Day breaks as the EuroStar barrels out of the Euro tunnel, hurrying us through France via Lille, then up to Brussels. Today is the end of the world, and I feel a little bit better out from under the weight of the North Sea.
Call it superstitious, but we did see a Mayan exhibit at the British Museum, and as far as their calendar and the survivalists are concerned, it’s the end of something. Personally, I think we’ve totally misinterpreted the whole shebang given that today is also the winter solstice, meaning the darkest day of the year, meaning also that tomorrow, light ushers back into our lives as the days lengthen and I am, once again, happy.
Back to the winter solstice–if we review human history and note that most of our celebrations, culminating events, and so on–yes, even in Christianity–mirror astronomical seasons and auspicious events, it seems fitting that a colossal end of something as predicted by a people of the northern hemisphere coincides with, yes, the solstice.
Enter in the idea that today the earth actually changes out of one constellation–Pisces, or, the little Jesus fish–and into Aquarius, and you’ve got yourself a hit song about entering into the Age of Aquarius. As a friend of a friend writes,
We sang about the dawning of the Age of Aquarius in our youth and the Aquarian/Mayan shift today predicts movement away from old fear-based habits to allow us to imagine a whole new reality for ourselves. A reality based on hope rather than despair, of abundance rather than lack, of peace rather than war, of contentedness rather than yearning, of connectedness rather than separation. (Eric Rankin: The Aquarians).
So, rally on party people, as maybe it totally is the end of the world and maybe being on a high speed bullet train between London and Brussels isn’t too terribly bad of a place to be, even if it did mean that the three of us roused at the crack of dawn to make it for customs at 7:30, train at 8:00.