The story goes that when the tall Spanish Galleons of Cortéz were first seen from Aztec shores, they were such an impossible vision in their reality that their deeply filtered perceptions couldn't register what was happening and they literally failed to see the ships. These were the largest artifacts ever seen—objects so huge, complex and unfamiliar that they defied Aztec comprehension. When smaller boats began to move toward the shore, the Aztec Shaman stared out to sea and, only by imagining what he was looking for, was finally able to make out the tall ships. He was then able to point them out to others until at last everyone could see the ships. The shaman could do this because he alone was open to the possibilities of strange things from other worlds.

The Morion of Cortéz

Generally speaking, there are three kinds of artifacts. The first kind is so old that it requires carbon dating and usually ends up vacuum cased in a museum to stave-off disintegration. The second kind is so new that it can land on the auction block at Sotheby's then in some private collection for bragging rights. Then there is the third kind. Not so old that it can't be authenticated by an expert, but old enough to be priceless. Unless of course, a Black Market buyer can afford priceless.

The Morion of Cortés falls into this third category. Once authenticated, it gained National Treasure status in Spain. However, since it surfaced in New Mexico, it became the property of the United States National Archives. This of course resulted in Spain filing suit against the U.S. just as it has for the recovery of treasures from sunken Galleons off the coast of what used to be Florida. But when the Euro Zone nearly folded in late 2012, in exchange for a financial rescue package from the U.S. Treasury, most members abandoned all such lawsuits. And Spain in particular committed thousands of troops to support our conflict with the Cartels in Northern Mexico.

Since the morion was re-discovered more specifically on Navajo land, the tribe could have easily laid claim to this finding as well. Instead, I was able to leverage my political connections to secure a very generous endowment to the Navajo wing of the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian and a permanent exhibition of the finding. The Navajo have always been the most ambitious and business-minded of the Southwestern tribes. But the most delicate negotiations and planning weren't with Spain or the Navajo Nation, they were with one person — the Hopi Shaman who possessed the artifact.

The Hopi (Peaceful People) were the original inhabitants of this region known as Anasazi Territory. The Navajo had since driven them out and surrounded the Hopi into a small area of what is now Eastern Arizona. But this one Hopi Shaman was the last of a shamanic line living deep in the vermilion canyons of Chaco that the Navajo either allowed or forgot.

The morion was quite a storied artifact. In the near 500 years since it fell from the head of Cortés, it remained in the possession of this sacred line of Shaman and in the same grand kiva known as "The Sacred Cave" or "Home of the Kachina". The stories passed down through generations came in the pure and nearly lost ancient language of Uto-Aztecan.

Linguists were still deciphering the story of the morion before The Great Shift so there is still much that needs to be learned one day. But for now, part of what we know reads: "The conquerors (conquistadors) marched across the ancient Mayan Empire ever North in search of the seven lost cities of gold carrying with them the morion of Cortéz. With each slain child the morion reflected its curse grew..."

To the peaceful Hopi people, the blood-lust of these conquistadors was unfathomable. If the tribes could not tell the Spaniards where to find any of the legendary cities of gold, their men, women and children were savagely killed. Soon the tribes learned to direct them farther and farther north. And once the shiny gold plated morion, which had reflected the horrors of these white men with bearded faces, came into the possession of the shamanic line, it became a benchmark for their prophecies. The story became that when this helmet resurfaced for all the world to see, it would be one of a series of signs that the fourth world of Hopi lore would end and the fifth would begin. There it sat for half a millennium building in meaning and esoteric significance. As if the Pope had possession of Pontius Pilate's bronze laurel.

It was the summer of 2011 when my producer called to tell me that the morion had been discovered. Not really discovered as much as it was presented to us by the Hopi shaman in New Mexico. He apparently knew about Unearthed and even seemed aware of its global audience numbers. How a shaman in the canyons of northern New Mexico could research our web analytics was amazing enough, but when my producer told me that he asked for me by name, I was at first flattered then uncomfortably intrigued.

Unearthed was a mildly successful internet program for its first couple of seasons until we uncovered and authenticated a lost piece of the Dresden Codex — the Mayan hieroglyphics that are the earliest known book of the Americas — near Coba in the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. This nine by fifteen inch swatch of Amatl bark paper overturned decades of scholarly debate. In short, the brightly colored pictorials revealed that the commonly accepted date of December 21st, 2012 as the end of the Mayan calendar was off by more than a year. In short, as it turned out, the date of relevance was actually October 28, 2011.

This finding set in motion a global debate and race to refute or confirm this new data and thrust our little internet program onto the world stage and me along with it. In overwhelming numbers, objective Codex scholars confirmed the new data and the whole ethos of the Mayan prophecy shifted. 

The Codex was to be unveiled at a ceremony in Santa Fe and what was to be the peak moment of my career became the darkest
night of my life.