By Judith Gayle | Political Waves
You say you’re disappointed that sparks didn’t shoot out yer — ummm — ears on 12/12? And you’re not so sure what the big deal is about 12/21, anyhow, although you’ve stocked up on candles and asked around about whether or not the world will just wink out, the big cosmic plug pulled by an Unseen Hand? Do you know people who are desperate to get right with God during these last days of this twelfth year of the century, pre-Apocalypse, or some that are partying hard with an “eat, drink, be merry” attitude, defiantly spitting in the eye of the fates? Are any of those people you?
I’d think that the relative calm with which the remaining Mayans are anticipating this juncture would comfort the inquisitive, but we just can’t deny that thrill-seeker reflex driving us, our love of danger threaded with fear and loathing that is both learned and instinctual. We really do court things that go bump in the night, even the thought of our own demise: we find it somehow compelling, mysterious, romantic. Even vaguely erotic. The master of suspense, director Alfred Hitchcock, reminded us that people ” … like to put their toe in the cold water of fear,” but those were less surrealistic times. Now, after a dozen years of stunning irrationality based on our dark imaginings, I think it’s time to pull our foot out and dry off.
On the last date to fall in sequence (12/12/12) for the next thousand years, people rushed to marry and women in labor rooms across the planet were urged to push that puppy out on so auspicious a day. NASA, still doing mysterious things we don’t pay much attention to, took a photo of Gaia at precisely 12 UTC, the big blue marble as lovely as ever, to commemorate the occasion. Spooky or spiritual topics rarely discussed on television, were; and on a personal note, my grandson celebrated a birthday and my telephone rang off the hook in celebration of a long-anticipated stargate.