A Pilgrimage Transmission From New Mexico
Part 2
The Full Blood Moon Lunar Eclipse in Pisces from Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
Audio
You may listen to the audio of this transmission here:
Hello sweet soul,
Welcome back. I feel like some of us are having a fresh start, especially me.
Maybe it's related to the eclipse portal we just entered.
Maybe it's because some Eat Boutique folks chose to stay for the magic that's unfolding here—and I released the rest of the list with so much love.
Maybe it's about me realizing that I can break lasagne noodles into golden tomato sauce and claim it as the best meal of my travels.
Whatever the reason, welcome to the new you.
Eclipse season is about becoming someone new, someone who is ready for more—more prosperity, more power, more peace.
Of course, you have to let something go in order to step into the new you, to step into your Soul.
And to truly become your Soul—your higher self—you're best-served by allowing yourself to be both very human and all soul. I hope to make this point through my note today.
In my last story, I mentioned a few things I wanted to share so let's go…
Grab some coffee, tea, or Cacao before we get started.
The Sangre de Cristo Mountains in Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
Let's get back to my pilgrimage. [If you missed part 1, read it here. I also added audio of me reading that story to you so if that hits, go check it out.]
Just as I made a sharp turn in the Texas highway to head southwest directionally, toward the border with Mexico, the landscape changed.
And with it, the nature of the echos emerging from the land.
Instead of a dry vastness of beiges and browns, the views turned to a hundred shades of green and blue.
It was still desert so the greens ranged from dry thyme and light olive, all the way to forest and hunter green.
The blues were most definitely reflections from the sky; those wide, white clouds cast shadows of atmospheric blues onto the mountains in the distance. And, frankly, it felt so familiar
I said to myself, or perhaps aloud, "It's like looking at an ocean. I'm driving toward an ocean."
“You're not wrong,” I heard the land whisper back to me.
It continued, “It appears to be an illusion and also, we were once an ocean. It cut straight through here. You are driving along the sea bed.”
“We are deeply alive and we welcome you." It completed its transmission.
In that moment, I had a hard time believing the echo of an ocean was speaking to me so I scrambled for my phone, asking it about the geological makeup of the land just outside Marfa, Texas.
Claude AI (my personal fave) affirmed what I heard.
The swath of land along the Texas and New Mexican border (leading into northern New Mexico and beyond) was, in fact, all at the bottom of a vast ocean.
The mountain peaks were the shoreline, where toes would have dipped into sand and seawater. The highways were once packed earth at the bottom of a great sea.
A sea that existed 80 million years ago.
This wouldn't be the last time the land would speak to me on this pilgrimage.
And now that this feature within my body, within my Soul, is turned on, I don't know if it ever stops speaking.
But hearing that this land was once a vast ocean would be tied to a bit of magic once I started exploring Marfa, Texas.
The Sentinel in Marfa, Texas. © Maggie Battista 2025
After the long drive, I stumbled into the nearest cafe to get my bearings.
I ordered my typical drink—a decaf almond milk latte with honey, please—and asked the barista about restaurant options.
She wasn't sure of what would be open on this random Tuesday so she asked the man standing behind me in line.
“David, what's open for dinner tonight?” she inquired.
I turned around toward an elder gentleman who was dressed a bit like a mechanic but was most certainly an artist.
He spoke to me for a few minutes, offering a short list of places to eat well. And as he began to tell me his story of landing in Marfa, I couldn't help but interrupt him with, “When I came over the hills into Marfa, I saw an ocean! It felt like a vast ocean!”
He smiled, mentioning that it felt like an ocean to him, too. And with that exchange, he decided we should sit and talk for a while.
He shared his entire story with me—what he did back in Austin, how he and his wife fell in love with Marfa, and the kind of art they both make.
As we said goodbye, he mentioned, “If you get stuck anywhere while you're in town, just call me and I'll help. Leave a voicemail as I don't always pick up.”
I had been feeling a bit lonely driving across Texas and that sweet offer reminded me that our people—our soul family—are everywhere.
Plus, I'm always gonna sit for a spell when an elder speaks. Always. Their words offer the right kind of balance in a lonely or tense moment.
If you're ever in Marfa, Texas, go to The Sentinel to get your bearings. It's a cafe and venue supporting local, independent journalism and artists. And, they print a local Big Bend newspaper.
The landscape between Marfa, Texas and Roswell, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
The stretch of land between Marfa, Texas and Roswell, New Mexico was most definitely something out of a space film.
I don't think I could find the words to adequately describe it.
It felt lonely, like I was somewhere between the vast expanse of a foreign planet dotted with sharp rocks that jutted into the sky, followed by a vast expanse of nothingness, just a lone highway unrolling through an occasional oil field, whipped by wind.
