The band, the horrible band, played last night until four a.m. right beneath us and people partied all night long and it was pretty funny, especially when they did Jimi Hendrix, but sort of horrible too.
Well, we were awake at midnight.
Today the sea is beautiful and that's a happy new years right there. May it always forgive us, this sea. May we all be forgiven our sins, no matter how large or small, even if the sins are not really sins, but small omissions and commissions, and may we find peace.
I dreamed the other night of my basement full of the ghosts of the Titanic and all of their clothing and jewelry and everything, just as it was the night it sank, THAT dream, and I went down and I yelled at all the ghosts to leave and I called someone from a history department to come and get rid of everything, EVERYTHING.
I don't know if that means anything and right now I don't know anything but what I do know is that I don't have to know. And as soon as I am quite sure that I have uncovered a truth, it is revealed to the sand under the shifting water, always moving, always changing, but beautiful in every weather, or at least it is if I perceive it to be so.
Guess what I learned yesterday at Las Ruinas? That Ixchel, besides being the goddess of everything almost was also the giver-of-writing to people.
The moon, childbirth, weaving, sex, the sea, writing.
That she is portrayed as the young woman with the rabbit who lives in the moon, as the mother, and as the crone.
Guess which one I am?
They partied until four here, people. They danced and they sang and they ate and they drank and they blew on noise-makers and I laid in my bed above them and I did none of those things because we were tired and had driven around the island and walked the ruins, my feet walked on the sacred white way of the sacbes and I saw the altars to Ixchel and I was the crone.
Mother Crone?
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year Mary. I've just been reading up and catching up and I've missed you. Cozumel, what a beautiful place you are giving us.
ReplyDeletelove, d
Surely being the crone means you are all of it. All you've been and are.
ReplyDeleteI need to call History Department and tell them to take EVERYTHING too! Brilliant! All the drowned relics of other people's tragedies. Take 'em away, I don't need 'em.
Ah, yes.....to continue Jo's very perceptive thought.........all the drowned relics of your own tragedies....Take 'em away.....you don't need them anymore
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year to you Mary! How you even attempted to sleep with the noise below sounds daunting.
ReplyDeleteI would have been up snapping photos. Or not-- even 4AM is too much for me. 2AM is not bad.
ReplyDeleteHola, fellow Crone. May your year be full of Crone-ish events and long life and Owen and your beloved chickens and your family and the whole catastrophe.
ReplyDeleteLove and kisses,
Beth
I think we are for ever all three in some capacity, although usually more one that any other... but I am feeling much the Crone myself these days.
ReplyDeleteChecked in with Hank and all is well. He sounds like he is enjoying his time in the country.
Continue enjoying. xoxo
and you maybe thought they wouldn't party until the sun came up?
ReplyDeleteIt is a young people's world in so many ways. But then there is the way of the crone who stumbles into a young people's world. She takes note and moves on within her world as well as there's and carries love and peace to every world in this new year of ours.
Happy New Year, Lovely.
ReplyDeletexo