THE JOY OF TEXTS
DANCING IN THE UNDERWORLD
BY JACQUIE FERNÁNDEZ
THE SACRED TEXT OF THE ANCIENT MAYA, the Popol Vuh, includes a tale of two brothers known as the Hero Twins. These mythic figures journey into Xibalba, the underworld. Xibalba is the realm of trials, illusions, and tests designed to disorient the soul. The Hero Twins do not ascend to glory by avoiding darkness but rather descend right into it.
In Xibalba, they are tricked. Burned. Broken down. Even killed. And still … they rise. Not by brute strength or domination. The Hero Twins rise through the power of creativity. By play. By a kind of sacred mischief that refuses to let death have the final word.
This is not a resurrection story but a story that validates the journey through the underworld. We are all familiar with endings, disillusionments, or internal reckonings, which makes the wisdom of the Hero Twins feel less like mythology and more like a mirror.
Metaphysically, the underworld is a state of being. It is that moment when the story you thought you were living dissolves and you begin to dance with a new understanding. It is the body holding grief and the nervous system asking, What now?
The Popol Vuh reminds us: Transformation is not just spiritual. It is embodied. So rather than bypass the underworld, we can learn to feel our way through it. Try this:
Sit comfortably. Close your eyes or soften your gaze and bring awareness to your body without judgment—not to fix it, but to notice.
Where is there tension?
Where is there heat, heaviness, or numbness?
Place a hand there. (Not to change it, just to say: I am here with you.)
The Hero Twins survived Xibalba not because they avoided the trials but because they stayed in relationship with what was happening. One of the most subversive teachings of the Popol Vuh is this: The path through darkness is not always serious.
Joy is not a denial of pain or suffering but a defiance in the face of it. Joy becomes the path.
The Hero Twins laugh and outwit death through play and illusion. Joy doesn’t wait like a reward for triumph; instead, it is a tool used all through the journey.
Where might you soften, even slightly, in the midst of something heavy? Where might you refuse the script that says you must suffer miserably?
Joy, for the Hero Twins, is not a denial of pain or suffering but a defiance in the face of it. Joy becomes the path.
With a willingness to witness yourself, take a small bowl of water (which, in many traditions, represents the threshold between worlds). Dip your fingers into the bowl. Touch your forehead, your heart, your belly. As you do, speak (out loud or within):
I honor what is ending.
I honor what I have survived.
I welcome what is becoming.
Then shake out your hands—gently at first, then more freely. Let your body move in whatever way feels natural—a sway or stretch, or perhaps a joyful little dance!
This is not a performance but a remembering: You are not stuck in the underworld. You are moving through it.
The Hero Twins remind us that rebirth is not about returning to who we were before.
It is about becoming someone who has walked through fire and learned to dance with it. So if you find yourself in a season that feels like Xibalba—uncertain, disorienting, raw—take heart. The story does not end here. It deepens.
And somewhere within you, something ancient and playful is already plotting your return. Not as who you were but as who you are becoming, not in spite of the underworld but because you dared to enter it. &
JACQUIE FERNÁNDEZ is an award-winning filmmaker and writer who serves as senior minister at Unity Church of Overland Park. She is the founder of Folx with Faith, an LGBTQIA+ affinity group that gathers for spiritual discussion and healing from religious trauma.