Meeting the Jaguar

So the jaguar told me of Wayeb. The extra days tacked onto the end. "The five days of Wayeb, are to be a dangerous time. During Wayeb, portals between the mortal realm and the underworld dissolved.” To illustrate, his black tail curved menacingly in the night air. With a quick whip it disappeared into the darkness that loomed thick behind his yellow eyes. He blinked twice disappearing completely. Then continued. “No boundaries prevent the ill-intending gods from causing disasters."

I swallowed my TUNA and blinked twice, knowing that my emulation fell far short. It was my effort to show my casual inattentiveness. I licked my shoulder feigning distraction, but I was as much mesmerized as any small house cat would be in the presences of his sleek power. His muscles rippled beneath a silk black coat that was poured from darkness and mystery. The jaguar, a piece of my ancestral DNA.

This was my quest. To search for the answers to the end of time. What will happen on December 21, 2012 when the Mayan Calendar ends? Deep into a Mexican jungle I had wandered to find the answer.

After a copter ride to Tulum I couldn’t just leave the “are you kidding me” beaches of the Caribbean. Visions of employing myself as a pirate cat danced through my tiny cat head. Alas, borne 100 years too late and half way around the world from the Somali Coast (Thank God). Yet, it was tough to stay on mission and drag my little cat tail into the jungles.

Tulum is a place where Goddess could retire. But who am I kidding. She hasn’t had a real job since 2003. She ain’t retiring. The Tulum archaeological site is relatively compact compared with many other Maya sites in the vicinity, and is one of the best-preserved coastal Maya sites. Its proximity to the modern tourism developments along the Mexican Caribbean coastline and its short distance from Cancún and the surrounding "Riviera Maya" has make it a popular Maya tourist site in the Yucatan. Popularity doesn’t preserve secrets so I had to leave the coast to find my answers.

I sure could have used a machete. Being a slim and agile cat skilled in jumping trains and stowing away on cargo ships was of little help in navigating the tight flora weave. And the further I pushed into the jungle, the denser it became.

Sooner or later I knew I would stumble upon him. Later was desired, but I knew I would have to face the inevitable. I stumbled through vine and thicket knowing I wasn’t really going to find him. He was going to find me. And one night, after the full moon had begun to wan, I found two glowing beads hovering in the voided stillness. His golden eyes staring at me. It had just rained. I was soaked and he was dry.

And for all his power and all his mystery his name was Foster. I tried my best not to snicker. “My little Diablo, what is your quest?” A voice as silky as his hide. (Was I expecting him to sound like Denis Leary?) He knew where I was from and why I was there. Suddenly, I felt as if I had climbed the mountain and found a cross-egged shaman who knew the answer to life.

His presence made me stutter. I know that’s going to ruin my reputation. “Um, iiiit’s a ttttime thing. The peeps want to know the deal with the Mayan Calendar. I was sent on the mission to find the answers.”

Do you know what he told me?

Next blog, peeps. Next blog.