Mardi Gras
“To
encapsulate the notion of Mardi Gras as nothing more than a big drunk
is to take the simple and stupid way out, and I, for one, am getting
tired of staying stuck on simple and stupid.”
Chris Rose
(1 Dead in Attic: Post-Katrina Stories)
I confess, I have never
been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I know, unbelievable, right! As a
resident of Alabama, I'm required to mention that Mobile actually has
the oldest Mardi Gras celebration in the US. I haven't been to it
either. I am told that the Big Easy's Mardi Gras parade is a cultural
phenomenon on a grand scale, and I enjoy hearing other people's
stories about the wild parties, the eccentric costumes, the girls
flashing their proud-parts in the French Quarter, extra loud music,
hairy men parading in flashy dresses. Yeah...somehow, the more I
hear, the less appealing it is.
I do remember as a child
being handed a small box on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. We were
supposed to give up something for Lent and put the money we would
spend on it into the box. On Easter, we paraded up to the altar rail
and put our boxes into a basket as a donation to the church. I always
gave up my daily Mallow Cup candy bar, which I believe cost about a
dime back in the good old days. Other than that small acknowledgment of
the liturgical season, Lent meant nothing to me, though I did get new
shoes for Easter—that was pretty special.
I think Mardi Gras is
supposed to be more than a big drunken binge, though it has possibly
devolved into that. I think it is supposed to be a Dionysian
celebration of gratitude for all the goodness life has to offer—the
grapes, the fatted calf, the sweet cakes. I think it was meant to be
a celebration of lush fertility, of physical love and joy, and
unrestrained merriment. All of which were prelude to forty days of
sacrifice and fasting leading up to Good Friday. We seem to have
accelerated and accentuated the merriment, and lost the fasting and
sacrifice, but maybe I'm just stuck on simple and stupid.
Today is Fat Tuesday.
Enjoy yourself. Celebrate all that life has provided. Dance and strut
your stuff to some of Professor Longhair and Neville Brothers' music.
Have a good old fashioned feast and, by all means, frolic. Make mad
love to someone special. Then tomorrow, remember that the second part
is forty days of soul work. Forty days of truly paying attention to
what your soul wants and needs, and where it's leading you. That's
what Lent is all about—it is a soul journey. How would your life be
different if your soul was in the driver's seat?
In the Spirit,
Jane
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