Haribol at the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon in Teotihuacán, Mexico

Ancient flutes in the air, soft grass under us, Aztec stones at our backs, and a tiny circle of humans whispering Haribol into the wind. That is where this little story lives, between the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon in Teotihuacán, Mexico, with dust on our feet and names on our tongues that feel both brand new and very old.

This is a story about a wandering pilgrimage that somehow turned into daily prayers, new spiritual names, goofy jokes, and a quiet relationship with sacred sound. It is also about that strange feeling when you realize your whole life has been one long walk toward a friend you did not know you were missing.

Welcome to Juicy MagiK on the go, sweet souls.

Juicy MagiK on the Go (No-Cut Intro, Always)

We never cut the beginning. You know those messy intros where someone is still settling in, laughing, fixing their hair, trying to remember what the episode is called. We keep all of that. Life already edits us enough.

So the camera comes on, we are already laughing.

On this day we are sitting in Teotihuacán, in the famous Avenue of the Dead. Behind us stands the great Pyramid of the Moon. Off to the side, a little farther away, the Pyramid of the Sun rises up out of the valley like a quiet stone mountain. If you want the formal version, Teotihuacán is recognized as a World Heritage Site, the ancient “place where gods were created,” and you can read a beautiful summary of its history on the UNESCO page for the Pre-Hispanic City of Teotihuacan.

Our version is simpler. It is a place where humans still come to remember that they are more than their to-do lists. A place to chant, to breathe, to laugh, to cry a little, and to say thank you.

We say, “Namaste, howdy bow, sweet souls, Haribol goranga,” and the episode begins.

From Buffalo to Mexico City to the Pyramids

By the time we reach Teotihuacán, it has been more than three months since the last time we sat down to share like this.

Last time, we were in Buffalo, New York, on the way to Miami. Since then we have gone to Miami twice, crossed many miles, met many dogs and a couple of cats, and are now slowly making our way through Mexico toward El Salvador, one bus, ride, and blessing at a time.

Teotihuacán is only about an hour outside Mexico City. Our dear friend Caro, who lives in Ciudad de México, is with us on this day, mostly behind the camera, mostly laughing. She has already hosted us in her home, given us a soft place to land, and opened the doors of her dance studio so we could offer a little meditation gathering there.

The night before this video, we sat on the wooden floor of her studio, Diva Dance, guiding a small group through simple sound meditation while our friend Fernando played his harmonium-style keyboard. The echo of those notes is still in our ears when we sit down on the grass at the pyramids.

The pilgrimage is not just the sacred stones. It is the guest bed, the borrowed kirtan instrument, the ride to the bus station, the cup of tea.

What This Pilgrimage Really Is

We like to say that our life has turned into a pilgrimage of sacred people, places, and pursuits.

It sounds poetic, but it is very practical.

• People who remind us that God is kind.
• Places that make the heart wake up a little.
• Pursuits that point us back to service instead of self-importance.

Every day, even the ordinary ones, we try to visit at least one of these. Sometimes it is a holy site like Teotihuacán, which has drawn pilgrims and seekers for generations and is still seen as a powerful energy center by many spiritual travelers. If you are curious about how others experience it in that way, there is a nice reflection on Teotihuacán as a modern spiritual destination on this article about Teotihuacan as a sacred site.

Other days, the pilgrimage is a tiny one, inside the room, inside the heart. A simple mantra before breakfast. A shared tear on a live stream. A whispered “thank you” on a crowded bus.

In Teotihuacán, those inner and outer pilgrimages meet.

Receiving New Names: Srimati Dasi and Madhumangala Dasa

One of the biggest changes since Buffalo is that both of us received new spiritual names from our teacher, Sri Mati Shivani Didi, during a gathering at Sacred Vedic Arts in Miami.

The names came with a feeling that is hard to explain in neat language. It was like someone had been quietly listening to the prayer behind all the other prayers and then answered it with one word.

Srimati Dasi: A Supreme Female Friend

Maria received the name Srimati Dasi.

“Dasi” means “servant”, in the most tender, loving way, not the harsh way the world sometimes uses it. The name points to being the servant of the Supreme Goddess, Srimati Radharani, the consort and eternal beloved of Krishna.

When she heard the meaning, she started to cry. Not a dramatic movie cry, more like the soft surprise that comes when a long, lonely ache is suddenly met.

For years she had tried to please people who could not really be pleased, or who did not know how to receive love without twisting it. Maybe you know that feeling, of trying very hard and still somehow failing.

To hear, “You have a supreme female friend now, someone you can serve without being used or scammed, someone who is actually pleased by your sincere effort,” felt like a doorway opening.

Finally, there is a friend who can be pleased. A friend who does not need you to be perfect, only sincere. A friend who already knows the worst and best in you and loves you anyway.

So she laughed and cried at the same time and said, “I will try very hard,” and we believed her.

Madhumangala Dasa: Sweet, Cheeky Service

Mark received the name Madhumangala Dasa.

“Madhu” means sweet or honey. “Mangala” means auspicious. In the stories of Krishna, Madhumangala is a Brahmin boy, one of Krishna’s cowherd friends in Vrindavan. He is playful, cheeky, always causing a bit of mischief at just the right time, and somehow turning every situation back toward joy.

“Dasa” means servant.

So the name holds a kind of instruction: serve in a way that is sweet, uplifting, a little playful, not heavy or self-serious. Be the friend who cracks a joke in the middle of a spiritual crisis so everyone can breathe again, then starts chanting.

Receiving these names felt like being handed a mirror and a map at the same time. This is who you really are. Walk this way, and you might remember.

Daily Prayers: A Tiny Pause in a Loud World

Another thing that shifted since Buffalo is that we began sharing daily prayers online together.

