobility. In other words, she’s a classy chick.

The bug-eyed guy dancing beside her is her counterpart among of the male Ahuiateteo, Five Flower (Macuil Xochitl), called by some cults Ixtlilton, appropriately the god of games, music, singing, dancing, and merry making and yet another nagual of Xochipilli. Also a sexual deity, Five Flower’s long nose may well be a phallic inuendo, and the flesh-colored lower curl on his song symbol (cuciatl) probably indicates off-color lyrics. (Note also that wavy golden cuciatl as Huehuecoyotl’s happy howling.) These gods are throwing a wild party!

TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Flower Trecena – Tonalamatl Yoal

The first thing to note in this Yoal trecena is that the Lord of the Night just above the day One Flower (and in the upper right corner) is the maize god Centeotl, who was born on that day. His mom Tlazolteotl is the fourth Lord from left and last in the row at the bottom right, and his dad Piltzintecuhtli sits beside him second from right.

The next thing to note is that, like my invented deity, this Huehuecoyotl is a real person wearing a coyote headdress. He looks like he’s dancing, but that same pose is often seen in several codices, an iconic position likely indicating that the supernatural being is floating or flying. While this Huehuecoyotl holds an appropriate rattle in his left hand, I’m at a total loss to explain the gruesome severed arm in his right. Obviously, this scene is no party I’d want to go to!

In spite of her seductive pose, the female figure is also no inducement to party with these folks. Even for ritual sacrifice, poking a stick in your eye is no way to have fun. It does, however, explain the copious tears, the one falling from her left eye symbolizing her as a Cihuateotl. A Spanish notation on the original Codex Telleriano-Remensis mistakenly identifies her as Xochiquetzal, but this promiscuous gal is certainly that goddess’s nagual One Deer. Since it’s her party, I guess the girl can cry if she wants to. Being a spirit of the day Deer, she probably suffers OCD for self-sacrifice and can’t help herself. Another notation identifies the golden material in the bowl in her left hand as “mierda:” Mesoamericans considered gold to be the feces of the gods! Thanks a lot for the invite, but I think I’ll skip this one.


Tonalamatl Aubin Patron Panel for Flower Trecena

Overlooking the rather grotesque style of this Aubin patron panel, I’ll remark on the strangeness of the anthropomorphic Huehuecoyotl’s wearing Quetzalcoatl’s conch-shell pendant and point out that the items in one of his right hands seem to be sticks for eye-poking, and that the beribboned thing in his other hand looks suspiciously like part of the severed arm in Yoal. Overlooking those macabre facts as well, this scene looks like another hearty party.

Five Flower is in the lower left corner with a rattle and plays on a great big drum (huehuetl), and in the middle bottom is another Ahuiateotl, the oversexed Five Lizard, also with a rattle and a cup of brewski. The simple shield between them is lip service to the standard ornament (see the elegant one in the Borgia trecena). Above Five Lizard’s head hovers his counterpart One Deer with the emblematic tear of the Cihuateteo and skirt and face patterned in red like her nagual goddess Xochiquetzal. Whatever she’s scattering from her bowl doesn’t look much like gold—maybe a powdered entheogen? The item over her head is inscrutable, unless it’s a pitcher of said brewski, and what’s that stool hanging over Five Flower’s head? Party on!


Codex Borbonicus Patron Panel for Flower Trecena

The Borbonicus patron panel for the Flower trecena presents us with a more subdued, if more cluttered, party. In his two right hands, this again anthropomorphic howling Huehuecoyotl holds a fancy rattle and innocent flower-fan and hovers in the iconic “dancing” position. His enthroned companion is Five Flower singing and beating on the huehuetl. This image of that Ahuiateotl is the finest I’ve ever found with a detailed emblematic tattoo around his mouth. (Usually it’s a five-fingered hand—or a confused pattern like that on the Borgia figure above.) The giant ornate cuciatl in the upper center represents the loud thump of the drum. Let’s ignore the rest of the esoteric clutter and enjoy this noisy party.