The land formations were so wild that by the time I reached Roswell, I was half expecting to be greeted by extraterrestrial beings.
No such luck. It was a fairly regular town with regular problems.
A clerk at a local grocery store asserted, “We're just a normal town and its the people who visit who are a little nuts.”
I suppose she could have been speaking about me. 😛
I bought dinner at that grocery store and settled into my AirBnB to watch a very human episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty. #teamconrad all the way.
The next morning, I started the new trecena of Kan in the Mayan Sacred Calendar with a ritual over a sequence of 13 candles on my makeshift altar. (A trecena is a cycle of 13 days.)
And once all the candles burned out, I set my cruise control for northern New Mexico.
My makeshift altar for the trecena of Kan in Roswell, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
The day on which I am writing this short series of stories to you is 8 Kan in the Mayan Sacred Calendar.
I'd like to say its a coincidence that I mentioned the trecena of Kan (which began with 1 Kan on August 20) but there are no such things as coincidences.
Kan is your life force energy. It is the serpent that channels kundalini or koyopa (to the Maya) or sexual/creation energy from the base of your spine up your body and through your crown, toward the divine.
From the base toward the crown or, as I feel it, from the earth (human) to the sky (soul).
Now, an 8 Kan day is nothing like a 1 Kan day. It is further along in its energetic journey.
Today represents both the beginning (the number 1 or the base) and the ending (the number 7 or the crown). Together, this is the dark and the light that converts life experience into wisdom in order to find a kind of harmony or balance.
In Mayan ritual cosmology, “8” days are ceremonial days, often used for celebration of the beginning and the end, the earthly and the otherworldly, the life and the death.
I like to think of these days as celebrating the harmony of both our very humanness and our all-powerful, all-knowing Soul.
When I sit in ceremony on an “8” day, I feel into both parts of me and receive guidance that helps me allow further harmony within me.
This is one way that I use The Altar Sessions.
I listen to your very earthly challenges.
I receive guidance from the multidimensional field (what feels like the field of love and divinity).
And I channel that guidance to you through the lens of my Soul.
These sessions can be very direct, as our ancestors are very straightforward and honest. They offer a lightening bolt of truth, so arrive to these sessions ready to receive a kind of truth, one that helps you truly step into your Soul.
Recently, I shared this new offering with my ancestors and guides through my long-time psychic. I asked, “How do they feel about this offering?”
She said, “They are buzzing about it. They say this is your foundational offering now."
I agreed.
If you hear a call to The Altar Sessions, please know that I only do a couple of these each month so there are only a handful through the end of the year.
A sliver of my backyard in Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
I arrived in Taos, New Mexico about four hours after leaving Roswell. It felt familiar, like coming home, but for a few different reasons.
When my twenty year relationship ended nearly four years ago, I got on a plane and flew to this land.
One week after the judge declared me divorced—on a phone call, no less—my ancestors told me it was time to go to New Mexico.
We went back and forth on this location several times.
“You mean Mexico, right?” I asked. “To the lands of the Maya.”
I was dreaming about sipping tequila on a breezy beach between visits to ancient ruins.
“No,” they affirmed both in language and in a vivid dream. “New, New, New. We mean New Mexico.”
“But I have no connections there,” I said.
“You will see,” they replied, as if the topic was settled.
I remember speaking to my friends about it all back then. They'd ask, “Are you going somewhere luxurious to celebrate your divorce?”
I'd say, in the tone of a question, “I guess I'm going to New Mexico?!"
There's a lot I wish to share about my first days in New Mexico all those years ago. But I'll only share a few things that brought me to a kind of harmony within, to an understanding of why I am called to here.
Like, back then, I made a tiny ritual to offer food and wine to the land, to say thank you for receiving me and to call in deeper healing.
Like, back then, I lit some incense that turned into a smoldering fire as the dirt was so dry and the flames rose high to burn away what I had left behind.
Like, back then, my finger was sliced through at the Georgia O'Keefe Museum in what could only be called a freak accident. Blood gushed as the museum staff searched for a first aid kit or bandages. They had neither so a rolled up paper towel would have to do.
Once I got properly bandaged, I asked the ancestors why the land that hosted the museum in old town Santa Fe had asked for my blood. They told me to visit a certain store in another part of the city.
I walked in and gazed at the menagerie of art work, ritualistic items, found objects, and beauty products all displayed perfectly. The shop girl asked about what happened to my finger. I told her.
She said, with crystal clear certainty, “I'm a practicing witch. It was a reconciliation ritual. The land wished to bring you back into harmony, to reclaim you as its own.”
It's been years since that visit. And for all these years, I have wondered to what land I belong, where I will finally feel more at peace with all the parts of me, with my humanness and my Soul.
