I used to search far and wide for myths and rituals because I thought my modern lifestyle had stripped the mystery from life and made it cold and calculable.
What a gigantic idiot I was to think that!
Now it’s obvious to me that there are myths everywhere I look. Love, friendship, America, entertainment, the morning and the night, transportation, being bored and being interested, being lonely or being together, the Arm, the Leg, the eye, the hand, the brain, the heart, the New, the Old, the Family… They are all stories that make no sense but capture the imagination, black holes with event horizons that zap crackle and zotz us with energy.
I have to say if myth is to prose as ritual is to action, then there are even more rituals. Talking is a ritual. A birthday party is a ritual. A late night walk with a friend is a ritual. A kiss is a ritual.
What do they mean? Why do we do them? They bind us together, they enact our relationship with the unknown, they embody our contradictions, they make and unmake the Great Work of Time.
And if that were not mysterious enough who is to say that my kiss means the same as her kiss? Or that my kiss today means what my kiss did when I was a child, or yesterday, or a moment ago?