Smile. Flash!

Like many other mornings in my life, I woke up to my dad's voice hurrying me along so that we would make it in time for our engagement. The warmth of my skin under the covers and the sluggishness of my tired muscles kept me from getting out of bed — on top of which my ears conspired by trying to block out his calls coming from the other side of the door. It wasn't until one curious little eye peeked out from under the sheets, thus betraying the rest of my body, that I was seduced by the day herself. An atmospheric amber streamed through the half-open curtain, infusing the morning light with its sweet honey flavor. Its message crept in from my pupil and up to my brain, convincing me that it would be a beautiful morning.

My dad and I had agreed to meet Monserrat at eight o'clock, a passionate storyteller and guardian of Hualpalcalco, to avoid the midday heat during the tour. Throughout our trip, we've gotten used to taking the Sun into account when planning for activities, depending on whether we want to avoid it or take advantage of it. It's not something I used to think about on such a daily basis back when I spent a lot more time indoors. However, in Huapalcalco I became more aware of the importance of this relationship between the sunlight and its Earthly receptors, which is one that has persisted since the beginning of time.

At first glance, the place's mysticism and syncretism met all of my expectations for a beautiful morning. It's undoubtedly photogenic, and from certain angles you could even capture the pre-Hispanic pyramid, the prehistoric hills, the Franciscan cathedral, and the modern city of Tulancingo in a single shot.

Though currently referred to by its name in Nahuatl, which means "wooden house," it has been the refuge, temple, and classroom of many, many other tribes and families — human and others — whose footprints still adorn the place. Among the various cave paintings that we could see, there are two slightly larger ones that stand out on each hill, depicting the Sun and the Moon. Monserrat told us that according to Nahuatl mythology, the universe was created from light and darkness, and that they called this primal duality which gave life to the world Ometéotl .

Honestly, I don't know much about the Nahuatl worldview, but in general I understand that the Mesoamerican peoples are recognized for their fascination with the sky and all its quandaries. So much so that within cliffs of Huapalcalco, there is a very special cave that during certain moments of the winter solstice, allows the sun rays to illuminate it completely due to its position. Monserrat told us about an unforgettable December 24th when her family came to visit from Guanajuato and dispersed themselves throughout the hills, each with their own cell phone and camera at the ready, to search for the exact point where this phenomenon occurred. I enjoyed imagining what a beautiful Christmas present they must've found. A natural light show so ephemeral that it only lasted a few minutes. On this occasion, we didn't get to see it, but we were very tempted to take up Monserrat's offer of coming back at the end of the year.

This beautiful painting was interpreted by the artist without ever witnessing the event,

based purely on the descriptions of locals.

Standing in front of the cliffs, with their incredible view towards the horizon, I thought a lot about these people from the past. Their skills and knowledge derived simply from observation and experience. Without our current technologies and devices, the natural world, enigmas and all, was their only teacher. Whomever happened to be in that cave at that precise moment of the year became a student of Light. But, what exactly can Light teach us?

Well for starters, Light is the true teacher of Time, given that through her instructions the first calendars were transcribed. In fact, Light is so punctual that she is still the basis for all of our measurements of time: the time of day, as well as the months and seasons within the year.

Nowadays we seem to have lost touch with her due to our reliance on clocks and artificial lighting, but how many times have we not noticed the time until we look out the window and see that the sky has already darkened? How many times have we not woken up late because the curtains blocked the morning rays of light, our natural alarm clock? Who hasn't been thrown off or disoriented by the time change because the lighting outside no longer matches what our digital clocks dictate?

Something I've noticed lately is that when I pay attention to the changes of light, be it at sunrise or sunset, the rest of my day flows differently. On the one hand, they're undeniably beautiful to witness, but on the other hand, I also feel like I'm somehow synchronizing with some universal rhythm. The Nahuatl people who lived in Huapalcalco surely knew about this. Wild animals always seem to be well in tune with the different cycles of light. Plants even more, since they literally feed themselves off it. But there's another kind of bizarre species that's also very perceptive to the quality of light throughout the day, and I happen to be traveling with two of them ...

Photographers.

To tell you the truth, almost every time my dad wakes me up and rushes me in the morning, our commitment is actually with the Light. You gotta hurry because the Light waits for no one. That's why photographers are always chasing after the best lighting, or waiting for those first rays of twilight, or hunting the famous Golden Hour.

Photography is all about capturing the moment before it escapes, which is why it becomes a game against Light and Time. Come to think of it, the whole concept sounds a lot like those caves our ancestors used to trap the light momentarily, only now people do it with smaller, portable caves we call cameras.

I grew up , which is probably from where I inherited that curious little eye that keeps getting me out of bed. And just like every other morning, I have to admit it was worth it. Because life is about the moment and the universe lights up each one.

Smile. Flash!

I want to thank my favorite photographers Alex and Mariana ... from whom I learn daily to appreciate the beauty of the moment, and whom so beautifully capture those we get to share. I also want to thank all these new places I've encountered, that like any good teacher, has left me with the task of something new to think about and reflect upon. If you ever get the chance to visit Huapalcalco or to travel with photographers, I highly recommend them both!