“Do nothing which is of no use.” It wasn’t the jaguar who said that. I had come so far to seek so much. The Jaguar knew it too.
The Solstice on December 21, 2012—precisely at 11:11 AM Universal Time—marks the completion of the 5,125 year Great Cycle of the Ancient Maya Long Count Calendar. Depending on who you talk to, (and I was talking to Foster, the Jaguar) some living Maya (and there are about 7 millions of them) believe the 2012 date to be of critical importance. Others, not so much.
He yawned revealing a canyon of teeth, pinnacle monuments to dentistry. “Believe the stories you will,” Foster continued. “Before the end of times you will see the USA's imposed deadline for Iran to cease its nuke development pass. That date is 9/21/2012. What will happen then? The USA has not said. Given the current administration we can expect a strict embargo on pistachio nuts.”
My jaw dropped open. We all know how I would feel about pistachio nuts. Iran exports pistachio nuts like the Pacific coughs up TUNA.
Foster asked if I saw the correlation. “No, not really,” I said.
If I could blush I guess I would have.
“In the expression 'end of the world' the 'world' refers to a cycle. 2012 is the completion of the 26,000 year Precession of the Equinoxes cycle, and some say it also signifies the end of a 104,000 year cycle. But none of that matters. Our moving through with either resistance or acceptance will determine nothing. What will happen will be cataclysmic changes. O gradual peace and tranquility. Or nothing much.” He licked his paw.
I sat listening to where I was. In the jungle rain sounds like cold pancake batter poured on a hot griddle. The world droops; every leaf hangs low under the weight of the water. I shivered in my wet coat and yet the jaguar remained dry. He sensed I was not satisfied.
Foster held up one claw. It gleamed under the dark jungle canopy. From where the light came I did not know. The jaguar began slowly, sounding mysteriously like Jack Palance, “Do you know what the secret of life is?”
The jaguar ignored my dim-witted response. He continued, “One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don’t mean shit.”
I didn’t want to insult him. One swipe of his paw which matched the whole size of me and I would find myself sliced into five little filets. “Excuse me, Foster, but you are beginning to sound like a movie. What is that one thing?”
His eyes seemed to brighten. He released a low purr that sounded like the rumble of distance thunder. “That’s what you have to figure out.”
Heck, I already knew what my one thing in life was. It wasn’t in that jungle. It didn’t matter what might happen on December 21. There was no concern about the Mayan Calendar. The "one thing" is the concern and that my friend is what you do with your life. It is making the most of today.
For me? My one thing? It's TUNA. I'd damn good at eating TUNA. It is of great use. The rest doesn't mean shit.
Some might ask why this revelation was so depressing. Come on? Pistachio nuts?