Codex Vaticanus Patron Panel for Flower Trecena

By now we can easily recognize the elements of this typically sketchy Vaticanus patron panel (clockwise from the left): another anthropomorphic Huehuecoyotl on his throne (with empty hands); the Cihuateotl One Deer with that seductive hand gesture, a tattooed teardrop, and an (empty?) bowl; a nicely complicated shield motif; the bug-eyed sex fiend Five Lizard dancing around; a little guy (like the one we ignored in the Borgia panel) also dancing (or falling down drunk?); and in the middle that anomalous stool we saw in the Aubin panel. Excuse me, but I think I’ll skip this boring party too.



The next trecena will be that of Reed with its monumental patron Chalchiuhtlicue (Jade Skirt), Goddess of Flowing Water. Stay tuned!


Aztec Calendar – Deer Trecena

The third trecena (13-day “week”) of the Aztec Tonalpohualli (ceremonial count of days) is called Deerfor its first numbered day, which is the 7th day of the vientena (20-day “month”). In the Nahuatl language Deer is Mazatl, and it’s known as Manik’ in Yucatec Maya and Quej in Quiché Maya. As the only other large food-animal in Mesoamerica (the peccary and turkey being much smaller than either), the deer was important protein for the populations, and their relationship to this timid animal is celebrated in many codices, mostly of slaughtering it. The leg (haunch) of the deer is also a frequent motif. Each of the days (tonalli) represents a specific human body part, and the deer is connected with the right leg. Don’t ask why.


Tepeyollotl (Heart of the Mountain), god of caves and echoes, is the principal patron of the Deer trecena. He causes earthquakes, avalanches, and volcanos, and cures and causes diseases. A deity of witchcraft, he guards the entrance to Mictlan, the Land of the Dead. Possibly God L of the Maya, he may also be the primordial jaguar-man from even deeper in pre-history. As the Jaguar of the Night whose roaring heralds the sunrise, Tepeyollotl is a nagual of Tezcatlipoca, also known as the Lord of Jewels (mines) and 8th lord of the night. (See my Icon #17.)

There is doctrinal disagreement among the codices about the secondary patron of the Deer trecena. In Borgia and Vaticanus, it’s the goddess Tlazolteotl, but in the rest it’s Quetzalcoatl. This may well reflect regional calendar cults. Make of it what you will.

Tlazolteotl (Goddess of Filth) is goddess of fertility and sexuality, motherhood, midwives, and domestic crafts like weaving. On another hand, she is also the patron of witchcraft and fortune-tellers and of lechery and unlawful love, including adulterers and sexual misdeeds. She cures diseases, particularly venereal, and as the goddess of purification and bathing, forgives sins. (Her mouth is usually black from eating all those filthy sins). People confess their sins to her only once in their life, usually at the very last moment, and besides that rite (which Spanish clergy recognized as parallel to their sacrament of confession), her rituals include offerings of urine and excrement. One of several earth-mothers, Tlazolteotl is reputedly the mother of the maize deities Centeotl and Chicomecoatl, though divine genealogy is notoriously nebulous. She is also 7th lord of the night and patron of the number 5. According to some codex images, her day-name may be Nine Reed, which isn’t particularly pertinent to her divinatory significance.

Quetzalcoatl has been discussed at length as the sole patron of the previous Jaguar trecena. There remains little or nothing to add in conjunction with this appearance in a supporting role.


By Marguerite Paquin, author of “Manual for the Soul: A Guide to the Energies of Life: How Sacred Mesoamerican Calendrics Reveal Patterns of Destiny”

Another strongly earth-oriented time period, this trecena is aligned with the general idea of “sacrifice and reconciliation.” It is often a period that calls for “give and take,” negotiation, cooperation, and even “forgiveness” in response to events of a high-stakes nature. The idea of the deer working with the hunter to provide a “giveaway” in order to sustain life is a metaphor that could apply here. Emphasis is on working together towards achieving “sacred balance” and harmony with the earth.

Further how these energies connect with world events, see the Maya Count of Days Horoscope blog at Note that the Maya equivalent is the Manik’ trecena.


The Aztec Tonalpohualli, like the ancestral Maya calendar, is counted through the sequence of 20 named days of the agricultural “month” (vientena), of which there are 18 in the solar year. Starting with 1 Deer, the trecena continues 2 Rabbit, 3 Water, 4 Dog, 5 Monkey, 6 Grass, 7 Reed, 8 Jaguar, 9 Eagle, 10 Vulture, 11 Earthquake, 12 Flint, and 13 Rain—completing the count before finishing the vientena.

