dont start

This is the part of the year where the solar calendar (20 days a month) and the lunar calendar (30) come to a close, ending at a total of 360 days, and the last 5 days are the Dead Days.  It's good news for those of us who spend a lot of time getting news, advice, and especially recipes, from the ones who have gone before.  It's also the time when some of the traditional Mayan people know the gods are out walking, and its their domain now, this surface of the earth, and the best thing to do is stay indoors and eat well.  And also not have sex and not get angry, because those things are too hot for these days.

I'm not Mayan or Mayab and not one of the H-Men in their worlds, so I don't have to worry about following all the prescriptions.  This is also good news, because one of my favorite presents is a mask that covers up my face except for the eyes.  It's white and has roses on the top, and there are so many possibilities. 

I'm a little skittish, though, because every time I try to imagine anything with masks, it starts off very interesting, then somewhere in there, I am asking, "Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry, did that hurt?  We can just go get coffee if this is too weird," and that ends everything for everyone.  I understand all the implications, and the main one is that it's only happening in my head, which should mean something. 

But at the end of a year with so many things that have happened in my head, I'm learning how to listen to it a little more, the things that are true, and separate them from the imagined problems and hurts, and not get so angry at myself for saying and doing things I didn't say or do, and also forgiving anyone else for things they may have said or done, or not done.  What upsets me is only a problem in my own mind, and this is certainly good news.

It's not very easy, though, in the season where Pan walks by my doorway every morning telling me there is something to do out there, and Oshun visits every night with her black birds to tell me that I am supposed to leave it all up to her.  It's not easy.  Not because I am tied to those old definitions of m-f that say I am supposed to be the active principle, and the sun, and the seed, and the aggressive one (these things are true, and they're true for everyone, but the game plays out much better when I take that up, because, I don't know why because, when I want things to happen they tend to work out better when I make them happen, and anything else usually means I've given up).  Not because I am possessed with a life that is full of grieving and loss, although that's true for me as much as anyone (although there are things with me that are connected to the graveyard that make these things more grave with me).  It's not easy because, for all the things that happened in my mind, the ones that took place in the world that other people participate in have made me want to stop and look closer.

Looking closer always gives me a sense of want and longing, and it's impossible to break out of that kind of absinthe spell, and probably because I am not supposed to break free, but figure out the trick of how to live there, or at least visit, or at least open my doors to it.  And I think that saying my door is open is not enough, because it's not true, because it's not really an open door.  I hold it shut even though I think it's open, because the last person to pass through that door made me stop and pay attention, because that's what happens when something important is happening and I am paying attention.  I was.

The best way to put a love spell on someone is to tell them you like them, and the best ritual for opening a door is to open the door.  This is not a good time for starting any new things.  This comes as very good news to anyone who suspects that something is not done.  So I try to smoke a cigar through a mask without a mouth, and sit on a porch in front of a house that isn't mine, and whenever I get an itch to make spells in the kitchen, there are black birds who come to my feet and remind me that I need to leave the spells up to them, and wait for Pan's advice on how to get through another night, and remember that we are not gods, even though there were moments where it certainly seemed as though immortality were immanent.  This is a revolution, after all.  The best thing that could happen is that we don't lose, and that we don't win, but make room for something utterly unexpected.  That's what we are when we're heroes.  Utterly unexpected.


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