It's been so rainy that it's starting to feel like England or Seattle. It's the rainiest rainy season we've had in ages, and it's not raining according to the usual rainy season pattern, where it's sunny all day till about 3 p.m., then it busts out with a big shower and clears up for the evening. No, this rainy season, or perhaps monsoon season would be more appropriate, is acting all wacko - raining all night, drizzling in the morning, cloudy for a while, then showering, then spitting for a while longer, then a balls-out cats and dogs downpour, then a big lightening and thunder show, then a soft misting for a few hours, and then raining all night long again. This is not normal Tlalocian behavior - all I can imagine is that Tlaloc the rain god is up to something and wants us to take heed. Even the mangoes that come in from the coast are all funky this year - watery and covered with black spots, mushy like they've had just plain too much rain. If mushy mangoes aren't a sign from the gods to take heed then I don't know what would be. I just keep thinking global warming, climate changes, 2012. Nikis and I keep looking at each other every time another torrent of water pours down from the sky, and we say "The world is ending!" or rather "Se va acabar el mundo!" It's a joke, of course, but with a little undercurrent of real fear, because every time you turn around there is another flood, tsunami or earthquake somewhere on the planet. I think we're fairly safe here from major calamaties - those Teotihuacanos of 2000 years ago didn't pick this spot to build their pyramids for nothing. If their buildings can last through a couple millenia of nearby earthquakes and volcanoes and floods, I think they're set for a while longer. Of course the people did abandon the place after some 800 years of use - hmm... there must have been a reason for that. I guess we'll see how the tuna crop turns out this year - that's always a definitive marker for Tlaloc's pleasure or wrath. By the way, that's not tuna the fish, but tuna the fruit from the nopal cactus - similar to a prickly pear. It's a major crop every summer around here. We can always use it as a standard by which to measure the end of the world and impending doom.
Perhaps I'm thinking of impending doom because today is my birthday. I'm 38. I'm not really anti-birthday, but I'm not exactly gungho about having a big hoohaw shindig for it either. Here you're always sort of expected to have the whole extended family over for mole and tlacoyos and a whole feast, heck, even barbequed stinky sheep if you really want to celebrate your b-day in style. But as we all know, I'm about as fond of sheep as I am of eating razors, so my parties tend to be more low-key. But somehow I have last year's birthday stuck in my memory, which I mostly spent crying. We were trying to remember why I was crying, and the only reason we could come up with was that I was quite pregnant at the time, which I guess is about as much reason as you need. So this birthday I'm just laying low - I mean who wants to go out in the rain anyway. And as much as I can get behind the whole concept of honoring my birth and my existence and all, I have to admit that I'm feeling a little bah-humbug about acting perky and happy about the shifting of time. My little inner judge both tells me "you're getting old and ugly and wrinkly - maybe you should start thinking about botox" and "you're failing on your spiritual path, because if you were more enlightened you wouldn't care about another passing year - you would be detached from the illusion of time." Its almost like I have a little Emilydevil sitting on each shoulder whispering mean things in my ear, and somehow I lost the little angel version of myself that's supposed to be sitting on at least one shoulder telling me nice things! So if I have to make a birthday wish, which I'll have to at some point because I did go out and buy myself a nice fruit tart for later, I suppose I'll wish for a reconnection to the nice voice in my head that doesn't tell lies, that doesn't do harm, that only tells the truth, and I don't mean the truth as my mind imagines it, but rather the true truth that comes from a place way bigger than I can ever imagine.
We found another scorpion the other day - it was on the wall over our bed and it was about as big as a staple. It was a baby. Even though it was so miniature it couldn't have done any harm, it left us wondering where Big Momma and all the little siblings were. I tore the whole bedroom apart looking and cleaning and scrubbing. I had to scrub anyway because with all the rain our friendly fuzzy mold problem has returned, with all kinds of tumorous growths sprouting from the walls of the bedroom, where the water leaks through the poorly sealed cinderblocks. But with all my scrubbing, I never found any other scorpions, so I have to look at it like another sign from the gods, telling me something about my root chakra, my creativity, my inner fire, something to work on in this new year of my life. The rain brings out all the scorpions - they come creeping out of the stonework - so I guess I will use the abundance of rain to water my little inner garden that is crawling with all the symbolism of these stinging creatures, poking and prodding me to wake up and smell the creativity and the power of my own self. Happy birthday and happy existence to myself then - and as they say here, may I have many more birthdays to come.
Perhaps I'm thinking of impending doom because today is my birthday. I'm 38. I'm not really anti-birthday, but I'm not exactly gungho about having a big hoohaw shindig for it either. Here you're always sort of expected to have the whole extended family over for mole and tlacoyos and a whole feast, heck, even barbequed stinky sheep if you really want to celebrate your b-day in style. But as we all know, I'm about as fond of sheep as I am of eating razors, so my parties tend to be more low-key. But somehow I have last year's birthday stuck in my memory, which I mostly spent crying. We were trying to remember why I was crying, and the only reason we could come up with was that I was quite pregnant at the time, which I guess is about as much reason as you need. So this birthday I'm just laying low - I mean who wants to go out in the rain anyway. And as much as I can get behind the whole concept of honoring my birth and my existence and all, I have to admit that I'm feeling a little bah-humbug about acting perky and happy about the shifting of time. My little inner judge both tells me "you're getting old and ugly and wrinkly - maybe you should start thinking about botox" and "you're failing on your spiritual path, because if you were more enlightened you wouldn't care about another passing year - you would be detached from the illusion of time." Its almost like I have a little Emilydevil sitting on each shoulder whispering mean things in my ear, and somehow I lost the little angel version of myself that's supposed to be sitting on at least one shoulder telling me nice things! So if I have to make a birthday wish, which I'll have to at some point because I did go out and buy myself a nice fruit tart for later, I suppose I'll wish for a reconnection to the nice voice in my head that doesn't tell lies, that doesn't do harm, that only tells the truth, and I don't mean the truth as my mind imagines it, but rather the true truth that comes from a place way bigger than I can ever imagine.
We found another scorpion the other day - it was on the wall over our bed and it was about as big as a staple. It was a baby. Even though it was so miniature it couldn't have done any harm, it left us wondering where Big Momma and all the little siblings were. I tore the whole bedroom apart looking and cleaning and scrubbing. I had to scrub anyway because with all the rain our friendly fuzzy mold problem has returned, with all kinds of tumorous growths sprouting from the walls of the bedroom, where the water leaks through the poorly sealed cinderblocks. But with all my scrubbing, I never found any other scorpions, so I have to look at it like another sign from the gods, telling me something about my root chakra, my creativity, my inner fire, something to work on in this new year of my life. The rain brings out all the scorpions - they come creeping out of the stonework - so I guess I will use the abundance of rain to water my little inner garden that is crawling with all the symbolism of these stinging creatures, poking and prodding me to wake up and smell the creativity and the power of my own self. Happy birthday and happy existence to myself then - and as they say here, may I have many more birthdays to come.
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