The Deer trecena contains at least two significant days:

One Deer (Ce Mazatl) may be the day-name of Xochiquetzal, the Flower Feather. (Lacking birth certificates, divine birthdays, like genealogies, often depend on cults and are no more certain or verifiable than those of mythical beings in western religious traditions.) She’s the ever-young goddess of love, beauty, female sexuality, and fertility—though her worship involves some surreally gruesome sacrificial rites. Xochiquetzal protects young mothers in pregnancy and childbirth, and is a patron of weaving, embroidery, artisans, artists, and prostitutes. As she’s the patron of the 19th trecena, Eagle, more of her scandalous mythology will be presented there.

One Deer (Ce Mazatl) is also the day-name of one of the Cihuateteo, warrior spirits of women who die in childbirth, who escort the sun from noon to its setting. Demons who cause seizures and insanity, after sunset they go to the crossroads to steal children and seduce men to adultery. Probably a nagualof Xochiquetzal, this one’s area of dangerous influence is beauty, sex, and love. In an image pairing the Cihuateteo with the male Ahuiateteo (gods of pleasure), she’s posed indicatively with Five Lizard (Macuil Cuetzpallin), the deity of sexual excess.

One Deer (Ce Mazatl) is also the day-name in the regional Mixtec tradition for the creative couple, Tonacatecuhtli and Tonacacihuatl (collectively Ometeotl), likely because of the connection between deer and the sun and provision of sustenance. (See the Crocodile trecena.)

Two Rabbit (Ome Tochtli) is the name-day of the principal god of drunkenness, Izquitecatl, one of the innumerable pulque gods known the centzon totochtin (400 rabbits). Among the other 399 rabbit-children of Mayauel and Patecatl who patronize every form of intoxication, alcoholic and herbal, one can name Tezcatzoncatl, Tlilhua, Toltecatl, and Tepoztecatl.


Several of the surviving so-called Aztec codices (some originating from other cultures like the Mixtec) have Tonalamatl sections laying out the trecenas of the Tonalpohualli on separate pages. In Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin, the first two pages are missing; Codex Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios are each lacking various pages (fortunately not the same ones); and in Codex Borgia and Codex Vaticanus all 20 pages are extant. (The Tonalpohualli is also presented in a spread-sheet fashion in Codex Borgia, Codex Vaticanus, and Codex Cospi, but that format apparently serves other purposes.)


As described in my earlier blog The Aztec Calendar – My Obsession, some thirty years ago—on the basis of very limited ethnographic information and iconographic models —I presumed to create my own version of a Tonalamatl, publishing it in 1993 as Celebrate Native America! With no awareness of secondary patrons, I created an image of Tepeyollotl out of thin air to be the patron deity of the Deer trecena. Well, not quite: I knew what his name meant and that he was the god of volcanos. Working with motifs from Codex Nuttall, I concocted a fairly Mixtec design of angular and stepped patterns with an eruption in his headdress and an abstract pendant suggesting a “heart of the mountain.” Meanwhile, I must have been channeling deep Maya iconography to come up with his front-on cross-legged pose.

Aztec Calendar – Deer trecena – Tonalamatl Balthazar

At this point, I should remark on the layout of the various tonalamatls, about which I had no clue thirty years ago. With the days arranged around three sides of the patron panel, mine was totally unorthodox, resulting in a roughly 3 X 4 height-width ratio. The authentic codices all present their tonalamatls on basically square pages. I’ll explain with each one how that works.

TONALAMATL BORGIA (re-created by Richard Balthazar from Codex Borgia)

Aztec Calendar – Deer Trecena – Tonalamatl Borgia

The layout of the Borgia tonalamatl creates square pages by stacking two of the rectangular trecenas. The first ten trecenas run along the bottom of the pages, and then the second ten turns around in boustrophedon fashion to run on top back to the beginning. Thus, the 1st trecena (Crocodile) is capped with the 20th (Rabbit), the 2nd (Jaguar) with the 19th (Eagle), this 3rd (Deer) with the 18th (Wind), and so on. The progression of unnumbered days also switches direction with nine running across the bottom of the panel and four up the side.

