During the darkest day of the year, the Aztecs used to remove a beating heart from a strong and vigorous person, and ,commend this sacrifice to entice the sun to reverse its course and begin to shine upon the world again.
Our sun is not so demanding. Our sun only requires that time flows. There is no time without change. And there is no change without ...CHANGE.
We grow older. (We lose our youth.)
Relationships wax and wane..
Dear ones depart this world.
We lose our parents.
We lose our dogs.
Our babies grow up.
Sacrifices are extracted from us.
Chunks of our beating hearts, ceded to time,
So that the sun will slowly return.
And it will, because time has extracted its due.
Tomorrow, the sun is newborn.
When you are in the dark, Light becomes astonishing.
Midwinter.
The seeds of Spring and Summer are in the soil. There will be flowers!
New babies.
New puppies.
Bring it!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
So whats the deal with the Snakes?
I like snakes.
they have a grace in simplicity. If one doesn't need legs, Legs become ugly.
I like the country where snakes live. Its not green soft and smooth. The Snakes I'm thinking of, live in dry hard country where nearly everything is spiny, or bites. or stings. One takes nothing for granted. One is not fed any reassuring falsehoods.
A rattlesnake seems honest to me, as honest as any creature, and far more honest than most folks.
When you see a rattling pit-viper, your gut knows long before your mind does, that you'd best have a care.
No doubts about it. No flowery promises from Don Cascabel. He is exactly how he appears to be. He doesn't promise you eternal love , but he also doesn't condemn your soul to an eternity of torment and fire if you neglect to eternally love him back , or if you are gay , or if you eat pork, or lust in your heart, or miss Mass.
Snake doesn't promise you everlasting life , but encountering snake reminds you that life can and will be curtailed at some sudden time.
See a snake. Be alive now
In the lore of North American indigenous peoples in arid lands, where water is life , snakes are tied to the bringing of rain. killing a snake is what causes drought. Snakes are venerated. Loved. Greeted respectfully and left unmolested.
The indigenous peoples of Mexico hail snakes as their creators, and saviors of mankind. (During the flood, snakes wove themselves together to form a raft for all the people.). Noah was a total no-show for those guys.
The hills surrounding Mexico's fertile valleys are huge creator snakes, yet sleeping.
The Huichol people of Northern Mexico know snakes as messengers.
Worthy messengers they are. Who can ignore a rattlesnake. He shows himself , he has your attention.
Last night I encountered a middling sized Crotalis viridis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crotalus_viridis) seeking to warm itself on a road, just after sunset.
I nudged it gently with my foot to encourage it to remove itself from the dangerous pavement. Its head turned slowly towards me,but low , as if it seemed to take my measure. Very slowly and with as gentle a heart as I could muster, I reached down , way down, watching , very much watching the snakes' response. I put my index finger under its belly and felt it move over my skin. It was warm. There was no tension in its movements. I put my middle finger , and then my ring finger under the snake . I lifted about half an inch and scooted Don Cascabel toward the roadside with my fingers.
I've been vibrating pleasantly ever since. I don't know what the message was, but I think it was a good one.
Thank you snake. I hope we meet again.
Be careful of traffic. We don't need another drought.
Snakes dont have ears. They hear with their whole bodies.
they have a grace in simplicity. If one doesn't need legs, Legs become ugly.
I like the country where snakes live. Its not green soft and smooth. The Snakes I'm thinking of, live in dry hard country where nearly everything is spiny, or bites. or stings. One takes nothing for granted. One is not fed any reassuring falsehoods.
A rattlesnake seems honest to me, as honest as any creature, and far more honest than most folks.
When you see a rattling pit-viper, your gut knows long before your mind does, that you'd best have a care.
No doubts about it. No flowery promises from Don Cascabel. He is exactly how he appears to be. He doesn't promise you eternal love , but he also doesn't condemn your soul to an eternity of torment and fire if you neglect to eternally love him back , or if you are gay , or if you eat pork, or lust in your heart, or miss Mass.
Snake doesn't promise you everlasting life , but encountering snake reminds you that life can and will be curtailed at some sudden time.
See a snake. Be alive now
In the lore of North American indigenous peoples in arid lands, where water is life , snakes are tied to the bringing of rain. killing a snake is what causes drought. Snakes are venerated. Loved. Greeted respectfully and left unmolested.
The indigenous peoples of Mexico hail snakes as their creators, and saviors of mankind. (During the flood, snakes wove themselves together to form a raft for all the people.). Noah was a total no-show for those guys.
The hills surrounding Mexico's fertile valleys are huge creator snakes, yet sleeping.
The Huichol people of Northern Mexico know snakes as messengers.
