Daughter of the Web: Remembering the Womb of Creation

It had only been nine months since Egypt. Nine months since 2/22/22 — the day we stood inside the Great Pyramid and felt something awaken that neither of us could fully name.

We had barely begun to integrate what had opened when another invitation came.

Argentina.

Matías often speaks about the Earth as if she were a living body. Not metaphorically — but as something real and breathing. He says certain places function like organs… like energy centers along a planetary spine.

In Egypt, he told us, we were standing at the Voice of the Earth — the place where ancient codes are spoken into the field. A kind of Throat center of the planet.

Argentina, beneath the mountain of Uritorco, would be different.

That land, he said, carries Vision — the receptive eye of the Earth. A place where what has been spoken can be seen, received, and woven into a new cycle.

I remember him explaining how the North and South mirror one another… how Egypt and Argentina sit like resonant points along a hidden axis of the planet. He spoke of sacred geometry, of meridians, of currents moving like a spine through the Earth. Even the number 33 came up — the number of vertebrae in our own spine — as if the planet and the human body were reflecting one another.

I didn’t memorize the geometry. But I felt the alignment. Capilla del Monte — the small town resting beneath Uritorco — has long been associated with a subtle city called ERKS. Not a city you can visit with your feet, but a field of consciousness said to hold memory. Its name means “Meeting of Cosmic Remnants from the Sidereal Universe.”

Some believe it safeguards ancient histories so that what was once broken will not be repeated. Others say it carries seeds of memory from civilizations long past. What I understood was simpler. What began in Egypt felt structural. Focused. Intentional.

What would unfold in Argentina felt receptive. Integrative. Feminine.

Voice and Vision.

North and South.

Expression and Weaving.

He spoke about closing a circuit between hemispheres — about standing on these mirrored points of the Earth’s body as living instruments, helping harmonize currents we cannot see.

The dates — 2/22/22 and 11/11 — were chosen as thresholds. Moments when intention could root more deeply into matter.

Did I understand every layer? No.

But I understood that we were not traveling casually. We were answering a call. We were offering ourselves as participants in something larger than us — aligning our bodies with a living meridian of the Earth. To allow what had been spoken to be received. To help memory become embodied.

And so we went.

Each sunrise began with a beautiful ceremony. 2500 people standing in the valley beneath Uritorco, wrapped in blankets, breath rising into the cold air as the sky slowly softened.

Before any chanting began, the Four Directions were invoked. Elders and representatives from different South American eathnics stepped forward — Peru, Bolivia, Colombia… Each carried their own lineage, their own medicine.

The Elements were called in — Earth, Water, Air, Fire — and permission was asked from the mountain itself. Offerings of coca leaves, flowers, and water were placed gently upon the soil for Pachamama.

Then the silence would break.

The sound of the pututu — the conch shell — pierced the morning air. A deep, vibrating call that did not feel like sound alone, but like something entering the bones. Horns followed. The valley answered.

And then, together, thousands of voices breathing as one:

“Yo Soy… Yo Soy… Yo Soy…”

I Am.

The chant rose and fell like a tide. It was immersive. Andean flutes wove through the rhythm of drums. Amazonian icaros moved like wind across the field. Colors from different nations spiraled around the central space — traditional clothing, flags, woven fabrics — circling slowly as if part of a living mandala.

It felt ancient.

It felt new.

It felt like the Earth was listening.

Something in me began to soften during those mornings. The repetition of breath. The vibration in my chest. The spirals of people moving around us. I felt my body aligning to something I could not see.

The mountain no longer felt like landscape.

It felt like presence.

By the third morning, I could sense something gathering inside me — not dramatic, not overwhelming — but steady. Like pressure building beneath still water.

I did not yet know that I would lay my head on the ground.

I did not yet know that I would descend.

I only knew that something was waiting.

And it was patient.

The Earth Receives Me

During one sunrise ceremony, I felt compelled to place my forehead directly upon the Earth and lay my open palms flat against the ground. Even though everyone else was standing, and I feared someone might step on my fingers, I followed the impulse.