It started very simply. Just a short time every day to chant, read a few sacred words, offer a blessing, and give people a place to rest their minds for a moment. No big marketing plan, no perfect strategy. Just “let us sit together for a few minutes and remember who we are.”

These daily prayers are light and imperfect and sometimes goofy. Dogs bark. Allergies act up. Somebody forgets a line. We talk about fasting, or about Kiki the cat, or about the people who have written to us from far away, whispering their own struggles and hopes into the chat.

In a strange way, it has become a little digital temple that travels with us, a place where anyone can walk in for a moment and say “Haribol” together.

If you feel called to sit with us or share a question, you can always reach us through our Juicy MagiK community portal. It is our small online agora, a place to meet around the same fire.

What Haribol and Harinam Sankirtan Mean to Us

In the video, you hear us say “Haribol, sweet souls” over and over.

“Haribol” literally means “say the name of Hari,” or “chant the holy names.” It is like saying “Hallelujah,” but with a built-in invitation. Every “Haribol” is a tiny nudge: remember, the name is the way.

When a group gathers to chant together in the street or in a temple, that is called Harinam Sankirtan. Harinam means “the name of Hari,” and Sankirtan means “congregational chanting.” One teacher described it beautifully as the blending of many hearts in one sound, and you can feel that in the stories shared in this interview about Harinam and kirtan.

For us, Harinam Sankirtan is not a performance. It is a moving prayer. It is like taking the inner chant that usually stays inside the chest and letting it spill out into the open air, so other people can catch a little spark if they want.

At Teotihuacán, chanting “Gauranga” and “Haribol” in the Avenue of the Dead feels like a gentle way to bless the stone, the sky, the tourists with their hats and water bottles, the vendors, the ancestors, and our own very confused, very hopeful hearts.

Gauranga Breathing: Simple, Gentle, Sacred

In this Teotihuacán visit, we share a very soft form of Gauranga breathing.

Gauranga is one of the names of Lord Chaitanya, who is understood as a golden form of Krishna, overflowing with compassion and love for everyone, no matter their background or beliefs. Gauranga breathing is a simple meditation practice that combines the breath with the sound of this name.

You breathe in slowly through the nose.
You breathe out gently, often in four parts: “Gau-ra-an-ga.”
The sound rides the breath, and the mind rides the sound.

You do not have to “believe” anything to feel something real here. The slow breathing calms the nervous system, and the mantra gives the mind a kind and harmless bone to chew on. If you are curious to try a guided version, you can explore this short introduction to Gauranga mantra breathing meditation.

At the pyramids, we add a few playful jaguar sounds between rounds, because this is Mexico and the jungle is not that far away in our imagination. We laugh at ourselves. We chant anyway.

The point is not to do it perfectly. The point is to do it with a soft, honest heart.

Teotihuacán as a Living Temple

Standing between the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon, you can almost hear a low hum under everything.

Historians can tell you about how Teotihuacán was built between the 1st and 7th centuries, how it was once one of the largest cities in the Americas, how its rulers and rituals are still partly a mystery. Spiritual travelers might tell you about energy lines and portals, about the way their dreams change after a visit.

We do not pretend to be experts. We are just grateful guests.

What we can say is that chanting in a place like this feels different. The stone seems to absorb the sound and give it back, only slower. The sky feels bigger. The problems feel a little smaller.

Places like this can help us remember that human beings have always been reaching for something higher, for thousands of years, with different languages and stories and ceremonies, but with the same hunger for meaning and love.

Friends, Hosts, and Harmoniums

One of the sweetest parts of this episode is almost off-camera.

Caro, our Mexico City friend, quietly holds the phone, checks the angles, laughs at the jokes, corrects our Spanish. She is the one who invited us to share a meditation class at her studio, Diva Dance, where dancers usually move to pop songs instead of mantras.

Our musician friend Fernando could not make it to the pyramids with us that day, but his presence is in the air anyway. He brings this very fun harmonium-style machine when we gather, a kind of keyboard that sounds like a portable temple organ, and we keep joking in the video that we need to get one too.

None of this would be happening without people like them, opening doors, studios, and hearts so that a wandering Juicy MagiK caravan can keep going.

If you ever feel moved to support this wandering, we keep a simple page where you can support ongoing Juicy MagiK projects with sats or donations. But honestly, your prayers and kind thoughts are also a kind of currency in this journey.

Closing: A Quiet Haribol From the Pyramids

By the end of the recording, the sun is starting to slide a little in the sky. We have talked about Buffalo and Miami, new names and old aches, daily prayers and ancient stones, Haribol and Gauranga, friends and flutes.

Nothing huge has “happened.” No lightning bolt. No big revelation.

Just a small group of humans sitting on the grass between two very old pyramids, breathing together, chanting together, feeling very small and very held at the same time.

If there is one thing to carry from this, maybe it is this: you do not have to be at a famous sacred site to be on pilgrimage. You can be in your kitchen, in your car, in your office break room, whispering “Haribol” under your breath or following your own sacred phrase, and it still counts.

Every time you pause, breathe, and turn your attention toward the divine, you are already in the temple.

Thank you for walking here with us in your own way. May your day be touched by some sweet sound, some kind friend, and a tiny reminder that you are not walking alone.

Haribol, sweet soul.

mariakerwin

As a former serial entrepreneur, she turned from a workaholic in the business world to freedom and creativity, living now as a writer, creator and world traveller. Since an early age Maria is close to death and what exists beyond, courageously exploring the dimensions of existence. A Kundalini Awakening guided her into the abyss of fully surrendering to the life force itself, crushing all known aspects of her old life. Finally, it led her to her purpose of bridging both worlds, connecting to what goes beyond the ordinary.

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