Admittedly, the word “Aztec” has a certain charm. The adjacent town is Aztec, New Mexico–which seems to have adopted its name from the Native site. Who wants to live in a town called “Ancient Pueblo People”? Can you imagine writing that on your online order forms? And what would you call your local football team? The APPs? Too technological.
My husband
The experience my husband and I shared was as bizarre as the inappropriate name. Since the site is sacred and spiritual to the modern people who have descendants’ claim to it (some Pueblo peoples believe the ancient ones are still present), visitors are asked to be respectful. Nature had arranged to make our visit dramatic, because the complex of rooms and kivas stood before a backdrop of menacing black clouds and strong winds, not far from a swollen river. With a little creepy music, we could’ve been wandering into one of those mystical movies in which the protagonists fall through a wall that’s really a time portal. As we walked, my cell phone sounded. I jumped. (I had neglected to mute it.)
As I stood in modern day New Mexico in the footsteps (or perhaps the shadows) of ancient people who had lived and worshipped around me, I read a text from a friend in Massachusetts who was worried that I had been caught in tornadoes that were happening in Colorado. I was struck by the absurdity of scoffing at the fluidity of time and space. I could almost hear ancient Pueblo people muttering around me. They might have been laughing.
There is no moral to my story except that we should remember how easily human mistakes are preserved and often repeated before we speak of our absolute truths. Human history—the story of our global family–is edited and often twisted by ego, cultural and gender pride, sloppy record keeping, and plain old ignorance. We all make mistakes.