A sensation entered me, and tears streamed down my face to mingle with the soil beneath my brow, forming a small puddle of mud. Then, in a vision as vivid as waking life, I found myself walking a quiet path in the foothills of Mount Uritorco.

The colors of the earth, the sounds of nature, and the fresh mountain air filled me with gratitude. As I walked, I encountered a majestic tree with branches reaching skyward. From beside the tree emerged a figure I could never have expected—a deer-man, with antlers mirroring the limbs of the tree. He invited me to ride with a nod of his head, leaping swiftly down a steep, rocky canyon, urging me not to fear the dizzying speed.

The Descent into the Mountain

At the canyon’s end, the deer-man stopped before a dark opening—a tunnel leading into the mountain. Though I could see nothing, I chose to enter.

What followed was a confrontation with fear and wonder beyond anything I had ever known.

A terror gripped me. My gaze locked upward into eyes that were not human.

She—Spider Queen—had twelve eyes encircling her head like a crown. Her fangs, gleaming and terrifying, hovered inches from my face.

Waves of nausea surged through me—primal and ancestral. I felt the fear of generations pour through me, and every cell in my body screamed. But then, something shifted.

Locked in her gaze, I felt the ancestral fear begin to melt. Love began to pour into me from her eyes. I saw the sacred in her: her exquisite strength, her superior sensitivity to vibration, her swift ability to move in any direction, her silent stealth.

Like the tree and the mountain, I admired her every detail as a symmetry of expression—so very exquisite! She, Mountain Spider Queen, became far—far—superior to me in her beauty. My understanding transmuted into truth.

What had first surged as ancestral terror, born from the bones of my lineage, dissolved.

In its place flowed something else—Love. Rich, warm, and undeserved.

I saw myself through her many eyes: soft, fleshy, breakable, slow… and yet loved. Loved without measure. Loved because I am part of the web.

Crowned by the Mother

Next, Spider Queen—radiant in her majesty—stepped forward. Her stinger pierced the soft roof of my mouth and rose upward, entering my third eye. Not to harm… but to crown. She folded herself gently atop my head, becoming the Spider Crown— legs like branches, eyes like jewels— a living coronation.

Then the spiders came—so many, many, many. They carried me, touching me with their legs like whispers, weaving. The darkness became outlined with energy, and my vision changed. I could see the contours of the tunnel walls as if lit by an electromagnetic glow.

I thought to myself: this must be how a spider sees. And now… I saw with spider eyes.

And then—the Birth.

I was squeezed. Compressed. The breath pressed from my lungs as if bones were gates. And then, I emerged as a baby spider, blinking up at the birth canal of my giant spider mother.

In awe of her and the gift of life she had given me, I looked upward at my beloved mother.

How I longed to keep her—to stay with her!I felt a great, deep love for her. I had just seen the most beautiful being of all creation.

Tears flooded down my face, to be in the presence of such raw, pure beauty.

But in that moment, I knew, formidably and without question: She would die after giving birth to me. She was giving her life to me—even of her physical body. I wept to feel her love.

She, a living sacrifice. And so, with trembling reverence, I took a bite—not out of hunger, but of love. Weeping, I partook of Her flesh and blood that I might live—and honor her by living.

The Web and the Message

Again, the spiders came—so many, many spiders—rubbing their hair-covered legs against me as they carried me.

They brought me to a grand, glistening web with threads that hummed with vibration, stretched across worlds unseen.

They placed me at the center. A spider crown upon my head. Eyes glistening like stars.

And a voice whispered through the silk: “You are in incubation. Rest. The weaving begins soon.”

Remembrance

This story is for all of us, for it is the story of creation.

Each one, crowned. That is you!

For we are the children of the gods.

If you hold spider energy, it is the ancestors from your DNA who speak to you—the reverence of the stories forgotten.

We are eternally made by Manique, Mother Spider—Creator, the Weaver of the Universe, the Connector of All.

Her Womb is Creation.You are born by Her—our beloved Eternal Mother.

Remember. Remember. Remember—the sacred path for remembering…

The Eternal Beloved Mother.

Manik