In this Borgia trecena Tepeyollotl appears as an in-the-flesh jaguar, which is in keeping with his being the Jaguar of the Night. Note the stars in his night-sky throne. The golden squiggles rising from his nose represent his roar. Once more, I can’t remark on the fancy paraphernalia floating around in the middle of the panel, except to point out the striped “power serpent” that lurks significantly at the bottom. I wonder what species of snake has that dark tail section. In some other codices the serpents are clearly the quintessential New World rattlesnake, but in Borgia the tails generally have only this dark point, though some flaunt ornamental plumes for tails.

The figure of Tlazolteotl as secondary patron of the trecena displays her emblematic black mouth, her usual curved nose ornament, and a weaving spindle in her headdress. The crescents on her skirt likely refer to her relationship with the moon (menstrual cycles). I have no idea why she’s holding a shield and handful of arrows, but the uniquely trussed-up figure she’s holding by the hair is presumably a sacrificial offering.

Note that the little guy has two right hands. Speaking of which, Tlazolteotl has two left hands, though her supposed right hand is impossibly contorted even for a left one. While I did nothing to “correct” this egregious example of “ideoplasty,” in the interest of aesthetic transparency, I must admit to some artistic plastic surgery on the goddess’s thumbs. In the original image they were both hugely over-sized, that on her left hand twice as large as anatomically proportional. I seriously doubt there was any deeper significance to the monstrous distortion.

TONALAMATL YOAL (compiled and re-created by Richard Balthazar on the basis of Codex

Telleriano-Remensis and Codex Rios)

Aztec Calendar – Deer Trecena – Tonalamatl Yoal

The original two separate pages of Telleriano-Remensis and Rios are essentially square illustrations divided between days five and six, with ten tonalli across the top and three down the side. The lower sections of the separate pages were used for Spanish and Italian commentaries, respectively, with many notes intruding on the images, naming the tonalli, and coding the lords of the night as to good, bad, or indifferent luck. My compilation and re-creation have dispensed with all that archaic clutter.

Observe that the god Tepeyollotl here is in a human form dressed in an entire jaguar pelt, head and claws included. I have greatly refined his face peering from the jaguar’s fanged mouth to reflect his image as 8th lord of the night, second from right on top above the day 9 Eagle. (Note that the third bust from right is Tlazolteotl as 7th lord of the night—with the black mouth and weaving spindles in her headdress.) Again, for transparency, I will admit to giving Tepeyollotl a “correct” right hand with the scepter. Here two left hands were just too jarringly ideoplastic! Otherwise, I strategically adjusted details and made only a few changes to his color scheme.

The figure of Quetzalcoatl as secondary patron is closely related to his image in the Jaguar trecena with outrageous headdress, curious medallion on his forehead, conch-shell pendant, and inexplicable “basket” on his back. Obvious differences are the lack of an Ehecatl-mask and black stripe down the face, the nautilus shell in his left hand (apparently symbolic of eternity), and the sacrificial victim held by the hair in his right hand. While the victim is quite in accordance with the trecena’s theme of sacrifice, it’s disturbing on two counts. Quetzalcoatl is famously opposed to human sacrifice, and the victim seems to be a child—normally sacrificed to Tlaloc.


As the incomplete Codex Borbonicus and Tonalamatl Aubin start with the Deer trecena, I can now offer their patron panels for comparison. Apart from the differing secondary patrons and graphic styles, they’re remarkably consistent theologically.

The pages of Tonalamatl Aubin are laid out in squares with the patron panel in the upper left corner. Reversing the pattern of Borgia, the tonalli range from upper right with four down that side and nine across the bottom in ranks of four blocks. The first contain the numbered tonalli, the second the lords of the night, the third the lords of the day, and the fourth the totem-birds of the numbers. This results in a densely packed page, an effect only exaggerated by an extremely awkward cartoonish style of the images, particularly of the heads of the lords and birds.

Tonalamatl Aubin Patron Panel – Deer Trecena

Here Tepeyollotl is again an actual jaguar (oddly with only three claws on his forepaws). Apart from another “power serpent” (clearly a rattlesnake), the central paraphernalia is different than that in Borgia, though the conch is a frequent motif. Quetzalcoatl is recognizable as the secondary patron by his simplified headdress, black face-stripe, stylized conch-shell pendant, and in particular by the cross symbols on his sandals. The item in his right hand isn’t recognizable as a nautilus shell, but the victim held by the hair in his left is consistent iconography—and may also be a child. It’s amusing to note the blue finger- and toe-nails.