Worthy messengers they are. Who can ignore a rattlesnake. He shows himself , he has your attention.
Last night I encountered a middling sized Crotalis viridis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crotalus_viridis) seeking to warm itself on a road, just after sunset.
I nudged it gently with my foot to encourage it to remove itself from the dangerous pavement. Its head turned slowly towards me,but low , as if it seemed to take my measure. Very slowly and with as gentle a heart as I could muster, I reached down , way down, watching , very much watching the snakes' response. I put my index finger under its belly and felt it move over my skin. It was warm. There was no tension in its movements. I put my middle finger , and then my ring finger under the snake . I lifted about half an inch and scooted Don Cascabel toward the roadside with my fingers.
I've been vibrating pleasantly ever since. I don't know what the message was, but I think it was a good one.
Thank you snake. I hope we meet again.
Be careful of traffic. We don't need another drought.
Snakes dont have ears. They hear with their whole bodies.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Maximon , The bad boy Saint of Guatemala
Mah-shee Moan. The name is probably derived from a Mayan God of the underworld, called Ma-am.
San Simon is his Christian name, though he is not recognized by The Church.( "The Church" always means the Roman CatholicChurch in Colonial Latin America, Though lately aggressive evangelicals are making the colonial Catholic Empire seem gentle.)
The Church had once thought to rehabilitate Maximon. They attempted a make-over by naming him for the apostle Simon-Peter.
At a (not much) later date,The Church thought better of it, and ordered its Priests to destroy any Maximon images.
Thus Maximon , San Simon went underground. His effigy and surrounding shrine is moved yearly to a different chosen household.
The reason for Maximon's continued popularity under under The Church's strong disapproval may lie in the rituals of his veneration. One shows one's devotion to Maximon by drinking beer or liquor with him in his shrine. If one has a special favor to ask Maximon, one sets out for a long night of worshipping in the shrine with a LOT of spirits or beer. Other pious devouts of Maximon will be sure to join the worship. There will probably be singing and dancing if it goes on long enough.
The Church, noticing that parishioners were spending a lot more time with Maximon than in the pews, tried another approach. They taught that Maximom (alias St Simon) was really Judas Iscariot, the very bad apostle.
As a response, ,Maximon's followers cheerfully dress him up in his Sunday best, take him out of his shrine and hang him in from the church building every Easter season.
This is not a conflict for Maximon, or for those that love him devoutly. Its well known among them that Mayan Gods of the Underworld do not stay dead. So really, a hanging is no big deal.
Maximon alias San Simon alias Judas Iscariot is an outlaw saint ,unauthorized, but nevertheless popular for his miracle working properties, and his love for alcoholic drink, and cigarettes. And most notably,for his outstanding lusts.
He is sometimes called, "our grandfather, and is represented by a manikin of sorts made of a bundle of rags , wrapped around an ancient green stone carved as a heart. No one ever sees the stone heart.
He wears a wooden mask, and sports old fashioned western clothes, a hat , and usually sunglasses.'
He's got a wicked sense of humor. One of Maximon's tricks is turn into a beautiful woman and in that form offer food and drink, and pleasures of the flesh., to unsuspecting men. At the culmination of his love-making, Maximon returns to his old man form and laughs at his gravely disappointed lovers.
The food and drink he offered will have become piss and feces.
Do not piss off Maximon. Drink up.
Maximon has following in his native Guatemala.....and also a small but devoted cult in Melbourne , Australia.
Yes. Melbourne, Australia. I dont know how this came about , but I suspect it is tied to the rituals of his veneration which are particularly popular in Australia.
Maximon has a facebook page ! Now EVERYONE can venerate him.
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Maxim%C3%B3n-San-Sim%C3%B3n/34289107373
San Simon is his Christian name, though he is not recognized by The Church.( "The Church" always means the Roman CatholicChurch in Colonial Latin America, Though lately aggressive evangelicals are making the colonial Catholic Empire seem gentle.)
The Church had once thought to rehabilitate Maximon. They attempted a make-over by naming him for the apostle Simon-Peter.
At a (not much) later date,The Church thought better of it, and ordered its Priests to destroy any Maximon images.
Thus Maximon , San Simon went underground. His effigy and surrounding shrine is moved yearly to a different chosen household.
The reason for Maximon's continued popularity under under The Church's strong disapproval may lie in the rituals of his veneration. One shows one's devotion to Maximon by drinking beer or liquor with him in his shrine. If one has a special favor to ask Maximon, one sets out for a long night of worshipping in the shrine with a LOT of spirits or beer. Other pious devouts of Maximon will be sure to join the worship. There will probably be singing and dancing if it goes on long enough.
