The Aztecs, masters of metaphor and cosmic symbolism, had a curious nickname for gold and silver: teocuitlatl, or “excrement of the gods.” This phrase, recorded in 16th-century codices, wasn’t a diss—it reflected their belief that precious metals were physical remnants of celestial beings, expelled during sacred acts of creation. Imagine the Sun God Tonatiuh sweating gold as he labored across the sky, or the Earth deity Tlaltecuhtli “releasing” silver during earthquakes. To the Aztecs, these metals were divine leftovers, imbued with spiritual power but also tied to earthly decay.
Why such a visceral metaphor? In Mesoamerican cosmology, waste wasn’t merely gross—it was cyclical. Just as human waste fertilized crops, divine “excrement” enriched the Earth. Gold, associated with the sun’s brilliance, and silver, linked to the moon’s glow, symbolized the gods’ ongoing participation in the natural world. Spanish chronicler Bernardino de Sahagún noted that Aztec artisans used teocuitlatl in rituals and art, crafting intricate jewelry for nobles and statues of deities. The term highlighted their origin story, not their value.
But don’t mistake this as disdain. The Aztecs highly prized gold and silver for their beauty and rarity, trading them across empires and using them in tribute payments. However, unlike Europeans, they didn’t see these metals as inherently monetary. Gold was a sacred material for honoring gods, not a currency. When the Spanish arrived, obsessed with hoarding teocuitlatl, Aztecs were baffled. To them, the conquistadors’ greed for “divine poop” was as absurd as worshiping sewage.
The humor here is cosmic irony. While Europeans melted Aztec gold into coins, the original owners saw it as a spiritual relic—a reminder that even gods have biological functions. Modern comparisons might equate it to calling cash “dirty money,” but for the Aztecs, the term was literal. They’d likely chuckle at today’s gold markets, where traders bid on divine excretions.
Scholars debate whether teocuitlatl referred strictly to metals or included other sacred substances. Yet the phrase underscores a worldview where nothing was too mundane for cosmic significance. Even today, Mexico’s coat of arms—an eagle clutching a snake atop a cactus—echoes this blend of earthly and divine, though it skips the scatological references.
So, did the Aztecs scoff at gold? No. They just had a flair for poetic grossness. Their “excrement” was a bridge between heaven and Earth, a reminder that the sacred and the messy coexist. Next time you see gold jewelry, remember: it’s not just bling. It’s godly leftovers—proof that even deities need to take out the trash.