The pages of the tonalamatl section in Codex Borbonicus are also laid out in squares with patron panels in the upper left corners. However, its tonalli range from the lower left with seven across the bottom and six up the right side in ranks of two blocks. In the first blocks are the numbered tonalli with the lords of the night, and in the second are the lords of the day with respective totem-birds. While the style of the relatively large Borbonicus patron panels is ornate and colorful (with a superbly bright shade of blue), the surrounding small figures of tonalli, lords, and birds are so schematic that they’re difficult to distinguish. Nevertheless, the overall effect of the trecena pages is quite dramatic.

Codex Borbonicus Patron Panel – Deer Trecena

The Borbonicus Deer trecena is the third with Quetzalcoatl as secondary patron. Here the figure is very like the deity in Tonalamatl Yoal, including all the usual insignia, conch pendant, nautilus shell, and childlike sacrificial victim, but his face is the tri-color we saw earlier in the Borgia and Vaticanus images of the god in the Jaguar trecena. The principal patron Tepeyollotl is a hugely ornamented living, roaring jaguar with human hands (two lefts!) and right foot; to indicate that he’s a nagual of Tezcatlipoca, his left foot is replaced by a mystical smoking mirror. Generally indicating divinity, Tepeyollotl’s be-ribboned pendant is also worn by Xiuhtecuhtli, Xipe Totec, Chalchiuhtotolin, and many other deities.

The surrounding paraphernalia is mostly familiar, like the conch and serpent, but new are the fat spider and the sacrificial knife on the upper right. The containers of unidentifiable “stuff” are complicated by damage to the one on the lower right. The smudge continued along under Quetzalcoatl’s feet obscuring apparent Spanish annotations, which were also inserted into the border blocks to count the tonalli and name them. (Though I cleaned up that smudge, I held off doing any “repairs” to these images, but it was sorely tempting.)


In the previous Crocodile and Jaguar trecenas, we saw the peculiar, again cartoonish style of Codex Vaticanus, and here it is again in the patron panel for the Deer trecena. Similarly simplistic, the unnumbered tonalli run from the lower right with seven up that side and the remaining six across the top. The resulting square page is dominated by the large patron panel to much the same degree as in a Borgia trecena.

Codex Vaticanus Patron Panel – Deer Trecena

The presence here of Tlazolteotl as secondary patron is more evidence of a close relationship between the Vaticanus and Borgia codices. She is identified only by the black mouth, but she holds the requisite young sacrificial victim. The power serpent in the bundle on her back now seems to be a rattlesnake. Like in Borgia, Tepeyollotl is again a full-scale jaguar without human features. The bluish item above its nose is curiously much the same as that in the Borbonicus patron panel—and disturbingly, the jaguar has five claws on each of its forepaws. Your guess is as good as mine as to what these details might signify.

The extra items are also very similar to some in the Borgia trecena: the shield and arrow bundle and the mysterious beaded loop with bow. The pot harks back to the elegant container in Borgia but now has a fanged face, perhaps relating to the pot in Borbonicus with the skulls for feet.


I can only point out these odd details—not explain them. Let’s leave interpretations to those who would use these images for divination (as they were originally intended). Apropos the doctrinal disagreement about secondary patrons mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, we’ve now checked out these six examples of the Deer trecena, and the vote is three for Quetzalcoatl, two for Tlazolteotl, and one abstention. Why don’t we just call it a tie and let would-be fortune-tellers pick and choose their auguries?

Another outcome of comparing these six tonalamatls is that I no longer feel like a heretic for the unique layout of my old Tonalamatl Balthazar. So what if my tonalli range around three sides? There’s nothing sacrosanct about dividing up the thirteen tonalli or the direction they run. I frankly think my modern trecenas are as authoritative and veracious as any of those ancient tonalamatls—and at least as beautiful.


The next trecena will be that of Flower with its fun-loving patron Huehuecoyotl (the Old Coyote) and a couple other deities of celebration. Stay tuned!