The Church, noticing that parishioners were spending a lot more time with Maximon than in the pews, tried another approach. They taught that Maximom (alias St Simon) was really Judas Iscariot, the very bad apostle.
As a response, ,Maximon's followers cheerfully dress him up in his Sunday best, take him out of his shrine and hang him in from the church building every Easter season.
This is not a conflict for Maximon, or for those that love him devoutly. Its well known among them that Mayan Gods of the Underworld do not stay dead. So really, a hanging is no big deal.
Maximon alias San Simon alias Judas Iscariot is an outlaw saint ,unauthorized, but nevertheless popular for his miracle working properties, and his love for alcoholic drink, and cigarettes. And most notably,for his outstanding lusts.
He is sometimes called, "our grandfather, and is represented by a manikin of sorts made of a bundle of rags , wrapped around an ancient green stone carved as a heart. No one ever sees the stone heart.
He wears a wooden mask, and sports old fashioned western clothes, a hat , and usually sunglasses.'
He's got a wicked sense of humor. One of Maximon's tricks is turn into a beautiful woman and in that form offer food and drink, and pleasures of the flesh., to unsuspecting men. At the culmination of his love-making, Maximon returns to his old man form and laughs at his gravely disappointed lovers.
The food and drink he offered will have become piss and feces.
Do not piss off Maximon. Drink up.
Maximon has following in his native Guatemala.....and also a small but devoted cult in Melbourne , Australia.
Yes. Melbourne, Australia. I dont know how this came about , but I suspect it is tied to the rituals of his veneration which are particularly popular in Australia.
Maximon has a facebook page ! Now EVERYONE can venerate him.
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Maxim%C3%B3n-San-Sim%C3%B3n/34289107373
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Equinox
Tomorrow, here in the Northern hemisphere , The hours of darkness will be equal to the hours of light.
We'll be half way from the lightest days to the darkest days. We're only Halfway, for an instant , before our half of the Earth will be increasingly driven toward the dark, and the cold.
The Paiute people who lived right here , in the northern Great Basin, would only tell certain stories , the Coyote stories , The chaos stories, during the months when thunder slept.
This will be a good season to tell what I know , and what I've learned about those other Gods
Stay tuned.
We'll be half way from the lightest days to the darkest days. We're only Halfway, for an instant , before our half of the Earth will be increasingly driven toward the dark, and the cold.
The Paiute people who lived right here , in the northern Great Basin, would only tell certain stories , the Coyote stories , The chaos stories, during the months when thunder slept.
This will be a good season to tell what I know , and what I've learned about those other Gods
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
a lying god
Because there is no light without darkness. Anyone who tells you different is lying.
Its been lying too long. Lets have a little darkness for a change
Its been lying too long. Lets have a little darkness for a change
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Peacock Angel
Yezidi are a sect of Kurdish people from Northern Iraq .
This is the story of how they came to follow the Peacock Angel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A shepherd was bringing his sheep home after a days grazing, to a cave in the mountains where they bed for the nights.
As he drove the ewes and lambs into the shelter, the sky was split by lightning.
The ground quivered. The mountains roared. The shepherd looked up, and prayed for his life.
There he saw a fierce angel standing in the sky, bearing a terrible huge spear in one hand, and a ratty blue bundle in the other. The whole sky seemed to turn inside-out, as the angel hurled the ragged blue object to the earth below.
Wind toppled trees. The valley shook.
Then it became calm again.
The sheep settled.
Cicadas buzzed.
The shepherd stood up, and looked down into the valley. He saw an object more brilliantly blue than anything on earth until that time. He walked toward the color, and saw that it was a beautiful bird. A peacock.
The bird was barely alive. The shepherd wrapped the beautiful dying bird in his coat, and took it to a stream where he washed its wounds. He carried it to his cave shelter. He sang songs to the bird. He dropped warm ewes milk from his fingers into the bird's mouth. He tended the ruined peacock all night long. The bird wept. The shepherd wiped the tears.
In the morning, the peacock was recovered. The peacock spoke to the shepherd. He said, " Don't be afraid. You showed me kindness so I will bless you and all of your children."
"What are you?" asked the shepherd.
"I am the Spirit of Evil", said the bird. "I was thrown out of heaven by my brother, the Spirit of Good. Heaven has conquered me. I must continue here on earth. I will spread sorrow among people. I will plant conflict in their hearts. Teach your children to react gently toward evil, as you have done to me. Be compassionate towards evil, in yourselves and in others. Always sing songs to me. Tend me , as you tended me last night."
The Peacock Angel rose and flew away.
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