FINDING LOST CIVILIZATIONS This

the Roman Empire, said, “History ... is, indeed, little morethan the register of the crimes, follies, and misfortunes ofmankind.” Nonetheless, I remain optimistic.My father and I stood silently for some time beforeleaving. In honor of the ancients who preceded us at this sitewe agreed to leave Pedro’s cross without using the stairs towalk down the hill. We reasoned that the forgotten ancientsdid not use these thirteen Stations of the Cross to ascend tothis sacred site. We started to examine the natural topographyof the land to find the ancient path. I then felt the threadpulling me closer. I closed my eyes and began to visualizemyself following the natural slope and inclination of theearth under my feet as it led me to the nourishing sea below.I looked for clues, such as a boulder or large stone markingthe way, but mostly I let an intuitive power within me showthe way. As we continued down the hill following the naturalprogression of the land my father saw something lyingnext to a small boulder. To my amazement I saw an ancientred clay water jug. We went over to examine it and were leftmomentarily speechless. How old was it? How long had itbeen there? Did the early inhabitants leave it behind?When I look at that jug today, I know my father and Iequally felt the thread of lost civilizations pulling us, guidingus and revealing itself to us as we journeyed through Mexico.Today, we are better for what we have seen, for what weshared together, and for what we have learned. It does notmatter how old the jug is, for it is only a symbol to us. It wasthe journey shared together that was priceless.Throughout this journey my father was at my side. Hewas 81-years-old and I pray to the heavens that I will inherithis heart, soul, energy, and zest for life.Thanks Dad—I love you.44