The serpent was identified with various
sky-dwelling creatures, such as the Ch’orti’ celestial rain beast chijchan “deer-serpent,” an anomalous creature
echoed in depictions of serpents with antlers from the Classic period. While the
Maya had an indigenous version of the celestial feathered serpent . . . one
type, with roots in a war complex, was borrowed with Teotihuacan. Surging into
prominence during the Terminal Classic period, the feathered serpent is a
hallmark of the Mesoamerican Postclassic. Massive examples form columns and
balustrades at Chichen Itza . . . The serpent’s body was a conduit permitting supernaturals
to pass from divine to moral worlds and emerge through the gullet. Works of art
portray the culmination of this journey, usually triggered by a burnt offering
. . . As an open-ended path, the serpent is often two-headed . . . seen, for
instance, in the ceremonial bar, proof of the king’s ability to manifest for
instance, in the ceremonial bar, proof of the king’s ability to manifest
spirits. Spiritual stuff was also channelled through a twisted snake-like rope
seen weaving through the heavens. Luke the sky and ecliptic serpents, the
snake-rope gave tangible form to the heavens’ structural integrity.
On the darker side, serpents sometimes merged
with the centipede, evoked the Underworld. The zoomorphic analog of a cave was
a serpent . . .A hissing fer de lance wrapped around the neck of a wahy magnified its frightening demeanor
. . . In this potent, ominous aspect, serpents were also associated with women.
The archetypal domestically skilled woman wore an emblematic cloth head ti
which, for the old creator goddess, Chak Chel, was transfigured into a serpent,
its body knotted like pliable cloth . . . The Medusa-like headdress linked
elderly women with elemental forces of nature and the earth’s generative powers
via the serpent. (Andrea Stone and Marc Zender, Reading Maya Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Maya Painting and
Sculpture [London: Thames and Hudson, 2011], 201)