It's not Texas.
And I don't know—like my mind doesn't know—if it's New Mexico. But I can tell you what's happened since being in Taos, New Mexico.
I can tell you what my body and Soul feels.
I am telling you this now so you may pay close attention to what brings you harmony within.
Manzanita Market in Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
The moment I arrived in Taos, a small town at about 7,000 SF elevation—though the ski valley is as high 10,000 SF elevation—I felt an ease.
To acclimate to the altitude and the land, I cooked whole foods for every meal. I eased off some supplements and added in daily doses of ginger-chamomile tea, vitamin C in the form of piles of fruit, and pots of garlic-steamed kale.
I sat with Cacao and its spirit every single morning, like I do. And then I took a daily walk through a strange park which I'll tell you about in a moment.
I resumed my self-care rituals. I got in bed early (by 8pm) and allowed my body to wake me whenever it wanted (generally 6am, just before sunrise).
And as I acclimated, I began to hear this land speak to me. I could sense a harmony between us. I could sense a fondness between us.
The trees in my backyard asked me to speak with them.
The rock walls of the mountains smiled at me, their beauty bringing me to tears more than once.
To further acclimate and release pent-up tension, I went to see a body worker who happened to be a psychic, as well. We always find each other.
Once she placed her hands on my body, she said, “Taos likes you. New Mexico likes you. The land likes you. It wants you to put your feet into its grass and your body into its rivers. It wants to know you more. It wants you.”
I want it, too.
The art gallery at Hotel Willa displaying work by Josh Tafoya in Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
Early on in my arrival, I sat next to a man and his dog Banjo at my favorite cafe in town, Tomorrow and Tomorrow. They specialize in sourdough bread and make a very delicious one that has a cinnamon paste spread.
Remind me to tell you about cinnamon on toast. I have a theory about it.
Anyway, this man and I got to talking. He told me to skip the state park and instead walk at a land trust near downtown.
“You'll love it,” he asserted.
Gosh, was he right.
Now, at face value, this land where he told me to walk looks like a standard park. It has a round paved pathway, a playground, pickleball courts, and a pergola area where I watched a group of women practice a ritualistic dance.
From one view, it is a practical and down-to-earth park.
But if you keep walking down a narrow, hidden bridge, you arrive to a wilder stretch of land, a land that feels like an adventure.
The first time I walked it, I had no idea how long it was or where it would lead, but I trusted that I was here to just follow it, to just surrender to it.
The fairly flat dirt paths wove through overgrown bushes and weeds, around tall grasses and immense trees. And as I came to a fork, I heard the call to follow it to the left.
My path continued through a community gardens, gardens that were overgrown with sunflowers and cabbages and kale. The sun shone through this farm like it was strewn with gold.
As I passed the farm, I came to another fork in the land. I could go left or right. I chose right. And this took me around the back of the gardens and over a tiny acequia. New Mexico is filled with these tiny irrigation channels to distribute the water from the mountains and rivers.
I walked a while and arrived back to that first fork in the road. It was then that I realized the shape of the paths through this wild land.
Someone had thought to carve a path through this wild land in the shape of a figure eight.
Now, to us mystical folks, figure eights are actually ouroboros. An ouroboros is an ancient symbol that depicts a serpent eating its own tail, representing the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth, as well as eternal renewal and interconnectedness.
The life and death cycle is that of balance or harmony. There is not one without the other. And this symbol has come to represent balance for me.
Still marveling about my walk in the shape of an ouroboros, I returned to my home away from home and decided to explore the little shop my host has set up on the land.
It's basically a very pretty shed filled with special objects reminiscent of the decor within the properties on the land. And right on the wall was a necklace with a gold charm.
The charm was of a serpent eating its own tail—an ouroboros—the symbol of the eternal cycle of life and death and, ultimately, harmony.
May you always seek harmony, between your humanness and your Soul.
May you remember that the purpose isn't one or the other, but both.
That stretch of farm on the land where I walk in Taos, New Mexico. © Maggie Battista 2025
Until next time, I'm sending love from the land of enchantment,
Maggie
The Full Photo Gallery
This transmission is a guided story and summary of what feels most resonant energetically in the now based on my clairvoyant gifts, multidimensional messages, and ongoing studies in Ancestral Reverence, Mayan Cosmology and the Mayan Sacred Calendar, Human Design, the Gene Keys, Western Astrology, Lunar Cycle Study, Soul Attunement and the Soul's Voice, Receptive Living, the Embodied Masculine & Feminine Polarities, 10 years working with Ceremonial Cacao, Kundalini-Shakti Activation (the Divine Mother) Energy Transmission, Sacred Space 200 Hr Yoga Teacher Training, and Deep Stillness in Somatic and Vedic Meditations.
