My gods gave birth to your god
Why I’ve always stylized myself as a solo pagan. Which is why I’m so fond of what I call “Meso – American – Catholicism.”
Used to be, when I lived over on the East Side, there was a certain grocery store I frequented. I didn’t buy a lot of groceries there, but they had the most fabulous collection of candles, a saint for just about everything. Including a little sprinkling of Caribbean flavors. Something for everyone. A junior deity for just about every task.
“No, don’t bother the Big Guy, just invoke one the more appropriate fellers….”
So anyway, this has nothing to do with a Virgo day, which it was. Days actually have flavors. I looked, Moon was Cancer, Venus, headed to Taurus, Mercury RX in Taurus.
But wandering through downtown Austin, it was Virgo barista, a Virgo phone call, then, in passing, a Virgo driving a truck. I whistled, she waved.
Mr. “don’t call me dude, dude” Gemini drops by for BBQ. We meander around the countryside, into a Rudy’s, and sitting at one of the tables, there’s a Virgo bookseller, a gentleman of some good repute. I chatted with him briefly, lamenting the loss of his retail establishment, as I found his literary advice and recommendations always on the mark.
The gods were smiling, in one of those oblique, Virgo ways. Made no sense, but then, in matters of tastes and politics, lots of times nothing makes any sense.
